#since their nations are so intertwined

[styllwaters]

LETS GOOOOO

[I.D. A crochet doll of an alien known as a Knight. The alien has a living helmet with its own separate eyes and spikes on its head, and the host "wearing" it is all white with much smaller eyes. The alien is wearing a long blue and teal cape like garment with two pockets on each side. It is also wearing a neck brace. /end I.D.]

My gift for a discord secret santa event for @styllwaters! I made a sketch of a Knight OC a while ago but I decided to bring her into the 3D realm. She's an Aikka polar with a Fejga mountain helmet. Since the weight is a bit much, she wears a neck brace during day to day life. I also hope to make a wheelchair for her as she doesnt have any back legs.

Most of this is my own design with the base body and head from a su lion design. Making patterns has never been so fun.

Bonus close up pics under the cut

[reginrokkr]

For some reason I woke up salty as the main story arc of Natlan is coming to an end, so I'll be spilling some salt:

Despite all my love for the lore, even I can't deny that Natlan has been a major letdown when compared to the other nations we've been into so far— even Inazuma, controversial as it was for several reasons that I won't refute because they're all valid. In my opinion, Natlan made an identity out of its struggle against the Abyss when this should've been a thing for every nation because... you know, the Abyss is consuming the entire world. And I blame all of this gatekeeping of relevant lore points and terrible storytelling, when there are multiple ways HYV could've handled this in a way that doesn't disrupt the pace they chose for the story in terms of revealing key points.

If we remove the Abyss factor from Natlan, we're left with nothing. Not even with the famous Land of Dragons that Neuvillette told us at the end of the Fontaine arc and how someone like him wouldn't be welcome. In that regard, all we have is the saurians and a story arc that is at best optional that is related to Ochkanatlan and not even to the Pyro Sovereign in full. And sadly, not even the nation's characters are all that appealing to me except for Capitano who wasn't given a chance to elaborate on what he wanted to do exactly, considering that he was keeping in mind the souls to begin with. In essence, everything was reduced to some hopeful thinking that things will go alright through other means that aren't even guaranteed to work out and an Archon whose sense of justice is almost childish a la "just hope" with no reasons of weight to actually make people hope only to... not have any serious repercussions, as I'm anticipating it'll happen just by seeing that she'll be playable.

[oceanxveiined]

Dani has a Mallen streak in her hair, and the reason for that had been usage of a Pyro Delusion acquired during the time she abandoned the Fatui. She had taken it and the uniform off a slaughtered Pyro agent and used it to sneak/fight her way to freedom, promptly passing out once the adrenaline wore off.

She planned to dispose of it immediately afterwards, having become wary of it after noticing the greying, but ultimately chose to keep it in reasoning that it could come in handy. Even if she is still sort of afraid of it.

[cherrygirlfriend]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ dancing under streetlights

pairing: lottie x bsf!reader synopsis: lottie kisses reader for the first time and proceeds to ignore her afterwards. warnings/tags: minimal angst, fluff!! a/n; part of my 2k celebration!! i decided for this to take place a bit after the crash took place, around when they found the lake.

lottie masterlist ♡ 2k masterlist

lottie swam in the lake while you were watching the girl watch the other girls play around, similar wide smiles on all their faces, meanwhile you couldn't help but purse your lips, slightly puzzled by the whole situation.

she'd ignored you ever since the night of the party, the day before you were supposed to leave for nationals. you two had been walking home arm-in-arm, having lived near each other for most of your lives, both of you slightly buzzed as you walked down the same streets you could remember racing down on your bikes when you were younger.

you grinned, turning to her, "last one at the next streetlight is-"

but before you could even finish your sentence, lottie had already taken off running towards the next patch of yellow illuminating the concrete you'd both scratched your knees bloody on about a hundred times. you ran after her, screaming about how she was being unfair.

lottie, obviously, reached the light first, laughing as you ran towards her "careful!" she screamed when you practically rammed into her, catching you by your shoulders and laughing, "are you a bull, now?"

"it's not my fault you were baiting me. bulls hate that." the two of you laughed, and when an old memory came back to your mind, you took her hand into yours and raised your intertwined fingers into the air. "remember this?"

lottie rolled her eyes, but spun herself below your hands before positioning her hand on your shoulder while her other hand was still in yours, your free hand finding its place on her waist, "how could i forget?" she raised her brows as the two of you started dancing your own, overdramatic version of the waltz. "we practiced this for our middle school dance, only for you to get sick."

you laughed and shook your head slightly, "but i think we had more fun at my place. we still wore those ridiculous poofy dresses and danced around our living room." a small fond smile plays on your lips as you think back to that day, "then we watched princess movies and ate candy until we had sugar highs and felt like dancing again."

you spun lottie once again before pulling her back to you, but unlike the wide smile on your face, hers slowly died down on her lips, lottie looking at you, the lighter flecks of brown in her eyes illuminated under the yellow street lamp, your smile turning into a slight frown, wondering what was on lottie's mind.

"what's-"

but once again, before you could even finish your sentence, lottie's hands moved to cup your face as she pulled you close, pressing her lips against yours.

before you even had time to react to feeling lottie kissing you, she had pulled away from you, your own shocked expression mirrored on hers. you felt as she untangled herself from your grip, a flash of pink running away from you and straight to the matthews' residence.

you threw a small rock into the lake, your lips turned down into a frown. even on the plane, you'd tried to ask her to sit next to you, only for her to sit down next to one of your teammates before you even had time to utter a word.

as you were drawing patterns into the sand with a small branch you'd found, a pair of wet feet pattered in front of you, and when you looked up, you saw that it was her.

lottie sat down next to you, looking at the ground as she pulled her knees close to her body, "what are you drawing?" she asked quietly.

"just random patterns." you shrugged, looking at the spirals now adorning the ground and putting down the small branch, "so, are you talking to me now?"

"i'm sorry." lottie mumbled, pursing her lips, "i just... i didn't want things to change between us." she took in a deep breath as she lifted her gaze up to look at the lake, "it was all just... complicated."

"well, if you didn't want things to change, you shouldn't have kissed me." you mutter, letting out a small scoff. you avoided her gaze, not wanting her to see the glistening in your eyes, but when you felt her place her hand over yours, you couldn't help but look up at her face, your eyes slightly widened.

"i'm sorry." lottie smiled at you sheepishly as you turned your hand around in hers so your palm was pressed against hers, intertwining your fingers with hers.

you looked up at the sky, biting back the smile that threatened to twitch up your lips as you felt her intertwine her fingers with yours, letting out a soft, "okay."

[jinwoosbabyboo]

Your Birthday Is So Special !

You don't really celebrate your birthday it tends to just be another day for you. You've gone as far as to forget your own birthday some years and since you never mention your birthday it's almost a mystery. The LADS Men want to show you how special your birthday is since if that day never happened they wouldn't be looking at the love of their life. What would they do to celebrate your birthday? A/N: Ms. "I don't care about my birthday" meets Mr. "Your birthday is so special" [Requested by: miacara2]

Zayne

Zayne would take the day off for your birthday. I'm not talking he just so happened to have the day off. No. This man would do what he needed to do to get the day off just for your special day. Since he is you primary care physician your birthday is on file so he's aware of it even without you telling him.

He would have spoken to Jenna days or weeks prior to get you out of work by noon without being suspicious. You would come out of the building to find him standing there with a box of your favorite sweets and treats. "What are you doing here? What's all this?" You'd question with a giddy smile on your face; seeing Zayne unexpectedly was always a serotonin boost.

"Are you free this afternoon?" He'd ask avoiding your questions while flashing that cute half-millimeter smile of his, but his eyes would dance with mischief. "I am?" You'd furrow your brows in confusion. He'd intertwine his fingers with yours and take you to do whatever your little heart desires for the day. Once you're exhausted from the day he would offer to take you home.

This is where your real surprise would be. He would have your countertops covered in gifts and sweets along with a beautiful cake. "Zayne....when did you do this?" He would definitely stand there relishing in your shocked face. "It took all morning, but it was more than worth it" You couldn't help but hug him tightly you never thought you'd actually be happy to celebrate your birthday.

"Happy Birthday My Love let's celebrate together every year from now on"

Rafayel

Rafayel would be simply appalled at the fact you don't celebrate your birthday. "What do you mean it's just another day!?" He asked wide-eyed. "It's just not important" He would be so upset to hear you talk about your birthday like that. To him your birthday is like a national holiday there's no way he could let the sun take another trip around the earth without celebrating.

Rafayel: When is it? MC: I'm not telling you Rafayel: If you dont tell me I'll just figure it out MC: Good luck

He was indeed able to figure it out. How? Let's just say he has connections if he wants information he'll get it. He'd waste no time planning a whole day for the two of you. I picture Rafayel wanting to give you that childlike gleeful birthday that you never had growing up. He'd take you to an arcade or amusement park or even a fair/night market and would tell everyone it's your birthday "It's this pretty girls' birthday today!"

Now Although Rafayel is indeed a silly little guy he is very sentimental. At the end of the night he'd take you to an exhibit he rented out for just the two of you. It would be covered in his painted portraits of you along with candid photographs. Each one would have a gift or your favorite sweet perched on a cocktail table underneath it. "Why would you do this?" You asked in shock. "Because a special girl deserves to be treated as such especially on her special day Happy Birthday Cutie"

Xavier

He's used to forgetting his own birthday since he never considered it very special. Though something stirred in him when he overheard Simone, Tara, and Lisa asking you what you wanted to do for your birthday. You seemed to brush them off with a sweet smile saying "Nothing it's not a big deal just treat it like any other day" They all huffed and puffed at your words as you scurried off saying you had some research to do.

"We need to do something for her birthday she works so hard!" Tara said in a whisper-shout to Lisa and Simone. Xavier would barge into the conversation his lips moving before his brain could catch up "Can I be of service in this secret plan?" Contrary to popular belief Xavier would end up spearheading all the planning. He would want your girls to be involved since he sees how much they love you and how much you love them.

He would have you spend the day with your girls and the night with him. Your girls would be there right when you wake up screaming happy birthday in your face. They would take you to get your hair and nails done along with a little lunch date and shopping spree. You would be all dolled up and pretty by the time they dropped you off at home where Xavier was waiting with music, gifts, flowers and a cake. I also imagine since he is the one who taught you how to dance he would take you to a beautiful garden where he would dance the night away with you like Cinderella.

"I know I said birthdays were nothing special, but yours is and I want to spend every year with you. Happy Birthday My Lady"

Sylus

Sylus is not letting your birthday pass without a proper celebration. First of all he's taking you out the country for sure. That beautiful island you've been looking at? Yup he got a villa on it and flies you down there on his private jet so you have the utmost comfort. "Where are we going?" You'd ask as he escorts you up the stairs onto the plane. "Somewhere special" His answer was nonchalant as he poured you a glass of wine. "What's the occasion?" he would glance at you and let his beautiful smile spread across his face as he slipped the glass into your hand "Something special" You scoffed at his answer.

Although you never mentioned when your birthday was of course Sylus did his research. He planned for months to make your surprise perfect. You would land and walk into the villa fully decorated with balloons, all your favorite foods, a desert bar with a cake, and flourishing with gifts. Even the twins would already be there jumping out at you to yell surprise.

Sylus would make your birthday into a full weeklong celebration/vacation. "You overdid it you know? My birthday really isn't that important" Your words end up going in one ear and out the other. You were his special girl everything involving you was special especially your birthday. Otherwise how would he be able to smile in this drab world if you weren't here?

"That's why I've made it my mission to show your otherwise" He'd smile down at you and flick your forehead. "Happy Birthday Princess"

[studioeisa]

like real people do ☢️ seungcheol x reader.

little is known about the apocalypse of 2017. a century later, archivists are now unveiling the relics they found from those who lived through that time.

★ seungcheol x reader.  ★ word count: 2.1k ★ genre: alternate universe: apocalypse, alternate universe: soulmates (the only way for your scars to disappear is when your soulmate kisses them goodbye), angst, romance. ★ warnings: major character death. depictions of death/violence, injuries/scars. established relationship; suggestive scenes but no real smut. set in a fictional apocalyptic world. doubling down on the angst warning; i cannot say with any certainty that this is a happy ending. ★ footnotes: this is part of my follower milestone event. viv gave me an inch (a request for angsty seungcheol) and, in turn, i am giving her a mile (a whole thing instead of just a ficlet). mahal kita, @heartepub! this will be the last hozier brainrot i offer you— for now. + much thanks to @gyubakeries and @tusswrites for beta reading! love you both to the end of the world. ❤️‍🩹

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ like real people do by hozier. apocalypse by cigarettes after sex. i know the end by phoebe bridgers. fourth of july by sufjan stevens. interlude: i’m not angry anymore by paramore. atlantis by seafret. end of beginning by djo. nobody’s soldier by hozier.

When the fish started dying, you did not think: This is how the world will end.

Why would you? The decimation of marine mammals and seabirds didn’t make the news. The misguided scientific breakthrough that triggered everything was kept under wraps.

It isn’t until much later, until the damage is irreparable and the Rapture is imminent, that you will realize it. 

The world as you know it is ending— but at least you have Seungcheol.

There’s some cruelty in the timing of it all. The two of you had just moved in with each other, coasting on the honeymoon phase of a long-term couple with a new thing to share. The paint on your apartment’s walls had yet to dry when the government declared a state of national emergency.

Dozens of other countries followed suit not long after, all blaming one thing or the other. Food crises. Social unrest. Cultural collapse. 

“This is crazy,” Seungcheol grumbles. 

The television is playing clips of a hurricane tearing through the Philippines. Extreme weather conditions, the reporters are saying. Due to the rise of CO₂ levels. 

You and Seungcheol are sprawled out on the floor, watching it unfold. The furniture store meant to deliver your couch has delayed shipment until further notice. 

Seungcheol has always been the sulky type, though the expression on his face nowadays has been less of his trademark pout and more of a serious frown. You can feel his growing agitation in the stiff way he holds you, in the set of his eyebrows. 

“It’s crazy,” you agree quietly, resting your hand on his knee in a bid to calm him a bit. “But it’ll pass.” 

Your touch seems to give some sort of reprieve. He rolls his shoulders. He unclenches his jaw. 

“It’ll pass,” he echoes, reaching out to intertwine your fingers. 

Neither of you knew just how wrong you could be. 

April 8, 2017 

Weird times. Cheol knows just how anxious I get when I’m cooped up, so he encouraged me to pick up journaling. I’m not sure how much this will help, but it’s worth a try. 

It’s been a month since everything has essentially gone on ‘lockdown’. The news says that all of this started because researchers wanted to regulate harmful algae. Their genetically engineered virus ended up infecting all algae, and now the majority of phytoplankton are just... dead. 

I don’t know what to write about. Terrible oxygen levels? Seafood costing a fortune? This ‘work from home’ system everyone is trying to figure out? 

I guess I should just write about the good stuff. That way, when I look back on these entries, I can remember something good.

Today, Cheol tried to fix a leaking faucet himself instead of calling for a plumber. We flooded the kitchen floor, and ended up wet from head to toe.

I cooked pasta, called mom and dad on Skype, and watched the latest episode of Santa Clarita Diet. 

Once everything opens up again, Cheol and I have to visit my parents. (And ‘get better screwdrivers’, he claims.) 

When Seungcheol first kissed you, you did not think: This man is my soulmate. 

It had been a clumsy, shy thing, traded way back when the two of you were high schoolers still stealing away from your eagle-eyed parents. Seungcheol liked to wax poetics about how it was perfect even though you know that first kiss was more a clash of teeth than anything. 

You don’t discover the truth of everything until a couple of years into dating. Seungcheol had gotten into playing basketball, and, one evening, you absentmindedly pressed your lips to a scar he had at the bend of his elbow. 

The mark smoothed out instantly. 

Seungcheol had giggled at the development before spending the rest of the night kissing every inch of your skin that he could reach— injured or not. You still think it’s one of your best memories as a couple. 

Kisses that healed scars. You hadn’t believed in the stories yourself until it had happened to you, until you realized how fortunate you were that your soulmate wasn’t halfway across the world or something. No, you had your soulmate, and he was more than willing to kiss away all your wounds. 

You had counted yourself as lucky. You still think you are, even now, as Seungcheol strokes your hair and holds you to his chest in the pitch black darkness of your apartment. 

His voice is quiet and small when he speaks up. “I’m sorry.” 

“What for?” you mutter back. 

“I’m sure this isn’t what you imagined,” he says. “For us moving in together and everything.” 

An amused snort escapes you. Of course that would be your boyfriend’s concern. There’s the rotational power outages and the merciless prices of goods due to inflation, but Seungcheol is worried about your expectations not being met. 

You shift in his hold. The days have been getting warmer and warmer, and the evenings are no exception. Seungcheol has taken to sleeping shirtless. You’re a couple of celsius away from doing the same. 

“It’s not your fault that we decided to move in together for the end times,” you say into the skin of his bare chest. 

He gives the small of your back a light thwack. “What have I said about the apocalypse jokes?” he chides lightly. 

You roll your eyes. He shouldn’t see it in the darkness, but he knows you all too well. “And don’t roll your eyes at me!”

His reprimand draws a short laugh from you. Even that feels like a monumental effort, like it's a waste of good air. 

Seungcheol doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the two of you waking up in pools of your own sweat, doesn’t care that there are whole government newscasts on how to preserve oxygen in enclosed spaces. 

He holds you like a lifeline and kisses you until you’re breathless. 

“Cheol,” you whine against his mouth, the protest already at the tip of your tongue. The end is near; sex should be the last thing on your mind. 

But then Seungcheol’s fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, and he sounds so, so sweet when he mumbles, “Yes, soulmate?” 

That’s always gotten to you. 

“Unfair,” you groan as you work on shucking off your own clothes. “You’re so unfair.” 

In between giggles, he kisses every part of you. Again, and again, and again. 

June 15, 2017 

Cheol and I are on the run. 

He keeps telling me not to call it that because it supposedly makes us sound like criminals. I think it’s just funny, and God knows I need something to find humor in. 

As badly as I want to say “we have gone through worse before,” that would be a lie. We’re out of our apartment and trying to make our way to some place where there’s better air quality. In the meantime, we’re living out of his car. It’s so funny to me that I’ve started laughing until I’m crying. 

Anyway, the good stuff: Today’s sunset painted the sky purple. We snagged some still-cold cans of Sprite in an abandoned 7-Eleven. Cheol spotted a family of ducks crossing the road, pointed it out, and said “us, soon!”

Us, soon. It feels dangerous to hope, but that’s all I seem to do nowadays. That and being on the run. (Cheol made me strike out that last part, but whatever.) 

When Seungcheol finally admits to you that he is scared, you did not think: This means that things are much, much worse than I thought. 

Maybe because there were bigger concerns, like the car’s blinking fuel warning light and the scratches littering Seungcheol’s arms. Like the fool that he was, he had gone against your well-meaning advice to not look for help. 

He did not return unscathed. 

Your lips are pursed in a thin line as you rip open a Band-Aid. It’s one of the few that the two of you have left, and Seungcheol seems to remember the fact. He reaches out to stop you. 

“Hey, c’mon,” he urges, obviously trying to aim for levity. “You know there’s other ways we can fix me up, right?”

The frown that tugs at your lips shows that you’re still less-than-pleased at his little stunt. 

“Maybe if you didn’t head out in the first place,” you grumble. “We wouldn’t need any of this.” 

Seungcheol looks like he might push back, but seems to decide against it at the last minute. Instead, he wraps his fingers around your wrist and gives you a gentle tug. 

“It won’t happen again.” His tone is edged with remorse, enough to almost convince you. Almost. 

“No more playing hero?” you ask. 

A corner of his lip twitches upward. “No more playing hero,” he concedes before tugging at you again. 

You let him. You move closer into his space until you’re practically in his lap, until you’ve got a better view of the angry red cuts on his skin. 

Tentatively, you press chaste kisses to the injuries. Seungcheol’s hands find purchase at your waist and he tilts his head back, letting you work your magic. He’s quiet as your lips trace over each gash and wound, as you take away all the hurt with the ghost of a kiss. 

After a moment, he mumbles, “Is it bad that I want you right now?” 

“Seungcheol.” 

“Okay, okay.” A beat. “I want you all the time, actually.” 

“Shut up!”

The sound of his laughter fills the car. It’s enough to have you forgetting his murmured confession of fear, the vulnerability that he had tried so quickly to cover up with affection. For a moment, there is nothing else in the world except this, except you, except him. 

September 23, 2017

Is it weird to say that I’m starting to forget what it was like before all of this happened? Cheol is trying to assure me that it’s to be expected, that we’ll all be back to ‘normal’ soon, but I don’t even remember what normal is like anymore. 

I can’t forget. I don’t want to forget. And so here is a small list of things I took for granted: 

The first breeze that tells you winter is coming 

The kindness of people who don’t know you 

The smallest fish in the sea

Date nights with Cheol 

Clean water 

Breakfast

My parents

Cheol says there might be some biodomes ahead. Oxygen-regulated habitats. It sounds like something only the rich can afford. We don’t have a lot left between the two of us, and it’s getting harder to jump from building to building. 

But there’s something waiting for us on the other side— right? There has to be. 

May the best of my todays be the worst of my tomorrows. 

When the gunshot rang out, you did not think: This is it.

Seungcheol never gave you any reason to think that way. He had held your hand as you raided rundown grocery stores. He had positioned himself in front of you when there were stampedes. The world might have been ending, but he was with you.

He was with you even when the strangers you ran into started getting more aggressive. He was with you even when fights would break out over necessities like water and medicine. 

“People are dangerous when they're desperate,” he’d tell you softly— still his rational, kind self even when faced with the worst of mankind.

He was with you. He was kind. He was yours. 

Even when the bullet lodged itself right between his ribs. 

There is not much that you remember after that. 

The people dispersed. The cause of the fight— a can of chicken noodle soup, once your comfort food— lay forgotten on the floor.

The love of your life, staring unblinking at the sky.

When you sink to the ground, you’re moving purely on instinct. Your quivering lips press over his chest, over the red blossoming and staining his shirt. 

You kiss him. Again.

And again. 

And again. 

December 1, 2017

The kisses don’t work on bullet wounds. 

▸ Archivist’s note: The following entries are undated and some portions had been redacted/deemed untranscribable. We are led to believe that the author struggled to cope in the aftermath of their soulmate’s death. For posterity, we have still reprinted their final entries.

You’re so unfair. 

I still want you. 

Things I took for granted: ███████, you, ███████, youyouyou. 

What now? 

My love, it’s only a matter of ███████—

▸ Archivist’s note: Nothing follows.

This concludes our transcribed logs. The full collection can be viewed at the National Museum of Remembrance.

It is our deepest regret that the author is unnamed and that they cannot be properly credited. However, we know of two things with certainty. 

We know of a man named Seungcheol, and we know that he was loved. 

[kamiversee]

𓆩 Crown of Sin 𓆪

Segment I Chapter: Two

❀ ~ Synopsis > In which you’re a princess who's given a total of six months to converge & inaugurate a solid plan secure enough to rid you of your fated marriage arrangements to Naoya Zenin. 

❀ ~ Content > language, tension, subtle (?) flirting, the faintest of touches, far too much eye contact, etc.

❀ ~ Word Count > 4.9k

❀ ~ Pairings > jjk men & women x f!reader.

{ chapters m!list }

——Now that you are engaged, time has never been more of the essence. You have six months to wiggle your way out of this arrangement and only your half-assed, last-minute plan to act off of. 

Who would have thought? The princess of the Eastern Nation requesting a harem just before she’d accepted Naoya Zenin’s proposal... It’s hardly been twenty-four hours since and yet word has spread all over. It’s the title of every article of news in everyone’s hands the morning following, a fact that comes quite present to you as one of these newsletters is tossed down onto a table before you.

“Care to explain why I retrieved this from my letter carrier this morning?” As a lecture from the third person this morning makes its approach to you, the letter in question lands on the table you find yourself seated at with a loud smack.

You’ve got your hands neatly met at your lap whilst you take a dramatic moment to pause and think about how you should go about explaining things this time around. You’d already had to deal with both your mother and father since you woke up and shortly after that array of scolding, you were sent off to the next person able to give you a mouthful concerning your impulsive decision from the night prior… Masamichi Yaga.

You swear in another life he could’ve very well been a professor of some sort because his voice quite tires you after some time. 

Given that, as your fingers intertwine and tumble over one another, you puff out a sigh of frustration and roll your eyes around the room, “I’m unsure of what it is you want me to say. Have my parents not already explained to you what I’ve explained to them?”

Yaga’s got two hands splayed out against the lengthy mahogany wooden table positioned only a few inches in front of you, with his head all angled to the side, and eyes narrowed to the utmost scrutiny toward you. It takes you a few moments before you actually meet his piercing gaze and even as you do, you only find your eyes falling to study the rest of his face shortly after.

He’s quite older than you and his age shows through his facial features, despite the commonly envious clear skin he possesses. Just as you find your eyes meeting his neatly kept facial hair, he interrupts your staring (again) with a huff, “I think it foolish of me to ask your parents what exactly was going on in your mind when you requested a Harem from your soon-to-be husb—”

“And I think it foolish of myself ever to allow any sort of marriage between me and the Zenin man to take place.” You cut off all in one solid breath. “Word of my Harem request has spread faster than the proposal itself. Does no one in this godforsaken palace find that not the least bit bizarre??”

For a moment, he falls quiet. A hold of eye contact passes by between the two of you before Yaga starts sighing again, “Perhaps that is because no one understands why you would request such a thing in the first place.”

You let off a short scoff, “Oh my word, you all care more about my request than my fiance himself! If he accepts and allows it to be, why can the rest of you not follow suit in silence?”

“Because the request was risky enough to send us into war,” Yaga explains to you with a judgemental narrow of his eyes, “His Majesty is not known to have a temper of grace.”

You’re quick to first reply with a lift of your hand, a shiny rock sitting oh-so-prettily on your ring finger, “And yet the night ended with me engaged and my request granted.”

Yaga’s gaze doesn’t waver and he pays your hand no mind whatsoever. Instead, the man stands up straight and paces closer to your end of the table, grabbing a vacant chair to your left and turning it around to face him before he sits and rests his arms against the back. 

He leans closer to you and his voice drops to a softened whisper, “Did you truly not think to inform anyone of your plans beforehand?”

“I considered doing so, yes.” You say with a shrug.

Skeptical, Yaga’s lips twitch. “Yet you didn’t. Why?”

Your brows pinch together and you find it odd how quickly his tone seems to have changed, “Because I would have been advised against it, obviously.” Then your eyes wander and your arms meet to fold. “But I still don’t understand what all these lectures are for. Again, my fiance has allowed me the liberty to form a harem as I please so, honestly, just what is the issue here?”

“Permission to pry, Your Highness?” Yaga requests, earning your full attention once more. Even his expression seems to have softened and you almost feel as though he can see straight through you.

Leading you to lift your shoulders again with slight casualty, “Granted, I suppose.”

He tilts his head out of genuine concern as his question smoothly leaves his lips, “Why did you ask for a Harem?”

You can only chuckle at this point. He’s probably the tenth person to ask you such a question. “Can a lady not request for some men to satisfy her…?” You respond rather innocently with a dumbfounded bat of your lashes.

The corner of his lips raise and he sighs through his nose softly, “That’s cute but, something tells me it’s a bit more than simply that?”

You take that as a sign to drop your act of innocence, shifting up from your seat to stand. “When men move to create harems, do they too receive this many inquiries on why?”

“Well—”

“Pardon my… crudeness, General Yaga,” The sudden adjustment to your tone is noted mentally by the man as you step around your end of the table and closer to his chair. “I have sexual desires I wish to exploit before I am forced to only act upon such desires with,” You shudder, “My fiance.”

You don’t miss the way he stiffens up where he sits, stammering out a surprised, “O-Oh.”

“Surely, you understand what it’s like to find yourself…” He hardly has any time to register how close you’ve gotten to him before you’re slithering around his seat with careful steps and trailing a featherlight touch up along his bulky arm, stopping at his shoulder to give a gentle squeeze, and leaning down to his ear to whisper, “Frustrated.”

Yaga immediately clears his throat and you can feel the way his body tenses beneath your touch. “You and I should not be having this kind of conversation—”

“And yet we are,” You smile, voice remaining near his ear as you proceed, “General, I consider this harem of mine my last act of fun before I’m… a married woman.”

He nods, just barely, “I see.”

“Do you?” A second hand meets his other shoulder as you remain stood behind him. Then, you lift your lips away from his ear, “Have you any idea how dreadful it is to imagine that one day I am to lay with Naoya Zenin?” He sighs and you give both of his shoulders a squeeze, noting the firmness you feel beneath your palms, “Place your formalities to the side for just a moment, and,” Your touch meets his chin faster than he cares to react to as you tip his head up, “Look at me.”

His eyes, a rather underrated deep shade of brown, soon settle on your face above his own. This is a man who’s been at war more times than he cares to count and yet he finds himself almost entirely defenseless when in the face of you. As such, his voice is airy whilst exiting his throat, “Princess, this…”

You smile kindly and drag a finger up along his jawline. “Does he strike you as the kind of man who knows even the first thing about pleasing a lady?”

His jaw clenches, most likely to your question but arguably to your touch as well, “I cannot—”

“Oh but,” You lean down-, closer, “You can.”

Yaga swallows thickly, the sound hitting your ears as you take in just how nervous you’ve made him. “I won’t.”

He watches as your brows furrow upwards, “You’re denying your princess a mere response?”

“I cannot speak down on his majesty’s…” Yaga bats his eyes at you, “Possible ignorance.”

The proximity between the two of you at present is enough to drive any sane man to madness. Yaga has found himself close to you times before but never like this. Your hair is done up so there isn’t a strand obscuring his view of your every feature or the way you stare down at him so intimately that it’s almost suffocating. 

Then follows your voice with such softness that it makes his heart pound in ways he rarely knows it to. “I believe I’ve ordered you to drop the formalities for just a moment.”

Shutting his eyes, Yaga sighs heavily. “I am a—”

“Man before anything else. And a man’s answer is what I desire at present so, tell me, General, does Naoya strike you as—”

“No,” He breathes out as his eyes snap open once more.

You’d grown closer, mere inches away from connection. Perhaps the lack of distance is why he so hesitantly allows his eyes to travel downward along your face..

“See? Was that so difficult?” You say with a taunting scoff before finally removing your touch entirely and pulling away with a turn toward the room’s exit, “God, you men are so dramatic—”

“Though,” Yaga starts up. Your feet come to a stop but you don’t turn around, instead listening to the soft creak of wood against the flooring as he rises from his seat, followed by approaching steps. The man stops just behind you, hardly a step away. “You do not strike me as a woman who understands that all actions have appropriate consequences.”

“Or perhaps I am a woman who expects such… ‘consequences.’” Swiftly, you swivel around to face him once again. In doing so, he finds your body questionably close to his once again—with it, approaching your light fragrant into his nose. “I take it your silence is to speak for your confusion?”

“Yes…” He utters nearly dejectedly.

A grin spreads across your face before you smoothly lift a hand to the outskirts of his uniform lining, “Mh.” You hum to yourself in thought as you watch your hands dance along the navy blue fabric before you, “General, if I invited you into my harem, would you join?”

Taken aback, he scoffs, “That is wildly inappropriate—”

“No more inappropriate than the conversation you just held with me,” You cut off with a raise of your head, the simple meet of your gaze to his enough to have his usual hard exterior soften in face of you. 

With hardly a moment to ponder, Yaga answers you with a huff of irritation, “I do not know if I would join.”

You snort, “Right. But, you felt something moments ago, did you not?”

“I felt nothing.” He claims.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Unless you plan to actually invite me into that harem of yours,” He makes a small, almost unnoticeable, move toward you—leading your hands to flatten out against his torso, “I refuse to elaborate on anything I may or may not have felt within the time you and I have been in this room.”

“And that, General,” You pause, pushing closer so that the gap between you and him practically closes as you whisper, “Is exactly why my scheme will work.”

Clear bewilderment washes over his face, “What? What ‘scheme’?”

Your body slid away from him so quickly that it was almost as though it were never against his in the first place. “Do you see how you allowed lust to cloud whatever initial judgment you held toward me?” You ask rhetorically, making a sharp spin on your toes toward a nearby cabinet.

“I do not—”

“Most people operate rather similarly on a day-to-day basis.” Your words exit you flawlessly without even so much as another glance toward him, “Lust clouds the mind just as well as love is known to but,” You shrug. “At a quicker rate.”

“Slow down, what—”

“I will be using lust to drive the members of my harem so wildly insane that they’ll be willing to go to lengths unknown simply for my sake.” Your rambling finally comes to an end with that statement.

Yaga is left bewildered as he remains in the very place you left him, watching you diligently forage through a recently opened cabinet for something.

“…Only love does that to a person,” The man eventually responds to you.

Chuckling, moreso to yourself, “I have six months.”

“You-,” He blinks, “You plan to… make people fall in lust with you? My lady, as direct as this may be, many are already feeling such.”

“Including you?” You chirp.

The sound of him sighing, probably for the millionth time since the sun has risen today, can be heard amid your rummage. “I am serious. You are well sought after, especially as word of your harem spreads further and further. Do you know how many people will be at the palace gates hoping to join?”

Suddenly turning elsewhere, you pace toward the room door and crack it open for a second, briefly interacting with your knight before retrieving something Yaga is unable to identify from where he stands until you shut the door and turn to him. 

“That is of no concern to me considering I already have people in mind,” You tell him cheerfully.

His brows twitch but do not meet, “You do?”

“Yes,” You approach him and extend out your hand. “Here.” Within your grasp holds what seems to be eight documents, their contents unknown to the General in front of you.

He is a bit hesitant to take the small stack from you but once he does, he steadily allows his gaze to lower onto what he now holds. The first document earns an instant scoff, followed by a small smile of unseriousness, “You jest.” He says.

Your brows raise, “I do not.”

“These are…” Yaga trails off for a long moment while he flips through the documents you’ve handed him—each one containing a profile of some sort.

After his beat of silence, you loom closer to peak into his hands, as if you aren’t already aware of the paper’s contents, and he gives his throat a soft clearing before reading through in summarization. 

Flipping through each profile, Yaga reads them aloud, “Gojo Satoru, prince of the Northern Nation. Lord Geto, the duke of the northeast. Lord Nanami, Duke of Middom. Your knight, Lady Tsukumo. Prince Hajime, of the south. And, two others who aren’t even noblemen.”

You point to the name at the top of the document he’s paused on, “He's an ex-mercenary.”

Yaga shakes his head, “I know who he is, or-, what he is for that matter. You cannot be serious, he’s a barbarian—”

“And he,” You flip to the next page for him, “Comes from a noble family.”

He practically frog-blinks at you in the slowest of fashions, “He’s… a farmer.”

“Rumored to be quite handsome at that,” You inform, earning a cocked eyebrow and a look of pure skepticism. “Whaaat? I am putting together a harem after all.”

Brushing that comment off entirely, Yaga turns to the last document given to him and studies it thoroughly. “When you requested one, I did not think you would make an attempt to gather all other available men of power.”

“So…” You trail off a bit, leaning forward and then giving him a slight nudge on his arm to gain his eyes on you again, “What do you think?”

Yaga shrugs. “Nothing. I am confused.”

You frown, “Put two and two together.”

It takes another beat of stillness to pass before he looks back down to the papers at hand and flips through them again. You watch as he shuffles through each one, letting out a hum or two at some of the information collected on certain pages. The fluttering of papers quickly becomes the only sound shared within the space you two occupy.

Eventually, Yaga takes a long pause at the eighth document, noticing that it isn’t a profile at all—it almost looks like a royal invitation. “...You are using the harem as a coverup.” He breathes out suddenly.

The smile you had moments ago returns to your features and you cannot help but nod, “Mhm…”

He finds himself nodding to himself as he pieces it all together, “Your true intent is to get these men on your side against… Oh my God.”

“Has it finally clicked for you?” 

Yaga nearly grasps at your arms in one swift motion, a motion unthought of beforehand as his surprise takes over. Then he begins to lay it all out, “That whole talk of lust and love. You-, you want to seduce these men into joining your harem, out of lust, and then have them fall for you over these next six months because when a man, especially one of power, is in love they’re willing to drive to—”

“Lengths unknown for that of which they love,” You chuckle nervously. 

He unintentionally gives you a slight shake, “The Harem is a coverup.” He repeats.

It’s then that you snort, “Oh no, the harem is very much real. I do plan to partake in debauchery with these men.”

His head tilts, “...For the sake of your nation?”

“Well, sure,” You murmur sheepishly.

For the first time since he’d dragged you into this room, he smiles, “And what if they do not join?”

You find his excitement endearing, in a way. “They will.”

“How can you be sure–”

“Wouldn’t you?”

Perhaps it was the sudden question but, he then realizes the way he is holding onto your arms and quickly removes his hands from you with a respectful step back, “I…”

“Exactly,” You quip, unconsciously brushing off the areas of your skin in which his touch had just been, “And you hesitate to answer after only an hour alone with me. Do you doubt my capabilities, General?”

His head shakes before his mouth moves, “Of course not.”

“Then tell me this is a good plan!” You exclaim.

“It is brilliant-, genius, even.” He raves, “But, there are so many things that could go wrong. What if the six months pass and none of them fall in love with you?”

“Do you believe that to be possible?” Another rhetorical question leaves you as your eyes begin to wonder in thought, “I think six months is more than enough time to give someone to fall for me, especially if I am laying with them nearly every night.”

“I see. Lust to love.” You begin to pace back over to that cabinet you left open from before and his eyes merely follow you. “And what if this does work? What’ll happen if all of your harem members fall for you, prepare to join us in a war against the east, and Prince Naoya admits defeat?”

Your chin angles upwards while you go to reach for something, “The wedding will be called off and I will be a free woman.”

“How? What will you do with your harem?” Yaga questions.

You snort, palm coming in contact with your next object of desire, “Well, I will marry one of them, obviously.”

“And what of the rest—”

“Or all,” You finish, pulling down your item and inspecting it, “Polygamy is not uncommon as you all think it is.”

Yaga is baffled by you once more, “Are you serious?”

“Quite.” You say with a sharp turn.

“What if—”

“You ask far too many questions,” Nearly groaning, you stride back over to the table.

He nears the table alongside you, “My apologies, I’m just concerned. Just, one more…? Uh, when do you plan to act on this scheme of yours?”

“Technically I’ve already acted upon them but—oh!” You roll out the lengthy item you’d retrieved from the cabinet onto the outstretch of the table, “I would like to begin my travels as soon as possible.”

Yaga chokes, “Travels?”

You look at him, “You didn’t think I would just send out a letter and hope they show up, did you?”

“Well…”

“I shall ask each person to join my harem face to face!” In comes your beaming smile, one of which Yaga does not believe he has the pleasure of seeing too often.

After another sigh, he nods, “That is wise. It is quite hard to deny you when you are…” Pausing, he takes in your full attention and a moment of shared gaze passes by before he finishes in a gentle undertone, “Face to face.”

“Exactly.” Your undertone matches his before you look down to what you’ve spread out against the table—a map. “Now that all of that is settled, care to plan out a safe route of travel for me?”

He pries his eyes away from you and looks to the map ahead of him, “Of course.”

“Thank you, General Yaga.” You give a warming show of gratitude by placing a hand on his shoulder, “What ever would I do without you?”

He huffs through his nose, “Deal with less lectures, I suppose.”

You chuckle at that. Then you remove your hand and run it over the spread of the large map below, “Oh, and uhm, I would prefer this travel route to be done by tonight?”

He coughs, “Pardon?”

“I should like to leave tomorrow.” You request as your hand leaves the map.

His head whips to you, “Tomorrow?!”

“Mhm!” By the time you are in his sights, you’ve quickly made your way back toward the room’s exiting door, “Thank you in advance!!”

“I—” He couldn’t even form another syllable on his tongue before you’d disappeared out of the room.

Some lecture that was. His objective was to talk you out of whatever silly plan you’d made up in that mind of yours—per your father’s request. And yet somewhere along the lines, Yaga thinks he’d found himself distracted…

Which was unusual, to say the least. Typically, he is very goal-driven and never strays far from his plan of action. However, he is also man enough to admit that this plan of yours has more potential than he could have ever expected. Hell, he’s almost jealous he didn’t come up with it himself.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

So, as he works to curate a safe passage of travel for you to explore the nations on a hunt for your men, you busy yourself with explaining the same plan to any others close to you who desire to understand what came of you the night prior.

Such as your overly-stressed royal advisor, Higuruma.

“It isn’t as wild as you think it is, ‘Hiro.” You sigh, laid down comfortably across your bed whilst he impatiently paces back and forth mere inches away.

“It is dangerous.” Higuruma explains to you as he rubs at his temples, “Do you know how long it takes to travel to the north nation?”

You look at him ruefully, “Well, I—”

“At least a week, and once you do get there, who knows how long it’ll take you to convince Prince Satoru, of all people, to join this-, this harem of yours!” He shouts, startling the nearby maids who diligently work to pack things in preparation for your traveling.

Although it took quite some time, your mother and father had already come to terms with your plans and left the final decision of whether or not you should act on them to Yaga. Seeing as that went perfectly for you, you now lay comfortably as things are gathered for you. 

Moving to sit up, your legs dangle off the edge of your large bed and you watch Higuruma as he drives himself crazy. “It willn’t take me long, I swear.” You tell him, your voice soft.

His feet come to an immediate halt before he turns to you, eyes pouring with worry, “But what if it does, my lady?”

“It won’t,” You attempt to flash him a reassuring smile but it has little effect.

Hence why he rolls his eyes elsewhere, “You do not understand the risks of your own acts and it drives me mad.”

“Why? If the General can understand it then—”

Your advisor flashes you a momentary glare, “The General does not care for you in the ways I…” He exhales sharply. “Have been taught to.”

A quiet befalls the two of you.

But, it only lasts for a short while before you hop off of your bed and near him. He naturally straightens his posture as you draw closer, looking everywhere else but at you. All as you stare so pointedly up at him, taking in his features—those naturally widened-tired eyes, peculiarly large nose, clean shaved face, and strands of hair that he allows to fall perfectly loose to the right of his forehead.

“I wish for you to accompany me,” You tell him, earning a slow return of his gaze.

Now looking down at you, you can almost feel his constant tiredness oozing off of his irises. Then, he sighs rather heavily, “In what world would I deny you of any of your wishes, my lady?”

Your arms wrap around him before he has time to react and he freezes at your sudden embrace. You rest your cheek against his chest and notice his heartbeat steadily picking up. “‘Hiro, I am so thankful to you, always.”

“What brings this on so suddenly?” He chuckles, lifting his arms so that he can wrap only one around you.

“Nothing in particular,” Your head shifts and you stare up at him.

He, again, looks elsewhere. “I see.” He says dryly. Then, he swallows, “You know.. It is one thing that I allow you to address me by my first name but this nickname you’ve picked up for me recently is a bit too casual, no?”

Your brows meet, “Are you not fond of it?”

He’s quick to shoot you a defensive look, “I am fond of anything you call me.”

“Oh?” You nearly smirk.

“A-Any nickname, that is,” He stammers. “I just think that you would hear of odd… rumors, if this new nickname were to be heard by,” His head motions toward the busy maids, “Certain company.”

Following his nod, “Oh, I see.” You say flatly. “My apologies then, Sir Higuruma.” The hug you two shared comes to a comfortable end as you pull away from him and turn back to your bed, “Forgive my recent affections, I am quite excited for the next few weeks if I’m being honest.”

He makes no note of any affection you display, especially considering you’ve always acted this way with him. “For your-, our travels, I presume?”

“Yes but, mainly because our first destination is the north. I haven’t seen Satoru in years.” You sigh with a comfortable plop down on your bed, “That, and I heard it snows up there all year long, can you believe that?”

Higuruma replies with a tender nod, “I can.”

The conversation comes to an end there, with you rolling about your bed to get a look over to your nearby balcony doors that are wide open. Your eyes hold this gleam of joy in them—despite all doubts, you’re sure your travels will commence safely. 

You may find yourself away from your kingdom for quite a while as you go on this escapade to collect men in the name of escaping the marriage months from now but, something tells you this will be fun above all else. And not to mention, the first person you’ll be seeing is Gojo Satoru.

It’s been a good two to three years since you and him have been in the same space and from what you remember, he was never bad company to keep. Hell, he’s a lot like you in more ways than one; firstborn, only child, heir to a throne you never quite really asked for, sought after, attractive…

It will be nice to familiarize yourself with him once more, even if you plan to seduce him. Speaking of which, it only leads you to wonder… does he even hold an interest in you—romantically speaking? Or hell, even in a sense of lust?

You don’t think you can remember if his eyes ever wondered upon you or if he’s ever even said anything flirtatious to you. Gojo, from what you remember, was always just… casual with you.

Will you be able to change that?

m!list | last chapter | next chapter |

tags 1/2;

@angellliqua @celestial-lunar  @withcheese @itoshi-r @silvarys @everything-red @fishosezo @haesify @sassybananaweaselpsychic @orange-juice-is-ass

@notjustagirlinthisworld @sushiimara @larkson0 @di-in-al @sxnkuna @hanuh @cayla0000 @helloxkittylo @idkmanshrugg @chocolatecheer

@michelintopic @cinaminroll @french3xit @valleydoli @broimherebcsimboredok @sleepisforpuzzies @cuti3patooti8 @sukunadckrider @f0r7una @ventila98

@vixionix @levislug @mauve-gojo @chosomi @semi-lover @bee3l0v3r @noooo-onee @r4sh3li @yenayaps @chososbestgirl

@smutyturtle @simp-plague @pnkblueberry @stargirl-mayaa @kunareads @tojisdollx @gojoslefttoenail @forbiddenblog @glittercherry777 @samm1e13

[women-in-ssports]

Plane back to Storrs

The plane buzzed softly with the low hum of air and the faint, scattered sounds of music leaking from headphones long since forgotten. Most of the team had fallen asleep, exhaustion finally winning after the adrenaline rush of the biggest night of their lives. They were national champions now. UConn had done it.

Paige shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable. Her hoodie was bunched at her shoulder, and her legs were cramped from sitting too long. She leaned her head against the cool window and let her eyes drift over the rows of sleeping teammates. Everyone looked peaceful, like kids again. KK was curled into a ball, hoodie strings tight around her face. Jana had dozed off mid-scroll, her phone dim on her lap.

Just as Paige was beginning to let her eyes close, she noticed the faint glow of the bathroom light disappear. The soft click of the door sliding open caught her attention. She looked up. For a split second, the faint light had caught on Azzi’s curls.

Paige blinked, a small smile playing on her lips.

Of course she’s awake.

Azzi wasn’t doing anything, just sitting there alone a few rows up, eyes moving slowly across the cabin like she was trying to memorize the moment. Paige could read her like a book by now. Azzi wasn’t lost or tired or even anxious. She was just… absorbing it all. The win. The flight. The team. The surreal feeling that this was real life now.

Paige moved slowly, carefully climbing over Kaitlyn, who muttered something in her sleep but didn’t wake. The small shift in movement made Azzi glance over, eyes locking with Paige’s. There was no surprise in her expression, just something warm and soft—like she’d been waiting.

“Mind if I sit?” Paige whispered once she reached her row.

Azzi didn’t say a word. She just reached out, fingers wrapping around Paige’s wrist, and gently tugged her down into the seat beside her. Paige slid in without hesitation, letting her shoulder rest against Azzi’s as naturally as breathing.

Azzi let her head fall back against the seat, her curls brushing Paige’s cheek as she turned slightly. Paige leaned in, letting her head rest on Azzi’s shoulder, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

“I’m so proud of you, P,” Azzi said softly, almost into Paige’s hair. Her fingers brushed Paige’s hand, and then she turned slightly, placing the gentlest kiss on Paige’s temple.

Paige smiled, lifting her head just enough to meet Azzi’s gaze. “I’m proud of you,” she whispered back. Her hand found Azzi’s, warm and steady, fingers interlocking like they’d always belonged there.

And then she kissed her.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t a celebration kiss or a victory high. It was slow and certain, something quiet and grounding between the whirlwind of interviews, confetti, and flashing cameras. Azzi’s hand moved to Paige’s cheek, keeping her close for just a beat longer before pulling away.

They sat back in silence, leaning on each other like they had since they were kids. Only now, it was different. Now their dream had become a reality — and they had done it together.

Through the aisle, Caroline shifted out of the bathroom. She rubbed her eyes, glancing forward to check on Paige—only to find her seat empty.

Her eyes traveled a few rows up, where she caught a glimpse of two familiar silhouettes pressed close together. Caroline tilted her head slightly. Even in the low light, she could tell. Azzis’s curls tucked under her hood, Paige’s head resting gently on top. Hands intertwined, smiles barely visible but definitely there.

Caroline smiled to herself, heart full in a way only a best friend could understand. She quietly moved to Paige’s now-empty seat, curling up without a word.

“Of course,” she whispered with a sleepy laugh, shaking her head as she settled in again.

Back up front, Paige and Azzi didn’t notice. Or if they did, they didn’t care.

The hum of the plane felt like a lullaby, and the weight of everything they’d done—the season, the pressure, the expectation—finally melted off their shoulders. Paige looked down at their hands again, thumb brushing slowly over Azzi’s knuckles.

“You ever think about this moment?” she asked softly.

Azzi turned slightly, looking at her. “You mean winning?”

“No,” Paige said, eyes still on their hands. “This. Us. Quiet like this. After everything.”

Azzi smiled, her voice barely above a whisper. “Every day.”

Paige looked up, their eyes meeting again, and in that second, all the noise of the season—the chatter, the doubt, the pressure, the expectations—they all faded away. It was just them.

Azzi reached up to tuck a stray hair behind Paige’s ear. “You’ve always been loud,” she said with a teasing smile. “But this? You’re the quietest I’ve ever seen you.”

“That’s ‘cause I just want to be here, with you.” Paige murmured, and that answer made Azzi’s smile grow.

Paige leaned in again, just close enough for her nose to brush against Azzi’s. “We’re national champs,” she said, like she still couldn’t believe it.

Azzi laughed quietly, a soft, breathy sound. “Yeah. And you’re still the same girl who tripped over her own shoes freshman year.”

Paige groaned. “Are you serious right now?”

Azzi raised her eyebrows, smug. “Never forget it.”

Paige rolled her eyes and tucked herself back into Azzi’s side, letting it all wash over her again. The win. The noise. The love. It was all here.

And she wasn’t alone in it.

Outside the window, stars flickered over the wing of the plane as they flew back toward Storrs. Back to campus. Back to reality.

But for now, Paige was here. With Azzi. In this quiet, perfect in-between.

And neither of them needed to say a word.

[justasecretflower]

🥀Hello, I saw you’re eyeless Jack Dating before he was sacrificed. If you wouldn’t mind could you do Toby Rogers- before He went coo coo for cocoa puffs and Slenderman basically stole him. 😭😂 Please and thank you hope you have a good day. 🤍

I LOVE THIS REQUEST SM🤍

🥀- Dating Ticci Toby! Before he became a proxy!

~fluff, set before the accident:)

I won’t be able to post everyday, sadly. Since I’m starting school I’m also gonna start cooking club, national honour society then tennis:(. But please keep requesting I will not stop posting completely:).

____________________________________________

- you noticed Toby’s golden heart at first, how much he got bullied, everything in his life, yet he remained to have a soft expression.

- At first, he thought you were pranking him when you gave him the note, your cheeks flush. But when he looked at the note and thought it was a prank he didn’t miss the hurt on your face.

________________________________________

Toby’s dark hazel eyes scan the note, some tics jerking his neck and making him restart reading the note. Thinking it’s some sick joke, as if anyone like you would like anyone like him, his eyes narrow and he practically spits at you. “L- Let me guess. T-this was a sick joke w-wasn’t it?” He says seriously, his tics making him stutter a bit but his tone remained hurt, aggravated, and angry, all of the bullying he received callousing his heart and making him firmly believe that no one would even spare him a second glance. Your eyes fill with hurt and your stomach plunges from rejection, a little embarrassed and let down your voice shakes. “No it’s not. I really like you.” Toby softened a bit at your tone but then hardened again “you don’t know me.” You were fed up. Can’t he see you actually like him for him? “But I want to.” Toby’s mouth shuts and he shoves his hands in his pockets of his black hoodie and nods. “I’ll have my sister pick you up so we can go to the movies or something Friday..” he says reluctantly, still a little convinced that you wouldn’t ever like him.

_________________________________________

- his sister, Lyra, was absolutely glowing when you entered the car, sticking her hand out almost immediately and smiling widely, no one had taken her brother out before, not even giving him respect. So she was over the moon.

- you talked with Lyra a bit, and then turned your attention towards Toby, who was looking at you with softest, most affectionate filled earthy green eyes ever. Sparkling gently. It was like he lit up when he finally realised you were serious, not only serious but getting along with his sister.

- during the movie, you tried very very slowly to grab his hand. He immediately tensed and gasped a tiny bit. But only 20 minutes later he reached out, first with his pinky and then his whole, shaky, scarred hand.

- when you intertwined your fingers, Toby was convinced he never felt more happy, he didn’t even watch the rest of the movie, he was focused on you.

-how your features glowed in the dim light, how you smiled during a happy moment, or gently did your [enter your nervous fidget.] when a tense part came up.

____________________________________________

-when he’s tired of everything going on in his house he’ll bike ride or walk over to your house and taps on the window just to hold you.

- he’ll pull your waist in with his arms and bury his face in your shoulder. Gently kissing it sweetly mumbling “my y/n”

-genuinely wants to cry of happy tears whenever you defend him from bullies.

- finger tip kisses.

-while you two are sitting across from each other in somewhere public, or holding each other in the quiet night, he lifts your intertwined hands, frees your hand and gently kisses your fingertips.

-he can’t really buy you any gifts but he certainly makes you tiny doodles on sticky notes to put in your locker or room.

- his eyes got misty when you first told him you loved him.

-you got him a gold heart locket with your picture in it and yourself one with his picture. He never takes it off and kisses it whenever he misses you.

-late night talks on the rooftop, stargazing, after he ran to your house again in the middle of the night.

-You’re his angel; his light, the love of his life. He can’t stop the thoughts of running away with you whenever he looks at your pretty smile or hears your heavenly laugh.

- “My sweet y/n” “my y/n” “Angel”

-your first kiss is when you two were stargazing, the sweetest, most affectionate kiss ever. Putting your foreheads together first, lacing your fingers, then finally meeting for a soft kiss.

-he runs to you if he sees you in the hallways.

-so, in theory…Toby..💪

____________________________________________

Thanks for reading! I love all of your requests btw🤍.

Tags

[misfit0789]

Regret

Lia Walti x Reader

Summary: Lia has many regrets in life.

Word Count: 3.5k words

Warnings: Angst?, toxicity from Lia

This is pure fiction! I did make Lia is the bad guy here. Let me know what you guys think!

Twelve years.

It's been twelve years.

Twelve years since Y/n and Lia have seen each other or spoken to each other. Lia put her full focus into football and Y/n fell into the background before eventually being forgotten altogether. Y/n went on to become one of the best veterinarians in the world. Pets and animals being flown in from all over to be seen by Y/n. But Lia wouldn't know that. Y/n however knows all about Lia. She can't go online without seeing the Swiss woman's face on her social media.

The two were said to have been soulmates. But Lia let football overtake her life and Y/n paid the price. Y/n tried to move on, but Lia was one of a kind and no one has ever compared to her... Lia's parents still reach out to Y/n. The girl was their daughter's best friend turned girlfriend. They tried talking to Lia about Y/n, but Lia never seemed to listen.

That brings us to now Lia was watching Calvin with Mariona, Mariona having picked up an injury, so the couple agreed to watch Calvin while Steph was in the states with the Matilda's. Lia  had also picked up a minor injury during training, so she stayed back from national team duties this international break. Lia, Mariona, and Calvin are currently on a walk in the park near Steph's apartment.

The couple have their hands intertwined, Lia holding onto Calvin's leash, as they conversed. Lia and Mariona are so into their conversation they miss Calvin setting his sights on a bird in the distance, only realizing when his leash is pulled from Lia's hand as he takes off.

"Calvin!"

"Calvin! Get back here!" The two call taking off after the dog. They dodge and weave between the others in the park trying to catch up to Calvin. The couple moving even quicker when they hear Calvin cry out in pain. Finally reaching him they see him sitting on the ground holding up his left front paw as he cries.

"Oh Calvin, what happened?" Lia asks crouching down by the dog and trying to offer him some comfort.

"Excuse me?" The couple look to see a girl around seven or eight and what looks to be her father. "I saw what happened to him. He was chasing a bird, but he stepped on the tree branch and hurt his paw." The little girl explains, the couple glance at the father to see him nodding confirming what his daughter said.

"Thank you …" Mariona trails off.

"Rosie," The father supplies.

"Thank you, Rosie," Mariona says giving the young girl a smile.

"We better get Calvin to the doctor so they can look at his paw," Lia says, grabbing Calvin's leash. She turns to the father and daughter. "Thank you for helping us, Rosie. If you see is or Calvin here again feel free to come say 'hi'. I'm sure Calvin would love to play when he feels better." The girl gasps looking to her father, who nods a smile on his face, before turning to look back at the couple and Calvin a large smile on her face as she nods excitedly.

"Yes, please!" The couple chuckle at the enthusiasm from the young girl.

"Well, we better get Calvin to the doctor. Thank you again Rosie. You telling us what you saw will help Calvin! See you around!" Lia says leaning down to pick up Calvin, so he doesn't hurt himself further. The couple wave to the two before quickly making their way to the closest vet that Mario found on her phone.

After a quick ten minute walk the couple enter the vet office, Calvin still in Lia's arms. She gently sets him down, handing his leash to her girlfriend.

"Stay here with Calvin while I go check him in. There doesn't seem to be many people here so it shouldn't be too long of a wait." Lia says Mario nods in agreement taking Calvin's leash sitting in one of the empty seats in the waiting room. Lia moves to the reception desk.

"Uh hi, I'm looking after my friend's dog, but he hurt his paw in the park. Is someone able to look? He seems to be in quite a bit of pain." Lia explains. The receptionist nods.

"Is the dog a patient here?" The girl asks.

"Uhm, I'm not sure. Your office was the closest one to the park, so we came just here."

"What's the dog's full name? I can see if he is in our system to save you from having to fill out paperwork."

"Calvin Cately,"

"He is a patient here! The doctor is in with another patient now, but I will take you to a room to let Calvin settle before seeing the doctor." Lia nods, turning to wave Mario over. Mariona picks up Calvin following Lia and the receptionist to a room where she sets Calvin on the ground once more. "As I said the doctor should be almost done, so she'll be here shortly," the couple nod as the girl leaves the room, shutting the door behind her.

"I'll text Steph to let her know Calvin is at the vet." Mariona tells Lia who nods continuing to pet Calvin hoping to bring him some type of comfort as he continues to cry softly. The couple look up at the sound of the door opening. Lia freezes when she sees who walked in.

"I heard my favorite boy was here!" the doctor says in a baby voice. Calvin jumps up excitedly as he recognizes the voice. Though he quicky stops and cries in pain when he puts his paw on the ground. "Oh buddy, what happened?" the doctor looks up, expecting to see Steph but is surprised with who she sees instead. She schools her features to not show her shock.

"Y/n." Lia whispers still in shock. Mariona looks at her girlfriend in confusion.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Y/l/n, this I know is Calvin and I know neither of you are Steph so…who might you be?" Y/n asks, directing the question more to Mariona as she already knows Lia, kneeling by Calvin offering him pets and a treat from her pocket. Mariona, seeing her girlfriend still frozen, answers.

"I'm Mariona, this is my girlfriend, Lia. Steph is our teammate. We are watching Calvin while she is away." Mariona explains, her accent heavy as she speaks. Y/n nods.

"Well, nice to meet you. What seems to be going on with my friend Calvin here?" Y/n asks carefully taking Calvin's paw in her hands to inspect it. Calvin calm as Y/n does so, not trying to pull away.

"We were walking him in the park, but he saw a bird and took off. We chased after him, but he stopped and started crying. A little girl explained that he had stepped on a fallen tree branch after we had caught up to him." Lia explains, having broken from her shock but not breaking her stare from Y/n, observing the person she once not only called her best friend but her lover. Y/n is taller and more built than she remembers.

"Well Calvin is okay it looks like he got a splinter from the branch stuck in his paw." Y/n turns on her knees to grab the tweezers from the counter in the room. "Let me just -" Y/n carefully grabs the splinter with the tweezers, "-there!" She holds the tweezers up. The sliver of wood between the ends. "Still crazy to me how something so small causes so much pain, in humans and animals," Y/n jokes, the couple laughing. Lia looks at Y/n a sad smile on her face realizing how much she has missed Y/n.

Is it too late to start over? Lia thinks forgetting about her girlfriend who's in the same room.

"Calvin should be all set! I'll give him a small dosage pill to provide some pain relief before you take him home, but he should be back to normal in a couple of hours." Y/n explains, standing to grab her clip board she had set on the counter when she walked in. The couple nod moving to stand.

"How much do we owe you?" Lia asks. Y/n waves her off.

"Nothing, Calvin is great, and it was only a splinter so no need to charge. A nurse will be in shortly to give Calvin his pill then you guys are all set. It was nice to meet you." Y/n says opening the door and walking out. The door closing softly behind her. Lia quickly turns to her girlfriend.

"I'll be right back," Mariona goes to question her but Lia is out the door before she can.

Lia walks out the room seeing Y/n talking to the receptionist from earlier. Lia walks to the two clearing her throat to gain the attention. Both women look to Lia. Y/n looking at her in confusion.

"Uhm, Y/n? C-Can I t-talk to you?" Lia glances at the receptionist before adding "Alone?" Y/n glances at the receptionist with a look Lia can't decipher before Y/n nods.

"Sure, let's go to my office, Alex I'll be back" Y/n says turning towards her office. Lia follows nervously fidgeting with her hands trying to figure out what she wants to say. Y/n stops in front of a door with her name written on a name plate attached to the door. Photos of Y/n with various animals stuck on the door. Lia smiles seeing a photo of Y/n and Calvin when he was a puppy. Though her heart stutters at the photo of a young Y/n and Lia with Y/n's childhood pet, a sad smile on her face remembering that day well.

----Flashback----

"Y/n/n! Charlie! Wait up!" Six year old Lia laughs chasing after a six year old Y/n. Y/n giggles running ahead of Lia, Charlie right next to her barking as he tries to grab his toy from Y/n's hand. The six year old dog, Charlie, being Y/n's best friend, aside from Lia of course. Y/n's family had just adopted Charlie when they found out Y/n's mom was pregnant with Y/n. Charlie and Y/n got to grow up together, Y/n didn't know it yet but Charlie would be the reason she becomes a veterinarian.

"Gotta be faster than that Lia!" Y/n says gaining speed and growing the distance between her and Lia. Lia huffs pushing herself to run faster to try and tag her best friend.

"Girls! Dinner!" The two stop and turn seeing Y/n's mom, Jean, on the back porch, both turning and running towards her. Both smile at her, dirt all over their faces from where they were rolling in the dirt with Charlie. "What has happened to you both?"

"We were playing with Charlie!" Y/n explains, Lia nodding in agreement. Jean lets out a sigh but smiles at the happiness radiating from the girls.

"You two need to get cleaned up before you eat," Jean says, licking her thumb to brush some of the dirt off of Y/n's cheek. Y/n groans pushing her hand away.

"Mom," Y/n whines, Jean chuckles.

"Let me take your picture then you two need to get cleaned up for dinner." Jeans says. Lia and Y/n nod, sitting on the ground next to Charlie, all three looking at Jean, large smiles on their faces. Even Charlie as Jean snaps the photo. "Okay, now go get cleaned up," Jean says shooing the two off. The girls nod walking into the house. Y/n turns to her mom smiling, her hand resting on Charlie's head as the dog walks next to her.

"Mom? Can we eat with Charlie?" Y/n asks a hopeful look in her eye.

"Not tonight girls. Charlie needs to eat in his spot, and you two need to eat at the table with the rest of us." Jean explains, the two girls nod, a frown on their faces as they move to get cleaned up for dinner, Charlie still following behind.

----End of Flashback----

"What do you need Lia?" Y/n asks leaning back on her desk, her arms crossed on her chest as she looks at Lia. Lia shakes her head ridding her mind of the memory, moving to step into Y/n's office shutting the door behind her.

"Uhm, how are you?" Y/n quirks an eyebrow at Lia's question.

"Really? After all this time that's what you ask me?" Y/n asks. Lia sighs shaking her head.

"No," she breathes out, "I just don't know what to say," Lia whispers. Y/n lets out a scoff.

"You could start with an apology and an explanation." Lia looks at Y/n in confusion. "Do you know how long it's been since we've seen or talked to each other?" Y/n asks instead of explaining. Lia takes a second to think before shaking her head. "Twelve years." Y/n says. Lia takes a step back eyes widening in shock.

Had it really been that long? Lia thinks.

"Twelve years since you last responded to one of my messages." Y/n lets out a humorless laugh, "I didn't even know if we were still together. Your parents tried to talk to you, but you kept brushing them off. I eventually gave up trying with you. We had been dating for three years, best friends since we were five and you didn't even have the decency to break up with me. You just left." Y/n says tears building in her eyes as she voices what she's been wanting to for the last twelve years since Lia disappeared.

"I-I don't know why I did what I did." Lia sighs, starting to pace the room as she tries to gather her thoughts. "I guess I was scared," Lia stops turning to face Y/n who looks at her confused. "We were 18, you were getting ready for college, I was going to play in Germany, things just didn't feel possible with the distance." Lia explains. Y/n lets out a laugh, Lia looking at her in confusion.

"I got accepted to a college in Germany!" Y/n exclaims. Lia looks at her in shock, "If you had answered your phone and talked to me instead of running away like a coward, things would have been fine." Y/n says throwing her arms up in frustration. Lia shrinks in on herself at the tone of Y/n's voice.

"I'm sorry. Maybe if I never ran, things would have been different." Lia says moving to stand between Y/n's legs where she still leans on her desk, her hand coming to rest on Y/n's cheek. Y/n sighs but doesn't pull away. She needs closure on this part of her life.

"Do you regret leaving? Leaving me?" Y/n asks. Lia sighs her thumb brushing over Y/n's cheek.

"Yes. You were are my soulmate and I was too dumb to see that then. I still love you Y/n." Lia says, Y/n sighs and goes to speak but her office door slams open. Little feet barreling through the now open door as a little voice screams.

"Mama!! Look!" a smile instantly forms on Y/n's face as she pushed away from Lia to bend down and grab the little body and standing with them now securely in her arms.

"What is it you have there Lila?" Y/n asks, noticing the familiar stuffed animal in Delilah's hand, sparing a glance at Lia noting the look of recognition on her face at the item in her four year old daughter's hand.

"Auntie Val was cleaning at grandma's and found it! She said I could have it!" Deliliah exclaims, holding the stuffed bunny out in her arms for her mama to see. Y/n smiles sadly as she looks at the bunny that holds so many memories. Y/n places her hand on the bunny brushing her thumb over the patch that had to be sewn on the bunny's head from where the material was torn.

"This bunny was very special to Mama when she was little, you know." Y/n says, Delilah looks at her mom eyes wide In wonder.

"Really?" Y/n nods, sparing a glance at Lia seeing her with tears in her eyes.

"Yup, Clover was given to Mama by Mama's best friend. Clover went with Mama everywhere.  I thought Clover was gone forever. I had her one day then she was gone the next. Grandma must have found her and forgot to tell me. I'm glad she found you though." Y/n smiles, poking Delilah's stomach, eliciting a laugh from the child. That same bunny Lia had given to Y/n was meant to be passed down to their child. Now Clover belongs to only Y/n's child. Y/n has a knowing smile on her face as she hears someone running down the hall.

"Delilah! You can't run just run past me like that!" Lia looks up, her heart stopping at the sight of the receptionist from earlier, the woman looking exactly like the child in Y/n's arms, aside from a couple features that are all Y/n.

"Sorry, Mommy." The child says, a pout forming on her lips. "I was excited to show Mama the bunny Auntie Val gave me," Deliliah says.

"It's alright sweetheart, just don't do that again, you scared Mommy." The woman says moving to stand next to Y/n pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"You can't keep scaring Mommy like that love," Y/n says ruffling Delilah's hair. "Sorry love," Y/n gives the woman a smile pressing a kiss to her lips. The child gagging brings a laugh out of the two.

"I'm sorry did you want kisses too?" Y/n asks sharing a look with her wife before both lean in pressing kisses to the child's face, causing Delilah to erupt into a fit of giggles. Lia clearing her throat to hold back her tears breaks the little family from their moment. Y/n's eyes widening having forgotten Lia was there. "Oh, I'm sorry. Uhm Lia this is Alex, my wife, and Delilah, our daughter. Alex, Delilah this is Lia… an old friend." Y/n says. Alex now looks at Lia with a glare, knowing all about Lia and the hurt she had caused Y/n, compared to the sweet smile she had earlier before she knew exactly who Lia was.

"Delilah, why don't you go see Auntie Val at the front. Mama and Mommy will be there shortly." Alex says giving her daughter a smile. The little girl nods, wiggling out of her Mama's arms and running out of the room to find her Aunt. Alex shuts the door behind her daughter, walking to stand next to Y/n. Y/n sighs knowing this isn't going to end well now that Alex knows who Lia is.

"Y/n I -" Lia is cut off by Alex.

"What more could you possibly have to say to my wife? Haven't you done enough damage to her? Do you have any idea of the walls you made her build up? It took me years to break those down. You broke her and now you think you-" Alex stops her rant at the feel of Y/n's hand on her back, drawing soothing circles trying to keep Alex calm.

"It's okay honey," Y/n whispers pressing a kiss to Alex's head. Alex lets out a sigh, leaning into Y/n's side, her hand gripping the bottom of Y/n's shirt as she remembers all of the nights she held Y/n as she cried wondering what she did to lose her not only her lover but her best friend. Alex was jealous at first but she realized, even if Lia did come back into Y/n's life their relationship would never be what it once was. "Let me," Y/n whispers to Alex before looking at Lia. "Look Lia, I heard what you said but I'm sorry I don't love you anymore. I may have been your soulmate and I once thought you were mine too. But you broke me by just disappearing. You don't get to show up after twelve years and declare your love to me. Alex helped rebuild me. She brought me back to life. She is my soulmate." Y/n glances behind Lia a sad smile on her face when she notices Mariona and Calvin entered the room, "You can't be declaring you still love me, especially when you already have someone in your life." Lia turns seeing Mariona there, tears in her eyes.

"Tell me she's joking Lia," Mariona says, her voice breaking from the emotion she is feeling. Lia opens her mouth to explain but nothing comes out. Mariona scoffs shaking her head. "I left my home for you, I left the club I played at for ten years for you. I left my friends for you. This is what I get in return? You declaring your love for someone else? Someone who is married?" Mariona asks, her voice raising.

"Mario I'm-" Lia says trying to apologize. Mariona shakes her head. Y/n and Alex are sitting by Y/n's desk watching the scene unfold, Y/n feeling especially sorry for Mariona knowing what it feels like to be left behind by Lia.

"Save it. I'm taking Calvin back to Steph's, then I'll be staying with Laia until I can get my own place. We. Are. Done." Mariona spits, leaving the room, Calvin following behind. Lia lets out a sob realizing what she's done.

"I think you need to leave," Y/n says. Lia turns to look at Y/n tears in her eyes. She nods and walks out of the room making her way to her apartment she used to share with Mariona.

"I regret everything." Lia whispers as tears stream down her cheeks.

[thefandomthings]

Okay HEAR ME OUT BUTTTT what about zuko betrayal part 2 with the prompt “you own my heart” 👀

Betrayal

Fluff Prompt #30: "You own my heart."

Pairing: Zuko x F/Gn!reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Terrible writing, happy ending? ¡¡SPOILERS!!, Takes place in Book 3. Ep. 11. It doesn't follow the script in the episode.

Notes: I'm so sorry I haven't been writing, I work in agriculture and summer and fall are my busiest times of the year and I lost motivation in the process 😭. But, hopefully I'm back. Thank you for your patience.

Part 1 Part 2 Prompt Event

Who knew betrayal could hurt so much. Chest heavy, heart heavier. Why did he do it? Does he think everything will be okay once he got back? Maybe Azula manipulated him? No. He did it willingly.

It's been weeks since the incident, a few months actually. You dont know what to do with yourself. Everything has been so emotionally hard. The long term depression grasping you in a chokehold.

The gaang has been there for you. Aang suffering from his own mid childhood crisis, the weight of the world literally on his shoulders. Katara tires to help as much as she could, but she is also dealing with things of her own. Sokka....was just Sokka.

After the invasion, you retreated to the western air temple. It was definitely a sight for sore eyes. The architecture was incredible. The Air Nation really outdid themselves.

"Y/n? Why don't you come eat dinner with us?" Katara leaned against the door frame of the room you are currently residing in. You look over at her gave her a small smile, one that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Katara didn't exactly like Zuko, having felt being betrayed as well. She has a lot of not nice things to say about the young prince, but for the sake of your ears she kept them to herself.

She grabs your arm pulling you up from your bed. You reluctantly follow her, head resting on her shoulder.

Today was a rough day. It Started out with a dream of you and him dancing in the temple. Oh so in love. Hands intertwined with each others. Whispering small nothings, butterflies occupying your chest and tummy. You woke up as if it was a nightmare, your brain toying with you like a yoyo.

Katara holds you gently, her hand laying on your head as if you were a child. At this moment you felt as if you were. Needing someone to comfort your aching heart.

"What are you doing here?!"

"Please just hear me out..." You immediately recognize that voice. It was him.

Zuko.

"Why should we? Huh?!" Sokka crosses his arms defensively. Katara flicks the lid on the water pouch on her hip, bending the water out.

You heart is hammering against your chest. His eyes immediately are drawn towards you. Zuko feels himself choke up. The sight of you made his chest hurt. The dullness you held in your eyes was unbearable to look at.

"Y/n...."

"She doesn't want to talk to you." Katara says, she moved to stand in front of you. Her body is blocking his sight of you. Zuko wants to reach for you, to grovel at your feet, to beg for forgiveness. Even if it hurts his pride, or his reputation. Which wasn't much good anyway. He had to make it right with you.

You are his everything.

"It's okay Katara." You give her a reassuring smile, it wasn't very convincing to anyone who knew you.

"What're you doing here?" You inquire and step next to Katara. Your eyes boring into his, he looked...Sad. Regret swimming in his honey irises.

"I've changed-" You feel yourself moving on its own. You hold your hand up, and he stopped talking.

"That's what you said under Ba Sing Se, then you left. Betraying everyone who cared about you. Especially Uncle Iroh."

That struck a nerve, his face hardens and he looks away slightly, eyebrows furrowed. His tongue darts out and wets his dry and cracked lips, his golden eyes looking back up at you. He steps closer, his hands clenching and unclenching by his side.

Zuko wants to hold you...Needs to feel you against him. To kiss you, to be with you. He needs you like he needs air, without you he's nothing, just a shell of the man he was before he lost you.

"Y/n, please...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Zukos voice cracks slightly.

You purse your lips together tightly.

It's so very tempting to close the gap between the two of you, forgiving him just felt right. Maybe it was just the your heart talking over logic. Your headspace is messed up severely, the wound is still fresh in your brain and heart.

"Zuko-"

Katara stops you, stepping in front of you.

"Leave. You've done enough, you are not welcome here."

"Y/n...please." It was strange seeing him so weak for once, pleading you. Practically on his knees for forgiveness.

"You own my heart."

It hurt you to watch him get treated so badly. He deserved it, mostly. Everyone has the right to be angry with him. Chasing Aang across the globe, trying to kill you then after everything at Ba sing se. It was almost unforgivable. Almost.

•°•°•°•

Taglist: @etherjen @xlatinaaxx @youngladysakura @m4rlvky @kitt38 @monysakura @kenqki @rdpiano @mikemakesartt @thigh-o-saur @chi-ara @kookiegirl444 @snixx2088 @zacatecanaaaa

[sleepynoons]

Under the Same Sky

Mydeimos and you are husband and wife. In ancient China, where the heavens and earth exist in the same dimension, your husband slays beasts and demons to protect the Emperor and the Holy Nation. You yourself are closely related to divinity, though it is a relationship you wish to abandon, because the heavenly forces have only wished the worst upon you. And it seems nothing has changed, when the divine wants to destroy your and Mydei's relationship.

mydei x afab!f!reader, chinese mythology!au, nsfw

word count: ~17,400

cw: angst/slight comfort, minor character death, religious/spiritual imagery/themes/depictions, graphic descriptions of violence/blood/death, unprotected sex, marking kink, a singular instance of a blood kink, undertones of codependency, unintended phainon slander (truly just for the plot)

notes: to my beloved beta, @staraxiaa, i love you. truly. you have such a beautiful mind and an unmatched cadence to your words. thank you for all that you do for me, and this piece would not have come out of the vault without your encouragement and advice.

to readers, would soo appreciate reblogs, comments, and tags on this piece! i always put a bit of my soul in my writing, but truly, as a chinese person myself, this fic is especially special in my heart. i may post an author's note (update: you can find my thoughts here), but for now, i hope you are able to walk away from this piece knowing a bit about my heritage, culture, and mythology, though there may be several historical inaccuracies LOL

EVERYONE IN the village knows Mydeimos loves you and you love Mydeimos. In particular, the elders, those who often sit under the weeping willows at noon and fan themselves with their cheap linen imitations of the gongshan, laugh amongst themselves about the blush that had blossomed on Mydeimos’ face with your first appearance and has never left since, until the faint outlines of their grandchildren appear on the border between the horizon and the flat earth. Because who could believe that their village chief, a figure of authority and demand – though a son he will forever be remembered as in the villagers’ eyes and memories  – would ever look so pathetically adorable. But at this point, it is not a question anymore, moreso a teasing remark the people make in the presence of their adored chief.

And you, a girl of an unknown origin, from another collective li and li away, have also become a beloved member of this village. Even if you were not Mydeimos’ wife, your kindly manner, speaking always with a warming wisp of a smile, and the gentle curve of your upturned palm have won over the hearts of the villagers here.

It is clear to everyone that, by the decree of the heavenly gods above and their kindred spirits down on this earth in the forms of the water, leaves, wind, and destiny, that you and Mydeimos are for each other, to always be intertwined and inseparable in this vast, vast universe.

–

My love.

Mydei – just Mydei in your presence – twitches in his sleep, the magnetic pull of your voice coming from somewhere between the depths of his half-conscious, sleepy haze and the echoes from the four sun-stricken brick walls of your shared bedroom. You tantalize him already, when he has so much to do, so much to worry, so much to protect. After all, being one of the Emperor’s generals is no casual title, and one can tell because all he can boast about is the long hours of never-ending work and the deplorably large number of men he had to send to the infirmary the other day for they all lacked strength comparable to his. Indeed, he has much to be concerned about, yet in the spare moments of tranquility he is granted in the early morning, he allows himself to bask in both the warmth from the dawn sunlight that streams through the bamboo folding screens and radiates from your lulling tone.

Mydei.

He blinks awake, your silhouette discerned with more clarity with each closing and opening. You are holding the blanket up to your chest with one arm, while your other reaches over to stroke his hair, straightening out strands that have splayed themselves across his forehead, intermingling with the lengths of his eyelashes and paralleling the cut of his jawline.

You will be late.

Displeased at your reminder, he grunts and leans into your palm, the shape of it meant to caress and cradle his cheek. You do not make any noticeable reaction, except for the slight lifts at the corners of your lips. And you let him assume control of your hand, relinquish your time as well, so that you can connect with him before he sets off for another long day at work. Though work is never just work for someone as noble as Mydei, as even the trek to the Palace is fraught with danger, where assassins and mercenaries can be prowling in the shadows, waiting for the right timing to strike, attack, kill your lover, the chief of a village a slight ways away from the Capital, a general to the Emperor and this Holy Nation. 

Mydei then cups one of his hands over yours, and sits up with your fingers interlaced. With a quick glance, he is sated and actually smirks at the marks that bruise, bloom, and flourish across the delicate skin of your shoulders and neck. He leans over to kiss a spot that is undoubtedly the most stubborn of them all, the last that will fade from remembrance. 

I know. I am on my way now.

And, without another word, he swings his legs over the side of the bed and gets up to stride over to the washroom. You watch from your position, eyes lingering over the hardened and muscled build of his legs, the jagged scars that etch themselves into the broad scope of his back and sides, and the tanned lines that have begun to form on his arms, a sign that the height of spring has arrived. You wait until he has left the room to release a pleased hum before you, too, stretch and prepare yourself for your day.

In the courtyard, it is more than obvious that spring has fully encompassed the Holy Nation. The magnolia buds are green, hurried and eager in their pursuit for growth, and the scent of damp soil has begun to dissipate from the lack of overnight snow and frost. A young female servant, a recent addition to your handful of helpers, speaks in rapid, excited breaths as she serves you powdered cakes in bite-sized pieces and pours oolong tea into a brown porcelain cup, reciting news about the Emperor’s several princes she had overheard when she went to the market earlier today. You cannot help but chuckle as the servant takes a seat beside you, her arms propped up on the table with her face resting on her fist, humming as any young girl in love would. It just so happens that your head maid comes over at this moment and scolds the younger one.

Get up! Where are your manners? Apologize!

You simply wave them both off and ask the young servant to continue her relay. After all, she is not of age yet, so she can only daydream, and who are you to not indulge in such whimsies. She tells you of the second youngest prince, one of three in her generation, and she fantasizes of colliding into him in the streets as he makes an escape from the Capital. It is no surprise that the prince, along with all nine of his royal brothers, are mischievous, something that many Daoist priestesses have foretold as they ventured in and out of the Palace, prophecies that trace back even before the births of many of the Emperor’s sons. Yet the young servant’s fantasies are far too exaggerated and dependent on coincidence to ever materialize, so after a while, you begin to ask her other questions.

How are this season’s harvests? Are there murmurings of strife and conflict along the Northern border? Are the rabbits back?

She responds accordingly: seasonal goods, such as green peas and plums, seem to be more expensive and sparse than last year; no outbreaks so far, and people are anticipating a peaceful year ahead; the rabbits have begun to leave their burrows! In fact, regarding that last point, the servant urges you to finish your tea faster so you can visit the babies, and despite the exasperated protests from your head lady-in-waiting, you gulp the last dregs of your drink, bits of loose tea leaves included, before gathering your dress into your fists and rushing out of the pavilion.

Rabbits are cautious creatures. They are aware of their disadvantages and their being on the bottom of the food chain. And while this village that you have become a part of and that Mydei grew up in has long taken root in this region of the Holy Nation, the local flora and fauna have yet to fully adapt to the presence and caprices of humans. Where you are from, it is quite the opposite, in that the people of your origin have learned to assimilate with this earth, rather than the other way around. Where you are from, the rabbits are not afraid to come out of their burrows and shallow mounds to peer curiously – fearlessly – at their human neighbors.

As you and the young servant approach a lush corner of the courtyard, your steps decrease in stride and bumbling excitement. Instead, the two of you tread with silent passes, almost as if you were rabbits yourselves. And when the two of you make it to the edge of the walkway, you stand still and hold your breaths, waiting earnestly for even the most fleeting of a glimpse of the animals.

Since your youth, you have had a talent for disappearing, in the most neutral sense possible. With ease that a person of ego cannot bear to imagine or replicate, you are capable of shedding off all and any attachments you have to your person and melding into the sways of the wind, the humming of the bees, the thrums of the soil beneath your feet. You showed this ability of yours to Mydei before, albeit unintentionally. It was happenstance, something you had done out of habit when he had taken you out for a stroll along a manmade pond near the east end of the Capital and you were trying to feed a pair of restless magpies. You were only shaken out of your illusory state from the grounding pressure of his hand against your shoulder blade.

With an ability like that, you could easily conceal yourself and become an assassin.

You shrugged in response because, unlike him, there is no obligation for you to pursue the art or administration of death, and you figure you will never have to either.

This is all to say that, had it not been for the chirp of excitement from your lady-in-waiting, the rabbits would have approached you out of sheer intrigue. And as quickly as they shuffled out of their home, their grey and white whiskers and fluff ruffling in the breeze, their beady eyes take note of you and your servant before they recede back to safety. Your lady-in-waiting sighs with palpable adoration and lovesickness, and you promise her that there will be another chance tomorrow.

For the rest of the morning, you eat a quick breakfast under a pagoda, admiring the jasmine blossoms that flourish around the circumference, before making way to your fitting. Fittings only occur when special occasions are imminent, and with a banquet at the Palace in celebration of the fourth prince’s birthday occurring in two weeks, your other ladies-in-waiting have brought back several robes from the market for you to try on, no doubt on Mydei’s orders. There is a generous collection of blush, cream, and sunshine brocade and linen that await you, and as you dress and undress, tie and untie, spin and spin, it is unanimously agreed upon by all of your attendants that nothing will be returned. There is also a tray that holds various accessories, most notably a tasteful amalgamation of embroidered fans and gold-accented jinbu, and those are all kept as well. Of course, upon realizing that all of these valuables are yours and yours only, you pass on a message to one of Mydei’s servants to also visit the market with expectations of purchasing new cords for your husband’s hair, as well as a replacement for his worn yudai.

Then, it is lunch, but you tend to spend this time with the other villagers. With a parasol in one hand and a basket of tangerines and dried dates in the other, you head to the edge of the village, accompanied by two guards for formality’s sake. At the perimeter, where brick walls intercept a wide, trodden path, there are several benches and tables so that both residents and travelers alike can rest. When you first arrived, you, too, sat down here, gulping down a flask of water as you observed the hustle and bustle – not as busy as the Capital, but festive enough to indicate decent business and progress.

The elders and a few mothers already present greet you with dips of their chin. Usually, citizens are to greet those of nobility or high-ranking government positions with strict curtsies and bows, and while Mydei insists on the custom in speech, he does not uphold this rule quite as stringently. The reason for your visits are twofold: to know your people and to gather information. Though you have not yet born descendants of your and Mydei’s own, you have come to realize that children have sharp ears and loose mouths, fervent in their interminable search for entertainment and delight. The village is close enough for children to pursue education in the Capital if their parents so wished, so until many of them return, you pass your time underneath the arching path of the sun exchanging pleasantries and discussing matters.

By the time the little ones return, the sun is bathed in orange gold, half-concealed by the mountains you had once traversed, and there are but a few of the fruits remaining, just enough to quench their parched throats. As children do, they clamor to their respective guardians, complaining about the heat and how they are so sweaty and tired that there is no conceivable way they can continue to study later tonight. They also recognize you, and with a lightheartedness that more often occurs between friends of the same generation, they whine for your treats. You laugh as you hand the last pieces out, as you would when feeding cabbage bits to rabbits.

Upon your return home, the moon already having replaced the sun as the night’s guardian, you dismiss your guards, so you can bathe while the rest of the household eats. You much prefer solitude when you are in a vulnerable state, and your ladies-in-waiting are no exception to this preference, even if they are no stranger to a woman’s body. Sat on a stool, you strip yourself, letting all the layers collapse in a disheveled pile, and remove any pins and beaded strings from your hair. By now, your servants have become familiar with your ways, so there is already steaming water in the bronze bathtub, so you directly step in and submerge yourself up until your neck.

The hot water is not very pleasant against your warm skin, but you stay regardless, as spring evenings can still be unforgiving and biting. You watch as the water sloshes against the solid walls of the tub, causing the steam to waver before resuming its vertical ascendance, and do nothing even when a few splashes escape and drip down the exterior. After all, this time is allotted for you to think, nothing more. Your thoughts are preoccupied with declining trade with farmers outside of the Capital, many citing long-lasting droughts and fires as primary culprits, and there have been a sharp incline of those suffering from heat strokes and asthma. Some have even mentioned hallucinations of more than a single sun in the sky, and while you are not one to be affected by superstitious or mythical stories, you do find it odd that there have been multiple accounts of such a phenomenon from various distinct folks. These are pieces of information you must report to Mydei, though it is too early to draw any actionable conclusions.

You arise from your bath half an hour later, when the water has simmered down to a lukewarm. You dry yourself, adorn a simple beige gown with a matching robe over it, and make your way to the kitchen. By the moon’s position, if all goes smoothly, your husband should return in about two hours, more than enough for you to prepare his dinner.

Although you are not obligated to cook, you have sensed Mydei’s hesitation when it comes to consuming food that is prepared by those he is unfamiliar with. He trusts you and the villagers, but many of your household’s servants are from the Capital or elsewhere. Therefore, for both his sanity and safety, you have taken on the responsibility to provide him meals so that he may eat in peace at home. Besides, it is also an opportunity for the two of you to simply be together.

Just as you have set the last plate onto the dining table, Mydei returns, lamellar plates thunking and chain mail jostling with every heavy step he takes. It is a heaviness that resounds in your heart, for it is a reflection of his fatigue and, more importantly, the weight of the responsibilities he bears.

He does not come to greet you, not yet. He does not like appearing in front of you with his armor still on. He wants to avoid bringing in the stench of blood and grief into this abode he shares with you – does not want to taint you, his person of comfort and solace, with the violence you have no desire to take part in. Though, try as he might, deep down he knows it is to no avail, as his hands, the same ones he uses to touch and feel you, are already stained with death.

In the small shed, surprisingly compact and spare for a master of many weapons, he shrugs everything off with laborious groans. As each weighted iron slab and scratchy sheet of chain mail drops to the ground, Mydei lavishes in the slow regain of freedom in his movement. Lastly, he pulls off his helmet, and with a quick rub of his sleeve against a permanent smudge, he sets it on top of a drawer that contains duplicates of his uniform, first aid, and short daggers. He does not linger, and instead, swivels around to head to where you are.

When Mydei rounds the corner to stand in front of the kitchen entrance, double doors swung wide open, he cannot help but pause in his tracks, just a few paces away from joining you at the table in the center of the room. You peer at him from your seat, your chin resting in a divot formed by your palms, and also observe him, his face shrouded in shadows.

It is not so much a staring contest as it is a reverent yearning for one another. For no reason at all, it seems the two of you have a habit of practicing restraint – hesitation – before allowing yourselves to indulge in each other.

Come sit beside me.

I will. Let me admire you first.

And so you wait.

From Mydei’s perspective, you are the most beautiful at this time of the night. It is not to say that you are not in the morning, when you are still slumbering beside him with your hands splayed across his bare chest, or when you are pinned underneath him, a sinful image of you in your most disheveled state – his stained robe splayed out underneath your figure, your lungs heaving with pitched whines, your knees trembling with indecision as you fail to choose between spreading yourself open so that he can enter deeper or closing, and thereby restricting his movement, because the pleasure is unbearable. You are always his most precious, but he believes you are at your best when you are working towards an objective. And since your marriage, you have honored his same priority in protecting his people, and he will forever admire this determination of yours.

Truthfully, he never required such a sense of responsibility in his wife. In fact, before he met you, he had never imagined shouldering this duty with anyone else, let alone a stranger from somewhere far beyond. But you are no longer a stranger, and now, during your shared dinners, you are able to speak of this place as if you grew up here, alongside him and all the other villagers. You speak with incredible depth and acute intuition, and fortified by the precision and clarity in your words, he cannot help but think that, despite your personal aversions towards leadership and confrontation, you deserve to stand beside him in the ranks.

The oil lamps and candles on the dining table brighten your face with a gentle golden glow. He can see the flames’ flickering in your eyes, and behind you, he can hear the crackle of smoldering wood and charcoal. He walks over and takes a seat beside you, noticing the faint traces of fire and herbs that linger in your hair and at your shoulders. Pressing the side of his thigh against yours, he picks up his chopsticks and begins to eat, a gesture for you to initiate the conversation.

There is noticeable delay. We can no longer ignore the growing connection between the slowdown of trade with the recurring delusions of multiple suns in the sky. 

Do you think it could be divine punishment?

If we had incurred the wrath of Tian, we would have long suffered, and the Emperor would have justified the recent happenings. Our deities have no interest or patience for prolonged torture.

We will need to wait then. We need to know more, or else we will be searching in vain.

No.

You set down your bowl and look straight ahead, peering outside at the courtyard – or rather, at a point somewhere beyond the walls of the courtyard. Mydei can feel your presence wax and wane, expand and recede, until it settles down into a light thrum, akin to the tranquil qi of lotus petals and mossy creeks. He can still see you, without a doubt, but he knows that if he had not been in this room with you right now, he would have never been able to find you here without incredible effort.

It is magical, truly, how you can quiet your presence. In his many years of training and fighting, he has met only a handful of incredible soldiers who can do the same. He was only able to gain this ability himself after maturing as a person and facing the near-death consequences of overwhelming, unbound bloodlust in the midst of combat. That is not to claim that you did not learn in the same ways, but he cannot confirm nor deny because, for better or worse, you never speak of the past. Otherwise, outside of the army, he only knows of the high priests and priestesses that can also adopt a kind of otherworldly aura during their rituals and prayers.

He chews slowly, more preoccupied with observing your profile. Your features are unperturbed, essentially blank, and there is an unfocused fog in your eyes, sharply distinct from the ambition burning within your irises at the beginning of dinner. You shiver, probably to your own ignorance, and he places his things down so he can take off his robe and wrap your shoulders with it. To his surprise, and contentment, you instinctively lean over to rest your shoulder against his without disrupting your thoughts. Just as you wait for him, he waits for you.

By the time the shortest of the three candles, once a sixth of its original length, is about to extinguish, you come to, and the light in your eyes returns as well.

Innate divinity – not to be conflated with the ability to call forth divine powers or forces – is only granted to a few select individuals. More than likely, there will be no need to search the common folk.

Let us begin at the Palace.

Will the Emperor take to this idea?

Perhaps he already has conjectures of his own. I shall request an audience.

Divinity is an intricate, mysterious subject. Deeply embedded in the belief systems and cultural underpinnings of this Holy Nation, most people are naturally mesmerized and fearful of Tian’s deities and their abilities. Even those who are born with divine abilities, namely the Emperor and a select few of his children, and those who can invoke divinity through sacred objects and incantations, such as priests, priestesses, and monks, advise all to be cautious of incurring heavenly wrath. 

When you first heard of the hallucinations, you thought it to be the aftershocks of severe heatstroke. Then, when many more farmers and traders began to verify the sighting of various suns, it became clear that the divine was involved because, when individuals who have no capacity for divinity are exposed to these mystical forces, their minds and behaviors can be continuously affected. That must mean they must have come in contact with a mythic beast or creature.

The deities are known for having many children and several other distant brethren, some of which exist on the earth, roaming around as Buddhist guardians, such as the regal Dapengs, or man-eating snake monsters, the most infamous being the nine-headed Jiuying that terrorized seafarers for decades until Mydei slayed it. In this case, an immediate possibility was the return of the boar demon Feng Xi who often wreaked havoc upon farmlands. Feng Xi was also subdued by your husband a few years ago, but it would be no surprise if it were to appear again, typical of the inexplicable nature of divine beasts. But upon investigations of the ruined farmlands by their respective prefectural ministers, there were no signs of terrifying waste or death, only the usual symptoms of a long-lasting drought and ashy remains from fires caused by unrelenting dry winds. With further consideration, you also know that it is impossible, from personal observations and experiences, to invoke a heavenly force powerful – brutal – enough to cause a disaster of this magnitude. In other words, by process of elimination, the problem has to either be the direct doing of a human blessed with divinity or, even worse, a creature or deity from Tian themselves. 

You can only hope it is not the latter.

Your concern must be showing on your face, as Mydei leans over to rub his thumb firmly against the apple of your cheek.

No more. Come back to me.

You nod, knowing when to be obedient. When Mydei speaks to you in this tone, sympathetic yet earnest, you know he is looking out for you, grounding you before you can fully lose yourself. While you have impressive mental strength and foresight, you lack an attachment to the present, and without supervision, there is a very real risk of you drifting far, far away, disappearing as you once did when you were young.

Your husband takes you by the hand and guides you back to your shared bedroom. The brief walk is silent, save for your footsteps and the occasional greeting from a guard. The two of you part momentarily when you enter the chamber, as Mydei heads to the side to open the window screens to allow streams of moonlight into the room, while you take your seat on the center of the bed. It is not cold even as a slight breeze filters into the room, for his robe still shields your back and shoulders. However, you elect to take it off, and Mydei watches you strip, not just his clothing but also your layers underneath, from where he is standing.

The moon always manages to cast a romantic light on all that it befalls, and through the midst of your moans, his pants, and the joining of your bodies, over and over and over again, it generously extends its rays so that the two of you are able to have a clear view of each other in your otherwise pitch black room. Surprisingly, there is also a warmth to the moonlight, a soothing and comforting quality to it, that makes you feel as if time is passing slower than it actually is. In this prolonged moment, you can pinpoint every single movement and sensation between you and Mydei – his steeled grip around the base of your neck as he presses you tightly against his chest, the curling of your toes with every deep thrust, the crescendo of his heartbeat against yours. In this room, there is only you and him, isolated and ignorant to the rest of the world – the universe, even –, and defying all rules of space and physics, you solely focus on extending the present for as long as you can, while Mydei struggles to convey to you just how deeply obsessed and enamored he is with you. No one can intervene in this proud, unabashed act of intimacy, and if either you or Mydei dared, both of you would even describe your shared bond as sacred. And, especially for you, you know to not use that word so carelessly.

And when Mydei lays you down to peel off your legs and instead press them down, as close to your ears as possible, he goes impossibly harder and deeper. In this space, there are only the two of you, though you are only seeing him, and he is only seeing you. There are no thoughts or even carnal desires, just a fundamental appreciation and unconditional loving for the other. You whimper – my love – as he presses his sweat-stricken forehead against yours, and he responds with a passionate roll of his hips and a scathing bite that draws blood at your left shoulder. With your arms wrapped around his head, you keep him there and leave him with no choice but to continue making love to you until you unravel at your climax with your teeth clenching, thighs shaking, mind spinning, soul soaring. Mydei soon follows, piercing his nails into your hips to mark you on the outside, releasing within you to mark you on the inside, and between labored rasps of your name, he smears his lips and tongue over yours in hopes of memorizing your addictive taste, your delighted sounds, and your passionate touch.

The two of you stay intertwined, even when neither of you are reeling from the impact of your highs. To part would be to abandon this private realm, which would mean returning to your normal tendencies of hesitance and restraint, and even though all of this will repeat once again tomorrow, you lack the patience to wait, still imprisoned in the moon’s warped, elongated trajectories of time and space.

Despite your defiance, the two of you fall asleep, consumed by wariness and longing, and another day of your life passes.

–

The Emperor has ten sons and countless more daughters. Today marks the seventeenth birthday of the fourth prince, and as expected, it is a grand event. Earlier, at the celebration’s reception, there were hundreds of dancers in neat rows, all flicking their sleeves and arching their fingertips to the rhythm of the Capital’s grand orchestra, also perfectly organized and harmonious as a whole. Following the conclusion of the performance, guards, servants, and lower-ranking officials dash back and forth and around the expanse of the Palace to ensure the undeterred progression of the fourth prince’s birthday party, while higher-ranking officials and generals, along with their accompanying guests, mill about before filing to their respective seats along the two columns of tables laid out parallel to the walls of the central courtyard. In the center front, there is a raised stage with a constructed overhang large enough to accommodate the Emperor, the Empress Dowager, and all ten sons. The platform and steps are entirely covered by a luxurious red carpet with golden floral patterns, and from Mydei’s seat, you can marvel at the delicate porcelain dishware set on top of masterfully carved wooden countertops. You are not used to such lavish displays of wealth and luxury because, although Mydei has long been one of the Emperor’s most loyal and trustworthy generals, that does not necessarily mean you are invited to visit the Palace often. Therefore, as the two of you wait for the birthday ceremony to officially begin, you try to sit as still as possible in order to marvel and take in your surroundings.

During this period, many governmental and bureaucratic figures visit your and Mydei’s seat to say their greetings and make elucidating small talk. Despite assuming his role as one of the Holy Nation’s protectors, your husband cannot abandon certain pet peeves of his, and he shuts down all but one of these conversations with dry responses that reveal nothing of his thoughts or opinions. The only official that he properly responds to is the Head of the Security Bureau, a man by the name of Phainon. From past dinner conversations, you remember Mydei mentioning this man but with the questionable nickname “Deliverer” instead. It was in reference to Phainon’s previous position under the Central Secretariat, though the reason behind his transfer to the Security Bureau continues to remain a secret even to your husband. Regardless, it is obvious that Mydei only tolerates this man at best, so you make sure to listen intently to their conversation.

Mydei! Rare to see you so festive!

It is Mydeimos for you, Deliverer.

Ha, yes, of course.

What is the Security Bureau doing here? What happened to keeping a low profile?

No worries, it is only me, and almost everyone here still believes I remain under the Secretariat. I am also here because I have news to share with you.

Hurry, then.

Phainon does not, though. He hums and begins to look around the courtyard. For a moment, you sense his gaze, but it does not linger for more than a full second. With a shake of his head, your husband sighs and takes deep gulps of water to keep himself preoccupied until the Security Head finally carries on.

He will want to speak to you, when it is your turn to congratulate the prince.

Regarding what?

But Phainon shrugs, and this time, there is no hint of evasion or distance. He truly does not know. But he does leave Mydei with one last piece of instruction.

You will be last in line.

After a few more teasing remarks, Phainon bids the two of you farewell, and from your periphery, you watch him disappear from the south gate.

Before dinner, all of the officials present are to line up in terms of rank and nobility, and, one by one, greet the Emperor, Empress Dowager, and the princes, as well as present their gifts. As per military customs, Mydei requested a new sword sheath of untarnished gold be made for the fourth prince, to represent unwavering courage and honorable victory, so that shall be your offering. However, these interactions usually do not last for more than a few minutes, the last ones usually even more rushed, to ensure that everyone gets their turn and are not too irritated by mealtime, so you wonder how exactly the Emperor will relay his message. Furthermore, you find it suspicious that Phainon requested your husband, one of the generals under direct supervision of the Emperor, to place himself last.

Alas, you find yourself in another situation where you cannot draw sound conclusions. But now that Phainon has left and no other officials have the gall to approach Mydei, you can actually enjoy the ongoing celebrations with your husband.

You fill his tea cup and then yours, though you take a sip first. When you look up at him, he nods in affirmation before drinking himself. The walls, you notice, are a rustic red-brown, though much of it has been covered up by the willows and persimmon trees that were moved specifically for tonight’s event. Scattered between the trunks of the trees are gathered shrubs of all kinds, from batches of orange peonies to short stalks of bamboo to clusters of purple asters. You wonder if you could bring back a few roots or seeds with you, but with one sharp glance from Mydei, you discard the idea immediately.

Your husband knows that you are bored, though, so he offers some reprieve.

There are rumors that the fourth prince might not even make it to his own birthday party.

I am not surprised. I have heard the Emperor’s sons are quite rowdy.

I believe Phainon is here to ensure that all of the princes arrive on time and participate through its entirety. I must say, it is quite entertaining to see him chase after a few brats.

Mydei.

Do not worry. The Emperor is understanding. Besides, I am sure he wholeheartedly agrees at the current moment.

Oh?

Mydei raises his chin, staring up at the night sky. It is hard to make out any one star due to the outstanding numbers of torches, lamps, and fires distributed around the courtyard, but it is not like Mydei was looking at the stars in the first place. The two of you are different in this way. You often seek the world when you think, looking outwards for celestial signs, while Mydei often becomes more introspective with his musings. Even when it looks like he is searching for something, he most likely is not, as he believes all of the answers he needs are usually, perhaps with some effort required, within one’s grasp.

Phainon has aided our investigations of the Palace. He is confident that the culprit is not to be found here.

Your fist digs into the sleeves of your gown.

There are not even signs of collusion?

You know the deities would never stoop to that level. They do not need the help of mortal intelligence or treachery. Regardless, the Emperor has been made aware of the situation, and is quite preoccupied with it. His sons’ constant running about and lack of any sort of drive or initiative is certainly not doing him any good either.

Pursing your lips, you glance at your husband, only to find him already staring at you.

Fear not, my wife. I have slain products of the divine before.

His eyes seem to glow with fierce intensity. The red and orange streaks in his eyes are more noticeable, not because of the myriad torches surrounding your table, but rather because his eyes are widening out of enthusiasm. You scowl, disapproving of his evident bloodthirstiness, yet despite your opposing morals, you slip a hand into his hold. By instinct, he begins to press at the pads of your fingertips, while rubbing circles into your palm. If it were any other day, any other moment, his physical affection would soothe and reassure you. Unfortunately, as Mydei has just confirmed the worst of your suspicions, the fear taking root in the pit of your stomach has already begun to sprout and overwhelm the rest of your emotions.

Surely there is no need to jump into a fight.

Huh, you propose a negotiation? Our deities already know what the consequences of their actions are – they do not care to change their ways, even with such knowledge. What makes you think their minds are still susceptible to reconsideration?

Perhaps some of them do care.

Your husband snorts. To be honest, he is a little surprised by your response. Neither of you are particularly devout, and throughout his many years of knowing you at this point, he knows you are not fond of the divine. So for you to defend them, to the extent of betting on their fickle and spare goodwill, is unusual.

It is not up to me, my wife. I act based on what the Emperor asks of me.

Something in you – a gut instinct, a trained intuition – tells you that you will find out the Emperor’s decision by tonight.

After another half hour, composed of more light-hearted conversation and small bites of snacks to whet your appetite, a gong finally sounds, its ringing reverberating throughout the entirety of the Palace. You feel your bones quake with each vibration, and only after its last echoes have died off does your body regain stillness. The Emperor’s secretary makes his way to the center of the stage, and with a deep bow, commands everyone to rise for the Imperial Family. Everyone stands and bows, faces parallel to the floor, until all members of the Imperial Family settle into their seats, which the secretary confirms several minutes later. Afterwards, you all line up.

Other officials have curious looks on their faces as they see you and Mydei turn away from the stage. One even asks where the two of you are headed, wondering if you have lost your minds and are intent on abandoning the ceremony, but neither of you respond and continue toward the back of the line. 

You and Mydei do not speak for the entire hour that it takes for your turn to come. The whole time, nervous and intimidated stares are directed your way, but both of you could care less, simply standing side by side, close enough for your sleeves to brush against and overlap each other.

When the rest of the officials have returned to their seats, only you and Mydei remain, standing a few feet away from the steps that lead up to the raised platform. With a nod from the secretary, Mydei leads you forward, always a step ahead, and when the two of you stand level with the Imperial Family, you get on your knees and raise your clasped hands in front of your dipped heads.

Good evening, your Highnesses. Congratulations to the Fourth Prince, for reaching his seventeenth birthday. We hope the prince continues to live a prosperous, fortunate, and long life, and I present this sword sheath, a product of the finest metals and months’ worth of labor, a tool that we hope he will use as he prepares to lead this Holy Nation. We pay our deepest respects to the Imperial Family.

An attendant takes the sheath from Mydei’s outstretched arms. Usually, one would be dismissed shortly after presenting their gift, but the secretary has yet to tell either of you to rise. Instead, you hear the sound of a chair’s legs rubbing against the carpet’s fur, along with padded footsteps that stop right in front of your husband.

General Mydeimos, you have done incredibly in serving me, and ultimately, this Holy Nation. Your loyalty is not to be questioned.

You recognize this voice. It is jaded yet firm, gentle but irrefutable. The Emperor is telling you his decision.

I want to make an announcement to all that are present, to heed my intent and my resolve. This Holy Nation has coexisted with and lived under the guidance of Tian, but it has not always been a harmonious or even peaceful endeavor. As Emperor, it is my sworn duty, an oath I have undertaken since the day of my inauguration, to protect my people, including all of you, and I can promise you that, throughout these many years under my rule, Tian and I are connected and that I have been in constant search to make a more serene coexistence – a symbiosis, if you will – possible. However –

It seems the Palace and everything within it unanimously sucks in a quavering breath.

– it has become apparent that the heavens have no interest in granting us such serenity. Of course, by no means is this speech of mine a declaration of war or defiance. Rather, I believe this burden I am about to share with you is, in fact, a challenge for this Holy Nation, and one that will be undertaken by a representative of my choosing: Mydeimos. General Mydeimos, please rise.

As much as you would love to raise your head and stare at Mydei like everyone else, you have not been granted permission to lift your head, so you can only continue to heed the Emperor’s message carefully, trying to discern any subtle implications while continuing to pay attention to the words that follow.

For the many years that he has served me, General Mydeimos has become a pillar in the Holy Nation’s defenses. He has slain many of Tian’s earthbound descendants, protecting this land from the destruction of loose spirits and evil demons. Under his watchful gaze, he had confirmed the prophetic fragments I was receiving from Tian, that it is part of this Holy Nation’s fate that we are to face our doom if we remain motionless and ignorant. My people, hear me now, and listen to me carefully, as this message of mine is not meant to inflict any unnecessary fear or anxiety. However, the heavens have told me, as I am telling you, that if nothing is done, the entire world will be burned to its core by the manifestation of ten suns. No human, no animal, no plant will survive the onslaught of ten more suns, no ocean or lake or sea can withstand the fire of ten more suns, not even Tian’s earthbound descendants will be spared.

For this most inauspicious prophecy, I must apologize, on behalf of my ten sons, for their continuous mischief and negligence have been deemed the cause of this impending tragedy. Indeed, Tian has whispered as such in my mind. This Holy Nation deeply understands the various attitudes our deities have towards humans. Some are indifferent, some are intensely curious. It seems this impending tragedy has come about from the latter. My ten sons, this Holy Nation’s royal princes, have inspired the same mischief and negligence in ten of Yudi’s sons. They aspire to experience the same carefree play that my sons have gone away with – escaping the Palace, tricking the innocent to satisfy their personal greed, disappearing for extended periods of time. This behavior has never been acceptable in the Imperial Family, yet despite our fervent attempts to curb their behaviors, Yudi’s sons have already seen enough. 

There is now more than one sun in the sky, there is no mistake to that. We will continue to see more and more suns appear, and by the tenth, we will all perish. We must not cast doubt on this matter anymore, because the severity of this issue is life-threatening.

But, again, need I remind all that are present that I do not wish to embed an unjustified sense of fear or anxiety in any of you. The reason I have called upon all of you is because I would like all that are present to bear witness to this heavenly oath that General Mydeimos will take.

You cannot help but gasp, a sharp, harsh intake of breath that almost causes you to sputter and cough. But, even when the world feels like it is falling down on you, you manage to bear the pain, and you stifle it with tears gathering in your burning eyes.

General Mydeimos, there is no end to your remarkable feats in the military, and we are grateful for all that you have done. However, this ask of mine is one of a difficulty I can promise you have never faced before, and you must know, it could be the last task you ever undertake. Knowing all of the risks, I still ask you to take the following oath: I, General Mydeimos, under the watchful eye of the people of this Holy Nation, the Emperor, and all of Tian who are interested, I pledge to take down all but one of the suns, even at the cost of my own life.

It feels impossible to breathe. It seems, no matter how you try to escape, how far you run away, or where you disappear to, the divine will always catch up to you, pulling you away from your loved ones, and the other way around. Hot streams of tears pour down your cheeks, and the only way to prevent yourself from making any noise is to bite down on your lower lip, until your jaws are locking and your teeth are piercing through the thin flesh. Your clasped hands shudder violently, not only from the exhaustion of holding them up for so long, but also from how tightly they are gripping onto each other. Your knuckles are without a doubt strained, and your fingernails are digging into the backs of your hands. Your ears ring with deafening silence, while straining to hear Mydei’s response, yet you also do not want to listen, fearful because you know that, even if he had a choice, he would always agree to a brutal fight.

Without a beat of hesitation, your husband, chief of your village, a general of this Holy Nation, speaks.

I, General Mydeimos, under the watchful eye of the people of this Holy Nation, the Emperor, and all of Tian who are interested, I pledge to take down all but one of the suns, even at the cost of my own life.

Despite the crescendo of applause, the drums, the gong, you hear nothing. You are not sure how it is that you manage to bow to the Emperor, make your way down from the stage, and return to your seat alongside Mydei’s, but to be honest, you do not care how you did any of those things. All you can think about is that, once again, your loved one is being separated from you, all because of the heavens and the divine, and even if his hand is clutching onto yours at this moment, so tight that you can no longer feel the tips of your fingers or the center of your palm, he has never felt farther away.

–

There is no more of your routine with Mydei. He is taken away at the end of the birthday party to begin making preparations for his conquest, leaving you to return to the village alone. He does not visit, can only make time to send concise messages, but he does promise you that he will return the night before he is scheduled to leave.

This is not Mydei’s first conquest, but it is his first conquest that you are dreading, to say the least. It is difficult to encapsulate the extent of your mental anguish because the resurfacing of past traumas, of memories you are insistent on forgetting, is a dark, murky sensation. It is asphyxiating, but you do not know that you are being choked until it is too late, past the point of return. You are no different from a sleeping mouse in the coiled chokehold of a starving snake, and there is nothing to save you, not even to witness your death. Part of you knows this is a globalization of an internal anxiety, as Mydei has not been slain. He is well and alive presently, but that does not answer your deepest concern: will he survive? Even if you sought out divine signals as you had once routinely done over a decade ago, you have been taught that it is taboo to seek the fate of an individual. Fate can be consulted for villages, the weather, long-term wealth, but to determine the death of somebody, even an important figure, is strongly discouraged as there is no use in disturbing one’s mind over a matter that has been set in stone since the birth of this universe.

Not that any of that is relevant. You are sure the divine, even the weakest of Tian’s spirits, would not heed your call, would pay no mind to a trivial woman that had, a long time ago, abandoned her position as a high priestess, and in turn, her prolific ability to invoke divinity. Had you remained at the convent and grown into your role as high priestess, perhaps only then would they give you a fraction of their time, but then, in that case, you would not be praying for Mydei’s safety, but rather for the protection of this Holy Nation as a whole.

There is no particular reason for why you have hidden your past from Mydei or the villagers, other than to save face. After all, no one would believe in the loyalty or commitment of a traitor. Regardless, now that there is established trust, you staunchly believe there is no need to share distasteful matters, like your pathetic past. At this moment, everyone should prioritize Mydei, as well as ensuring the operations of the village during his absence.

Mydei finds you not in the dining room, but in his office at his desk, with a candelabra burning away, as if you are prepared to work the whole night. You are combing through a few scrolls that were once shelved, the old texts he used to pore over when he was training to become village chief. It is not that you are a stranger to their contents or to the duties of the village chief. It is simply that, when you are uneasy, you tend to return to the very basics, to instill confidence within yourself that there is a logical rationale behind your actions and decisions. He knocks on the office doors and watches through the parted screen window as you scramble up from your seat from surprise. He chuckles, but had there been any listeners, they would know those were half-hearted at best.

We need to talk.

It is comforting, though, that there remain some things that will never change. Even if you are not honest, Mydei will always face you with a straightforward attitude, and compared to before, he feels more present, confirming that he is, in fact, standing in front of you, when he loops your arm through his. You let him guide you away from the office and to your shared bedroom, where you can, for the last time in a while, immerse yourselves in this space dedicated only to the two of you.

On the bed, he pulls you into a tight, engulfing embrace. With his chest molded against your arched back, his legs spread out to barricade your form, his chin atop your left shoulder where the bite mark once was, the two of you parse through all and any matters.

There will be a caravan arriving in a month’s time.

The north west gate needs to be rebuilt.

We should consider extending trade to some of the towns in the south.

You will miss it when the peaches are in season.

Be sure to visit Grandma Li. She tends to forget to take her medication.

Do not forget to rest your arm. Feng Meng will not take it easy on you, even if you are his general and him your soldier. You will always be his master first.

When you need me, look up at the moon, because I will also be gazing at it. Never forget that we are forever under the same sky.

The moonlight is especially consoling that night. Unlike his usual tendencies to dominate and overwhelm, your husband lets you set the pace, and atop him, he watches you surge up and down, the moon’s beams illuminating your damp skin, your parted lips, and your glossed eyes. Your breasts, hips, thighs ripple with every unforgiving drop of your body onto his, and his cock pierces you deeply in turn, reaching and hitting spots that cause you to see stars. He never fails to make you feel fulfilled, but tonight, you are voracious, and you just want more, more, more of him. You want to embed pieces of yourself into his body, so that throughout his campaign, no matter how long it lasts, he will never once waver when he thinks back to your touch, your scent, your love. As you continue riding him, you run your hands over his sturdy form, letting your fingers trace the divots of his muscles, the fat of his chest, the red streaks of tattoo that paint his arms. It is also so that you will never forget, drawing an illustrative map of his body so that in your times of loneliness, anxiety, and want, you also have something of his to depend upon. Perhaps you have forgotten how to live without your husband, but that is a subject for introspection later. In the present, you decide to accelerate your movements and apply more force with every exerted rise and fall.

Eventually, you collapse forward because by no means do you have as much stamina as your husband, but you urge yourself to push forward nonetheless and resort to more shallow lifts and dramatic swirls of your hips. With your face buried against the underside of his chin, you begin to mouth at his neck and Adam’s apple, the rumble of his groans and hisses traveling and vibrating straight through the thin skin of your lips. When it looks like your husband’s exhibiting a significant amount of restraint, with the way his head keeps shaking side to side and his hands grip onto your thighs with shackling strength, you cannot help but smirk, ready to give him his release that he is so desperately delaying. You litter a line of kisses down to his collarbones, and after a few laves of your tongue, as if to smooth and placate him, you bite down, sinking your teeth into the juncture where his neck and shoulders meet, clamping down so hard with the intent to punish, to instill guilt, to kill his fighting spirit.

Normally, you would never do such a thing. You have no interest in tying your partner down or forcing them to sacrifice the people and things they love and enjoy. But since he has granted you so much selfishness already, you might as well go the full way and make him really understand the state he has put you in. For, even upon reflection, you know it in your bare, raw soul that you will never know life without your husband. Where he goes, you follow. If he is alive, you will be, too. But if he were to die, then your time will also have come.

Your husband cries out loud with a wild shout of your name, arms flying to enclose themselves around your figure out of both surprise and overstimulation, and with a spontaneous jerk of his hip upwards, his cock collides with your core and slams into that spot, the one that always has you ripping apart at the seams and screaming for mercy, pulling you up to your euphoric high with him. Ironically, it feels as if you are falling from Tian, soaring through the sky while being unable to breathe, a coursing pleasure followed by a stinging, bittersweet pang. You do not even realize you are sobbing until your husband muffles your wails with his mouth, swallowing your grief and despair down with his own fears, of which he definitely has but will never voice.

Mydei is not used to seeing you so sentimental. You are more aloof and reserved, so he is not as practiced with handling your outbursts as he should be. But even he knows that this torrential surging of your emotions is really a broken heart personified. You need him to know that your heart is being torn and cracked and smashed by the inevitable reality of his leave, and he knows you are telling him that only he can fix you by coming back in one piece and with a sound mind.

For the remainder of the night, he holds you impossibly closer, one hand always keeping your face to his chest, the other always wound around your waist, his legs always tangled with yours. And before he falls asleep, he looks out the window, gazing up at a sliver of the starry sky, and prays to the moon to cast its gentle, assuring light upon you every dusk he is gone. Despite his personal gripes with the divine, he is convinced that, with the way it has never failed to make you look so mesmerizing and delicate underneath its glow, the moon will continue to bask you with its nurture and protection for as long as it takes for him to return, and he is soothed by that thought, because someone needs to look out for you in his absence.

By the early dawn, he is ready to leave. The two of you stand at the entrance to your abode, and with a chaste kiss to your forehead, he finally parts from you, distancing himself in slow motion. You watch, rooted to your spot, as he gets on his horse, relishes in one last longing gaze, and sets off. He rides away without looking back, and when he is out of sight, you, too, return to your bedroom without even the faintest sign of indecision or doubt.

–

Mydei returns not the following summer, but the summer after, right when the peach blossoms have begun shedding to make way for the green buds that will, in two to three weeks’ time, fruit. There is no fanfare or parade, not even an announcement to notify you of his arrival. In fact, for the little over two years since his departure, you were not informed of any aspect of his campaign from official channels. It did not matter, though, when everyone was able to keep track of his progress with every morning that passed.

Barely a month after his leave, you woke up with sweat soaking through your clothes and blankets, as if you had remained in a bath with your clothes on for several hours. You made it a habit to leave your windows open every night, but had you woken up that morning any later, you would have been sunburnt to the point of permanent scarring from the three suns that were just beginning to rise in the sky, their unrelenting heat scorching everything that happened to soak in its light. You got up and warned everyone in the household to remain indoors, and perilously, you took not one, but two, thickly lined parasols with you as you made your way through the village to issue warnings and usher those that were outside back into their homes. The flowers that you had tended to just the other afternoon were already wilting, dehydrated, and you goaded the rabbits from their hole with a trail of fruits and leaves to another you had haphazardly dug where there was everlasting shade.

Later on, you would hear that Mydei had first tried to negotiate with Yudi’s sons, telling them to fulfill their appetite for mischief with something else, but given the inconsistencies in the rumors, it is not clear whether the sons ignored or denied the general’s demands. It seems that Mydei’s attempt at swaying their minds only further encouraged them to follow through with their plan, and Yudi’s sons began to wreak havoc shortly afterwards. As a result, it became a hunt, one that required Mydei and his troop to race around the Holy Nation in search of each of Yudi’s kin. Mydei and his men could only attack at night, when the sons had left their daytime posts to make way for the moon, but they never came down together, instead settling in different parts of the Holy Nation.  

The information you managed to garner, in the form of riveting tales and dubiously trustworthy gossip, either came from the village children’s eavesdropping or the occasional letter from Phainon, which he sent under personal regards. There never was an explanation for why you were kept in the dark, and you never bothered to ask either, because what good would it do for you? Had your husband been slain, you and everyone else in the world would have known already, and you need not entertain excessive hope. All you had to do was see if you could wake to another day.

The worst occurred a year and a half into Mydei’s journey, when there were six suns in the sky at once, their brightness bleeding out even the pure blue of the space beyond. Everybody stayed indoors and covered every possible crack or opening to prevent sunlight from leaking in, but not without the cost of broiling within their own rooms. On days when it was more possible to venture outside, you and your guards had to visit the occasional house to pull out dead bodies, smelling of decaying rot, feces, and steam, and bury them before even their right to a dignified burial was stolen by Yudi’s kin. And this was not a problem exclusive to your village. The Palace began to ring a large gong, three resonating beats, at noon every day to honor the growing number of victims, and there was a national decree for every home to light incense and perform daily prayers during the early evenings to beg for Tian’s interference.

Of course, nobody from Tian ever responded, but it seemed as if Mydei had sensed his people’s tortured cries, and from that point onwards, the suns continue to be felled, one after the other, until only one remained, the same sun that has stood with the earth since the very beginning.

You are in his office when your head lady-in-waiting calls out your title with excited raps against the paneled doors.

My Lady! You must come! Someone has come for you!

You are on your feet immediately, and you almost knock her over when you burst through the doors.

However, you are not greeted by your husband. Rather, it is another familiar face that greets you with a toothy grin and a proud hand saluted at his head.

We have made it back, safe and sound!

You cannot help but throw your arms around the man’s neck, hugging him without reprieve for air. His arms do not reciprocate, for it is inappropriate for a man to demonstrate affection towards a taken woman, but by his hearty laughs, you know he is overjoyed by your reaction.

Where is your master, Feng Meng?

In the Capital, reporting to the Emperor. I have come to fetch you, Madam, to attend his ceremony! You must hurry!

Without another thought, you and your servants rush to dress you. There are flurries of orange sashes, twirling skirts with golden beads sewn at the waist, the clicking of green jade against white jade, and in no later than ten minutes, you are in an oxcart that speeds its way to the Palace.

It is extremely difficult to get to the Palace. First, all entrances to the Capital are at a standstill, bottlenecked by a flood of traffic composed of several donkeys, horses, and merchant carts. The inside of the Capital fares no better – in fact, made worse by all of the pedestrians, street-side shops, and narrow paths. It is only after your cart finally pushes its way through the long lines and leaves the more populated and mercantile neighborhoods that the traffic disperses, and then it is an orderly journey to the Palace. When the guards ask for the purpose of your visit, Feng Meng simply needs to flash the handle of his sword, and you are directed to enter through the back gates, typically only reserved for guests of honor.

You swallow thickly from the infinite, various thoughts swirling in your mind. Will he have scars etching every corner of his body? Will he be several shades tanner? Is his hair an unruly length, or has he cut, or worse, singed it short? Is he a changed person, more violent in demeanor or fatigued from excessive stress? You do not plan on bombarding him with your questions, as he is probably answering plenty from government officials and the Emperor himself, but you also cannot guarantee that you will be able to restrain yourself. Though, the more you think about it, you are not sure how you should react when you see him. Should you wait for him to approach you, or should you take the initiative? Will he want to embrace you or keep you at a distance to give himself some space? How different is he from the man he was more than two years ago, and what will this current version of Mydei think of you when he sees you?

You fail to devise a plan by the time your cart comes to a stop and Feng Meng holds his elbow out to help you jump down. The Palace guards instruct you to wait with the other soldiers' wives, mothers, and fathers in the tea room around the corner, and Feng Meng directs you before he has to leave to prepare for the ceremony himself. You are unsure if Mydei will come to you as you wait in the tea room, so in the case that he does, you find a chair closest to the open entrance, and sit in perfect posture, still and quiet. The other people in the room are frantic, sharing the same questions and concerns you have, but requiring and taking advantage of the comfort of family to alleviate each other’s doubts and fears. You are reminded that neither you or Mydei have other family to turn to, only each other, and oddly enough, you become more optimistic.

All of you are in the tea room for two hours before a Palace guard comes to beckon the entire gathering to follow him. The guard guides all of you to your seats, near the back of the same courtyard you were in for the fourth prince’s seventeenth birthday party. This time, instead of two columns of tables, there are rows upon rows of people kneeling shoulder to shoulder, facing in the direction of the raised center stage. As per usual, the Imperial Family has yet to make their appearance, but they soon will after the highest-ranking officials finish taking their seats.

Finally, with the blaring sound of horns and gongs and drums, the award ceremony begins, and the Emperor, Empress Dowager, and the ten princes ascend their thrones. The secretary comes at the end of the line, and with a nod from the Emperor, the former begins his speech.

Today marks the official end of General Mydeimos’ campaign to defeat ten of Yudi’s sons. General Mydeimos and his men have returned victorious, and so, we host today’s ceremony in tribute to their bravery and success.

The crowd breaks into a clamoring of applause, a little more unruly due to the ecstatic and celebratory atmosphere.

We will present General Mydeimos and his troop of 62 surviving soldiers with honorable military status, in addition to multiple monetary benefits. We will also mourn the loss of the 138 soldiers, whose lives were lost throughout the campaign’s duration, with a funeral procession that will take place the following Saturday and Sunday. Families of the deceased will receive imperial support, and on behalf of this Holy Nation, we are indebted to the sacrifices you and your sons have made. More information regarding the funeral and compensation will be announced and distributed in the coming days. With that, we will begin by awarding the 62 soldiers.

A line of soldiers marches forth from behind you, and you closely observe them as they trod past you. Their faces are set and stern, and they are wearing their tattered armor, rusted and melted swords, bows, and spears held in place on their backs. You also notice several holding onto the solder in front of them, and with a closer look, you realize many of them have either a diminished or total loss of sight. As the line reaches the steps to the stage, the secretary begins calling out each name, handing every person when it is their turn a bronze badge with an engraved solar insignia and a hefty bag of riches. There is no applause, as silence is a way of demonstrating utmost attention and respect, until all the soldiers have been named and awarded. The survivors line up once again and seat themselves along the walls of the courtyard.

Then, an obedient hush falls across the crowd, all in anticipation of the true hero. You, too, suck in your breath, eyes darting around in search of your husband, the chief of your village, a general of this Holy Nation. With a deep breath, the secretary announces his presence in a booming, grand voice.

General Mydeimos, please enter!

Your abilities to speak, breathe, even think are stolen from you. It does not feel like reality when you see Mydei, his hair tied in a clean knot on the top of his head, a velvety black cape billowing behind his broad, intimidating figure, the metal blade of his glaive glinting fiercely underneath the rays of the single sun in the sky. Mydei spares nothing to the crowd, not a prideful smirk or disinterested glance, and simply kneels deeply when he makes his way in front of the Imperial Family.

The Emperor rises from his seat, and the secretary is prompted to narrate.

General Mydeimos, the Emperor would like to personally bestow you your rewards, for your incomparable feat in defeating Yudi’s sons, ten of Tian’s mightiest creations. On behalf of the Imperial Family, he would like to award you a ranking within the nobility and an accompanying northern estate in the Capital. Furthermore, your village will receive recovery aid from the government and many trade benefits. Thank you, once again, for your service.

The Emperor gestures for Mydei to stand, and attaches a noble badge onto the latter’s cloak. Mydei then turns around and bows to the crowd.

General Mydeimos, would you like to say anything, in light of your return and victorious conquest?

He sweeps his eyes across the hundreds of people in front of him before lifting his head and glaring up at the clear blue sky.

My men and I have returned, and the Holy Nation is safe. We are safe, and undefeated.

Through the thundering of applause, cheers, and cries, you tear up at the glorious sight of your husband. He is far away, not as far as he was these past two years, but still a fair distance away such that you cannot make out the features of his face. How blessed it is to live in the same world as him, you think, and it seems your undivided admiration of your husband causes you to accidentally rid yourself of your presence. Mydei’s head snaps to look in your direction, having sensed a change within the audience. He cannot see you individually, but he knows you are somewhere amongst that section of the crowd, and he nods his head, dipping his chin with solemn confidence. Then, he begins to make his way down the steps to take his leave.

That is, until a shiver runs down his spine, a gut instinct alerting him of a formidable presence, and he swivels around to look behind him as his hands reach for his glaive, only to be blinded by a shining white light. What is even more concerning is, as he tries to block the light from his view, he notices that there is no reaction from anyone else present – in fact, there is no sound at all. The light begins to retract on its own, and as Mydei blinks through his stunned vision, he sees that the secretary, the guards lining the bottom of the stairs, the officials sitting in the front rows of the audience – all of them are frozen in place, mouths open in mid-conversation, hands stuck beside their heads in dramatic gestures, eyes wide open, unblinking. The scenery has not changed one bit, aside from the fact that everyone and everything is unmoving, yet he can still sense the formidable presence surrounding him.

Oh, I thought it was just you and me.

A voice, coming from everywhere and nowhere, speaks. Suddenly, a familiar voice – your shout – pierces through the silent space.

Mydei!

He turns to where he once looked in the crowd and spots your standing figure. But before he can sprint to you, or call you over, the voice speaks again.

Forgive me, I do not mean to scare either of you. I had only intended to speak to Mydeimos, however.

With that, your body slumps over and drops onto the ground. Without hesitation, Mydei swings his glaive and, with a snarl, holds it out in front of himself, body poised to attack.

What did you do to my wife!

You cannot fight me, for I will not appear in front of you. As for your wife, I have put her to sleep. I only wish to speak to you.

Concerning what matter?

But the voice does not speak again, and instead, his glaive is replaced, and a ball appears in one hand.

What is this! Answer me!

An elixir of immortality, made of a blade of grass found only in Tian. If you ingest this elixir, it will grant you endless life, and you will become one of us. Take this as a sign of my gratitude.

Before he can respond, there is another flash of that same blinding white light from earlier, and the chaos of the courtyard returns, everything resuming their intended ways. Only the ball in his hand, the lack of his weapon, and your unconscious form indicate that his conversation actually took place.

Following the award ceremony, Mydei is invited to stay as a guest in the Palace, but he declines, not even trying to come up with a reason to justify his need to return to his village immediately.

He returns before you do but only needs to wait for half an hour before he hears you running through the walkways of your estate, approaching your chamber where he is waiting for you. Even though he had encountered Yudi’s sons, all ten of them combined would pale in the face of the omnipotent force that had approached him, and he is sure you are as, if not more, distraught as he is.

When you come rushing in, he rises from the bed and catches you as you leap at him, your trembling body against his.

My love, are you alright!

I need to show you this.

You refuse to separate from him, though, so he squeezes his hand into the crevice between your neck and his chest, and presses the elixir against your skin. That causes you to jump back, and your expression can only be described as one of pure shock.

That cannot be.

Mydei purses his lips.

The voice said it can grant immortality.

That - that voice. Only Yudi and Wang Mu Niang Niang possess access to the elixir of immortality. It - it must have been her! How can this be!

If it is Wang Mu Niang Niang, she said this was a gift out of gratitude.

He watches you take shaky steps back to him. You are trained on the ball in his palm, in disbelief of the existence of it.

W-well… are you going to take it?

Mydei snorts.

Of course not. I would be a fool to separate us from each other for any longer. I also have no intention of becoming a liar or a hypocrite, when I have had little regard for the divine since my birth. Have you forgotten what your husband is like?

His words, mostly tart with a hint of lilting tease, manages to draw a huff of a chuckle from you.

I am home. And I plan to stay for a while.

He scans your face and frame. There are more lines on your face, no doubt a result of your labor and sleepless nights from watching over the village by yourself. Your hair has also gotten quite thin and is a lighter shade, washed out by the suns’ harsh light, and there is both a rigidness and a frailty to your aura, both of which he has never sensed before. You, too, take your time in observing your husband, who has indeed gotten quite tan, and his hair is even longer, reaching down to his hips. There are several patches of his skin that are charred and burned, and you wince at the notion of such extreme pain and beating. Some things remain the same, however, such as the chiseled lines of his muscles and the bold red of his tattoos.

Moreover, this beat of hesitation, of holding each other at an arm’s length away, stays constant as well. But it does not last as long anymore, when Mydei breaks first and draws you into his hold. This embrace is one saturated with warmth, longing, and satisfaction, your first genuine hug since the two of you parted ways over two years ago. You take in his presence, as he does with yours, and in this room, this space just for the two of you, it finally feels complete and whole again.

Later, before the both of you head out for dinner with the rest of the villagers, Mydei decides to hide the elixir in a wooden box that he conceals in the corner of the bedroom. Though neither of you may have a need for it, it may be safer to conceal its existence, especially from potential prying eyes and envious minds.

–

A week later, a Palace messenger arrives at your estate to announce the holding of a banquet that evening in honor of Mydei and his troop. Your husband scoffs at the invitation, but with a stern glare from you, he begrudgingly accepts. These days, Mydei deigns to leave your side, constantly following you about as you resume your village duties and responsibilities. You also make time to bring him around to show him what he has missed out on.

One dawn, you take him to visit Grandma Li’s grave. You bring a basket of pears, homemade rice cakes filled with peanut butter, and incense pillars as offerings, and Mydei kneels for a long time in front of the grave. Another lunchtime, the two of you go to collect peaches, and as it was a Sunday, the children who had no school to attend that day joined you with their parents and siblings. You also show him the rabbits that you raised, the babies now fully grown with fluffy white coats and beady red eyes. And the night before the Palace’s banquet, your village hosts its own at your estate, and many of Mydei’s men come over. Mydei sits with his disciple Feng Meng, while you mill about to pay your respects to the village’s elders and to extend your appreciation to the soldiers present for their loyalty toward your husband.

You pass by a table occupied by a large family of seven. You are especially close to this family’s twins who are both ten-years-old, though not out of personal bias, but because they are relentless in their pursuit for your affection. As so, when the twins notice you, they scream out to you.

Eat with us! Eat with us!

You laugh, shaking your head with a soft smile.

Sorry, little ones, but I must eat with the chief tonight. I will join you for a meal another day.

They huff, crossing their plush arms across their chests. Then, as twins are with their shared thoughts and intuition, they share a cheerful look before turning back to you. The older of the two, a girl, speaks first, before the younger one, a boy, follows up, and the two continue to alternate back and forth.

We heard something interesting at school yesterday!

It is about the chief!

And we heard it from the ninth prince himself!

The prince said the chief had a forbidden medicine –

– a medicine that would make him young forever!

But we read in our books that that kind of medicine only exists in Tian.

Yet the prince looked awfully serious. Is there something wrong with the ninth prince?

Or is the prince right? That the elixir of immortality is real?

You pat their heads while maintaining your expression.

Lower your voices and hush now. If you are caught speaking ill of the Imperial Family, you will lose your tongues. Eat, before dinner gets cold.

You bid your farewell, and head back to your table. As you walk, though, you mull over the twins’ words.

As much as you despise your upbringing as a child of the divine, you find that the hard skills you learned since young have been more helpful than not throughout your life, even after you abandoned your post. Like now, you know not to ignore the signs. Twins are fortuitous, especially boy-girl pairs, and given that they brought up the elixir of all subjects tells you that Wang Mu Niang Niang’s gift is not something that can be so easily forgotten or discarded. You must exercise caution and remain vigilant, all while exhibiting inconspicuousness.

When you return to Mydei’s side, you realize Feng Meng is gone. You ask about the latter’s whereabouts, to which your husband responds that his disciple went to the bathroom. You run your hand through his hair, tracing your fingernail through his braids that you did this morning, before you excuse yourself to change into something warmer.

You pad through the darkened walkways, stopping whenever you run into a guard or a lady-in-waiting. You ask if they have seen Feng Meng, and you follow each of their instructions, until you realize you are navigating towards your husband’s office. Before you make the bend that would allow you to see the office, you wait, extinguishing your presence as you have done when tending to the rabbits and channeling your foresight. When your soul is quiet, everything around gets louder, and though it is faint, there is a vanishing trace of disdain that you can sense that stains the path to Mydei’s office. The flickering nature of the presence tells you there must be another human nearby, one skilled but not yet masterful. But before you can fetch Mydei for help, you must confirm your suspicions.

With quick and light steps, you glide to the old willow that drapes itself over the office building. From behind the trunk, you can peer inside one of the windows, though it does take some effort as it is only wedged open by a fraction and there is no light inside. From what you can tell, there are several unfurled scrolls strewn across his desk, and if you strain your ears, you can hear the shuffling and rearranging of the items on the shelves closest to you. While you do not know who this intruder is, as it could be someone other than Feng Meng, it is clear that someone is there.

You hurry back and try your best to keep up the silencing of your qi, despite the thrumming of anxiety that courses through your blood.

Mydei catches onto your intentions quickly, as he notices your appearance has not changed at all upon your return. You note that Feng Meng’s absence persists. He comes up to you, but instead of directing him to where the intruder is, you loop your arms through his and gently urge him to follow you around the villagers and soldiers. After all, you do not know if the intruder is acting alone, and if not, there could be those watching your husband closely.

As you pace around, you quietly inform him.

Someone is ransacking your office. I believe they are looking for the elixir.

How would they know about it?

Even the children have heard about it. At the very least, it is known that the ninth prince has been talking about its potential existence in the Capital.

How would the ninth prince know about it?

It is a good question, so you ponder it briefly.

I have a hypothesis, if you will entertain me.

Please, go ahead.

Remember how I was awake initially? It could be that the Imperial Family was also awake.

How could I have missed that?

No, not in the same way that you and I were awake. We could move about, even under Wang Mu Niang Niang’s spell. I was most likely able to withstand her spell because of my tolerance to divinity. By that logic, then, it is possible that the Imperial Family and priests were also able to retain their consciousness during her appearance, but were solely limited to that.

That is enough said on your part. The rest, Mydei understands. It is his turn, then, to formulate a strategy.

I will take the direct route to our bedroom. Veil yourself and go from the back, around the washroom. I will leave first, or else they will be suspicious of you.

He rubs his thumb across your cheek, a gesture of reassurance, and he makes some conversation with a few of the elders to his side before he goes on his way. You spend even longer lingering around the villagers, but also with the soldiers, to see if any of them are accomplices. But there is no sense of hostility or hatred from them. The more you investigate, hovering within the soldiers’ presence, the more confident you are that none of them are involved. That leaves you with two options: the intruder is acting alone, confirming their identity as Feng Meng, or alongside members of the Security Bureau.

You sigh. You must go now.

–

Mydei is broiling with anger. There is no need to hide his presence, as he wants to make it known that he is furious. His people have long suffered at the hands of the current empire, the village having been conquered during his incompetent father’s reign, and while he has tried to make peace with the Emperor, he has never once forgiven him and the Holy Nation. Now, he is being targeted for something he did not ask for – if they wanted it, they could have just asked for it! He shakes his head and rolls out his wrists, preparing to draw his blade and kill all that invades his home.

You are too reckless, Mydei.

Mydei swings, but misses.

Deliverer!

The Head of the Security Bureau steps out of the shadow, a black mask covering all but his piercing blue eyes. Had Mydei not worked with the Head before, the latter’s sudden appearance would have startled him.

You fool! You have always been the Emperor’s dog!

Mydei, it is you who is the dog. You need to be subjugated. The Emperor will no longer tolerate defiance from you or your village.

Defiance! How laughable!

This is not a laughing matter.

This is no matter in the first place.

I am afraid, then, that this is not something we can talk through.

Mydei has no doubt that he can defeat Phainon. His only fear is that he will not be fast enough.

–

It seems you were right in following the signs because you are exceptionally lucky. The moon lights your path so that you can navigate your way through your abode with ease and speed. So far, there does not seem to be anybody trailing you, and the intruder is nowhere to be seen, so they are not targeting you either. At this rate, it is likely that the intruder has left Mydei’s office and is searching elsewhere.

You take a deep breath out of relief when you arrive at your chamber and realize that no one else is present. There is only one entrance to your bedroom, so you take extra care to be silent as you come around from behind the building, and when the coast is clear, you sneak into your room. You pay no mind that the inside is dark, as you know the placement of everything by heart. You approach the corner of the room where Mydei hid the wooden box inside a large jar with bamboo planks stacked on top. You remove everything one by one, hurrying but prioritizing the need for silence above all else. But, again, it seems luck is on your side, and you are able to retrieve the elixir without a hitch. You move everything back to their original placements, except for the medicinal ball that you tightly clutch in your fist.

All is well, until you step out of your bedroom. 

You cannot help but scream when you see Mydei, bloody and battered, fighting against Phainon, bruised and limping.

No!

Both of them cease their movements, surprised by your presence. But before either of them can come to, something surges up from beneath you, and a hand flies up to grab you by the neck, limiting your ability to breathe without delay.

It hurts. It is an excruciating pain of being crushed under a heavy weight. You have heard that suffocating is akin to drowning, which feels like being roasted and burned from the inside out. You wonder if Mydei has ever experienced pain like this, perhaps when he received those patches of permanently seared skin. In your choking, murky view, you can make out the blurred outline of Feng Meng, his face contorted in an ugly, deceitful frown as he breathes heavily. And through your pounding ears, you barely make out his words.

I know you have it! If you just give it to me, Madam, your life will be spared!

Even if you could talk, you would not answer. However, since you cannot speak anyway, you demonstrate your refusal by flailing, thrashing your legs in every direction possible and beating Feng Meng’s arms with your fists. You know that you are only wasting your energy, but since Feng Meng is not ready to kill you yet, you desperately take in shallow gasps of air as well. You can hear Mydei screaming your name over and over again in between silvery screeches of gold colliding against brass, and by now, you think your guards should be on their way to address the commotion. But even their arrival might be too late for you, and it seems your luck has run out.

Feng Meng’s grip on you tightens, preventing air from entering you entirely. You probably look like a fish out of water, uselessly gaping your mouth and sputtering drool all over.

Madam, I will only ask you once more, or I will take it by force! Please hand over the elixir!

It is no use. You will not give him the elixir, and he needs to retrieve it by any means. With no compromise in sight, the two of you are at a standstill. That means one of you has to take action.

Without another thought, with the last remnants of your fading strength, you bring your shaky fist to your greying lips and release your clutch, dropping the ball into your mouth. 

Then you swallow.

It is as if time has stopped, once again. Everyone else, including Mydei, is frozen in the middle of their actions, and only you are able to move for however long you have. You remove Feng Meng’s chokehold on you, and heave in desperate breaths.

Your mind immediately begins to clear, and that is made apparent when you sense her. Now that you know who she is, her omnipresence, preceded by a white light, is less frightening.

That was not intended for your use.

You take another deep, shuddering breath.

My apologies, Wang Mu Niang Niang. But I figured it would be better than handing it over to the likes of Feng Meng. He would have eaten it on the spot.

That was not a call for you to make.

But you knew this would happen. I know the divine are capable of seeing into the future.

You are too powerful for your own good. Perhaps this was the best outcome, after all.

Seeing that you are still on your own, you rush to Mydei’s side, placing a hand on his cheek. His eyes are wide, golden and rouge irises twinkling under the moonlight. His mouth is wide open, as he was probably in the midst of screaming at you to Just hand it over! There are blood splatters that cover his temple and neck, and you use your sleeve to rub those away, before peppering kisses onto the corners of his lips.

Mortal, I will allow you to bring two things from this earth to the moon, where you will join me.

You pause in the middle of your kissing to respond, icily.

If you are pitying me, I will have none of it.

Are you in any position to refuse pity? Regardless, you do not have a choice. This elixir is of my making, so you must obey my commands. On the moon you will reside, and every year on this day, I will grant you the opportunity to see your beloved on this earth.

You leave one last kiss on your husband’s nose before you step back. Although you will be able to see him once a year, it feels… strange. You had promised yourself that, upon Mydei’s return, the two of you would be able to return to your normal routine and only be subjected to a few hours’ worth of separation every day. Even now, as you let your eyes linger over every centimeter of his face, you can tell that much of him has changed throughout his campaign, and before you have the chance to memorize his new contours and creases, it is you who must leave, by divinity’s demand, and you will never be able to know him as well as you once did.

How strange and twisted, you think, but for some reason, there is a distinct sense of acceptance within you. Perhaps the past two years have tested you, and you no longer fear fate’s outcomes because, at the very least, Mydei did the impossible in defeating Tian’s dwellers and survived. It might also be that you know Wang Mu Niang Niang is already demonstrating as much mercy as the heavens will allow, so even if you were to throw a fit or beg for more, the goddess herself would not be able to do anything. Or maybe, at one indistinguishable point, you unconsciously resigned yourself to the divine, and knowing that it will do anything it can to torment you, you have carried that grief along and never once set it down. This sudden unraveling of your life and the way you have known it to be has simply allowed that grief to surface, and you can only shake your head when faced with the darkened, disintegrating state of your heart.

You proceed to shuffle backwards, away from Mydei, until he is barely out of reach. You take the golden cuff that holds his front braid together, before you walk to the nearby courtyard where the rabbits reside. You uncover their burrow, unrooting purple forget-me-nots and creeping buttercups, and reach in to pull out the runt of the newest litter, no different from a solid figurine in your palm.

I am ready.

How strange, your choices. Explain to me, mortal.

There is not much to it. I suppose I find sentimentality in things that keep me going.

How bold of you, to not tell the truth in front of the likes of me.

You could force it out of me, if you so wish.

You watch as a staircase and railing of stardust, moonlight, and cosmic nothingness appear before your eyes in the middle of the courtyard, spiraling upwards and into the sky, ending somewhere far beyond where the moon hangs. You stare at Mydei’s braid cuff and the baby rabbit, which you notice is beginning to shiver, and you tuck both of them in the inside of your robe before ascending the first steps of the staircase.

As you climb, you notice the earth below you gradually resuming its time. A breeze brushes past the tips of your ears, and you delight in the perfume of fresh mint, blooming magnolias, and rose peonies it carries. In the distance, an owl hoots, and a pair of magpies flutter down to a pond you cannot see. You lose yourself to the natural order of the earth because, soon, you will leave this land.

Suddenly, a yell of your name draws you back. You lean over the railing and see that below, Mydei is gazing up at you. You can still make out the expression on his face – one of loss, desperation, and frustration. He is biting on his lower lip, and there are divots between his eyebrows. His eyes appear especially glossy and bright underneath the moon’s light.

Where are you going?

To the moon.

Can you come back down to me?

I cannot.

Your husband takes a few seconds before replying, and as you wait, the sound of grass blades ruffling and bats flying fill the silence.

I see. Then can I come up to you?

Wang Mu Niang Niang intercedes.

No. You will live out the rest of your life and die on this earth.

You and Mydei share a solemn look. Neither of you can say anything, as both of you have begun to weep, quiet tears clumping together eyelashes and rolling down the apples of your cheeks. But Mydei is also aware of the unforgiving reality that you may disappear at sudden, so with a shaky, breaking voice, he attempts to carry on the flow of the conversation, clinging onto any chance to hear his wife’s voice again.

When will I next see you?

Whenever the moon rises.

I will look up at the night sky every evening. And in person?

Every year, on this day, at this time.

I will meet with you every year. I swear.

I look forward to it, my love.

Are you cold? I am sure it is cold on the moon.

Do not worry. I have all that I need.

Wang Mu Niang Niang intercedes once more.

Enough of your idle chatter!

But the two of you carry on, because both of you have realized that Wang Mu Niang Niang is kind, and no longer are the two of you fearful of Tian or the divine or divinity as a whole. Rather, in the last, ticking seconds that you have, it is most important to cherish and express the unyielding, everlasting love you have for each other, as husband and wife. With soft, longing smiles, you utter the same sentence together.

We are forever –

– under the same sky.

Both of you press your fingers to your lips before extending your arms out towards each other, hoping that the full extent of your yearning, love, and devotion will be conveyed and reach the other. Then, with a flash of blinding white light, you disappear from Mydei’s sight.

You, of course, can still see him, but you will yourself to turn your chin away and climb up, up, up so that by tomorrow night, you will have made it to the moon, and Mydei will be able to see you from the window of your shared bedroom.

The world resumes, as if you were never there at all, as if time never stopped flowing. But Mydei knows you were real, are real. He reminds himself he need only survive tonight alone, and tomorrow, he will see you again, for the two of you can never be apart for too long.

And he is right because, by the decree of the heavenly gods above and their kindred spirits down on the earth in the forms of the water, leaves, wind, and destiny, you and Mydeimos are for each other, to always be intertwined and inseparable in this vast, vast universe.

–

“Lao Lao, why do we eat mooncakes during the Mid-Autumn Festival?” A little boy, no more than six- or seven-years-old sits at the dining table, feet kicking back and forth as they dangle off the edge of a chair meant for an adult. On the table, there is an array of emptied pots and plates, evidence of a large and festive meal devoured. Sitting directly across from him on the other side is his maternal grandmother.

“Because the lady on the moon likes them,” the grandma replies, preoccupied with tearing apart the packaging of a mooncake, which she hands to her grandson.

“Why do we care about the lady on the moon?”

The grandma’s eyebrows furrow. “Aye, Duo Duo, watch what you say! It is an important cultural celebration.”

“But why?”

“So many questions! She saved her husband, alright?”

“What happened to her husband?”

The grandson watches his grandma pause before recalling, “He was murdered by his student with a club made out of a peach tree.”

“Woah, that’s oddly specific. Did the husband love the lady on the moon?”

“Of course! Do you know nothing about the Mid-Autumn Festival? Before his death, the husband would burn incense and stare up at the moon every night to see his wife, and every year, today was the only day he could meet his wife in person. That is why we honor our ancestors during this festival, because we are closest to them now.”

The grandson shrugs, having lost interest halfway through his grandma’s explanation, romance lost on his inexperienced shoulders. “Sounds weird.”

“Duo Duo!”

The grandson ignores his grandma and pries open his mooncake. “Wait, Lao Lao, can you eat the yolk for me?”

“Aiyah, just eat it all yourself!”

[pinkcarnatixns]

georgia stanway | flowers for vases

synopsis georgia does her first tattoo on you, it leads to a confession after of years of feelings [1.6K] contents best friends to lovers, nervous georgia, tattooing, mentions of needles

You normally took pride in your fearlessness when it came to adding to your growing collection of ink on your skin, but now you were completely petrified.

When Georgia had first approached you to be her canvas for her very first tattoo on real skin, you had immediately agreed- your haste chalked up to a trust built on years of friendship and definitely not the fact you’d do anything she asked. 

What your sometimes scatterbrained best friend had forgotten to mention was that this was not a private affair, but a moment that was going to be televised for all the nation to see. Of course, this meant that you’d have to act like you weren’t completely smitten with the woman-  in front of a bunch of cameras while you tried to not blush at her hands on you. 

Safe to say, you were quite ticked off with Georgia when you first arrived at the small tattoo studio’s address, only to be greeted with people rushing filming equipment inside the building from a van with a big ‘BBC’ plastered on the side. When you entered the studio with a quirked eyebrow and crossed arms, her face clearly dropped as she realized her mistake, rushing over to your side. 

“I completely forgot to mention the filming part, didn’t I?” She pouts at you, grabbing a hold of your bicep to plead her case.

You sighed, “You know, I really thought this was a sweet gesture of trust between us, not to get you a big check from the BBC.”

At your jest, she deflated even further and you struggled to stop your lips from quirking up at her dramatics. You could never stay mad at her for very long, especially when she made you laugh just by being in the same room as her. Still, you were a bit mortified at the possible outing of your feelings for the girl being broadcast to the world, so you tried your best to hold your ground. 

“It’s not like that at all! You know there’s nobody else I’d rather share this with, I swear!” She held onto your biceps tightly, and you felt your resolve washing away like a sand castle with the wave of her cologne that hit your nose. 

Her hands were trembling lightly, and at her gaze and proximity you quickly turned shy, only managing to mumble out, “You don’t mind sharing it with everyone in the nation, clearly.” 

However, taking pity on her already clearly fried nerves, you followed the snark up with a playful eye roll and returned her gaze. “Well, since I’m here, let’s see what you’re going to put on my body forever.” 

Her already big brown eyes seemed to light up at your compliance, and she gently pulled on your forearms to uncross them with a blinding smile. She effortlessly initiated the intertwining of your hands, nearly dragging your shocked form to the ground with her fervor to show you what she had drawn. 

She got shy as you both approached her already prepped little work table, going quiet as you peered down at the paper and leaning into your body for comfort. The warmth that spread through your body at your still entwined hands creeped all the way up to your ears at what she had designed just for you: a little broken flower vase. 

When you two had first met as kids, Georgia, persistent to impress you with her football skills- had wrongly decided to do so inside your house. When this naturally ended in the broken heirloom, and your mother’s harsh scolding, you had taken the fall for the overexcitable girl. She had been inconsolable at the mess she had caused, promising to make up for it someday. To this day, she still felt guilty for the incident while you often brought it up, joking that she was only still by your side to repay her debt. 

Through all the growing pains and hard times, you had stuck by each other’s sides. Even when you got into fights, one of you would always bring up the vase as an olive branch, knowing that it really meant that you could never get rid of one another. 

Your eyes got misty, your heartbeat in your ears drowning out the hustle and bustle around you two, “Georgia, that’s so sweet- you sap.”

“You really like it? Don’t lie.” Her hand nervously fiddled with the rings that adorned yours, both of you refusing to meet each other’s eyes. In a moment of bravery, you pecked her on the cheek and rested your head on her slightly taller shoulder. 

“I love it. Can’t wait to have it on me forever.” You punctuated the genuine words with a squeeze to your intertwined hands, hoping to calm her nerves with the action. 

She stumbled a bit over her sentence, before forcing it out nearly too fast for you to catch it, “There’s three flowers on one side and then one on the other. Y’know like 31, like my number at Bayern.”

Your head jumped off your shoulder, gaping at her as she was locked in a staring contest with the table- cheeks red like she had just played a full 90. With your heartbeat nearly breaking at the confines of your ribcage, you decided to lean into the moment, tripping over your words a bit but whispering. “That’s perfect. I like it even more now.”

At your reassurance, she shyly met your sincere gaze, struggling to keep a goofy smile subdued as you nodded at each other.

Your little bubble was broken when a crew member called for her presence, apologizing for interrupting as he dragged her over for an interview. You watched on with hearts in your eyes as she spoke to the camera, her sincere appreciation for the art shining through with every word and the sparkle in her eye. Caught up in watching her, you barely realized when they had wrapped up, rushing over to her side after missing your name being called a couple times.  

They perched you up on a stool for her to place the stencil on your calf, sighing in relief as it peeled off exactly as she wanted it. She gently held your hand to help you down, using it to guide you over to the table while instructing you to lay down comfortably.

When she actually starts dancing the needle over your skin and attempting to answer questions at the same time, she clearly struggles. Nearly every time she punctures your flesh, she can’t help but look to you for your reaction- scared to hurt you. You try not to laugh as her sentences trail off again and again as she continually locks eyes with you, knowing she’s going to make the editor’s job a nightmare. As she nears finishing, you try to shoot her encouraging smiles, wishing you could tell her how good she was doing if not for the mics that would pick it up. 

The tattoo takes quite long for how simple the design is, partly due to her insistence on doing everything right, stopping for the littlest things. It’s sweet that she’s so adamant to not hurt you or have the ink blow out, but it’s pretty comical and clear that the camera crew is getting antsy. You are happy to sit for as long as she needs, content with the heat of her palm through her gloves soothing the ache of the needle, but try to silently encourage her in order to get everyone out on time. 

As she takes the final swipe of a paper towel over your skin and declares that she’s finished with a shaky breath, the first thing she does is to once again look at you. She visibly relaxes as you send her a beaming smile, taking your hands to move you to sit upright. You admire her work as she turns to give you her water bottle, watching you like a hawk as you take a sip.

You get shy at her attention, “I’m not going to pass out you know, I’m literally covered in tattoos already.”

“You’re really feeling alright? We can take pictures after you have a second, yeah?” 

“Georgia really, you look much more lightheaded than me. You did great, I promise.” As you try to scoot off the bench, her hands stop you- pinning your thighs to the table. The position forces her to lean closer to you, putting you at eye level with one another. She has a certain determination in her eyes, but is clearly quite mortified at the proximity her actions have caused.

Still, with her big brown eyes boring into yours, slightly rough palms on your naked thighs, and the slight dizziness that you do feel- you look around the room to see everyone busy packing up before you do something drastic. As you turn back to her soft gaze, a slight tilt to her head and a quick glance at your lips is all the encouragement you need. 

Your hands cover hers, desperate for something to ground you as you lean in to peck her lips. At your slight movement, she excitedly surges forward and you clash much harder than you had expected. 

Pulling away, you’re both reduced to hysterics at the release of the tension that the day caused, and for finally giving in to a moment to had both waited for all your lives. Who knew it would take her marking you forever for you both to make a move.

a/n: wow so sorry I have not uploaded in forever! midterms absolutely kicked my butt and then I was celebrating my birthday! anyways I'm not super happy with this but I hope yall enjoyed <3

my requests are still open and i will really try to be much quicker in getting to them lol

[meazalykov]

that's a wrap

alex popp x actress!reader

summary: you decide that it is time to become a full-time wife

in the golden glow of the los angeles twilight, you gaze out of your sleek penthouse window, the city sprawling beneath you like a living canvas painted with vibrant hues of orange and deepening blue. 

you have lived in this city for so long, your life woven into the cinematic fabric. from the moment you left germany as a child, your heart yearned for a stage—the bright lights of hollywood, the echo of applause, and the thrill of storytelling. 

you have become one of the most recognized actresses of your generation in the horror genre. an oscar at nineteen, an emmy at twenty-three, and countless nominations and awards have been attached to your name. 

with each role you’ve played, your name becomes tied to brilliance, embodying strength and vulnerability.

yet, as your career flourishes, an unsettling feeling begins to simmer beneath the surface—a whisper of change, a longing for something different. 

at thirty-one, you find a different kind of love is beckoning from across the ocean.

alex, your wife and the fierce striker for wolfsburg, has always been your anchor. mutual friends introduced you to her back in 2014, and due to your career you couldn’t take things seriously at first. however, alex always tried with you. you’ve been married to her now for four years, and its been the best four years of your life.

one day, when you came back to germany for a couple of months, alex wanted to talk to you..

“i’m thinking of retiring from international football,” alex says one evening, her voice steady but laced with a hint of uncertainty. you are nestled together on your plush couch, surrounded by the cozy warmth of your shared home. you sense the gravity of the declaration. 

football has been everything for her—the highs of goals scored, the heartache of losses, the euro wins (and losses), alex loved football more than anything (besides you of course). 

“are you sure?” you ask, searching alex’s emerald-green eyes, which are reflective with both spark and sadness. you remember the times you’ve spent watching matches together, the way she lights up at every goal and every tackle, the intensity that comes alive within her. 

“you’ve worked so hard for this.”

a small smile curls on alex’s lips, her fingers intertwining with yours. 

“i have, and it’s been an incredible journey. but i think it’s time for a change. i want to focus on the club, on my next steps, and… on us.” she pauses, laying her head on your shoulder. 

“the idea of retiring feels freeing, like opening a door to something new. but it’s a big step, especially with how much i’ve given to the national team.”

your heart flutters at her words. there it is—the dream of shared life, the possibility of focusing on each other more than your respective careers. but you feel a twinge of your own aspirations weaving into the conversation. 

in recent months, you have found yourself more and more drained by the demands of acting. each press tour and red carpet event feels like a weight; the personas you crafted for the cameras sometimes feel far removed from who you want to be.

your love for acting left years ago, but you’ve never talked about it. millions of people would do anything to have the success that you had, which is why you remained humble when it came to your career.

you bite your lip, contemplating your own path.

“and what about you?” 

you finally speak, your voice soft and contemplative. 

“i mean, i’ve been thinking... maybe it’s time for me to step back, too.”

alex turns her head sharply, a mixture of surprise and concern twisting her features. 

“what do you mean?”

you take a deep breath, your heart racing. 

“i’ve loved acting my whole life. since i was ten years old.. but lately… i don’t know. it feels like there’s something more out there for me. something besides just the next film or the next award. maybe i want to stay here, with you, in germany. support you full-time as you transition.”

“you love what you do,” alex reminds you, concern etched into her expression.

“i do.. i think,” you acknowledge, “but I don’t know if it’s what I want anymore. it’s all so noisy, and sometimes I crave the quiet—the kind I can have with you.” it’s a realization you’ve been wrestling with, the weight of your own dreams now intertwined with the desire to nurture the softness of your domestic life.

at the age of ten, you left germany to be on a famous 2000s sitcom in the united states. not much was known about you, since you were a child playing in a child’s role at the time. you were on the sitcom from the age of ten to seventeen. afterwards, you moved onto movies– which is where you started getting your name plastered with the huge box office hits. 

the following days with alex blur into a blend of introspection and exhilaration. 

you left germany, again, a month after the conversation you had with your wife. 

you are scheduled to appear on a popular late-night show in new york city—a platform that demands your presence but feels like yet another bolt of pressure in the timeline of your life. you look forward to it; yet, somewhere deep down, you wonder how your announcement will change things. 

the thought of standing in front of an audience—centering their gaze on you, waiting for your words—fills you with both excitement and anxiety. it always had. 

as the lights of new york glimmer outside the studio windows, you sit backstage, your heart echoing loudly against your ribcage. the host, a charming figure with a knack for drawing out emotion, greets you with warmth that feels strangely nourishing amidst the crowd’s overwhelming enthusiasm. 

once seated beneath the bright lights, you feel the familiar rush of adrenaline, but this time it’s laced with purpose.

“y/n y/n y/n,” the host smiles, 

“the first time you’ve sat in this chair, you were 13 years old with the cast of that 70s show– you’ve dazzled ussince you were just a child. your transformative performances have captivated audiences worldwide.” 

the host stops talking as the audience claps, you smile, your hands held together in your lap as you sit in a nice black blazer outfit.

“but tonight, we hear you have some news that may surprise your fans.” the host says after the clapping died down.

you clear your throat, feeling the electrifying rush in your veins as you lean forward.

“thank you so much for having me,” you begin, the words flowing as if infused with years of pent-up emotion. 

“ it has been a privilege to do what I love for all these years, but tonight I want to share something personal. after woman of the hour premieres, it will be my last movie you will see me in.” the studio falls silent, the audience holding its breath in disbelief.

“after the film premieres, I will be retiring from acting for good.”

the reactions erupt—gasps, applause, disbelief—as you feel the host’s eyes wide with surprise. you smile gently, eyes twinkling with both sadness and liberation. 

“life changes, and so do we. for me, it’s about stepping back to embrace the next chapter—to support my wife, to explore new passions, to discover who I am outside the roles I’ve played.”

the host nods, admiration shining in his eyes. 

“that’s incredibly brave of you, y/n. how does it feel to step away from something that has defined you for so long?”

“it feels... freeing. and a little scary.” you let out a soft laugh, your heart now racing with vulnerability. 

“but I realized that life is about growing, about finding joy in unexpected places. for me, it’s about my family. we’re at the point where it feels right to re-prioritize what matters.”

your words resonate through the studio, and as your announcement settles, you feel a wave of relief wash over you. the claps and cheers from the audience feel like an embrace. 

this is your decision, not just for you, but for your love, for a future you envision filled with laughter, and quiet evenings.

as soon as the segment concludes and the applause fades, you are flooded with emotion. walking off the stage, you can already envision the life ahead of you in germany, around the comforts of home and the brilliant sun-kissed laughter alongside alex. no more LA, just wolfsburg where your heart belongs. 

you can finally imagine taking long morning walks, exploring new projects, starting fresh hobbies together—whatever you both like at that moment in time.

when you return home to germany that night, alex is waiting for you, a mixture of pride and adoration in her eyes. 

“i saw you,” she whispers as you embrace, her voice tinged with warmth that melts away the lingering uncertainty. 

“you were amazing, love.”

together, you sink into your beloved couch, the world outside shuttered in the nighttime calm. 

“i can’t believe you actually did it,” alex says, a playful rise in her voice. 

“you dropped the bomb.”

you laugh, the warmth blooming in your chest. 

“felt like the right moment.”

“yes,” alex smiles. you feel the flutter of excitement at the thought of so many uncharted territories waiting for you both.

“imagine how lovely it will be,” alex continues, taking your hand between her own. 

“to wake up every day without the rush of schedules, just life… our life.”

“with lots of dogs and the daughter we hope to bring in the next few years,” you tease, knowing the next steps you’ve discussed with your wife.

“how about we start with a little getaway to the mountains next weekend?”

“that sounds perfect,” you declare, her fondness illuminating as you share a kiss, both of you feeling free from the burdens that once held you captive.

masterlist

[thats-godscomma]

Since rewatching Psych, I've been thinking about how weird and arbitrary Shawn's interests are. Sure, late 2000's writing had something to do with it, and maybe a bit of Henry and Gus's influence, but hearing Shawn be so vocal about how he hates certain popular things or (more importantly) refuses to give them a chance BUT at the same time knowing so many pop culture references, it got me thinking.

What if the reason Shawn has so many pop culture references on hand is because of his eidetic memory, and he doesn't actually have as much of an interest in pop culture? Throughout the show, he actively avoids getting roped into big interests and franchises (see: comic books, soap operas, etc.) despite the fact that he genuinely seems excited once he's part of it. In fact, we don't get to see a lot of Shawn's interests at all unless it's based on an idea.

Take being a bounty hunter, for example. According to him, he's obsessed with the idea, but he doesn't make many references to an actual bounty hunter show or franchise. Instead, he just remembers the one bounty hunter he saw as a child and maybe references a movie or two. Because once he remembers something, he's never going to forget it, or at least not for a very long time.

That's why he thinks in references. Everything is a reference if you have a good enough memory. Everything reminds you of something. If Shawn hears someone make a Spock reference, it's in his repertoire forever. But he wouldn't be caught dead watching the shows or movies because that's just too much information. Why on earth would he endure that?

Of course, it also intertwines with his ADHD. He has bouts of energy and trouble focusing. He can't sit still to save his life, and he hyperfixates...or he would if his memory didn't make him averse to it. So if he doesn't want to hyperfixate on an information-based interest, then what does he hyperfixate on? Physical activities. Instead of learning about his favorite daredevil, he tries to be one himself. When he learns about oil rigs, he doesn't get a book from the library. He tries to find oil in his backyard.

This is also where he and Henry differ regarding Shawn's "potential." Henry is correct when he talks about Shawn's "wasted" potential, but he doesn't understand the toil of having this eidetic memory and ADHD. Here's what I think happened: Henry probably noticed Shawn's stellar memory at a young age, realized he has a gift, spoke with his wife about her eidetic memory, learned that you need to challenge your child's eidetic memory at a young age or it'll go away, started the hat game to make it fun and exciting, but then Shawn's ADHD appeared. Suddenly, it made him much harder to raise (because let's be real, Shawn was not an easy child.) Henry didn't know what he was doing anymore, and since it was the 80's, he didn't have the resources to properly understand his kid's behavior, so he tried to find a common interest, and started training Shawn to be a detective "because kids love cop shows." But Shawn struggled to stay attached to one single interest, and when he grew up, he stopped trying to articulate his problems because his mom (the only person who remotely understood his struggles) left, and he blamed his dad for it.

And academics? Those are a joke because what is the point of studying if he already remembers everything? Until, of course, he needs to apply it to a problem-solving test or writing an essay. Suddenly, he's memorizing a math teacher's answer sheet and copying Gus's report.

Yes, Shawn could have been a great cop. He could be an amazing scientist or anything really. He could have been a national spelling bee champion like Gus wanted to be. Even 15 years later, Shawn remembered exactly what word Gus messed up, how to spell the word, and what letter he made Gus slip up, but he didn't want to be on that stage with Gus because that requires so much learning. And so much time. And so much memorizing. And he refuses to sit still for that long when he knows that overloading his head is going to give him migraines.

Also his "I've heard it both ways" probably comes from the fact that people with eidetic memory can still make lots of mistakes if they don't actively commit something to memory. If Shawn only overhears something, he'll still naturally try to fill in the gaps like everyone else, but because he's so confident in his memory, he just believes what he remembers to be true, leading him to repeat incorrect information with confidence. That could also be why some of his references are incorrect due to mixed-up homophones.

Anyway, this post was supposed to be about how Shawn is just a walking movie reference because his memory won't let him forget quotes, but then I fell into a rabbit hole of the negative effects of having an eidetic memory as a child, and I am very passionate about how Henry actually tried his best, and people need to stop calling him a horrible parent. Love y'all. Let me know what you think.

[imaginespazzi]

Not sure if this counts as chaotic family, but I can’t get enough of your writing! I’ve read the ucla story and embarrassing number of times lol.

Can you please write Azzis first day back at practice and Paige is just so excited for her and they’re being cute all morning and then during practice they’re both so happy and then someone fouls azzi hard and she goes to the floor and Paige like kinda yells at them and then azzi tells her to calm down and she’s fine and Paige then apologizes while they’re all eating after practice and the team kinda teases her for getting all defensive about her wife.

Thank you my love and hopefully this lives a little bit up to what you wanted (even if it's unedited and it's been a little bit since you asked for it):

"Happy first day to you, happy first day to you, happy first day dear Azzi, happyfirstdayofbeingclearedforbasketballactivities to you," Paige sing-songs, the last sentence being mushed together so she can make it fit to the tune of "happy birthday, as she wraps her arms around Azzi from behind.

"My poor ears," KK whines dramatically and if Paige wasn't in such an absolutely fantastic mood, she'd give her youngest child the middle finger, but right now, she's too by smiling into her girlfriend's neck.

Azzi giggles, leaning back into Paige and letting herself be wrapped in the blonde's arms, "you're such a sap."

"Your sap," Paige coos before taking her delegated seat on the chair next to Azzi, left hand immediately seeking out a way to intertwine with the younger girl's right one, "you excited to play today babe?"

"So excited," Azzi whispers, wistfulness echoing in her voice. For the most part, the shooting guard excels at hiding her emotions and throughout her injury, she'd done a pretty solid job of keeping them in check. But that doesn't mean she hasn't felt the sting of being away from the sport she loves, every single day. And no one knows that feeling more than Paige as she presses a soft kiss against the younger girl's temple.

"Gonna show us all up at practice today huh Az?" Ice teases and Azzi just shrugs noncommittally with a slight smirk.

But Paige, forever the president of the Azzi Fudd fanclub, is quick to reply for her, "you bet your ass she is."

The rest of the team cheers and it's heartwarming really, how excited everyone is to have Azzi playing again. There's a buzz around the team as they walk into the practice center, the buzz of all their missing pieces starting to fit together. It had begun with Jana, and then Ayanna and now Azzi. With every return, the march towards UConn's 12th national championship, seems clearer and clearer.

It's the first time in a long time, that they have enough bodies available for them to play 5x5 with just the team alone. Much to Paige's chagrin, coach doesn't allow her and Azzi to be on the same team despite her incessant whining ("we haven't played together in ages Coach" "you'll play together all season" "azzi tell him he's being unreasonable" "whatever you say coach" "TRAITOR") but she's not all that upset about it. After all, Paige is nothing if not a competitor and beating Azzi has always been one of her favorite things.

Team adrenaline is on full display, everyone's eagerness to beat each other, but most importantly get better together, on full display as with every minute passing, the game seems to get more and more aggressive. There are no refs and Coach lets them play through the contact, knowing most of them will need to play like that during the season considering how fucking shit terrible the NCAA refs could be.

Call her a psychic but Paige sees it happening before it actually does. Azzi has been great throughout, faltering only once or twice, but that was to be expected her first practice back. It happens in a split secondas she's setting herself for a step-back pull-up, Morgan putting her whole soul into defending her. Something happens in between Azzi shooting the ball and it going in the net and the next thing Paige registers is her girlfriend, her only just recently cleared for basketball activities girlfriend, falling to the floor with a loud thud.

Paige is absolutely still for a second, her vision blurring in red and then-

"WHAT THE HELL MORGAN," Paige's voice echoes around all of Werth, as she marches to where the freshman is helping Azzi up.

She's aware of everyone's eyes on her now, can practically feel the death stare Coach is giving her for letting her emotions get the best of her but Paige doesn't give a damn. All she knows is that this is Azzi's first practice and no one should be being that aggressive with her.

"It was an accident," Morgan recoils, clearly unsure of what do to when her superstar teammate looks like she might murder her.

"DOESN'T MATTER. YOU DON'T FOUL SOMEONE LIKE THAT," Paige yells and even she's aware she's being just a tad bit unreasonable, "SHE LITERALLY JUST GOT BACK. WHAT IS WRONG YOU?"

"Hey hey hey," Azzi pushes a hand against Paige's chest, lightly shoving her back and it's instantaneous the way every part of her seems to calm down at that little touch, "I'm fine."

"That's not the point." Paige spits out through gritted teeth, still glowering at Morgan. Through the periphery of her vision she can make out KK, Ice and Jana snickering and makes a mental note to yell at them because this is NOT an amusing situation thank you very much.

"There is no point," Azzi says firmly, fingers rubbing a soothing pattern down Paige's arms, "it's basketball. Shit like this happens. You need to calm the hell down."

Before Paige, who's slowly beginning to relax into her girlfriend's touch, can say anything, a sharp whistle blows behind them. Knowing exactly who blew it, Paige whispers a prayer to herself before turning to look at furious Geno Auriemma.

"Good job, you just got yourself a technical," he seethes, one hand immediately going up in anticipation of Paige's protest, "do that in an actual game and I will eject you myself.

As Paige nods meekly, the muffled giggles behind her only get louder and when she looks to the side, her own girlfriend, the traitor, is trying to hide a smile.

"It really do be your own people," Paige scoffs and much to her displeasure, the laughs only get louder.

***

"Azzi says I have to apologize to you," Paige grumbles to Morgan as she and Azzi walk into the dining hall after practice, hands swinging together.

Morgan, the good-natured girl she is, just smiles and nods, "nah you're all good. I get it."

"See," Paige says pointedly to her girlfriend who immediately rolls her eyes, "Morgan gets it. You'd do the same too right Morgs?"

"Oh no," Morgan smirks, "I would never. I just know that you're kinda insane when it comes to Azzi."

Paige splutters as Azzi giggles into her shoulder, "I am not insane."

"You're the definition of insane," Jana says.

"And the definition of whipped," Ice chirps in, high-fiving her fellow forward.

"I am not," Paige whines, turning to Azzi "baby tell them I'm not."

"Well I can't lie Paige," Azzi says slowly and Paige lets out an offended squeal.

"You're my girl and you won't even defend me? Can't trust nobody these days."

As Paige pouts, KK waltzes into the dining hall. There's a smirk on her while she walks to the team table and exaggeratedly elbows Azzi on her way there.

"Oh no Azzi, I'm so sorry, I just bumped your arm, Please don't hurt me Paige," KK cowers into Ice, dramatically shielding her body, and the whole team, traitors the lot of them, burst into laughter.

"You're not funny," Paige seethes, crossing her arms, "I hate all of you."

It only makes the rest of the team laugh harder and it isn't until Azzi wraps Paige into her arms, that Paige's annoyed expression softens.

"Hey," the younger girl whispers, and just like that even in the cacophony, they're in their own world, "you are a little insane-"

"Azzi-"

"But I like that you're a little insane," Azzi whispers, before booping Paige's nose and giving her a soft kiss, eliciting a shy smile from the older girl.

And really, if Azzi likes her being insane, Paige is prepared to be insane for a lifetime.