#there is a part of you that doesn't speak in words

[roach-works]

first of all intellectually disabled people have every right to demand autonomy, respect, and self-determination. it's their life and they should have the first and last say in what they do with it. one of the most fundamental rights all humans must be afforded is the right to do things that other people don't like.

secondly, being trans isn't even an "intellectual" matter. i didn't intellectually achieve being trans after attending trans college and majoring in being trans and graduating with honors to be trans. i didn't sit down with my trans lawer or my trans life coach or my trans therapist and intelligently pick out changing my assigned gender at birth based on how smart and well-considered this life strategy would be for me over the rest of my career of having a gender.

like, one day i dressed up as a guy for halloween, looked at myself in the mirror, and experienced such a terrifying and primal surge of mourning for the person i wasn't that i put all those feelings in a box and spend the next several years using all my intelligence to NOT think about it anymore.

that didn't work, either.

what worked was giving myself permission to be the person i wanted to be, and betting that this unreasoning, wordless, ferocious part of myself knew better than all the rest of the smarts i had piled on top, and then i went and pursued transition regardless of all the intelligent reasons there were to not even try it.

being trans isn't a matter of intelligence or education. it's a matter of self determination. and everyone in the world has that right.

from @.mprnews on Instagram.

Not sure how many of y'all saw this, but the combined misogyny-ableism-transphobia was off the charts. I am glad that he did get his top surgery, has support, and that its pursuing it's goals to advocate for other disabled + trans people.

[svgarseason]

𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni

part one | two | three | four ‹soon›

You are in the kitchen fussing over a curry when your big brother's friend sukuna returns the very next day. Alone. Toji had the decency to warn you, so when sukuna sneaks up behind you, you manage not to jump out of your skin. You do however, shoot a glare at him over your shoulder when he powers off your Bluetooth speaker and gives your ponytail a hard tug. "Hey brat," he says, sniffing over your shoulder. "Miss me?"

"Smells good," he says, when you don't dignify his question with a response.

"It's not for you," you huff.

"Not talking about that slop," he says, close enough that you feel his breath against your neck.

"Back off," you round on him, brandishing your curry-stained spoon.

"Scary," he says, before he leans in and licks the utensil with the broad flat of his tattooed tongue, much to your dismay and his subsequent amusement.

You groan as you turn away to rinse the spoon in the sink. Why Toji thought it would be a good idea for his overgrown lackey to stay here until his return, you just can't understand. Doesn't help that he refuses to explain it to you. "Just tell me if he leaves," he had rasped at you before abruptly hanging up. You question what gods you have angered to put you in this situation as you watch the suds circle the drain.

"Toji says you have to stay so-"

"I don't give a fuck what Toji says," he interjects.

"So you're leaving?" You ask hopefully as you dry your hands.

"No."

"Then we should set some ground rul-" you trail off as you turn to see him tugging his shirt off over his head with his lower pair of arms. His chest and abdomen are tattooed in a similar linear pattern as his jaw line, you notice. Bold black marks like nature might bestow on some highly poisonous insect as a warning. Fitting for him, then.

"You were saying?" He prompts with a smirk as you realize you are staring instead of speaking.

"Can't you do that somewhere else?" You snap, rapidly losing what little patience you had to begin with.

"Do what?" He asks, as if he doesn't know. He crosses both sets of his stupidly muscular arms over his stupidly muscular chest, making every striation and vein stand out. On purpose. He does it on purpose. Why does he have to look like that? It's so annoying. You hate him. Hate him.

To your horror, you feel heat creeping up your neck all the way to the tops of your ears. The flush must be visible, judging by the amused expression on his face, which makes you even angrier.

"I don't know," you begin, gesturing wildly at him, "Exist? Could you just go exist somewhere fucking else?" You realize distantly that you are shouting. He is smiling and inching closer. "And if that's too much trouble, maybe you could - I don't know - do the world a favor and fucking kill yourself, huh? How about that?"

You continue on screaming at him, expelling at top volume and long last, your extensive list of grievances. You don't even realize that you have been backing away from him until your ass connects with the counter. By then, it is too late because his upper hands are cupping your chin, squishing your cheeks so that your words come out slurred just before he silences you completely with his mouth. You can taste the curry as your lips part for his tongue, out of pure shock, of course.

Your lips remain parted even after he breaks the kiss, panting as he grins at you. Before you can collect your scattered thoughts, movement drags your eyes down his abdomen, which, to your horror, splits open just below his navel. At first, you think he's injured, but when a large, wet tongue lolls out of the opening, you realize that it is just another anatomical anomaly. Stomach mouth. Why not? You scream all the way to your bedroom. His laughter echoes after you even after you've slammed the door shut.

A vague desire to not burn your brother's house down - at least not with yourself still in it - finally pulls you from your hiding place. The monster is nowhere in sight and, it would seem, he turned off the stovetop for you. The curry is salvageable, although a bit of the sauce is burned to the bottom of the pan. Your pride, on the other hand, well, that remains to be seen.

part one | two | three | four ‹soon›

taglist ‹ age in your bio to be added ›

@orikixx ; @scorpiosugar ; @just-lilita ; @shesabeeler ; @maybe-a-bi-witch ; @cairo-morningstar ; @rawwrrgal ; @sukubusss ; @raedollsstuff ; @expiredbred ; @ieathairs ; @frieddelusionparadise ; @hishearttohave ; @vellichor01 ; @mimiluvzu2 ; @lem-hhn ; @msrr-ws ; @paradisestarfishh ; @yuj111tadori ; @iminlovewqr0w ; @linaaeatsfamilies ; @samisfunky ; @noyaskneepad ; @shxyxyxxxx ; @00frenchfries00 ; @chubbyblckgirl ; @mysticranger575 ; @waterfal-ling ; @chiizuyu ; @contaminatedcupcake ; @littlesnoopy ; @dizzydotjpeg ; @sugufushi ; @missbunnybunny ; @go-go-gadget-autism ; @grapelover2000 ; @mmeerraa ; @tsukikoxo ; @slqttttt ; @akumazwrld ; @christiannugget ; @zlimeyzenin

[machetelettuce]

One of the most interesting things to me is how, even after indoctrination, Narinder's name doesn't change from "The One Who Waits" it's there by default. YOU have to change it to Narinder. But even then, it's not really his name anymore.

I think the horror of being trapped in one place, in one area, for literally HUNDREDS of years, is unexplored in this fandom. Even though Narinder is a god, it's heavily implied he was bored with his task. He felt stifled by being the god of Death. Constant, Unmoving-- A binary. He was not in the flux his siblings were. And at the end of the day that feeling-- feeling stuck, is what led him to act. Also funny thing here; Feeling trapped in his domain is what led him to being literally trapped in his domain. LMFAO.

But the point of explaining that is to point out how he DID feel trapped and it was irritating him in some way. Great, now what happens when you trap someone who is irritated with their purpose in a room with nothing and nobody (spare 2 people) for a thousand years. Oh and also he just got betrayed by his siblings, one of whom is punishing him for doing what THEY introduced to him. Speaking of Shamura and Aym and Baal actually-- Fun fact, Solitary confinement is still Solitary confinement even if you have three people in a room together. It's still torture!

ANYWAYS all of this is to say Narinder losing his name is indicative of an identity change. Which makes complete sense, being trapped in one room with nothing to do but state and idfk guide souls to their destination (a task he was already fed up with) would drive someone actually insane. It's. Horrifying to think about. His name is completely erased from all records and history, he's given the title 'The One Who Waits' in response to a prophecy, thousands of innocent sheep are slaughtered to stop the prophecy from commencing, etc. Of course he's not going to be 'Narinder' anymore, the Bishop Narinder is long dead. He's replaced that with so much rage and anger and misery. The One Who Waits is the only part of him that remains.

Its so miserable and sad and it makes me SICK actually. Especially in relation to the other bishops. I like to think that even after they've 'made up' in some sense of the word, that their dynamic is completely changed. They're all wildly different people due to everything, yes, but Narinder-- The One Who Waits, is unrecognizable. I love playing with my toys i hope if you read this it makes you as ill as it makes me

[fazedlight]

Even if what you're writing isn't based historical precedent...

Language is not a physical law of the universe!

Language is a social construct; it can and does change. Linguists and dictionaries only describe what they observe - they don't create laws to be followed. People start using new words first, then they sometimes get popular enough to enter the dictionary. That doesn't mean people were "wrong" to use the words beforehand!

Merriam-Webster:

By relying on citational evidence, we hope to keep our publications grounded in the details of current usage so they can calmly and dispassionately offer information about modern English. That way, our references can speak with authority without being authoritarian.

Oxford:

Dictionaries are descriptive, not prescriptive. In other words, when we're defining a word we combine our understanding of how it is used in the language with an analysis of resources such as the Oxford English Corpus. This should result in a definition of how a word is actually used, rather than how we think it should be used.

Of course, there are such things as style and connotation and simply being understood. Social constructs aren't totally arbitrary, and it can be a challenge to convey the idea you want in the way that you want to convey it. There's never a guarantee that what you write will land, or that you will be perfectly understood.

But experimentation is part of creativity. Not every experiment will work the way you want, but exploration is the only way you find something new. So try "honey-bright", see how it feels, see how your audience responds. Communication is about connection, and the only thing constant is change.

one of my worst writing sins is abusing my power to create compound words. i cannot write the sentence "The sun shone as bright as honey that afternoon." no. that's boring. "The sun was honey-bright that afternoon" however? yes. that sentence is dope as fuck. i do not care if "honey-bright" is a word in the english dictionary. i do not care if the sentence is grammatically correct. i will not change. i will not correct my erred ways. the laws of the english language are mine.

[vunblr]

Foundations (#2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+. Slight Angst. Fluff. Possible Smut in the future.

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Word Count: 7.7.k.

note: In this universe Steve didn't leave, Tony doesn't know that the Winter Soldier killed his parents, and everything is relatively ok.

Previous Chapter

From Monday to Wednesday, Bucky didn’t take Thomas to kindergarten. He had been away on a mission with Clint, retrieving classified data from a transnational drug dealer organization in Canada before it could disappear for good. It had been a tense operation that required more patience than Bucky liked to admit, but they got the job done.

By Thursday, despite the pounding migraine drilling into his skull, he took Thomas to school. He was exhausted, but after three days away, he wasn’t about to keep the kid out of his routine any longer, and he didn’t want to burden Sam and Steve any longer.

As they approached the entrance, his gaze landed on her. She was holding several small gift bags, and just as he got closer, he saw another parent handing her a neatly wrapped package.

“…Really, thank you so much for taking such good care of Flore. We’re going to miss you,” the man said warmly.

Bucky blinked.

Oh.

Goodbye gifts.

It made sense. That was the polite thing to do, a simple gesture of appreciation. Good manners, acknowledgment of familiarity.

And yet, he had neither thought of it nor had the time to get her anything.

When he finally reached the door with Thomas, she greeted him with the same smile as always, showing no sign of expecting anything from him.

“Well aren’t you popular” he tried to joke.

“Being popular doesn’t pay the rent, but is nice.” She high-fived Thomas, ruffling his hair slightly before he ran off to join the other kids. Bucky watched him go, blinking a couple of times as he watched the child merge with the others.

When he turned back to her, she was shifting her weight slightly, grazing the strap of her bag with her fingers as if debating something.

Then, with a quick breath, she asked, “Are you alright?”

His brow furrowed slightly.

“Mr. Rog- Steve mentioned you were working when he dropped Thomas off these past few days, and-” she hesitated, scanning his face. “No offense, but you look a little… drained.”

His lips parted slightly, and something unreadable flickered behind his eyes. For a moment, he just looked at her, and she felt the creeping sense that maybe she’d overstepped.

“I’m sorry if-”

“Um, no.” He ran a gloved hand over his jaw, exhaling slowly. “It’s alright. I just have a migraine and I just…” He trailed off, as if even speaking was an effort.

Her expression softened, and before she could think twice, she was already rummaging through her jacket pockets. “Oh, that’s the worst. Here-“

She pulled out a pair of sunglasses and held them out to him.

Bucky squinted slightly at her, blinking like he wasn’t sure if she was serious.

“Do you have photophobia right now?” she asked, tilting her head as she studied him.

His mouth opened, then closed. “…What?”

“The light,” she clarified, nudging the glasses toward him. “Is it making it worse?”

A beat. Then, reluctantly, “Yeah.”

She stepped just a little closer, enough that he caught the faintest trace of something floral on her scarf. “Take them,” she said. “I won’t be using them until later, and you can give them back when you pick up Thomas.”

Bucky glanced down at the sunglasses hesitatingly.

“They’re unisex,” she added, a small teasing smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You won’t look weird.”

His fingers brushed against hers as he finally took them, and neither of them moved away for a second too long.

“…Thanks,” he murmured, slipping them on.

----

Bucky lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the pills to kick in. A blister and a half. He needed his damn metabolism to cooperate for once. Just this once.

He shifted to his side, his landing his gaze on the sunglasses resting on the nightstand.

You look a little drained, she had said.

And he was.

Years ago, he wouldn’t have fought it. He would’ve just rotted in his apartment, letting time blur, barely moving, barely breathing until the serum forced his body to reset. He wouldn’t have eaten, wouldn’t have showered, wouldn’t have cared. Just waited it out in silence, in the dark, until the worst of it passed.

But that wasn’t an option anymore.

Not with Thomas in the house.

He didn’t want the kid worrying about things he shouldn’t have to. He’d already seen how distressed Thomas got when Bucky was too hurt, how his small hands would clutch at his sleeves, how his big blue eyes would fill with silent fear when he witnessed one of Bucky’s episodes.

So, he sucked it up.

He couldn’t rely on Steve or Sam every time. If he was here, he was the only one responsible for Thomas’s care. That was the job. That was what mattered.

Which meant that in the few hours Thomas was at kindergarten, Bucky would do the only thing he could, lie here, breathe through the pain, and hope that by the time pickup rolled around, he’d be functional.

----

By the time pickup rolled around, Bucky had already forced himself out of the apartment. The migraine had dulled into something manageable, not gone, but tolerable. He could function. That was enough.

Still, instead of walking straight up to the gate, he lingered nearby, half-hidden as he watched the other parents pick up their kids, exchanging smiles and small talk. He let the minutes slip by, waiting until only a handful of them remained before finally making his way forward.

He lifted a hand in a small wave, keeping his distance. Thomas spotted him instantly, and his little face lighted up as he ran toward him.

She, however, hesitated. Her brows pulled together slightly as she noticed Bucky wasn’t approaching fully, like he was deliberately keeping himself at the edge of things. But, instead thinking too much into it, she turned back to say goodbye to the remaining children.

Eventually, she moved toward the entrance, ready to grab her things and head out, until Thomas’s voice rang out behind her.

She barely had time to turn before the kid came bounding up to her, gripping a slightly wild but lovely bouquet of daisies.

“These are for you!” he announced, a little breathless from the run.

Blinking in surprise, she knelt down. “For me?”

Thomas nodded eagerly, holding the flowers out with both hands. “We’ll miss you!” Then, with great importance, he added, “Daddy says that if you put an aspirnin-  aspren- aspirine in the water, they’ll stay fresher for longer.”

She let out a soft, surprised laugh before her gaze caught on something tucked between the stems. A small card, slightly crumpled from Thomas’s grip.

Thank you for everything. Barnes Family

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, pulling Thomas into a warm hug. The boy giggled, squeezing her back before darting off toward his dad.

She swallowed, glancing past Thomas toward the gate.

Bucky was still standing back, his gaze unreadable behind the sunglasses she had lent him that morning. When he noticed her looking, he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

She smiled, tightening her fingers gently around the bouquet. Then she watched them go, and turned to walk inside, with slower steps.

The flowers had moved her more than they should have.

Almost every parent had given her a small farewell gift: a box of chocolates, a scented candle, a handwritten note. All sweet gestures, all appreciated. But somehow, this felt different. More personal. More thoughtful.

Maybe it was because Thomas had delivered them with such excitement, his little hands gripping the stems like they were something important. Maybe it was that it’s been ages since someone gave her flowers.

Or maybe… it was because he was the one who bought them. And, she liked the idea more than she was willing to admit.

----

Friday morning, it was Steve who arrived at the kindergarten gate with Thomas.

The boy clung to his uncle’s hand, his usual energy was dimmed, and when he saw her, he only offered a small wave instead of his usual eager greeting.

She crouched slightly, offering him a gentle smile. “Good morning, Thomas.”

He mumbled a quiet “Morning” back, shifting on his feet.

Steve exhaled, giving her an apologetic look as he handed over the sunglasses she had lent Bucky the day before. “He wanted to stay home with his dad,” he explained. “Bucky’s… indisposed. If he seems a little off today, that’s probably why.”

She took the sunglasses, brushing her fingers briefly against the frame before slipping them into her pocket. “Oh, is he sick?”

Steve hesitated, a fraction of a second too long. Then, with an tight smile, he nodded. “Still dealing with that migraine.”

It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. But it wasn’t the full truth, either.

The truth was more complicated.

Since coming back from the mission with Clint, Bucky had suffered a couple of seizures, probably triggered by stress and fatigue. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. Just another mark Hydra had left on his body, a collateral damage from years of forced resets in the chair.

The migraines, the memory lapses, the muscle spasms, Bucky had learned to live with those. But the seizures were the worst. They left him wrecked afterward, his body aching like he’d been through a fight he didn’t remember.

So no, he wasn’t just indisposed.

But Steve wasn’t going to tell her that.

Not when Bucky would rather chew glass than let people see him vulnerable.

----

Thomas was quieter than usual that day. He followed the routine, sat in his usual spot during storytime, and played alongside his classmates, but there was a certain way in his movements, like his mind was elsewhere.

During free play, as she helped a group of kids build a tower with wooden blocks, Thomas suddenly looked up at her, furrowing his little brows in thought.

“Um Miss…?”

She smiled. “Yes, sweetheart?”

“Do adults get more hurt than kids when they fall?” he asked, tilting his head. “Because they’re sooo tall?”

She chuckled at the logic. “It’s about the same for everyone,” she explained gently. “Sometimes kids bounce back quickly, and sometimes adults do, too. It just depends on how they fall.”

Thomas pursed his lips, considering that. Then, after a pause, he murmured, “Oh. That’s good. I was afraid Daddy was hurt.”

Something in her chest tightened.

She kept her voice even. “Why’s that, honey?”

Thomas didn’t seem to think much of the question, busy stacking blocks on top of each other. “’Cause sometimes Daddy falls a lot.” The words were so casual, so absentminded, that it took her a second to process them.

Her grip on the wooden block in her hand tightened slightly. “He does?”

Thomas nodded, completely unaware of the weight his words carried. “Not all the time,” he added quickly, as if to reassure her. “Just sometimes. And then he gets really tired after.”

She swallowed, keeping her expression neutral. “I see.”

Thomas hummed in response, satisfied with her answer, and went back to his building, already distracted by something else.

But she wasn’t.

She watched him for a moment longer, as her mind quietly turned over what he’d just said. Something about Thomas’s words unsettled her, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t really her business.

It would be weird to ask Steve, and even if she did, what could she say? Hey, Thomas mentioned his dad falls a lot, should I be worried? No. That wasn’t her place.

So she let it be.

But the thought kept occupying her mind. Especially because today was her last full class with the kids. The festival was over the weekend, and then that was it. Monday would come, and Jane would take over.

Maybe that was why, glancing around to make sure the other kids weren’t watching, she pulled two lollipops from her pocket. With a little wink, she placed them in his small hands. “Make sure your dady gets one, okay? And… I hope he feels better soon,” she said gently.

Thomas nodded, tucking the candies into his pocket. “Thank you, me too.”

----

Steve arrived to pick up Thomas just in time, jogging to the gate to greet the boy and ruffle his hair. Then he turned toward her. “How’d he do today?”

She smiled, though there was something… sad in it. “Pretty good, considering he was feeling a little down. I uh- hope James is recovering well.” she stuttered a little. Then, with a small smile, she added, “It’d be wonderful to have you both at the festival. Steve smiled. “But in case you can’t make it, and we don’t see each other again…” she fidgeted lightly with the strap of her bag before she continued, “I just wanted to thank you for helping us with the booths.”

Steve quirked a brow, puzzled.

That’s when she realized, he didn’t know.

Of course, why would he? It’s not like Thomas’s father would go out of his way to mention her to his friend.

“Oh, um… I’m just the substitute teacher,” she explained, suddenly feeling awkward. “The titular returns on Monday.”

Steve’s jaw ticked slightly. “Oh. Bucky didn’t- that’s a shame. After all these months, the kids must be super attached.”

She exhaled a little, nodding. “Yeah, it’s tough to leave them.”

He tilted his head. “Do you… have another school lined up?”

She shook her head. “Not yet. I’m still looking for openings. In the meantime, I mostly fill the idle time nannying.”

Steve’s brows lifted slightly like he was filing that information away. “Makes sense.” Then, with an easy smile, he clapped Thomas on the back and said, “Well, ma’am, I’ll definitely be coming tomorrow for those pies, Bucky or no Bucky. And who knows? Maybe I’ll bring some people along.”

There was something in his tone that made her blink, like he was already planning something she wasn’t in on.

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Should I be worried?”

Steve just grinned. “Nah. Just keep an eye out.”

-----

Bucky shifted on the couch when Steve and Thomas entered the apartment,  resting his elbows on his thighs as he leaned forward. He offered the kid a tired smile. “Hey, bud. Go wash your hands and I’ll make you some cocoa.”

Thomas nodded obediently, padding toward the bathroom.

The second he was out of earshot, Steve dropped onto the couch next to Bucky. “So… Tommy’s teacher told me she’s leaving.” He stated casually.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and then grunted. A non-answer.

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You going to the event this weekend?”

Bucky exhaled sharply, dragging a hand over his face. “I should take Thomas, yeah.”

The blonde continued to watch him with intent, almost without blinking.

Bucky looked up, tensing his shoulders. “What?”

“Are we going to pretend it’s not the last chance to see her?”

Bucky’s expression hardened and his posture turned rigid as he looked at his friend. “You don’t give up, do you?”

Steve didn’t even blink. “You know it's not my forte.”

Bucky exhaled sharply. “Look, I appreciate this… need you have to push me forward, but I don’t need it, Stevie. I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.” there was an edge in his voice, a weight that made Steve’s shoulders drop just slightly.

“I know you do,” he said, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s face. “But maybe that’s why-”

“Don’t.” Bucky’s voice was firm and final. “Just… don’t.”

Steve sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the couch. “Man, you are stubborn.”

Bucky’s eyes flashed, and his voice snapped low and controlled, careful not to carry to the bathroom where Thomas was washing his hands. “You’re overthinking something that isn’t even a thing.”

Steve’s calm expression didn’t change, which only made Bucky’s jaw clench tighter. “You know damn well my few attempts at dating were a disaster,” he continued, sharply. “And I only did it because you kept pestering me about it.”

Steve opened his mouth, but Bucky didn’t let him get a word in.

“You don’t get it.” His voice dipped lower, rougher.

His shoulders hunched just slightly, his gaze dropping. “No sane person would look at me and think… and she’s not into me. I’d know.”

Steve’s face softened, as he took in the slumped set of Bucky’s shoulders, the way his hand stayed fisted at his side like he was holding himself together by only force of will.

“Bucky…”

But he just shook his head, standing up abruptly. “Just drop it, Steve.”

And with that, he walked off stiffly as he moved toward the hallway.

-----

Saturday arrived, and the festival was bursting with people.

The courtyard buzzed with laughter, music, and the scent of baked goods wafting through the air. Families crowded the booths, with hands full of cupcakes, crafts, and raffle tickets. The children dashed between the stalls, their little faces painted with colorful designs, excited.

And, of course, a noticeable crowd gathered around three particular men.

Steve had shown up with Sam and Clint in tow, and Sam -being Sam- had tweeted about it. That was all it took to draw in curious onlookers and eager fans who wanted to catch a glimpse of the Avengers in civilian mode. Some were bold enough to ask for selfies, which Sam graciously agreed to with his signature charm. Steve kept it low-key, smiling politely while Clint grumbled but still posed when cornered by particularly persistent fans.

The buzz from their appearance did wonders for sales. The bake sale sold out twice, and the raffle tickets were gone in record time.

She watched it all from the distance, with a pleased smile on her face. It was turning out even better than she’d hoped.

Then, she caught sight of Steve talking with the director, shaking her hand as he discreetly handed her an envelope. Even from afar, she saw the way the woman’s eyes widened before her hand flew to her mouth, clearly struggling to keep her composure. It didn’t take a genius to guess whose name was on that check. Things were going well, better than well, and that was good. The festival was a success, the kids were having a blast, and the school would benefit enormously from the donations.

She was happy. Truly.

But… she also couldn’t ignore the twinge of disappointment she felt as the day passed by. She’d hoped to see him there. Maybe standing in a corner, lurking on the periphery with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, and shoulders slightly hunched as if trying to take up less space.

But as the afternoon wore on and the sun began to dip lower, she had to admit to herself that it wasn’t going to happen.

She wouldn’t see him again.

Oh well. It was just an innocent crush, after all.

Nothing serious. Nothing life-altering. Just a harmless infatuation from observing and interacting with him on a daily basis, the same way she did with any other parent.

With the little difference that she didn’t go to work every morning wondering if any other parent would be wearing that blue henley that suited him so well. Or if his hair would be left loose, or pulled back in that short, neat ponytail that made his sharp features even more striking.

Or if maybe she might find an excuse to have some trivial physical contact. A casual brush of fingers when giving him a paper, a brief touch on her arm to get her attention.

Stupid, she chided herself, shaking her head as she moved to straighten the crafts table. It wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be like that.

----

Eventually, she found herself chatting with Steve and company before they took their leave.

They were… surprisingly normal.

Mr. Wilson -Sam- had a warm, easygoing demeanor. He complimented the cinnamon rolls with genuine enthusiasm and asked questions about the neighborhood, curious about the local community.

Clint, on the other hand, was… well. He made a big show of browsing the crafts table, holding up a knitted cat plushie with a serious expression. “So, if I get this for my dog… how long before he tears its head off?”

She stifled a laugh. “Depends on the dog, I suppose.”

He nodded solemnly, turning the plushie this way and that. “Yeah… Lucky’s got a soft spot for cat toys. Rips ‘em to shreds out of love, y’know?”

Steve rolled his eyes, muttering, “Pretty sure he eats them out of spite.”

Clint gasped in mock outrage. “How dare you accuse him of malice!”

They were good people. Easy people. And for a second, she understood how Thomas could be so fond of his father’s companions.

As they said their goodbyes, she almost asked Steve about him. The words were right there, hovering on the tip of her tongue. How’s James? Is he… alright?

But she swallowed them back.

----

After the Avengers trio left, the festival slowly quieted down. Without the crowd magnet that was Sam’s tweet, the streets grew calmer, and the noise of conversation softened as people trickled out. The streetlights flickered on, casting warm glows along the sidewalks.

She was absentmindedly rearranging a set of crocheted coasters on the table when a familiar voice sounded behind her.

Low, a little rough.

“How much for the coasters?”

Her heart gave a startled jolt as she turned around.

There he was, hands in his jacket pockets, hair pulled back neatly, the streetlight casting a soft glow over his tired features.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “I- uh…” She cleared her throat, her smile slipping out before she could stop it. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Where’s Thomas?”

“He’s already playing with that girl… Fiona, or Flora,” Bucky replied, glancing toward the playground. “Apparently, she just got here. Same as us.”

She followed his gaze, watching the children chase each other, laughter echoing through the yard. “They get along well.”

“Yeah.” His eyes softened, lingering on the kids before he looked back at her. “Thank you for the sunglasses, by the way.”

Right. “Oh, it’s nothing,” she said quickly, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “I get migraines, too, so I know how it can be sometimes.”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “Yeah. They helped.”

She rocked back on her heels, brushing the edge of the table behind her with her fingers. “I’m glad.” He nodded, dropping his gaze for a moment. “And-” She couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across her face, “thank you for the flowers.”

His lips twitched, just enough to soften his expression as he lifted his gaze toward her. “Not too old-fashioned, I hope.”

Her eyes widened. “No, I… loved them,” she declared, almost too earnestly. She felt a little silly, but the words tumbled out before she could stop them. “The last time I got flowers was… well, a friend brought them when I was in the hospital for appendicitis… like five years ago.” She chuckled lightly, brushing the edge of the table again, a nervous habit she didn’t even realize she had.

There it was. The opening he should have ignored.

But he didn’t.

“And… what presents do your boyfriend give you on special occasions then?”

The question came out more casual than he felt. He kept his posture relaxed, like he didn’t really care about the answer. But his eyes were locked on her, sharp and unwavering.

Her mouth parted, and her eyes widened as heat flooded her cheeks. She looked down, fidgeting with the table’s edge again. “Oh, um… I’m not… I’m not seeing anybody right now.”

Bucky’s jaw shifted, and his teeth clenched before he relaxed them. His body unconsciously leaned just a fraction closer. “Oh.”

She looked up then, and their gazes met. His were piercing, framed by dark circles that spoke of exhaustion, but seemed to intensify the blue.

So, not seeing anybody. His throat bobbed, and his shoulders stiffened. He hadn’t expected to get this far. He exhaled, slowly and measured. “Right.”

Her gaze flickered down, suddenly finding the space between their feet very interesting. A strand of hair slipped from behind her ear, falling across her cheek, and she pushed it back again.

Before either of them could say another word, Thomas came running, voice loud and cheerful as he yelled. “Miss Y/n! Look!”

They both turned, and the spell broke as the child waved a giant cookie with excitement. “Flora’s mom gave me this!”

She forced herself to laugh. “Wow, that’s huge! You better save some for your dad.”

Thomas grinned, already taking a big bite. “No way!”

Bucky huffed, as a reluctant smile pulled at his lips. “Figures.”

The kid then scampered off, cookie half gone before he even made it back to the playground.

The moment gone, Bucky shifted, and his body tensed when he realized how close he was standing. He took a step back, squaring his shoulders. “I, uh… better keep an eye on him.”

She nodded, finally letting go of the table. “Yeah… of course.”

Before he walked away, she hesitated but found her voice. “I’m glad you came.”

His posture stilled and he straightened himself before slowly turning to face her. His gaze softened, his always-present guarded look slipping just for a moment.

“…Yeah. Me too.”

----

After their conversation, Bucky found himself hovering on the edges while keeping an eye on Thomas, his gaze instinctively drifting back to her as she moved between the booths, helping kids pick out treats, chatting easily with parents, her laughter blending into the warm evening air.

He lingered longer than he meant to, always just a few steps away but never quite close enough. Every time he tried to approach her again, something got in the way.

A parent pulled her aside to thank her. A kid called out her name, needing help. Another teacher waved her over, asking her opinion on where to store the leftover banners.

Bucky’s mouth would open, half-formed words on his tongue, but then he’d shut it again, stepping back, tensing his shoulders as the opportunity slipped away. Time slipped by, and the evening grew cooler as the crowd began to thin. Booths were closing up, the parents gathered their kids, and the buzz of excitement slowly winded down.

Eventually, Thomas tugged at his sleeve, his small voice pulling Bucky from his thoughts. “Daddy… I’m bored.”

Bucky blinked, looking down at him.

The kid’s eyes were drooping, since the day’s excitement clearly caught up to him. “Can we go home now?”

Bucky exhaled, resigned. “Yeah, kiddo. Let’s go.”

Thomas nodded, and then looked back toward the crafts booth, scrunching up his face. “Wait… I wanna say goodbye to Miss Y/n.”

His throat felt dry. But he swallowed it down, nodding as he squeezed his son’s fingers back. “Alright.”

He straightened his posture, forcing his shoulders to relax, willing himself to push past the stupid, adolescent feeling twisting in his gut. This wasn’t about him. It was for Thomas. Just for Thomas.

So he took a breath and walked toward her.

She was at the crafts booth, boxing up leftover yarn and packing away the crocheted coasters. When they approached, she looked up, and her eyes widened before a warm smile softened her face. “Hey, Thomas.” Then her gaze flicked to Bucky, lingering for a second too long on him before she looked back at the boy. “And James.”

Bucky’s chest tightened again, but he gave a curt nod, unconsciously squeezing Thomas’s hand just a bit tighter.

Thomas stepped forward, and tilted back his head to look up at her. “You’re really leaving?”

Her smile faltered, and she crouched down, “Yeah, buddy. I am.”

Thomas’s face fell, and his lips curled into a sad frown. “But… who’s gonna read the stories now?”

Her eyes shimmered, but her smile stayed firm. “Miss Jane will. And she’s really good at funny voices, too.”

Thomas’s nose wrinkled. “But I like your voices better.”

A laugh broke through her lips, soft and warm. “You’re gonna be just fine, kiddo. And hey, maybe I’ll come visit sometime, okay?”

Thomas’s eyes brightened. “Promise?”

“Yeah. I promise.”

Thomas beamed, stepping forward and wrapping his little arms around her neck. She stiffened, just for a moment, before hugging him back, closing her eyes as she held him close.

Bucky’s chest ached. He looked away, trying to ignore the sting of it all. This was just for Thomas.

When she finally pulled back, she ruffled his hair. “Take care of yourself, okay? And be good for your dad.”

Thomas nodded, his smile wide and sincere. “I will!”

She stood up, drifting her gaze back to Bucky. “Well, again, I’m glad you two could make it.”

His shoulders tensed, and he flicked his gaze to the side. “Yeah. Figured Thomas would want to… y’know.”

She nodded, pressing her lips together, a shadow crossing her face. “Of course.”

For a second, the words were right there. The things he wanted to say, the things he knew he should say.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he just gave a stiff nod. “Take care.”

Her smile faltered, and her hands fidgeted with the edge of the box. “You too, James.”

Thomas tugged at his hand, his little voice breaking through the moment. “Come on, Papa. I’m tired.”

“Yeah, kiddo,” Bucky murmured. “Let’s go.”

He turned around, guiding his son away.

He didn’t look back.

Not even when he wanted to.

-----

A couple of weeks passed, and their daily life settled into a certain rhythm. Thomas adjusted well enough to the new teacher. According to him, she was “nice” and “funny,” but then he’d always add, with a little pout, “But Miss Y/n was better.”

Bucky didn’t have much to say to that. He just ruffled his son’s hair and changed the subject, pretending like the kid’s words didn’t affect him.

He felt drained again. It was getting harder to balance parenthood, missions, and the neurological bullshit that seemed determined to make his life a living hell. The migraines were more frequent, and the muscle spasms in his shoulder were more stubborn. And there were days when the exhaustion sank so deep into his bones, that he felt like he was drowning.

His temper was shorter. His mood was broodier, and that was saying a lot.

Not in front of Thomas, of course. He forced himself to keep it together around the kid, to push down the irritability and the tension coiling under his skin. But that meant the rest of his social circle got the brunt of it.

Steve noticed. They all did.

And Steve -being Steve- decided to stage an intervention ambushing in his living room.

“You need to find a nanny,” he said one evening, firmly.

“No,” Bucky snapped, not even looking up from his coffee. “I’m not letting a stranger into my house.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Buck, you can’t keep this up. Eventually, you’re going to have to do something about it.”

Bucky’s shoulders stiffened, tightening his grip around his mug.

Steve’s voice softened, but his resolve didn’t waver. “We’re all here for you. But we’ve got our own responsibilities, too. Our own missions, our own lives.” He paused. “You’re not a burden. You’re not in this alone, but you’ve got to figure out a way to make things work, not only for Thomas, for you too.”

The words settled like stones in Bucky’s gut.

He knew Steve was right. He knew he was leaning on the team too much, burdening them with his fucked-up life and his chaotic mind. But hearing it out loud stung in a way that made him feel like a failure all over again.

----

That week, he had to travel with Clint to Canada for a mission. He had made arrangements with Steve for Thomas to stay at his place. It felt like another burden to drop on his best friend, but he didn’t feel he had another choice.

Things ended a day earlier than expected, and Bucky didn’t bother going back to his apartment first. He was bone-tired, dirty, and stiff from travel, but he just wanted to see his kid. Make sure he was okay.

He called Steve, but there was no answer. Not unusual, but still irritating.

Grumbling under his breath, he made his way to his place and rang the doorbell twice before he heard footsteps approaching.

The snarky remark he’d been ready to throw died in his throat the second the door swung open.

Because it wasn’t Steve standing there.

It was her.

Wearing a floral apron, hands dusted with flour, and a faint streak of it on her cheek as she blinked up at him in shock. Her mouth opened, then closed, her eyes wide.

Bucky’s brain shut down. His body locked up, as he looked at her, so familiar and yet so impossibly out of place. He barely managed a croaked, “What… what are you doing here?”

She blinked again, then straightened her pose, wiping her hands on the apron. “Oh- um… Hi, James.”

Hearing his name on her lips again made him feel things, and for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

She cleared her throat, glancing over her shoulder. “Steve had to run an errand, and he asked me to watch Thomas for a while.” Her eyes flicked back to his, “I… didn’t know you’d be back today.”

Bucky stood there, frozen in the doorway, his tired mind struggling to catch up. His voice was rough, edged with something he didn’t understand. “Yeah. Came back early.”

She shifted her weight, playing nervously with the edge of her apron. “Right… well, Thomas is inside. We… we were making cookies.” She hesitated, then added, “He said they were your favorite.”

Bucky’s heart did something stupid, something he didn’t like, and he had to clear his throat to shake it off.

“Yeah. He’s… he’s right.”

She smiled then, soft and warm, relaxing her posture. “Well… come in, then.”

He stood there for half a second longer than he should have, as his brain still struggled to process the fact that she was here, in Steve’s house, baking cookies with his kid.

“Where’s Thomas?” His voice came out rougher than intended, low and gravelly as he moved past her, already unfastening the straps on his tactical vest.

She blinked, momentarily stunned before she managed to answer, “In… in the bathroom.”

Bucky grunted, not even looking at her as he pulled a knife from his thigh holster, the blade catching the light before he tucked it into an old cupboard by the hallway. Then came another knife, a handgun, and an extra clip, all disappearing behind the tiny wooden doors.

She knew it was rude to stare. She knew it.

But it was the first time she’d seen him like this.

The tactical suit made his broad shoulders seem impossibly solid, and the black fabric hugged his body, emphasizing the lines of his arms, as the curve of his biceps strained under the worn seams. The vest molded against his chest, doing nothing to hide the muscular expanse beneath it, or concealing just how strong he was.

His thick thighs were framed by those dark cargo pants that clung to him as he moved. Even weighed down by holsters and utility belts, he moved with a lethal grace. And his hair -God, his hair- disheveled and muddy, framing his face and somehow softening the hard cut of his jaw.

There was dirt smudged across his cheekbone, and a faint bruise along his jaw, evidence of whatever fight he’d been in. His lips were pressed in a thin line giving him an edge of danger.

Danger.

That was the word. He looked dangerous. And damn, if that wasn’t… hot.

He ran a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but what are you doing here?” He turned to her, his blue eyes sharp and piercing. “Where’s Steve?”

She straightened, nervously brushing her fingers against the fabric of her apron before she crossed her arms, tightening her posture. “I don’t know, sincerely. He said he had things to do and asked me to babysit for a couple of hours.” Her chin lifted just slightly. “I told him the last time we saw each other that I’d be doing this until I found a spot in another kindergarten.”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed.

“He said he asked you for my number,” she added, just a touch defensive.

He shifted his posture, narrowing his eyes. “Did he now?”

She tilted her head, pulling her brows together. “Didn’t he?”

He didn’t answer and flicked his gaze to the side, jaw working as he realized what happened. That punk.

Steve must’ve swiped her number from his phone at some point since he hadn’t deleted the contact yet.

His teeth clenched, and his body went rigid. Of course, he had planned this. He could practically hear that self-satisfied voice in his head, calling him out for being stubborn.

“Um… is everything alright?”

Her voice broke softly through his thoughts. Her arms were still crossed, and there was a crease of concern on her brow, as she pressed her lips together while she watched him.

Bucky exhaled slowly, relaxing his stance just a fraction. “…Yeah. Everything’s fine.” For a second, he didn’t know what to do. How to stand. What to say.

Silence.

Awkward, heavy silence.

She shifted her weight from one foot to another, nervously twisting the apron’s hem. “Well, I’m… I’m going to check on the cookies.”

He gave her a stiff nod.

The moment she rounded the corner and got out of sight, he let out a slow, shuddering breath. His shoulders sagged, and his head dipped forward as he pressed his fingers to his temples.

Fuck.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t fantasized about the possibility of seeing her again. Hell, the way his chest stuttered when she opened the door was proof of that. But the fact that Steve had the nerve to call her without letting him know bothered him.

He knew this wasn’t accidental. Not by a long shot. Steve didn’t do accidental when it came to him. The punk knew very well about the nightmares. About the shitty migraines and the episodes that left Bucky feeling like his body was betraying him. About the way he was falling behind, failing to balance it all.

He had been on his case for weeks about getting a nanny, and now… this? Her of all people?

His fingers curled into fists.

Damn it, Steve knew. He knew, and he’d gone behind his back, meddling in things he had no right to touch. He’d give the punk a piece of his mind for this.

Just as soon as he could breathe normally again.

“Daddy!”

Bucky’s head snapped up just in time to catch Thomas barreling toward him, flinging his little arms around his waist with all the force his tiny body could muster.

The impact made Bucky stumble back half a step before kneeling and wrapping his arms securely around his son.

He let himself sink into the moment, holding Thomas close, shutting his eyes for a second longer than necessary. The kid’s head was buried against his chest, warm and solid, real.

He stayed like that, resting his chin on the child’s messy hair until the boy started chattering excitedly.

“Daddy, we made cookies! Y/n let me mix the dough and everything!” Thomas pulled back just enough to look up at him, with bright eyes. “Uncle Steve was busy, but she came, and it was so much fun!”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, but he forced himself to smile, nodding along as Thomas continued to recount his afternoon. His little voice was so cheerful, that Bucky couldn’t help but soften, brushing his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“I’m glad you had fun, buddy.” His voice was calm, even if his thoughts were anything but.

Meanwhile, she was still in the kitchen, apron in hand, tracing absentmindedly the floral pattern with her fingers as she leaned against the counter.

She didn’t know how to face him. Not after that awkward, clipped conversation. Not after the way his body had stiffened, and his eyes had narrowed as he realized she was there.

There was definitely something going on.

When Steve called, his voice had been chirpy and casual. He’d said he remembered her mentioning she was open to babysitting, and he asked if she was available for a few hours.

She’d said yes without a second thought.

They set a day and time, and she showed up expecting to watch Steve’s kid, or maybe a relative’s. She never imagined that Steve lived alone in his apartment and she’d walk in and find Thomas there.

He had been vague -really vague- when she asked who she’d be watching. He hadn’t lied, exactly. But he’d definitely led her to believe it would be his responsibility she was taking on.

When she arrived, Steve explained to her that Bucky was away, and he was in charge of the kid for some days. But then, some important things came up -again, he’d been vague about the details- and he couldn’t leave Thomas with just anyone.

“So I remembered what you told me,” he’d said with a disarming smile. “and asked Bucky for your number. He instantly agreed to it, he was so thrilled when I told him you were the one watching after the little guy.”

It had made sense at the time. He’d seemed so sure, so confident when he’d explained it all. And of course, it felt good to see Thomas again.

But then Bucky showed up at the door, tactical suit half undone, weapons dropping from his holsters, and she realized he didn’t look thrilled.

His expression had been guarded, his body was totally tense and his words clipped and cold. Not exactly the reaction of someone who had agreed to this arrangement. But then again… why would she suspect anything when Captain America himself had stood there, looking her straight in the eye with that earnest, honest gaze of his, and told her everything was fine?

And now here she was, hiding in the kitchen, debating whether she should leave or stay until Steve came back, since, technically, he was her employer for the day.

And, well… she needed the money.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the counter.

Perfect. Just perfect.

How the hell did she get herself into this?

She looked toward the hallway, hearing Thomas’s cheerful voice as he babbled to his father. She could just make out the low, rumbling sound of Bucky’s replies, his tone softer and calmer than when he spoke to her.

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, the word slipping out before she could stop it.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she started to transfer the cookies from the cooling rack to a tray, arranging them with a precision that bordered on obsessive. Anything to keep her hands busy. Anything to avoid thinking about the man who was currently standing just a few feet away.

Bucky heard her curse under her breath, quiet but unmistakable, and something twisted uncomfortably in his chest.

None of this was her fault.

He exhaled through his nose, raking a hand through his grimy hair, wincing as his fingers caught on a tangle. He needed a shower. He needed sleep. He needed to not be in this position, trying to smooth over a situation Steve had thrown them both into.

But here they were.

Steeling himself, he walked toward the kitchen, feeling ridiculously out of place in his tactical gear against the warm, homey scent of cinnamon and sugar.

She was still standing by the counter, transferring the cookies onto a tray, tense. So tense. He hesitated for a second before clearing his throat.

“Hey.”

She startled slightly but didn’t turn around.

He stood in the doorway, blocking some of the fading daylight, with his broad body.

“I, um…” He scratched at the back of his neck, brushing his fingers through tangled hair, already regretting how awkward this was. “Can you pass me a glass?”

Finally, she looked at him and nodded, moving to the cupboard and reaching up on her toes, grabbing one and handing it over without a word. Her fingers brushed his, soft and warm, and his grip tightened on the glass just a little too hard.

He filled it from the tap, taking a slow sip, using the seconds to gather his thoughts.

“I forgot…” He sighed, rolling the glass between his fingers. “Steve asked me for your number when I was out of the country. My mind was… elsewhere.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed, and the tension in her expression eased just a bit. Were her eyes a little glassy?

Oh, he was definitely going to strangle Captain Jerk the minute he saw him.

“Yeah… so, sorry if I was rude back there.” He exhaled heavily, setting the glass down on the counter. “I know it’s by no means an excuse, but I’m tired-”

“Don’t worry,” she cut in softly, with a gentle voice as she shook her head. “Really. It’s fine.”

His lips parted slightly, surprised at how easily she let him off the hook.

“I can’t even imagine…” She waved her hand up and down, gesturing at his disheveled state. The dirty tactical suit, the bruises blooming under his jaw, and his wild, tangled hair.

Her gaze lingered a little too long on the way the fabric stretched over his chest. Luckily, he didn’t notice since his gaze drifted toward the tray of cookies.

Her lips curved into a smile. “Want one?”

He looked up, his gaze met hers, and for just a second, she forgot how to breathe. His blue eyes were softer now, warmer.

“…Yeah.” His lips twitched, just slightly. “Yeah, I do.”

Her heart skipped, and her fingers trembled just a little as she tilted the tray toward him.

He hesitated just for a second like deciding which one to choose, then his eyes flicked again to her face. And there, sensing the warmth of his body standing so close to her, and his scent -sweat and leather, dust and something distinctively him- filling the small kitchen, she realized, with a sinking feeling, that she was in so much trouble.

Taglist: @lazyneonrabbitt @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @sebastians-love @vicmc624 @lucylovexx @ethereal-witch24 @wannabakewithsomebody @unicornqueen05 @ddrewcameron @danzer8705 @mcira

[aaagustd]

dreams | myg (m)

title: dreams pairing: min yoongi x (f)reader genre/rating: arranged marriage, smut but no smut, pining; 18+ summary: Yoongi would have never guessed that you'd be the girl of his dreams. warnings: pining, whipped!yoongi, wet dreams, implied smut, yoongi touching himself(aka his big dick), ruined orgasm wc: 0.5k release date: february 19th, 2024; 9:13pm est author’s note: Some of you may recognize this lol. I really want to add to this, but we’ll see. divider credit: 1, 2

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"W-We're going to be late."

You can barely get your words out because every thrust leaves you gasping for air. Your hands grip the railing while you lean over it. The sound of one of your diamond earrings hitting the marble floor goes unheard due to the obscene noises traveling through the mansion.

"That's cool," he grunts. "I don't wanna go anyway."

When Yoongi saw you in that little black dress, he knew his plans were canceled. He's going to need the entire night to appreciate this look. He couldn't even muster up the patience to drag you to bed. How the hell was he supposed to behave for a three hour long event?

"Shit, I'm cumming...!"

This is music to his ears. 

Though he has more plans for you tonight; right now he's only trying to release all the pressure threatening to squirt out of him at any given second.

You've been teasing him all day, testing his patience. He can't hold on anymore. He feels like he might explode.

"Fuck, baby. Me too—"

03:43 am

Not again.

Restless nights have become the norm for Yoongi. Since you moved in, a good night for him is any time he can get a solid five hours.

Tonight is no different. As soon as he drifts off to sleep, he's haunted by the sweetest dreams he's ever had.

His instinct is to savor every moment he can be near you so intimately, but he reminds himself that fantasizing about you in that way is stepping into dangerous territories.

Just because you're his wife, doesn't mean you're his lover or that you'll ever be.

Yoongi doesn't understand how this happened. He was just as resentful of this marriage as you were, but at some point, it all changed. How did you manage to capture his heart when the two of you barely speak?

Shoving the covers away from his body does little to cool him down. The images from his feverish dream still plague his mind.

He bites his lip, pushing those out of his imagination. It's wrong to think like that.

His heart hurts a little whenever he sees your demeanor change as you walk through the front door. It's like you're leaving your real life behind as you're returning to hell.

That's why he tries so hard to make this easier.

Sleeping in a separate room, staying out late, only speaking when necessary—he knows how to stay out of the way. Although sometimes he can't help but wonder... Do you ever get lonely?

He sure as hell does.

Every day women throw themselves at him, expecting him to entertain their promiscuity. But he never does.

He could, and no one would say a word. However, even if he did desire someone else, he could never embarrass you.

Before that happens, he'll slide down his boxers and relieve himself alone, biting into his pillow so you don't hear him crying out your name through the walls.

If he's lucky, he'll pass out after, and be out of his misery.

Hopefully.

Yoongi rolls over and lies on his back, staring at the ceiling as his hand slowly strokes over his skin. The dream he just escaped from starts replaying in his mind, picking up where it ceased. He's already feeling a tingling sensation coursing through his body.

That's it. He's already worked up. Now, he's ready to—

Did he just hear someone knock?

want part 2?? leave a reblog/comment, visit my inbox, or vote

[haruchiyos]

to preface, this is going to be chronologically ordered and mostly a word vomit of thoughts, I apologize in advance

okay, the set up here is amazing. this choice in tragic (but misunderstood) prophecy really brings out the worst in him -- in the best way possible. He's cruel. He's arrogant. He's emotional detached. All this combined with the strength he has to back up that arrogance... mm, this man has me in a chokehold already.

"But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar." "The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow."

What spectacular imagery here. Ugh, also a great example of saying a lot with very little. You also widen the scope of your world for the literal reader through this minor perspective shift, of which demonstrates the manner in which Kaiser is viewed outside of his trusted entourage.

"He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all."

Incredibly cinematic. and wow what an interesting choice in reader. an immortal, ugh I love such promised tragedy that lies even in just their difference of lifespan.

 “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”

HAHAH fucking get him babe

"It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation."

oh the brutality in this statement. Noel is such a great character to reign over kaiser (both within the manga and this fic). You've translated his resolute, impassive, and authoritative aura from the manga and translated it perfectly into this au.

"Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”"

girl this aint about you !!!!!!!!!!!

"“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”"

this made me cackle

Okok anyways, the sparring match was phenomenal. Reader's controlled stillness and kaiser's earnest. ugh what an interesting pairing. It's very difficult to write action heavy scenes without feeling repetitive or reading too "telly" so to speak. But you've nailed the balance off show not tell, as well as shaped it with great flow of diction. additionally the clear power imbalance between the two of them is so great. yes kaiser may be able to best reader in hand to hand at some point in the future, but thats on the grounds that reader is barred from using her magic, which is very much not the case atm. its subtle and I also find it super fucking attractive that 1) kaiser knows / recognizes this and 2) he's not threatened by it. They are such great foils to one another. also the explanation as to why reader doesn't bow was *chefs kiss*

"He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily."

my heart skipped a beat

"“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.”"

oh wow, there is so much subtle world building packed into this omg.

"... Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” "

oh id fucking fold right then and there

"He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean."

this almost reads like prose. great grounding through appealing to the senses (something seldom seen within fics). its vivid. its gripping. its immersive.

HELLO SAE??????? why is it kinda hot that he's a bit omniscient in this scenario. how does he know these things,,,,,,, and when he whispers to reader I got butterflies (I do not usually thirst for this man so thats saying something). Im so curious of how -- like noel -- you've translated his complexities from the manga into your world, what part of his past prompts his coldness and calculating nature in this au like soccer did in the source material? Your grasp of all three of their characters (kai, sae, noel) is so grounded and multifaceted. they feel tangible

"And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you."

I love this moment

""Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.”"

also love this, but for more crass reasons

THE MIHYA MOMENT !!!!!! you can just tell that this is a big moment for him. this feels like a shift in their finally. judging by his reaction, its almost as if he's already addicted to the intimacy of the name

"Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had. "

oh gods hes being humanized. save me please before I fall more in love with this man

"“Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?” "

hes so observant, what a great recognition of agency on his part

not tied to a specific moment, but I also want to point out the risk you took here with how you wrote reader. reader here has a lot of character. there is distinct personality that is not typical to that of the self insert genre. in most cases self inserts are as generalized / neutral as possible to be able to appeal to a wide audience, and yet your reader still feels easy to connect to despite having prominent and unique traits. I applaud you for walking that line so well (also so much forethought to factor in sorceress as a means to identify her, rather than the impersonal y/n or name)

"“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” "

im gonna lose my mind

"He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him. "

so true queen

"You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks. “You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?” "

im gonna lose my mind pt 2

"He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. "

there's that lovely disorganized attachment of his. ugh he's so obsessive it makes my head spin. the yearning is palpable

"For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his"

oh we love to see steps in the direction of healing. "to know and be known" hits hard in general.

"“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”"

!!!!!!!GET HIS ASS

I second the bisexual shidou agenda

"You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you. "

this feels straight out of a publish novel

"His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it. "

another great show dont tell. demonstrating his panic through action/ behavior rather than describing his internal experience/thoughts. very cinematic

"“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?” "

!!!!!!!GET HER ASS. nothing slips past him, he's so observant

" “A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.” "

when his pride extends to her >>>>>>>

"“I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.” "

okay maybe I do like this goddess......

"His voice is soft, as it always is with you now. "

oh what a great way to wrap up his character evolution. the contrast between his brutalist persona at the start compared to this culmination of learned tenderness is a very satisfying payoff. a demigod brought out his humanity

"...And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time. "

oh im gonna sob, how can you hit me with this right at the end

in conclusion, thank you for reading through all my incoherent blubbering; and above all, thank you for pouring such love and time into this piece -- it really shows.

FORSAKEN BY ALL THE GODS.

info: prince!kaiser x f!reader, enemies to lovers, fantasy au, arranged marriage, eventual smut. afab reader w she/her pronouns. reader has an established backstory and is not weak, reader’s appearance is nondescript. reader calls him “mihya” as they get closer. oliver and karasu are bffs in this lol. maybe some angst if you squint. happy ending!! plot is balanced with comedic moments. 

synopsis: You will be killed by the one you love most. That line from his prophecy has haunted Kaiser his whole life. Against it all, you stand before him. Will you be the one to rewrite fate itself?

word count: 14k (please don’t let this scare you, i promise my writing is efficient) 

a/n: this might be my magnum opus, i promise i poured my best dialogue and writing into this and it shows. if you consider reading like so seriously i will love you forever. also the smut is huge just like his cock <3 or my heart

Kaiser has been forsaken thrice fold. First, by his parents. His mother is said to be a beautiful woman that captured the hearts of all. His father could not bear her ultimate betrayal: leaving, causing him to wither away to nothing.

Kaiser guesses that this aspect of her runs in his blood after all.

The second and third time he is forsaken happen at once.

On the night that Kaiser is, by royal decree, anointed successor to the throne, he does as tradition dictates. He approaches the golden temple at the top of a mountain and mirrors the prophet within, sitting cross-legged in front of them.

The prophet gazes into the distance. And then, like a man possessed, they speak.

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will be killed by the one you love most.

Kaiser swears he feels even his heart stop at that. Cold rushes through him, the chill of it colder than anything he had felt at the front lines of war.

Forsaken by all the Gods —

The prophet stops, staring into the distance with a frown.

The silence is deafening. Noa, despite tradition, interrupts the ceremony and approaches the prophet, clicking his fingers in front of their face.

“The prophecy?”

The prophet’s eyes widen with fear. “I- I cannot.”

“What, are you afraid?” Kaiser scoffs. “The prophecy is bad as it is, it can’t get much worse than that.”

“No, I mean I cannot. The — the Fates! They’ve stopped speaking to me!”

“Excuse me?” Kaiser’s scowl is evident, and Noa swears that in any other situation, Kaiser would’ve moved for his sword and set his blade ablaze.

It speaks volumes that all he does is stare right at the prophet, fear barely contained in his eyes.

The prophet grips at Noa’s hand, forcing his gaze. “My lord, please believe me. This — in the history... it has never happened before. I swear it.”

Noa whistles, and the guards outside come rushing in. “Seize them,” he commands, and they stare at each other for a moment.

To seize and capture that  which is considered holy? Is that not blasphemy?

Noa cares little, almost removing his sword from his sheath to do it himself. “What are you all waiting for?”

“My lord! I swear to you!” The prophet grapples towards Noa in spite of their hands being held behind their back, the guards barely catching them from falling to their knees. “The fact that I would admit this at all shows my loyalty to you!” The prophet gasps, breath coming fast.” I could have pretended, could have given a false prophecy. I did not. That’s the choice I made. That is all the proof you need.”

It’s convincing enough that Noa hesitates, taking a deep breath in. But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar. 

At that sight, Noa makes a single motion with his hand for the prophet to be taken away.

The room clears.

“Kaiser, I —” 

Whatever comforting remark Noa might have made dies in his throat, because Kaiser laughs, a bitter and broken sound, that he would in the future rarely have his walls down to ever reveal again. He hides his eyes behind his hand and he laughs.

“Of course, my prophecy would come to something like this.” He drags his hand down across his face. “Forsaken by all the Gods.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Noa says it with conviction, and it’s enough for Kaiser to face him.

“Master?”

“You will still be the successor to the throne. As is your destiny.”

“My destiny?” Kaiser jabs a thumb to the now-empty seating. “We just heard my destiny.”

“What the gods have declared has nothing to do with me. I declare you the next to rule. That is all.”

Noa presses a hand to the crown of Kaiser’s head. “No one will know what transpired here. A tragic prophecy is a given. It is meant to be a trial of sorts, after all. Mine, too, was unpleasant. Though not nearly as dire.”

“What was yours?”

Noa breathes in deeply. “A twisted rivalry with a twisted man. One that was to be all-consuming to me.”

Kaiser scoffs. “A rivalry. Just train and win.”

Noa lets the comment pass, staring out of the temple and past the mountains. “The rivalry came and went. At the time, I felt it was the worst. I could not eat, sleep, or breathe without the thought of what he would do next on my mind. But I was lucky, that it passed.”

He motions for Kaiser to take his arm, bringing him back up to standing. “Yours will pass too, I’m sure of it.”

Kaiser waves his hand, gesturing at Noa to let go of him. It’s easy to say, easy to have faith when it is not your life that balances on the precipice.

Forsaken thrice: once, by his parents. Another, by the Gods. And third, by his own future lover. Kaiser curses the Gods and the Weaver for such a fate, for something possibly worse than death is looming over him.

You will be killed by the one you love most. That line has haunted his very being to this day.

~

The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow.

The prophecy is on a need-to-know basis, and Kaiser has never been crueler. He trains, harder than ever. Enough that when an unmovable sword is found at the rocks of the ocean, he trains until he is able to pull it from the bank, wield it with one hand. Rumor has said it might take three men to carry, or that the night sky that shimmers across it is strong enough to kill even a god. His sole retrieval of it is proof to the people of his strength and stature, but compassion and love are rarely a topic of conversation with his name.  

He focuses on his work. He does not take lovers. He barely sees others as friends. And he most certainly does not take a bride.

~

You appear before the throne and you do not bow. The scowl on Kaiser’s face at this says enough.

“You dare-”

“You have the sword.” You ignore Kaiser entirely, setting your sights completely on Noa.

The silence that follows is as large and wide as the ocean, but your gaze is sharp and keen, never faltering once until Noa speaks.

“Water sorceress,” Noa addresses you coldly, “or that’s what you told our people.”

“Yes.”

“You are not the only sorceress of water. Yet your power is second to none.” Noa stands, stepping down the stairs with heavy, thumping footfalls until he’s standing right in front of you. “They call you the water’s mistress, in the neighboring lands.”

“They do.”

He begins to circle you, like a hunter might before striking a deer. Standing next to you, his deep voice clear right next to your ear, he eyes you curiously. “They’re all wrong, aren’t they?”

You don’t answer. Noa takes that as answer enough.

“A power like that. Do you think me stupid?” He observes you, checks you visually for weapons, watches your hands to ensure you don’t call magic forth.

“Demigod.” He about spits the word from behind you, and yet all you do is tilt your head to catch him in your eye’s view.

“You are as well-informed as they say.”

“I am as logical as they come.”

“We are the same in that regard, then. So let’s get straight to the point.” 

Noa returns back to the throne, seemingly satisfied with his observing, gesturing at you to continue. 

“You have something belonging to me. A sword, heavier than most. Ancient, yet sharp. It is said to look like it contains a night sky.”

“The blade you’re speaking of was found by us, it is ours to keep.”

In the short silence that follows, Kaiser swears there must be irritation on your end, but you don’t show it. Instead, you take a deep breath in.

“The blade was thrown out of the heavens and spat out into this realm during a war between Gods.”

“Is that so? And how can you prove it’s yours?”

“I can wield it, unlike your people, who do not have the means to wield a sword as such.” You state simply.

Like rose grown blue, the impossible becomes possible. You can feel the divinity and the power that comes off the sword in waves the minute it’s unsheathed, your eyes widening. The ring of it is as familiar to you as your own skin, how could you not have felt its presence sooner? But Kaiser is fast, much faster than you expected, faster than he should be with a sword of that weight, that magnitude. Before you can turn your head, cold silver kisses your neck.

“This blade, sorceress?” He comes around from behind you, stalks around you just like his Master had, sword pointed like it may just draw blood from you at any moment. When you finally see his face, his sneer is wicked.

He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all.

“Say we return the sword to its rightful owner,” Noa calls back your attention, “what would you offer us in return?”

“Offer in return? This sword does not belong to you. It is returned, as it should be.”

“This sword, with its divinity, could harm even a god.” Kaiser presses the blade closer to your neck, gleaming metal against your skin. “It protects this nation. What if the gods forsake us? If we return it to you, what would protect us against them then?”

“For what reason would they do such a thing?”

Kaiser barks a laugh. “Of course, there would be no criticisms from one of them. Water sorceress, demigod. Tell us, who are you, truly? What do your people call you, up there? No matter.” He lowers the sword, but leaves it unsheathed, its heavy weight balanced in his palm. A threat that at any moment, he may change his mind. “Those titles mean nothing to me. I have been forsaken, demigod. So know, I trust not even the gods.”

You sigh. Foreseeing a troublesome future has its cons, you suppose. Your queen would smile if you told her such.

“You ask for something with power in equal to or more than the blade. You asked me for my titles. I shall give you both.” The sleeves of your dress shimmer as you move them, and it’s in this moment that Kaiser notices they are not sleeves but water itself, cradled around your wrists like armor. “The Gods had bestowed on me the title Sword Maiden, and I offer myself and my services to you until the end of your line.”

That shocks the room like a bucket of cold water.

You turn to Kaiser, who stands beside the throne. You step forward once, and water rushes underneath that step, descending in waves over the floor as if it goes through it, a magic they have never witnessed prior. “You say the Gods have forsaken you? Let my presence be proof to you that they still watch over you.”

Kaiser scowls, “What sort of cheap trick is this?”

“My domain is truth. I cannot lie.”

“Oh, please.”

Your eyes narrow at him. “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”

A goddess who cannot lie. Noa’s faith lies in logic, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His gaze flits between Kaiser and you before he seems to settle a decision in his mind.

“Until the end of Kaiser’s line.” Noa negotiates.

Kaiser’s gaze snaps to Noa. “You’re taking her up on this?”

You almost frown. “Fine.”

Noa quirks an eyebrow at you. “That simple?”

“Human lives move quickly.”

Kaiser eyes you curiously. “What happens when you lie?”

You blink at him. Once. Twice. Is that… almost a flustered look you have on?

He readjusts his grip on the blade. “Speak, sorceress.”

“Wh-What do you want me to say?!” You grip at your dress nervously, and that has him even more curious.

“I’m waiting here,” he sing-songs playfully.

“Before the lie can leave my voice, my neck swells up like a balloon, and chokes me.”

He smiles wickedly. “Demonstrate.”

Gods, if it wasn’t immoral, you could wring his neck right now.

You think, for even a moment, a simple lie. And in seconds, you’re almost suffocating on nothing, and Kaiser laughs. Laughs. A full laugh, bending at his knees.

“Oh gods, you’re like a pufferfish!”

You let go of the lie, taking heaving breaths. “Just because I have water capabilities does not mean I am a fish.”

In the midst of the conversation, Isagi leans against Noa’s side, a soft conversation full of worry.

“You’ll have to explain her presence to the council,” Isagi tells him, blue eyes wide with hesitation.

“Right, and your suggestion?”

“I have thought about it, considerably. If you say you hired her, with a force as powerful as her, the other nations may think you are to wage war. So… Given the heir’s… reputation,” Isagi’s gaze flits nervously between you and Kaiser. “If he is willing, she may be a good fit.”

Noa sighs. This, this exact theory, has been a conversation with the other members of his team for months. That a wife by his side would make him seem less chilling, make the transition to a new heir easier on the public, prevent outroar. It is one thing to feel that Kaiser keeps a nation safe, and another to love him as a ruler.

It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation.

“Kaiser.”

He whips around, ceasing his antics quickly. “Master.”

Noa looks like he is about to say something to him, but hesitates, turning to you instead. Isagi nervously steps away from the dais, returning to his position.

“Goddess,” this time, there is no malice behind Noa’s words. “I accept your offer. However, your presence in this nation and in this castle must be explained appropriately. Should I bear you the title of my successor’s betrothed, would that be a title you’re willing to bear?”

Kaiser’s back straightens. “Excuse me?” he utters low.

“You do not have to bear children,” he specifies. “And you do not have to truly be wed.”

A goddess, to be betrothed to a mortal, as princely as he is, is a serious affair. Kaiser slides his gaze to Isagi, with the audacity to even suggest such. And yet, you seem to ponder it like a simple question.

“I see. As long as the sword is in my presence and protection, how you communicate with your nation is none of my concern.”

“So be it, then,” Noa agrees quickly. “I’ll have our people show you to a room.”

You nod, and are whisked away. The throne room, as if knowingly, empties quickly, guards rushing out to leave Kaiser alone with Noa.

“You made this decision for me,” Kaiser spins to face Noa, spits his words through gritted teeth. “I have been clear. I will take no brides.”

“You believe the prophecy made a choice for you.”       

“The prophecy bears no mercy. Or do you wish for my death so eagerly? If so, take your sword out and do it your damn self.”

Noa lets him speak, heave his words out until there’s silence once more.

“She cannot lie,” Noa says softly. “She cannot lie to you, Kaiser. And she is a goddess, a divine being.”

“Demigod,” Kaiser corrects.

“She is divine, and she cannot lie. She is correct, to this end – that as long as she is here, the prophecy cannot come to be. For she has not forsaken us.” Forsaken you, goes unspoken. “She could be good for you, if you allowed her to be.”

Kaiser lets out a canned laugh. “Ha. How can the divine ever understand us?”

Noa stands. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”

Kaiser taps his hand against his sword hilt. “You really will not move on this?”

Noa shakes his head. “She is too valuable to lose, and you have a reputation for cruelty. The solution is nothing short of perfect.”

The logical comes above his feelings. Kaiser knows this, even if he hates to come face to face with it.

Noa walks out of the throne room, leaving Kaiser to his bitterness.

“Shitty master,” he mumbles under his breath to no one.

~

It’s jarring to all the guards, the way you don’t even stand let alone bow when Noa knocks to enter your room. But Noa cares little for things like that, if you’re truly offering what you’ve said.

“Perhaps I was too hasty, in presenting the solution before giving you the facts.” He hesitates before you in the reflection of your vanity. You don’t respond, barely even look at him as you unclasp your jewelry, laying it on the table.

“He will not love you.” Noa tells you after a breath, his surefire eyes finally meeting yours.

You give him a curious gaze. “That is likely for the best. I would outlive him, after all.”

“It is, truly, on a need-to-know basis. To tell you this-”

“The prophecy, I presume you’re referring to,” you interrupt, turning to face him.

The shock rolls quickly off him. Divinity does have its mysteries, he supposes. “You already know.”

“I asked the water, why he is so quick to believe he is forsaken. They told me that he lives under the burden of a prophetic trial. That is all I know.” You stand, moving to unzip your dress only for Noa to hastily pull a partition screen across the room and turn around.

“The water, it speaks to you?”

“It does. Though it’s worth noting that it does not make me all-seeing.” Your voice carries over the partition with the ruffle of clothing. “The queen of the Gods, who sees all fates – she is the only one who is truly all-seeing.”

You come out in a nightgown, folding the partition back. He chucks you a robe that you catch easily.

“You should learn the ways of this world if you want to pass as a simple water sorceress, especially before the banquet.”

You frown. “The prince is my betrothed, is he not? Will he not handle it all?”

The idea you present sparks in Noa’s mind. “Brilliant. I’ll have Kaiser and some of the other members of our team show you the ropes. Good night, sorceress.”

You nod to him, and the door clicks shut.

~

“She’s a what?”

Oliver slams his metal cup of beer down, rolling the dice once more.

“A demigod, Oliver. Gods, are you that drunk already? Keep up.” Karasu grabs at the dice as Oliver moves his pieces.

“Can you all shut the fuck up? What happened to need-to-know basis?” Chigiri slinks himself over to their table.

“We’re need-to-know.” Karasu jabs a thumb at himself and Oliver.

“They are, actually, need-to-know.” Isagi puts a gentle hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, settling down next to him. “Because she’s never been human in her life.”

“And now we’re supposed to, what, teach her to be human? Is that a thing we can do?” Chigiri twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, tapping the end against Isagi’s cheek.

Oliver snorts. “What, like a class? Some of us have never sat in one of those, you prissy little shits.”

“She can’t dance, for one.”

“Get Kaiser to teach her. Isn’t he her betrothed?”

That has Oliver almost spitting out his drink, choking on it in coughs. “He's her what?”

Chigiri scowls in his direction. “Dude, are you listening at all?”

“If she’s really his betrothed, none of us should be teaching her.” Oliver warns genuinely. “He’ll cut down everyone here, before he lets us touch her.”

“It’s just an excuse,” Isagi waves his hand, pulling out a leather-bound bind of notes. “They’re not actually together.”

“Oh, you actually got that motion to pass. Shit.” Karasu remarks admirably.

“It must be so tiring,” Bachira sighs happily, falling into place next to Isagi, “to have to actually care about what other people think.”

“The optics, Bachira,” Isagi smacks the end of his pen across Bachira’s nose, and he makes an oh! sound in response.

When Kaiser walks in, the room almost goes silent. He’s used to it, of course. Hearing only the way his footfalls come heavy, boots thumping into the stone floor as a drink is placed right in front of him immediately.

The room slowly fills back with noise as he shoulders off his coat, wrapping it around the chair before sitting. But only his table is still strangely silent.

He flits his gaze over the group. Usually, they’re the first to kill the silence in the room, yelling about the game or a duel. He looks at Isagi, specifically, who seems the most nervous. “Something you wanna say to me?”

“Uh…”

Chigiri sighs, killing the tension. “We’re deciding who gets to teach her how to dance.”

Kaiser quirks an eyebrow. “The demigod?”

Chigiri nods, and Kaiser takes a long gulp of his drink, popping it back down and twirling the top of it with his fingers. “I’ll do it.”

“What?” It’s Isagi’s turn to be shocked, sitting up straight.

Kaiser exhales audibly. “None of you could handle her. She could cut you with water the moment you accidentally step on her.”

It’s not an insult, really. They know this too. That this is Kaiser’s brand of protection, to add insult to injury just to keep others out of harm’s way. But they play his game.

“Think we can’t dodge fast enough? A bit demeaning, don’t you think?” Oliver’s grin is wicked, making straight eye contact with Kaiser, who only draws his eyebrows in at his direction.

“You think that god-killing sword is gonna save you?” Karasu asks.

“I don’t have the sword anymore.”

“What?”

It stings more than it should, he thinks. The sword that he thought chose only him, so quickly released from his grasp. But his strength is his own, he holds fast to that. 

Kaiser glances at Karasu. “Those are the terms. She marries me, she gets the sword.”

Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”

Chigiri scoffs at that. “She’s a demigod. Being down here is probably like being in the sewers to her.”

Kaiser stands abruptly, pushing his drink aside, his coat billowing as he wraps it over himself once more.

“Where are you going?” Isagi yells, but he doesn’t answer.

“He gone for real?” Oliver elbows Karasu. “I’m too drunk to tell.”

“Yeah, man. He’s gone”  

“Great.” Oliver slaps a piece down. “I’ll bet 50 bucks right now they get married for real.”

“What the fuck?” Chigiri tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it might give him some reprieve.

Karasu laughs, “Okay, I’ll play. I’ll bet 20 that they try to kill each other.”

“You’re just a hater.”

“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”

“She’s a goddess. He’s literally already betrothed to her.” Oliver takes another swig. “Y’all ain’t gonna marry a goddess if she was given to you? Damn, put me in his place, I’ll do it right now.”

~

Kaiser trains, every morning, from sunrise to noon.

You only know because most of the rooms in the palace outlook to a self-contained field. You see him, often, because of this, even if he doesn’t speak to you. As you walk down the corridor, in your classes with Isagi about the current climate of the nations.

“It is useless for me to learn this,” you tell him. “In a few short millennia, the border of the nations will undoubtedly change. And we will have to relearn it all again. What is the use? Why war at all over something so insignificant? Just have a conversation about it.”

Isagi makes a pointed, bored expression at you for this, and then pretends like you didn’t say anything at all.  

At the end of class today, you press your elbows to the open windowsill.

Kaiser is there, sparring with Ness. Ness is quick, agile, fleet-footed and runs circles around Kaiser so much so that it almost makes it difficult to keep up.  

Kaiser approaches him at bone-breaking momentum, launches strike after hardened strike. He’s shirtless, bandages wrapped around the bottom of his torso, and his body is streaked with sweat. He’s strong, clearly. Broad shoulders clear now from when they were hidden under layers of clothing the first time you met him, the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing with each step of the friendly duel, hair dipped in saltwater blue.

You know what he looks like, now. You get a sense why Fate brings you here.

He looks like a hero.

The kind that Gods covet, watch from their merry clouds. It’s no wonder that he’s burdened by a prophetic trial, with a face as cutting as his sword, his hair framing his face and flowing. 

He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily.

You give him the space you think he might be asking for. You turn away.

~

He approaches you one night, just before sunset. Karasu had just finished an etiquette lesson with you, setting away forks and knives. Whatever he sees on Kaiser’s face makes him move quicker. He nods once to Kaiser, and then hastily leaves.

“You’ve been making yourself quite at home here, demigod.” Kaiser traces the lace outline of the tablemat, every ridge under his calloused finger.

“I vowed myself to your kingdom to the end of your life. I’m simply doing what is asked of me.”

“And you’re all ready for the banquet, I’m guessing?” The sentence is almost mocking as he approaches you.

“It’s just a ball, is it not? I’ve been told I’m just to stand there and make pleasantries.”  

Kaiser chuckles, more bared teeth than sweet. “It is, arguably, the worst part of being so-called royalty.”

“You’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”

"To say no to a goddess' proposal would be the greatest blasphemy, no?" 

"From what I've seen, you have not minded sacrilege much at all."

“Marriage means little to me. Disillusioned, perhaps, with the prophecy.” He waves his hand like he speaks of something meaningless. But you see it clearly. Before he had even allowed himself the thought of love, it was taken from him. “Your power is great, your presence ensures the continuation of myself as an heir and successor. Even I can reason with that.”

He's right in front of you now, so close you can feel his body warmth.

“Does it bother me?” He shrugs. “Sure. As far as I’m aware, you are no wife of mine. But a protector of this nation? For that, you are an indispensable ally.”

He looks out the window, towards a coming sunset. Something indescribable on his face, like grief and guilt all in one. He takes a deep breath in and out, inhaling the peace and exhaling the heaviness of his heart, before facing you again. “A war is coming. No one believes me, but I can feel it, as steady as a river’s current. Until then, I’ll make my peace with you.”

You nod. “So be it, your highness.”

That has him stepping back, more incredulous than you’ve ever seen him, body tensed and frowning. Maybe he should’ve expected it, given the way he’s just dismissed you. “Your highness? You hadn’t questioned my lineage before, but now you dare to do so?”

You stare at him blankly. “You are a prince, are you not? Isagi says that’s what princes are called.”

One side of his mouth upturns in relief, and he bursts out a bright laugh. “Is that what they teach you in those lessons Isagi gives? Oh,” a hand runs through the front of his hair, “I thought my own wife-to-be would dare insult me.” 

You scoff. “I have no need for that.” 

“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.” He says it proudly, like fact, like a knowing so deep within him that it turns pride into faith. “A title like that is something used by the Itoshi brothers, let’s say,” he comments airily. “Their throne is carried by a bloodline.” 

He turns on his heel, only looking back when he realizes you don’t follow.

“You don’t know how to dance yet, do you?”

You lean your hip against the table. “I can dance.”

“Come, then. If you’re to be my wife, it’ll be an embarrassment if you don’t at least act like it.”

You follow him to a ballroom – a stunning, wide area with a looping chandelier, curtains that weigh down in arches over each floor-to-ceiling window.

He swoops you from your distraction with a hand around your waist, and the physical contact shocks you so greatly that orbs of water swirl in your hands.

Kaiser only raises an eyebrow at you. “This is a dance, not a duel. Or do the gods do it differently?”

For a man who was so passive to you, he holds you so close that your chest to chest, you can feel each breath he takes against you. When he steps with you, his movements are slow and deliberate, never inefficient. He moves not with fluidity, but with each sure step. Pulls you forward, then pushes you back. Circles you, spins you around.

It’s exactly like when you see him train. Like steps to a kata.

“I thought you said this was not a duel.”

“These are steps to a classic waltz, demigod.”

“You have no fluidity to you.”

Kaiser scoffs. “Should I apologize? With the prophetic curse hanging above me, I haven’t taken a dancing class.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“Hm?”

“The prophecy. It doesn’t have to be a curse.”

He stops, separating himself from you, scowling.

“This session is over.”

“Kaiser-,”

“What?” He snaps. “You, of divine nature. You want to tell me how to view my prophecy?”

“I do not say this out of pity, or out of some sort of higher knowing.” You say it with conviction. “As heir to the throne, a throne that is currently being held by Fate itself, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this at all.”

“And yet?”

“To know your fate is to be able to defy it.” And maybe it’s just an effect of your divinity, but it rings like a bell, like truth itself. “Your prophecy may have made a wound, but you are the one who cuts it open. You are a man who wields a sword that cannot, should not be able to be wielded by anyone but the divine. Does that not say something? About you, about your capabilities?”

“And yet you took it from me.” 

The silence that follows is thick with indecision. Kaiser lets the uncomfortableness sit, rejects every heartwarmed statement you make with a roll of his shoulders, like water off a smoothened rock, replaced with only his anger. “I trained for weeks before I could lift that sword out of the riverbank. Yet it is yours, now, simply because you are supposedly its rightful owner.” 

Conflict runs through your face so clearly, he wonders that even if you could lie, whether it would mean anything at all. He watches as your hand reaches into a conjured puddle of water that floats in the air, and out comes the divine sword.

You hold it in your hand with an ease that he has spent months capturing. It strikes envy in him like a branded sear. 

“My role here is technically to secure the sword. I have no need to wield it.” You hold it at the bottom of its handle, directing the top of it to him. “If you swear you won’t lose her, I can set a compromise of sorts.” 

“You think I’d agree to a compromise?” 

You open up your palm, and a bracelet appears. “This will help you keep the sword in a pocket dimension we can both access. If you’re willing to place it there to secure it when you’re not using it, I’ll return her to you until the end of your line.” 

Huh. A safe-keeping place is a more neutral proposition than he had thought you’d come up with. To have her back kills the fight in him, and he accepts begrudgingly, testing the magic in his hands until it becomes natural. 

“For the record, Kaiser, I have not always been worthy of it.”

Something about the way his name slips off your lips has him keening. “Worthy?”

“I stayed true to my course. I was given a title. And then I could wield the sword, presented to me by my queen.”

“Your queen. Heir to the throne.” He laughs bitterly, knowingly. “You’re a princess.”

“Despite your mocking tone, I’ll have you know that title of mine is of the highest regard. I don’t take it nearly as lightly as you do with yours.”

“That’s why you didn’t bow or kneel. You take what’s meant to be yours without a second thought. Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” He flicks a finger between your eyebrows. “What a spoiled thing you are. Can you even fight?”

Something in Kaiser takes pride in the way you frown more deeply, it’s almost like a pout. It’s almost… 

“Well, I definitely wasn’t sitting idly in the war between Gods.” 

“I’ve never seen you train.” 

“That’s because you’re always on the training grounds.” 

“Oh? You won’t show me?” 

“I’m giving you space. I’m no wife of yours, no?” There’s a sting to it when you say it, having his words thrown back at him. 

“Duel with me. Tomorrow.” He spins you, lets you out of his hold before bringing you back in. 

~

He begins to meet you, day after day. A duel first, and then a dance. The dichotomy would be distasteful to any other, but you of divine blood do not even flinch at his request.

He may be displeased to have you, but his mouth cracked as wide and wicked as a cat’s at the prospect of a fight.

“Go on, then.” He takes a blunt, wooden sword, throwing it in your direction. “Or do you only fight with magic?” He teases. 

You swing the sword, rotating your wrist with ease. “Do you forget yourself, prince? I am half divine, you will surely lose. Are you sure you want to go through with this anyways?” 

His mouth widens, more teeth than smile. “Bring it.” 

You know, the moment you defend against his first strike, that a singular hit from him on the battlefield must be deadly. He is surefooted, his whole weight bears down in every move. He doesn’t let you breathe once, much faster than you would’ve thought with someone of his size and height. 

Kaiser was almost right about one thing, that the divine adds to your magic more than your physical strength. With enough training, in just simple hand-to-hand combat… He might have the potential to beat you. 

But not today. Today, you have him pinned to the ground, makeshift blade to his throat. 

“You’re awfully close,” he gasps out slyly. And it’s in this moment that you notice, too, how right he is about that, how you can feel his heartbeat underneath yours, his chest against yours with each exhale. 

“What?” He grins wide, “afraid you’ll miss?” 

By all the Gods, you want to knock the living daylights out of him. He notices your anger in that hesitation, your conflict between doing what is right and what you want, and flips you over, swapping your positions until his hips are pressed against yours. 

Something about your shell-shocked face makes him stir. 

“First rule of fighting, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair before planting it next to your head, leaning into you close. “Never get distracted by your opponent.”

He’s closer than he was before, admiring the way you look under him, your hair splayed along the ground and the sweet fire of irritation in your eyes. Is the heaving of your chest from your anger towards him, or from something else entirely? 

“When Gods fight, there is not nearly as much prattling.” You grit at him. He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean. 

~

It is during dances that he speaks to you. Not at first, but slowly, like a river that streams into the ocean. You tell him tales about the Gods, about your friends, about wars and petty arguments. And he starts to answer you, more often than not, with every question you might have. 

“I have wondered about something.” 

“Hm?”

“The sheathing. It prevents even me from detecting the sword’s divinity.” 

“Huh, so Nagi really wasn’t lying.” 

“Nagi, who is always with Reo?” 

Kaiser nods. “They say Nagi was once sought upon by a god for his talents, a god who was constantly sending him dreams. But he grew tired of it, so he found a material that prevents even the gods from finding him so he can sleep in peace.” 

The conversation often leads to the prophecy, a bitterness like licorice on his tongue. Even if he skates around the topic, you don’t let him hide from it, cutting straight to the heart of the truth.

“You can live in the cold bitterness you’ve put yourself in, Kaiser,” you tell him, one of these nights. “Or you can live, and maybe even possibly die, warmed by a life you truly felt was worth living. Your own choices. Not because of a prophecy, or because of Noa, or even in spite of me.”

But despite it, he doesn’t move away. Because it is the only time he has you to himself. He sees you, always, with Isagi and Oliver and Karasu and Chigiri. How you have molded into their lives with simplicity, sit with them at meals and have easy conversation despite knowing nothing, in a way that he has never once allowed himself to enjoy. What does it say about Kaiser? That he can't stand your presence but he can't stand your absence even more? That he would rather have a biting argument with you than leave you to your own devices? 

It's during duel and dance that he comes as close as he can to touching you. If he did anymore, it would become something he doesn't have the heart to name without unease settling in his gut.

~

On the day of the banquet, Chigiri sits you down in your vanity, braiding your hair back in his hands.

“The queen of the Gods, her lover, a friend of mine… He used to do this for me too.”

Chigiri silently appreciates that you don’t ask him why it is him that helps you with this. That divinity doesn’t hold the same notions this world does.

“He would-,” you laugh softly to yourself. You’re stunning like this, Chigiri can’t help but notice. A goddess, most casual as can be. “He would say that I was useless at it, actually. You two might’ve been good friends.”

“Me? Friends with a god?” Chigiri finishes the braid, tilting your head in his hands to admire the way the braid crowns around each side.

“Of the Fae, actually. A beautiful man he is. You would fit right in.”

That stops Chigiri, has him taking a sharp intake of breath, smiling at you through the vanity’s reflection. “Thank you, princess. Though you would do good to be more careful during this banquet to compliment anyone.”

You smile softly back. “Ah, yes, my betrothed who will not love me might get jealous. Gods are not so different than people, in this regard.”

“Is that so…”

~

It’s when you meet the Itoshi brothers at the banquet that you begin to understand why Isagi gave you all these lessons.

Where Kaiser is muscle and sword first, more fighter than prince, Sae and Rin are the opposite. They have a grace befitting of royalty. Instead of heavy footfalls that you can hear even in the blanket of snow, they are light-footed, conscious of it in the echoed ballroom.

Though you suspect, from the way Sae grips Kaiser’s forearm as they shake hands, from the way Kaiser regards Sae, that he is somehow just as strong of a fighter. That royalty is an illusion Sae and Rin put on, for peace’s sake.

Something indescribable flits over Sae’s face as you curtsy in front of him, but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with his nonchalance.

“The betrothed of the banquet. We are most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sae bows his head to you, and Rin follows in his stead.

You smile, something beaming and sweet. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Would you mind, Kaiser?” Sae’s eyes only leave yours for a glance, to check in at Kaiser’s now furrowed look. “I’d like to take your wife-to-be for a dance.”

Kaiser’s back straightens, a hardened gaze with gritted teeth. But he says nothing. You swear Sae almost grins.

“I’ll return her back to you.” He says it like a favor, and Kaiser is only held back by Karasu’s hand on his shoulder.

“It’s just one dance, Kai,” Kaiser looks at Karasu, then to you, and then back to Sae. He barely nods once.

“Are you sure?” You ask him.

He scowls. “What do I have to be worried about?”

Well, it’s not like you want to anger him further. You let Sae take your hand, leading you to the floor.

“I almost didn't think you were who you said you were, when I saw you,” Sae tells you, breaking the quiet of the dance. 

You lean back so you can see his whole face, your confusion clear. “Your highness?”

“When I had heard of you, they told me that waves flowed off your dress like water itself holds you sacred. Yet here you are, as regular as can be.”

Sae twirls you away from him, then brings you back into his arms. “They say you shook the earth with a single step. Where is all that power you were said to hold?” He holds you close, watching your every reaction with his crystal gaze. “This place. They’ve placated you, tamed you.”

He brings his mouth to your ear, the body warmth of his entire chest seeping into yours. “If you were mine, I would never force you into a box you didn’t belong. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Kaiser, even with his god-killing sword.” He spins you again, capturing your waist. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t be afraid to demonstrate your power to the world.”

“Sae.” He looks at you in a way that feels meaningful. You don’t know the pleasantries of this nation or his in-depth, but you know, somehow, that this feels like this is something you should shield from. 

“Oh? No honorifics already? We’re that intimate, are we?”

To fight is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Being able to hurt others with a play instead of a sword, you’re not sure if you can shield others from something like that.

As the song ends, Sae takes your hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Consider my proposition, princess. Before your marriage solidifies, and becomes something you can’t escape from.”

With his hand on the small of your waist, he brings you back to Kaiser dutifully. Kaiser links his arm with yours immediately, before any of you can spare a goodbye.

“What did he say to you?”

You hum. You get the sense that maybe…

“Nothing of importance,” you tell him instead.

“Hm?” He tilts your chin up to meet you eye to eye. “Is my own betrothed keeping secrets from me?”

“He said I don’t seem all that powerful.”

That makes Kaiser smile, not something sweet but with teeth bared, like a wolf. “He hasn’t seen you in action.” He pulls you in, hand wrapping to the back of your neck, a slow and deep whisper. “Do you want to show them?”

“Weren’t we both told that’s inappropriate? Isagi said the optics could make your allies scared.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Isagi this, optics that. Our country has always been about the brawl and brave. Let the nations fear us, then. I, with my cruelty and a god-killing sword. You, a sorceress second to none. It’s a pretty picture, is it not?”

He straps his sword to his back and brings you to the middle of the room, and as the guests of honor, the crowd gives you both a wide berth. He circles you, just like you practiced. Makes you center stage.

“Go on then, princess.” He lets go of your hand and bows, sweeping his arm out. “Show us who you really are.”

“Kaiser,” you whisper. “We have very clear orders-”

“I make the orders, not follow them. So make your choice, princess. Wasn’t it you who said that it is worth living a life warmed by your own choices? Tell me, then. Do you want to show them? Or do you want to play nice?”

This play, to have ego and pride dive head-first into a situation, is so very human. And yet-

You let water overcast your body from your waist, let it roll off in layers like waves into the floor. Anyone who has had experience with magic can see your ultimate control over it, how the floor isn’t wet at all, how the water was conjured from nothing. Your hair is silken with dampness, framing your face like gloss. Gasps and awes from the audience makes Kaiser grin even wider.

“There we go.” Kaiser reaches behind him to unsheath his blade, and the galaxy within swirls. He spins it in his hand, and it’s almost like he’s never been happier.

In seconds, he strikes at you. Your hands move up instinctively, blocking the blade with a stream of water. The sound it makes, divinity against divinity, is like a low bell. The floor beneath you shakes with the strength of the strike, water dispersing around your feet in cascades to cushion the impact. You hear screams of shock, a glass breaking.

“Kaiser,” you grit, but all he does is widen that wicked, quicksilver grin.

And then he laughs, stepping away and sheathing the blade back. He holds one hand out to you instead.

“Next time, I want a duel in front of everyone. But this time, I guess a dance will suffice.”

You exhale gratefully, taking his hand in yours and retracting your water. “Let us dance, then.”

And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you.

~

Isagi collapses into the booth, a palm pressed to his eyebrows. “Our allies thought they were about to fight each other.”

“Can I cash in on my bet now?” Karasu rolls a skewer stick between his fingers. “Because they might’ve almost killed each other.” 

“Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.” 

Isagi opens his eyes to find Chigiri and Bachira standing before the booth. Chigiri’s not meeting his eyes, his mouth perching to one side in a way that squishes one of his cheeks. 

“What happened?” 

“They’re gone.” 

“Ha?” 

“We had one drink. One.” 

Oliver has the audacity to laugh, hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry, Isagi,” he pats him on the back. “I’m sure they’re just fucking around.” 

In another corner of the hall, royals speak in low tones. 

“We can just take her if you like her,” Shidou tells Sae with the sweetest smile a man like that can muster. “No need to ask poor little Kai-Kai.” 

Sae says nothing, eyeing you quietly as you step out of the hall. 

~

You are sitting at the edge of the ocean, letting the slate-crested waves wash over you, when he finds you. 

“You can dry me in a moment’s notice if I am to sit with you, right?” He says it almost reluctantly, even though he’s here anyways. He’s dropped his off coat somewhere along the way, and there’s something so naked about seeing him in just a shirt. He almost seems softer, without the harsh lines of battle-ready clothing or the fur that drapes around him, relaxed in a way he wasn’t in the banquet hall. 

You smile. “I can keep you dry whilst you're sitting.” 

He relents, then. Allowing the strangeness of sitting on wet sand without getting wet. 

“Was the banquet up to your expectations, then, Kaiser?” 

Expectations. He’s had none of a party like this. Being allowed to dream is a privilege, and privileges were not granted to him.

“You are officially my wife-to-be,” he says instead. “Shouldn’t you call me something a little more intimate?”

You gaze out into the horizon for a moment, and something in your eyes unfocuses, like you’ve gone somewhere else and then returned. “Very well. I shall call you Mihya.”

It strikes a chord in him, like a teaspoon hitting a glass. “Mihya? Where did that come from?”

“The water.”

“She speaks to you?” 

“She says in another life, you are given a nickname like that.”

“Another life…” He lies down in the sand, watches the streaks of sunset in the blueing sky. 

“Ask then, Mihya,” you lean over him slightly, until all he can see is the sky and the way your features soften. “The question we both know is on your mind.”

He almost wants to reach out, hold your cheek in his hand. It’s a foreign feeling to him, so foreign it almost feels like unease – to want to extend a gentleness like that to another person. “Won’t you just tell me?”

You breathe in the sea-salt air, and breathe out a heart-warmed truth. “The prophecy does not hold you captive in another life.”

Kaiser, for once, lets himself dream. Of a different life, where he is unburdened by a prophecy, and burns brightly.

~

“It would seem strange if you weren’t together, with all the other guests in the palace.” That’s what Oliver tells you as he gestures for you to take his arm, leading you to Kaiser’s room. 

It’s both plainer and more furnished than you thought, like someone who isn’t him had chosen the furniture and the color of the walls. But the items in the bookshelves seem well-loved, items taken out and put back haphazardly, scrolls and books placed back half-way. The bathroom door opens with a flood of light.  

“You’re here.” It’s rare to shock Kaiser in a way that doesn’t make him immediately reach for his sword.

You turn to look at him, taking in his half-dressed state. “Were you expecting some other woman?” 

“Oh, so you’re the jealous type?” 

He almost wants to laugh at the clear discomfort on your face. Gods don’t tease, he’s guessing? 

The bed gives way to you as you take your place. “I hear it’s common for princes to take many lovers.” 

The moonlight spills over the bedsheets as the room darkens, and you summon the sword to float right above you, looking into it. He joins you, wanting to see exactly what you’re seeing. 

“It’s not a night sky.” Your voice is so soft in the blanket of night between you both. 

“Hm?” 

“Inside the sword. Your people say it looks like the night sky. It’s not. It’s a galaxy.” 

He reaches his hand out, tracing over the glass along the middle of the weapon, a silent remark for you to continue. 

“At the beginning of all worlds, the first-ever contract was made between the first-ever forces, and with it, this sword was said to be conjured out of the galaxy. And so, a part of the galaxy at the beginning of all worlds was contained in this sword.” 

The stars in the sword move within like they’re responding to your words, borne witness to all the events. But instead of watching them, you turn to him. 

“You have held and wielded a primordial piece of this world. It has allowed you to hold it, granted you its blessing.” 

Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had. 

The sword disappears with a movement of his hand, and he rolls to lean over you. Silence drops like a curtain. The only sound he knows is your breath and his. 

During a fight, his feelings can almost be mistaken for adrenaline. But even under the shadow of the moon, with the cushioned silence between you both, the way you cut straight to the truth rings like a silver bell.

He can’t hide from you. Or maybe. Maybe he’s tired of hiding at all.

He is a man who has only known war and battle, was born and bred into it. War-forged, is what they call men like him. His hands know weapons, know how to kill.

He does not know if they know how to love. And yet-

He cups your face, and drinks you in.

He kisses you with caution, like you might melt from his grasp if he held too tightly. Presses his lips against yours slowly. He runs his hand gently over your hairline as he parts from you. 

Is this okay? He wants to ask. But instead, he says: “Tell me what you want.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips brushing against yours when you answer: “You.” 

And then he kisses you like a man starved, never known by this feeling that gets caught up in his throat with every noise of yours he swallows. 

“Is this… is this what you want?” You try to ask as you part from him for air, but he presses his mouth to the space behind your ear instead, laying kisses down your neck. “Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?” 

That makes him stop. But when he looks at you with a surefire gaze… 

He knows it, undoubtedly. That this, for once, is his. 

“There are no lovers,” he tells you between kisses, to your shoulder, down your collarbone, to your breastbone. 

“What?” 

“I take no lovers.” He unclasps your bra, lets the material fall from his hands to cup your supple flesh. “I’ve never been princely, after all.” 

“You- Kai-” 

He runs his thumbs across both your nipples, admires how they perk up at his administrations, flitting his gaze between them and your face as he brings his mouth down over one of them. 

He presses kisses down your body, cups your heat in his hand like he’s begging you to respond, like he’s saying let me have this. The inside of your thighs is soft as cream under his calloused hands. His thumb moves along the outside of your underwear, from your slit up to your clit with his fingers pressing tentatively against the fabric until you’re grabbing at his wrist. 

“You’re so tense,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want me to take care of that for you?” He runs the knuckles of his hand over your clothed slit, bumping into your clit with his thumb until your breathing gets heavy, your hands gripping his shoulders. 

“Kaiser,” you breathe, and he clicks his tongue. 

“That’s not what you call me, baby. Not anymore.” 

“Mihya.” 

“Mm,” he slides his fingers into your panties from the side, a huff of breath leaves him at the wetness he finds. “Good girls get rewarded, you know?” 

Heat coils hot deep in your stomach. He can’t take the restriction, pulling your panties down and revealing your core to the cold air. He lets his slickness pool on his fingers, collects it before bringing it to your clit. It’s like a drug, watching the way your face gives way to pleasure, how your body arches into him. 

“Mihya,” you gasp again, like a chant, a prayer. Is this what the gods feel like, to be asked of? 

“Let me watch,” he says it like a demand but it aches with desperation, a thing he won’t admit outside these four walls. He presses with more confidence now, slides one finger into you, then two. There’s little resistance with the way he’s riled you up, long fingers pressing into you until he reaches something that has you making a broken moan so pretty he can’t help but tilt into it again. 

“I want to see it,” he tells you. This is something he makes happen to you, with his own hands, his own words, his own body that shares its heat with yours. That notion alone runs arousal straight through him. Your panting breath, the way your body shakes with each swipe against your clit. 

“I want to see you fall apart in my arms.” He whispers, and you respond in kind. You always do to him, don’t you? He’s been seen too surely by you, now it’s his turn. Your body tenses entirely, tightly, gripping him as he grants you reprieve. A soft whine leaves your mouth along with something like his name, and the rough pad of his thumb circles over your clit until you crash, coming around his fingers. 

He swipes a thumb over your cheek, allows himself the gentleness that he’s held back for so long with you. 

“One more, okay?”

Your eyes widen. “Mihya,” this time it’s like a warning, but the way you say his name is so breathy it has him pressing a hand over his pants. 

“Yeah, say my name just like that.” He shuffles down until his mouth is pressing to your stomach, just above your mound. Then again to the inside of your knee, trailing up until the inside of your thigh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there. 

“You’re-, wait, we just- I just” 

“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” He kisses your clit first, like a promise, and then he laps at your core generously, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit, his flat tongue against the whole of you. Every drop of slick from your previous orgasm is taken in by him with each moan he makes against your core. If he had known this feeling was going to enter his life, that it would’ve felt like this, maybe he would’ve readied himself better for it. Instead, he finds himself starving at the table where it’s served. The taste of you on his tongue wraps him in a heady pleasure, but it’s every sound he takes out of you that has him pressing a little more insistently, tongue laving over you. 

“Pl-please,” your words break between gasps, and it has him lapping into your clit with more pressure. 

“I can never say no to you, can I?” he mumbles between your legs. And then he’s flipping you over, hoisting you onto your knees and skimming his hands over your rear and thighs before diving in again. Your face is pressed into the pillow, hands grabbing the sheets. Kaiser almost seems dazed as he moans into your cunt, swollen and wet like a siren’s call, hands wrapped so tightly around your plush thighs that it feels like it might bruise. 

“Let me taste,” he mutters, mouth still lodged into your cunt, like that isn’t what he’s already doing. “Come on baby, give it to me. Let me taste it on my tongue.” 

Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing as another orgasm rocks through you, your breath coming short as you break apart on his tongue with a whine. 

He flips you over again, and the look on his face takes your breath away. Your slick shimmers on his mouth as he trails his tongue over his lips, like he’s addicted, like he can’t get enough. He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him. 

“There something you want, pretty?” He leans over you, hand to the bedpost, and how broad and tall he is becomes that much more obvious. You let yourself look, at the way his tattoo drapes over his arm, run your hands over the muscle of his torso down to his v-line. You hear a sharp intake of breath as your hand moves lower, running under his loose sleep pants to the base of his cock. 

He grabs your hand in his, bringing it over your head and circling both your wrists. “Ask.” 

“You-,” your eyes narrow and you huff at him, but it only makes him smile. “Won’t you just-” 

“Nuh-uh.” 

“I could cut you down here.” 

He drops his pants, pumping his cock once and then sliding it along your slit. “You could. And then who’ll give you what you want?” 

You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks. 

“You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?” 

The harsh look you give him under those fluttering lashes of yours makes something stir in his gut, arousal shot through his veins, pupils wide. He plays with you, warm hands against your skin and between your legs, the soft skin of his cock sliding between your thighs until you’re gasping in his hold again, grinning like a battle won. 

“Please, Mihya,” you sigh. 

“Mhmm. Please what?” 

“Please- please fuck me.” 

He gets off on it, watching you yield to him, spreading your legs, dripping your hot slick onto his cock. He presses the head against you, petaled folds opening up to receive him as he slides into you slowly. Just the first few inches is so thick inside of you that your hands wrap around the muscles of his arms, nails digging in. 

“Shh, baby, you can take it,” he hushes your little whines, tracing your hairline with such gentleness it contradicts the way he pulls out of you just slightly only to push in again. 

“You’re- oh,” your body gives into him, even more so when he brings his hand down to tap on your clit, his mouth over your neck, to the side of your mouth, until he’s kissing you and taking in every noise you make. It’s almost a distraction, helps your body to relax so he can press into you deeper. You think you feel every inch as it enters you, all the way until the hilt, until the head is pressing deep inside of you and his hips meet yours.  

He lets out a rough, deep moan against the expanse of your neck, breath coming short as your walls tighten around him. 

“Fuck, baby. You gotta let me move.” Your arms wrap around him tighter, a whimper falling from your lips as he tilts his hips up to plunge into you again. It’s hard and slow and deep and if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you might’ve hit the headboard. But he’s careful about it – more than you might’ve thought he’d be. Pressing your body into the bed as his hips meet yours again and again. 

“It feels so good,” you tell him, and it has him pressing a kiss to your cheek in return. Makes every moan you make that much sweeter, to know it’s out of your pleasure, to know it’s because of him. 

“Good girl. Tell me again.” 

“Feels- you’re so big, so- please, I need-” Your walls can barely clench down onto him with how he feels inside of you. Chest to chest with him, the contact of skin on skin-

“You drive me insane,” he grumbles it into your skin; a confession, exacerbated with each thrust of his hips as he picks up the speed, until he’s slamming into you with a kind of strength that has you seeing constellations behind your eyes. He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. Heat pools in your core until you’re arching your back, and he knows it now – knows it like the back of his hand. 

“Give it to me.” It’s a command, a need, if you listen closely enough. “Come around my cock. Show me.” 

“Mihya, it’s so much, it’s so so much.” It’s treacherous, the way it works through your body, being on the brink. 

His thumb is slick over your clit, pressing just a little more, until your thighs are tightening under his unrelenting body. “Come for me.” 

You chant his name until the words start to become nothing in your mouth, until you’re breathless, until your whole body tenses under him and his hold against you gets that much rougher and your walls clamp down and then your body shakes as you come. You almost scream, only silenced by his lips on yours. He comes quickly after that, his eyes never leaving yours, taking in how you look underneath him as his cock gets more sensitive and paints the inside of your walls. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow until he feels your body start to relax under his. 

You can barely process coming down as he’s kissing you again, deeply and with force, like he’s etching the memory of you into his mind and onto your lips. 

For once, he lets himself recognize – how tiring the emptiness has been, to be devoid of this feeling and instead be filled with the fear that it’ll be turned against him. For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his, not a prayer but a soft word spoken in return. Kaiser does not want something as untouching as approval or attention from the divine. But he does want your waist in his arms, your forehead against his.

“Just like this,” he whispers it, a kiss placed to your forehead. You don’t know what he means, too tired to ask. 

This is exactly what he’s always wanted. Just like this. 

~

Not unlike a parent, Noa notices the closeness of your relationship. In touch, in stolen glances, in longing. A private conversation with him over afternoon tea is not unique, but the heaviness that weighs on him is. 

“As the goddess who cannot lie, I have to ask you.” The hardened look on his face makes you straighten your back, putting down your teacup. “You know, that I have to ask.”

Silence sits between you both like a shoe about to drop. 

Noa yields. “Has he truly been forsaken by all the gods?”

You are strangely silent as you look at him, then away, then back. 

“Answer me, demigod.”

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I. Don’t. Know. I have told you before, that I am not a seer, or an oracle. Water holds memory. I can see the past, I can even see other lives parallel to ours, but I cannot see the future. This is the limit of my power.”

“You are of divine nature.” 

“I had said what I said at our first meeting, and that has not changed. As long as I am here, the Gods have not forsaken him. For I have not forsaken him. Is that not enough? How many Gods would travel to your realm, vow themselves to a human kingdom? Even if it is I alone that stands before you, is that not enough?”

Noa sighs, more exasperated than you’ve ever seen a serious man like him. “He deserves more, that boy. For what he has been put through.”

“All greatness comes with a price. All heroes face tragedy. He, no matter how much you may care for him, is not the exception to that.” You tilt your head, like a cat with curiosity. But unlike that sweetness, your words are cutting. “You made him a ruler. You made him a hero. So, stand by that. Or does it make you uncomfortable? To consider the role you, too, have played in his life?”

Noa, of course, has thought about this too. Had he not chosen Kaiser to rule, would he have had the prophecy weighing on him like a second shadow? 

“If the prophecy holds true, you will inevitably leave him.” Noa swallows, hand flat against the table. “He will inevitably be forsaken, even by you.”

“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”

~

In the weeks that follow, you learn exactly why. Like Kaiser had predicted, talk of battle comes. 

“We suspect a neighboring nation wishes to wage war with us.” Noa looks out to the slate-blue ocean from the window of the war room. 

“A man who wants control of this whole world,” Karasu huffs. “There’s never a lack of them, is there?”

“He thinks himself a god. Or that’s what Sae has told us.” 

“You’re sure Sae’s information checks out?” 

“Shidou and Otoya like to visit neighboring nations for uh… fun, let’s say,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, then plants his face in his hands. “He said something along the lines of “you don’t wanna know how they found out” and “Shidou sleeps with both men and women, so it’s been cross-checked too.”” 

“And then we asked him about war,” Isagi throws his notes down on the table. “He said, and I quote, ‘I already have more land than I know what to do with. What could another few acres give me? What a hassle.’” 

“The enemy are bold to come for us first.” Kaiser frowns considerably. They are possibly the one nation blasphemous enough that would not blink at the thought of fighting a god. “There’s something we’re not seeing.”

Isagi nods in agreement. “We still don’t know the reason they’re coming here first. It could be the sword, or the goddess.” Isagi frowns. “I told you not to make a scene at the banquet.”

Kaiser gives him a curious look with a smile he fails to hide. “The point of a banquet is to wow the people. The people were wowed, were they not?” 

“It could be, it could not be,” Noa kills the conflict there. “That information would have been made public regardless of the spectacle. It could even simply be the throne itself they seek. An army like ours could parade into the neighboring nations and lay waste, our people are used to much harsher weathers.” 

“Or maybe he means to make a statement,” Karasu shrugs. “If he wants to be a god, maybe he means to punish the disrespect we’ve shown.” 

“What do we actually know?” Chigiri taps the map of this nation splayed across the table.

“We know he wants to take control of this world, and we know his plan includes something from us.” 

“He knows once he controls the world, he has to take care of it, right?” Oliver rests his jaw in his hand. “As in, it’s not just about buying the house, it’s about cleaning it too. The plan – it has to be bigger than this, no?” 

“Won’t happen once we kill him here. So as far as we know, there are three things we have that he could want: the sword, the goddess, the army.” Chigiri holds up his fingers as he counts. 

“So we’ll meet him with all three at the front lines. Fear does not wield us, after all. Only strength.” Kaiser says it like a mantra. You suspect it might be exactly that. 

~

“What a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon, princess.” 

As an ally, Sae arrived on the day of battle without question. He is much different from the first time you saw him, chainmail armor wraps tight and sleek around his body, clearly of a weight underneath his clothing. He stands straighter, shoulders broader, badges clipped to his outer jacket. It’s clear to anyone who looks at him, that it’s almost like he was born into them – meant for them. 

“You’re both on the front lines then?” 

“Idle hands,” Kaiser starts.

“Devil’s workshop.” You finish. You hear a horse galloping, then a voice. 

“There’s something wrong.” The people give a wide berth as Oliver arrives, with a sleek black mare that’s obedient as can be. “The majority of the enemies’ troops are not in front of us.” 

All of you turn to look, but it’s on the front lines that makes it most difficult to tell where the crowd begins and ends. 

“I did a rough head count from the tower. This isn’t the count we had observed just the other day. They’ll die easily, like this, against us. And I don’t mean that from an egotistical standpoint. I think these men are here to die, meant to die. It serves to mean –” 

“This is a distraction.” 

Karasu appears at your side, with an utmost silence only he is capable of. “They’re headed for the main castle, from around the edge of the border.” 

You and Kaiser look to each other with a whole silent conversation, and Sae sighs. 

“Go on, then.” 

You turn to Sae immediately, with a seriousness he doesn’t expect. “You’ll be unprotected.” 

“We chopped liver to you, girl?” Shidou sneers. 

Oliver drops down from his horse. “I’ll take over here.” 

“Your care for me is truly touching, princess,” Sae’s voice lilts touchingly, almost revealing how much he likes it. “But you swore a vow to this kingdom, so go fulfill it.” 

Even in the middle of a war, it gets Kaiser all worked up, his chin jutting as you both run back to the palace. But Sae understands duty, stands by it. It’s what makes him worthy of his own title in his own kingdom. 

Oliver waits until you’re both out of sight before turning to Sae. “Did you really plan to steal her?” 

“Well,” Sae shrugs. “Did you plan on letting her go so easily?” 

~

Your water runs in cascading waves through the whole of the palace, like the ocean itself comes rushing through the walls. It knocks all the soldiers down as you and Kaiser run through, and he picks up any stragglers with ease.  

“The throne room?” Kaiser slams the hilt of his sword into the guy behind him, and he collapses instantly. 

“It is the safest room.” 

“That makes no sense. If you knew anything about our people, you’d know we never hide ourselves there in a battle.” 

“Go anyways,” you tell him, as another man gets thrown off his feet. “Go, Kaiser!” 

He takes one final look at you, at the strength that you hold in your hands, and then he runs. 

The man he finds sitting on the throne has black hair cut blunt to his chin, a white mask over one side of his face. Kaiser unsheathes his sword, pointed straight and true. 

“That throne doesn’t belong to you.” 

“It will. Along with that sword you’re holding.” 

Kaiser chuckles, the kind that has madness interlaced in it. “If you wanted the sword so bad, you could’ve asked for a one-on-one combat duel. I haven’t had a satisfying fight in a long time, I’d be happy to lay the sword as a winning prize.” 

What must be the man’s most elite fighters drop down from the ceiling, crowding in on all sides. 

“Ah, I see,” Kaiser stands straighter, reaching behind him to unsheath his second sword. “It is your capabilities that do not match mine.”

When they come for him, it’s clear to even the heavens that he is exactly as he is fated – a force to be reckoned with. He moves like a spider-spun silken web, capturing each of them blow by blow. His swords cut like butter through them with impressive speed and strength. His breath comes fast and hard when he finishes, sweat dripping down his back. 

“I see now, prince,” the man approaches him, and it’s closer up that he realizes he’s simply in a suit, no armor. “Why they praise you, despite your blasphemy. You, a prince famous for cursing divinity at a whim’s notice, are a powerful ally. Kneel before me, then, and I’ll cease this all – let you join our cause in a war against the gods, in stealing their divinity from them. I’ll even forgive this transgression of bedding one.” 

“Me? Kneel?” The canned laugh that Kaiser lets out echoes. “I kneel to no god, let alone a man who wants to become one.” 

“So be it, then.” 

Kaiser hears something above him. By the gods, what’s with this guy and ceilings? Is that why he wants to fight here? A dust of something shimmers down, he pulls his cloak over himself- 

From the doorway, you throw your water across the room, shielding Kaiser from whatever it may have been. And in the same moment, a poof of shimmer bursts over your own head and tumbles down around you. 

“That’s the problem with you gods, isn’t it? You always think you’re infallible.” 

You cough, falling to one of your knees. Dread fills inside of you, like a faucet you can’t turn off. You can’t move. How is that possible? 

The man taps two fingers to the top of your head, and your world goes dark.

~

When you blink your eyes open, the first thing you’re aware of is the way your vision swims. Your mind feels clouded, stuffed with cotton. You press your palm to your head, and even that feels muted. 

“I’ve made her mine now. She’ll do exactly what I say. Does that make you upset?” Is what you think you hear, through the ringing of your ears. “Let’s see you put that god-killing sword to good use then, shall we?” 

“It’s. Magic.” You spit out the words as your hands press into the ground. Your legs cramp from the way you’re forcing them to stay down. “Mihya. Run, please.” 

“Awh, worried about me?” Kaiser teases as he logs the odds. There is no water that swirls around you, so it begs to reason – you can’t call it. The only weapon you have is a dagger. 

Kaiser tilts his head until his neck cracks. “Have some faith in me, princess. I’m not afraid, even against you.”

He breathes, in and out, until the calmness of battle seeps into him, raises his sword pointed right at you. “I’ll win, even against you.” 

And then he reveals that cocky, surefire smirk. “You should worry more about not dying yourself.” 

When you launch at him, it is without mercy, makes him realize how your kindness seeps into the way you fight. His weapon is bigger, larger, and he uses it to keep you at arm’s length, to wrap around towards the enemy. But he sees his problem almost immediately. Like a puppet on strings, you’re protecting the enemy. 

He knows it, the moment the prophecy solidifies into place in his mind. That feeling of being lost on a path, gone with the reigning down a light. The final puzzle piece in the picture. 

You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you. 

For once, the prophecy is not a curse but a guiding starlight. He corners you with strike after strike, until you’re as close as can be to the enemy. And then he approaches you with no defense, lets you strike at him. In the same breath, his sword lands behind you and takes off the enemy’s head. 

None of the fight felt as clear as this moment, when your blade presses into his heart. 

He collapses, right in front of the throne with you on top of him. The throne that should be undoubtedly his, belonging to him as heir. Tears fall from your face before your mind can clear. Like you know, soul to soul, as his lifeform slips through your fingers. He brings his hand to cup your cheek, as he had wanted to do when you laid like this above him in the sand. 

“I did not expect a death so gentle for myself.” 

His smile is so bittersweet that it aches all the way to the bottom of your heart. His hand slips down from your face as you finally come to. 

“You will not die on me.” You gasp out, a statement said with so much conviction that the silver bell of truth rings in return. You call to your water immediately, a stream so fast it cuts into your skin but you don’t care. 

A magic that can only be done once. You take the divine sword from the ground, aim the blade carefully at yourself – your own soul. Only this sword can make a cut like this, with the hand of the divine. You slice your wrist, and instead of blood, pure golden lifeforce pours out. 

You separate your divinity from yourself, and you feed it to him. It will not turn him divine. You are only half-divine yourself, after all. What you can give is not nearly enough to turn a man into a God. But it will hold his soul in this world, let you do an unspeakable magic: an exchange of divine power for life, a process long enough for the water to heal his heart back together again. The hand you lay against his mouth shakes more and more with each second that your golden blood pours into him, but your other hand lays steady as ever over his heart, until you feel it beat once, twice. Hear him spurt out a breath. 

You collapse on top of him before you can see him open his eyes. 

~

“I see the prophecy has been completed.” 

When Kaiser wakes, there’s a split second where he thinks he might’ve just ended up wherever souls go at the end of their line. There’s what must be a full-fledged goddess standing right over him. It’s only your warm body splayed across his chest that tells him otherwise. His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it. 

Golden threads extend down the sleeves of the goddess’ arms. He’s seen the paintings. Fate itself stands before him. 

“How could you do this?” He makes his disdain clear, lacking any respect one might give to the queen of the gods herself. 

“I am sorry.” She answers immediately, and that makes Kaiser’s eyes widen just slightly. “Your grievances, you may relay them to me, if you wish. There is a bigger picture at play here, bigger than you or the water sorceress or even myself. The threads of fate are not woven selfishly.” 

“You gods up in your clouds play with the lives of mortals. That has always been written in history. But to her? To one of your own?”

“She is more one of mine than most. The heir to the throne of the Gods, I would’ve entrusted her with my life. It’s why she complies with Fate in every life, without complaint.”

“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?” 

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heavy too, are my hands, that weave the golden threads. You and her are one of many that have suffered by my hand. For that, there is no apology I can give. What I can give, well… Would you like to hear your full prophecy, prince?”

Lone Emperor who covets the throne, You will die by the hands of the one you love most. Forsaken by all the Gods but one, Re-emerge, awaken, as the ruler you are meant to become.

In any other circumstance, he would be eager as ever to finally hear the full prophecy. But his eyes are only on you, your slumbering state as he holds you in his arms. 

“What will become of her?” He asks quietly. 

“She will be a water sorceress, as she had initially been.” 

“She will die, then? Like a human does?”

“All things die, hero.” Hero. That’s what he is now, having been trial-passed. The title burns like bourbon down his throat. “Even the divine dies. But yes, she will die as a human, and be reborn again as the cycle permits.” 

“A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.” 

“Who says it would be simple? Besides, she has gone through the trial of the divine once before. Don’t you have faith she could do it again?” 

The trial of the divine. He had not known such a thing prior to you. But if anyone could pass it, it would be you. 

“I will make her my wife. I care little for the words or respect of the gods, even a queen like yourself. But it is my duty to inform you. If she will have me, I will wed her as has been planned.” 

“The prophecy is complete. What happens now is too inconsequential for me to put effort into. However…” she watches you, teartracks streaked down your cheeks. “I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.” 

In a blink, her form disappears. 

“Kaiser!” Oliver’s voice echoes through the halls, taking big leaps with Noa to his side, skidding to a halt when he finally finds you both. 

“The goddess-” 

“She lives,” Kaiser cups your head into his chest. “Though she is goddess no more. A trade. Not a fair one by any means.” His thumb traces across your cheek, a state of his so vulnerable it renders Oliver speechless. 

Noa approaches the threshold where Oliver does not dare. He rests his hand on the crown of Kaiser’s head. “Another chance at life is the greatest gift, and she has granted you as such. That is a debt you’ll never be able to repay her for..” 

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, then.” 

~

It’s only in the aftermath, that you find out how deep in you truly were.

Kaiser takes a big inhale of the winter air. It’s fresh and cold. And with him, the nation breathed a breath anew, and the trial laid in ashes under his feet.

You’re facing the horizon of the sea when he finds you. 

In the catch of the light, sometimes he swears he sees the divinity that had shimmered off of you before. It’s almost hard to believe, with the ring of water that floats around you, that it had ever left you at all. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, as it always is with you now. 

“Relearning the water.”

“What does it say?”

“That I am still its mistress. Still a sorceress,” the water around you drops into the wet sand. “That its loyalty with me is not dependent on divinity.”

He places a hand to the back of your neck, easing out the tensions there. “But?”

You smile weakly. “I have to strain to hear her now.”

“Guess we can’t do that spectacle again for our wedding.” He cracks a smile, something to ease the ache. “Water holds memory, right?” 

“That, it does.” 

He grabs your hand, pulling you up and towards the waves. You yell for him, but the ocean crashes loudly around you both, and he drags you into the water anyways. Once you’re deep in enough that the waves drape over your knees, he pulls you in close. 

“Let her bear witness, then.” He whispers it against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face. He kisses you, deep and with so much heart you might burst from it. 

A prophecy unfolded, a fate changed, a life saved. 

There’s a part of you that can feel an oncoming future. A sheathing that can block even the eyes of Gods. God-killing weapons that have descended from the heavens themselves. A potion that can cause madness in the minds of the divine. A war between mortals and Gods is coming, you’re sure of it. 

But not in this life. In this life, you are a water sorceress, and he is a trial-passed hero. And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time. 

author's note: ohmygod THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE tell me what you think!!! this is my longest fic ever so i really hope you enjoyed

extended author's note -- know that this is an incredibly realistic note about the perception of love that will take you out of the fantasy lovey-dovey space. it's a disclaimer for the parts of the fic i romanticize and how u should not romanticize them in real life, as well as some notes about kaiser's characterization if you're interested

[astracora]

Drunken Confession - Caleb

Characters: Caleb x gn!mc

Warnings: Very Drunk MC, Caleb Spoilers, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2520

Written: 20th February 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship, Pre-game setting with Caleb and the main MC I write for. Part of a lil thing I wanna work on with MC making five drunken confessions to all of the boys, and then the final chapter is a non-drunk confession of love to the polycule. Will I work on all the chapters? A mystery. Unluckily for MC, I only know one type of drunk, and it's the emotional messy kind of drunk that also needs everyone to know I love them. So they get that flavour. Gods speed.

Masterlist AO3

Zayne ->

Caleb is sitting in his DAA assigned room when he gets the call, midway through piecing together one of his models. Gideon is reading one of his books on his bed, and looks up as the ringtone he's set specifically for you goes off.

If you leave me in the morning, I'll have such a- such a lonely heart.

He purposely doesn't look at the man, who has a raised brow and a grin on his face, and picks up the phone, "Pipsqueak?"

"Heyyy, Caleb. Sorry to bother you-" It's not you, but he recognises the voice. One of your college friends who he at least trusts somewhat to help take care of you when he's not there. There's scuffling from the other side, "No, hey. Sit down trouble, I need someone to take you home-" More scuffle and he picks out your voice, but not the words.

He can feel his brows drawing together, and worry rising. "Miri? Are they ok?" He bites off, already standing to grab his jacket.

"Yeah, they're fine, just- Hey, no don't drink anymore-" Quiet for a moment.

Then he picks out your voice clearer now, you must have leaned into the phone, "Caaaaaleb." It's airy, and slurred, and he's not proud of the instant feeling of clawing hunger he gets in his gut at the sound of it. You sound happy, and pleased.

He waves to Gideon without really looking back, and starts to race down the hallway.

"They just had a lot to drink, and I think they're going to be really sick tomorrow. They skipped classes again today, and I went to find them-" You're trying to shush her in the background, he hears you grab for the phone, and miss, and then a 'oww' whispered. "Yeah, well that serves you right, sit down and stop flailing your arms around." A sigh and then Miri speaks again, "I'll send you the bar, can you come and pick them up?"

Caleb is already checking trains, as he tries to keep from running into anyone in the streets. The tiny voice in his head urges him to 'borrow' one of the DAA's planes, but he doesn't want to have the trouble that'll cause on top of the trouble he's going to find back home. "I'll be there in thirty minutes, is that alright?"

"Yeah I can- Put it down- keep them from getting on any tables, or kissing any strangers for that long."

"Kissing who?" But the phone call cuts out with your yell of "No!", and the slam of it hitting, what he assumes, is a table or a bar. Later he gets a ping with your location.

As he sits, as patiently as he can on the train, leg bouncing and fingers tapping, his head keeps playing over the latter part. Kissing strangers.

He knows you, has seen you drunk before. You get clingy, and cute, and affectionate.The first time, he had choked on air, and felt his cheeks burning, as you looked up at him with wet eyes and pouted lips. His impatience to get to you, and find out why you went out to get so drunk, bites at him. As well as the mental image of you hanging off a stranger, looking up at them with those pretty mismatched eyes, and kissing them as desperately as he dreams of doing to you.

The bar is busy when he finally gets there, it's not too late, and his worry grows more at the idea of you in a bar midday, drinking. Alone. At least Miri had come to find you, he dreads the idea of you being alone.

Pushing his way past people, he flashes his ID absently, as he scours the room for you. It doesn't take long, you pull him to you in a pull stronger than his EVOL could ever hope to be. He spots you, being steadied against a barstool by your friend. Your head is leaned against her shoulder, and she is waving a stranger away from you. Anger in her face. He moves faster, slipping up next to you. His arm wraps around your waist and pulls you against him.

Steadier with him, he assures himself, than leaning against your friend.

Your head tilts back against his chest, and he tries not to get distracted by the happy, pleased look on your face as you smile dopily at him, and looks at the stranger. "You should go now, no one wants you here." The hard edge is probably unfamiliar to your friend, but she seems to relax a little at the backup.

Miri crosses her arms, stepping back away from them, and tilts her head, "Like I said, we're not interested."

He's relieved when the stranger doesn't put up a fight, shrugging as if it's too much effort to go up against Caleb, another reason he's relieved his efforts as a pilot have put him into good shape, and leaves.

Finally, finally he can look down at you. You've moved your hands to hold onto his arm around you, stretching up precariously as you wobble, to nuzzle your nose against his neck. The gust of breath you exhale against his neck, makes his arm tighten. Along with his throat.

You're drunk, you're drunk, you're drunk.

There's a concerted effort from him, to turn away from you and look at your friend, who is exhaling a sigh of relief, "Thanks for coming Caleb, I wasn't sure how I was going to get them home." She looks down at where you are in his arms, smirks a little bit, and then waves her hands, "If you've got this, I better go find my girlfriend, so I can get going too. They seem happy enough."

This time he can't control the blush, because you do look happy. You've managed to turn in your stool and are now moving your hands up his shirt over his skin. The feeling is like lightning, running through his veins, tingling and burning everywhere your fingers pass over, and he quickly grasps your hands to hold your wrists in one of his. "Let's get you home, Pipsqueak."

You go to stand, and instantly topple over, so he swoops in to lift you up in his arms. If you were sober, you'd have complained, demanded he release you. Been too embarrassed to look at him properly. Like this though, you wrap your arms around his neck, and nuzzle back into him. He barely pays attention as Miri leaves, but you do release him for a moment to wave excitedly over his shoulder as he carries you for the door.

"Caleb." He ignores you for a little while as he focuses on avoiding people, he gets looks, questioning ones, ones that smirk at him like he's won a prize, others that look a little worried. "Caleb!" You bite his ear, and his shoulders jump, pulling you closer against his chest in response.

When he speaks, it's after a deep breath, a centering exhale, and a moment just to remind himself, that you're drunk.

You're drunk.

"What is it Pipsqueak?"

"Why are you here?"

"You needed me, so I came. No other reason." He doesn't need to tell you he raced against time, ran for trains, fled his dorms without a single packed item. He's in good shape so he doesn't need to worry you spot the tire in him, he always wants you to look at him and trust he can take care of you.

He needs you to believe in him.

"You always find me." Is the response, arms tightening around his neck, he feels your lips against his cheek. He'd stumble if he weren't fighting every part of himself to steady.

"Always, Pipsqueak. No matter what, I'll always find you."

He opts to walk back home, Gran is thankfully out, visiting Noah. So he tries to unlock the door with one hand, while he holds you up in one. You are determined not to make it easier. While the cool air has helped stop any nausea, you're still happily tipsy.

Blissfully unbothered by boundaries. You wiggle, and poke his cheeks, laughing to yourself when you squeeze enough to pull them out in funny faces. Each time you pinch too hard, you then lean back in and swipe your tongue over his skin, biting gently after.

Caleb has always prided himself on how controlled he is. He's grown up holding back, putting your needs first and above his own, fighting through all the feelings he wants to share and fall into, so that you can trust him. Believe in him. Always seek him out if you need someone. He never wants you to doubt that he's your ally. So he's controlled, with an iron grip around the chains of his desires.

You're certainly testing it. As some point you sing-song, "Caaaaleb." Against his ear, one hand on his cheek and your hair brushing against his skin.

When he finally manages to make it to your bedroom, he sits down on the bed, ready to wrangle you under the covers. For him, as much as you. Instead, you settle into his lap, "Come on Pipsqueak, let's get you to bed."

"No." You huff, holding onto him. It's the first time he's really noticed the training for the hunters association on you. The muscles around your arms and back tense, and while he could overpower you, or use his EVOL, he's not used to you acting like this. "Stay."

Your voice is so soft, and small, losing all the playfulness from earlier, as you tighten your hold.

"What happened?" He eases you, his right hand rubbing up and down your back, like you're a pet cat. It works, your grip lightens and you sigh a little, relaxing against him. His other hand moves to your head, holding you against his neck, and carding through your hair. Twirling the strands around his fingers.

"I failed a test."

It's the first time he's heard you sound so defeated in a couple of years. He remembers childhoods spent with you like you were when you were drunk earlier, happy, excited, mischievous. Full of life. When the diagnosis for your heart had come through, he'd watched most of that get lost. To desolation and heartbreak. You'd pulled in on yourself, given up. Done little but start fights, skip school and stop trying to care.

When he'd convinced you to become a hunter, he'd seen life come back to you. Fire and will and change. He'd stopped having to tend to your wounds in secret away from Gran. You'd started to come alive again.

Have you been hiding it all again, while he was at the DAA? Keeping it to yourself, keeping it hidden when he visited?

Had he stopped seeing what you were really feeling?

"I've been studying too hard, I haven't slept enough." You rattle off reasons, they make sense, he knows you, he knows how anxious you get when something big is coming. He's seen late nights, and all nighters, all in the pursuit of being worthy of something he keeps telling you, you never have to earn. "I failed though, I shouldn't have failed. What if-" You hiccup, tensing up in his arms again, so he maneuvers you both so he's lying against the headboard, so you can stretch out in his arms, "What if they don't want me now?"

His throat is tight, and his eyes feel hot. "How could anyone know you, and not want you?" escapes him. Voice so weighted with years of feelings he's never felt like he could share, if only you could see yourself the way he did. The way he'll always see you.

You'd finally realise how perfect you are.

Finally stop trying to justify your place in this world.

"Pipsqueak, you're working hard. You'll get through this, and you'll become a hunter, just like you want."

Even if you don't, he thinks, he'll never stop supporting you. He'd do anything to keep you here, to make you happy, to help you find a place. No matter what form it takes. No matter what he has to do.

"I believe in you, I always will."

You hiccup again, and tighten your arms around his neck, before withdrawing so you can look up at him. He moves his hand from your head, so that he can wipe the tears away, and smiles down at you. The action works, as your small smile greets him back, eyes lightening. "I've missed you."

It's so honest, spoken against his chest as you look up at him, your hand tightening in his shirt, wrinkling it, but he simply holds your hand there. Over his heart, where it thrums, beats and races just for you. In a different world, where you're not so vulnerable and desperate, and drunk, he'd kiss you. Taste his name on your lips and finally tell you every little bit of love he's ever held for you.

Entwine himself with you, so you realise your place is with him, and his with you. Somewhere you never have to fight to belong, because he accepts you no matter what or who you are.

Instead he pulls you close, and uses his EVOL to tuck the both of you in. Unwilling to leave, especially when you tighten your grip around him, throwing a leg over his, tucking your head under his chin, arms around his waist, lips on his collarbone. "I missed you too, Pipsqueak. Every day."

He's relieved when you settle, when your breathing evens out and your white knuckled grip turns into gentle hands, absently drawing patterns over his skin as you drift away. He closes his eyes, ready to join you, when you poke under his chin. He looks down at you, but your eyes are closed. He watches as you draw over his chest again. The same symbols over and over.

I ♡ U

Then an infinity symbol, over, and over, and over again. He can't fight the urge this time, to press a kiss to the top of your head, even though he wants so, so much more. His hand takes yours, and with careful fingers, he taps out a code on the back of your palm, in a language he's taught you.

.. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- / ..-. --- .-. . ...- . .-.

He watches carefully, until you realise, and smile gently.

He's sure you'll forget most of today, forget that you trusted him to confide in him with your fears. He's sure you'll forget writing your affection into his skin, and teasing him in ways that yanked at his chain of control. He's sure you'll wake up tomorrow and wonder why he's in your bed, or why he isn't at the DAA.

He knows he'll affirm you and tell you the exact same things he told you today, over, and over, and over again. Until one day, you don't doubt it anymore.

Maybe that day, when it arrives, he can tell you he loves you, and hear the things you write against him, out loud, every day, for the rest of his life.

[rinz-aspirinz]

Okay but can we talk about how horrifying it must be to be Lucifer. Imagine your little brother comes to you in the middle of the night, eyes red and cheeks puffy and overall just a mess and all he wants is a little bit of comfort from his older brother. You don't know what's wrong, maybe he did badly in a test or maybe he had a nightmare. It doesn't matter anyway, you would comfort him all the same.

Except you can't.

“Diavolo is the only one who would truly care if you died.” Words leave your lips before your mind, at least the part of it that managed to remain clean from your sin has the opportunity to process what you just said. No, that's not what you wanted to say! You would never say that! That's your younger brother, you raised him, you're still raising him, he stood by your side in a war and never once turned his back as your brilliant white wings turned black.

How dare you say something like that?

You know it's not really you speaking, it's your sin. Your pride (that you have no rights of holding onto) is speaking in your place. You know that but how can your younger brother know? To him, it's all the same. His older brother wouldn't care if he died.

You want to die right then and there, allow the betrayal on your younger brother's face to be your final shot and face Father's wrath but it would probably be too kind for you. It doesn't happen anyway, all you can do is stand there, tall and disgustingly proud of nothing and watch as he leaves.

Tomorrow, you'll scowl at your new younger brother, your son when he says he's a part of you. You want to say he's not, that he's better than you, that your accomplishments and glory is nothing more than smoke and mirrors but you can't. You instead scold him, tell him he's nothing more than wrath itself personified, pure evil and nothing more.

And after that, it'll happen again and again and again.

[st3f13ily]

HIS NAME

(𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴)

He doesn't see me. I could stand right in front of him and scream his name, and he would only tilt his head giving me the same polite smile as he does to everyone.

Everyone.

I hate that about him.

He's too nice. Too polite. He holds open doors for girls who giggle behind their hands, calls their names like it is nothing, smiles at them as if they are special.

Plot twist, they aren't.

They don't deserve to hear his voice wrapped around their names.

But his name—oh, his name.

Every syllable is a melody, a sound that melts into my bones, that rings inside my head in the quiet of the night. I whisper it when no one is listening, my lips shaping it like a secret.

And yet, when someone else says it, especially with that sweet, affectionate lilt, I want to rip the words right from their tongue.

He’s mine.

Even if he doesn’t know it yet.

Even if he never will.

I sit two rows behind him, the perfect distance to admire but never close enough to touch him.

He is always composed, always poised. Never ruffled, never faltering. His uniform crisp, his hair effortlessly perfect, his voice steady and smooth. Everyone adores him. How could they not?

And yet, the way they swarm around him makes my skin prickle with irritation.

Especially when they say his name.

The girl next to him—her voice is high and syrupy, dripping with honeyed affection. "____, can you help me with this?"

I don’t hear the rest. My blood is roaring in my ears.

I know it’s irrational. I know he’s just being polite when he nods and leans over, explaining whatever she’s too lazy to figure out herself. But I hate it.

I hate how easily they say his name, like they have a right to it.

They don’t.

I press my nails into my palm, forcing myself to look away, forcing myself to act normal. To pretend.

Because that’s all I can do.

(𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴)

She’s looking at me again.

I feel her eyes even when she thinks she’s subtle. Even when she’s silent, even when she doesn’t move.

I wish she’d say something.

No—more than anything, I wish she’d say my name.

I know exactly how she whispers it in her mind. I can imagine the way it would sound in her voice, how my name would finally feel real if she were the one saying it.

But she never does.

She stays quiet. Watching.

Instead, it's always someone else calling my name.

"____, can you help me with this?"

I suppress the urge to flinch. The girl next to me is smiling expectantly, waiting for the effortless kindness I always give.

I hate it.

But I smile anyway. Because that’s what I do. That’s who I have to be.

I help, I nod, I speak—everything except what I really want to do.

Turn around. Look at her. Say, "Say my name."

But I don’t.

Because if I did, I might not be able to hold back everything else.

———

(𝙷𝙴𝚁 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴)

I tell myself I won’t look at him today.

It’s a lie.

The moment I step into the classroom, my eyes find him. They always do.

He’s sitting in his usual seat, back straight, fingers resting lightly on the desk. He never slouches, never fidgets, never looks anything less than perfect.

And, of course, they’re around him again. The girls.

One of them leans too close, laughing at something he didn’t even mean to be funny. Another brushes against his arm like it’s an accident. And then—

Oh, I hate this part.

His name. They say it too easily, too casually, too affectionately.

I can’t stand it.

I grit my teeth, my fingers gripping my notebook so tightly it bends. But he doesn’t react. He never does. He only smiles that same polite, distant smile, the one that makes my stomach twist.

Doesn’t he ever get tired of it? Doesn’t he ever get annoyed?

Or does he like it?

The thought makes me sick

I sink into my seat and force myself to look away, my heart hammering.

He’s perfect. He’s kind. He’s untouchable.

And I am nothing to him.

(𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙿𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙸𝚅𝙴)

She looked at me again today. It was brief. Just a glance. But I felt it like a brand against my skin.

She doesn’t realize, does she?

She doesn’t know that I count every second her gaze lingers. I track every time she looks away, every time she shifts in her seat like she’s forcing herself not to stare too long.

She doesn’t know that I see her.

That I only see her.

The others? The ones who say my name so carelessly? They mean nothing.

Their voices are irritating, their touch makes my skin crawl, and the way they say my name again is another irritating sigh that escapes my lips. Every time they call my name I want to correct them. Want to tell them they have no right.

Because my name doesn't belong to them.

It belongs to hers.

She just doesn't know it yet.

I want her to say it. I NEED her to say it.

How long has it been? A year? Longer? How long much time have I wasted waiting for a single word escape her lips?

She never says my name.

Not once.

But I'll wait.

I'll wait forever if I have to.

Because one day she will.

And when that day comes, I don't know if I be able to hold myself back anymore.

More of this: Silent Obsession

His Obsession Came first

[currentloser]

there was no other choice

kwon ji-yong x reader

contents warnings: yandere!gd, manipulation, generally creepy man

word count: 4008

summary: After a water leak damages your apartment, Ji-yong kindly invites you to stay at his place, and it slowly dawns on you how planned this all seemed..

( ao3 link )

“You can't be serious.”

Despite your words, the reality of the situation couldn't be any clearer than what was before you: water dripping down from your ceiling, forming a puddle in the ground in front of you. When you first woke to a leak that started precariously above your head and dampening your clothes, you thought it couldn't get any worse. Forcing yourself out of bed and following the water pipes, however, it only kept going.

From your bedroom to the small basement underneath your apartment left a trail of water. You glared at the traitorous water pipe above your head, still slowly trickling. Your clothes were damp, your sleep was interrupted- now this. The puddle was already creeping up to your shoes and you sighed, wiping your hand over your face. This was just your luck.

Sparing a glance over to Ji-yong, his face was pressed into a concerned frown at the sight of the state of your apartment, and of course worried toward you, “I told you this apartment was falling apart. Have you called your landlord?”

Waving him off with a small scoff, “I did,” you mutter and nod and return your gaze to the growing puddle in the middle of the floor, “He said he’ll send someone tomorrow.”

You kicked at a towel you had placed on the floor in a vain attempt to stop its spread, pushing it further to the point it began to float on the surface, Right now, it seemed life was playing a cruel joke on you. At least you had Ji-yong beside you, squishing the drenched fabric beneath your foot and stepping back.

Beside you, Ji-yong exhaled through his nose and clicked his tongue in thought before casually starting, his voice gentle- “Well, you can't stay here tonight.”

Surprised by the interruption, your head snapped toward the man beside you. Of course not. When there was the growing threat of drowning- not really- in your own home, it would only be better to leave. You inwardly cursed your landlord for not even offering to cover a hotel stay for you, or at least refunding some of your deposit as repayment for this hassle.

“It's not safe,” The idol interrupts your thoughts again, his eyes drifting to the dripping lead as the droplet splashes out against the wood. It spread further yet again, ruining the once-nice flooring there, “You could slip, or–” He festered vaguely, his hand motioning over the puddle.

The list of possible disasters was, of course, too long to name.

“Right. I can just get a hotel,” You nod, already beginning to reach for your phone waiting in your pocket.

Beside you, Ji-yong chuckled, fond and amused at your actions, “A hotel?” He tilted his head, stepping closer.

Beneath him, waves formed in the water and soaked into the side of his shoe. It should've bothered him, the way it would surely drown the fabric of his sock as well. He just stayed there instead of shying away or pulling out of the water, and he continued to speak yet again, “Why would you waste your money when you could just stay with me?”

Bold, the man in front of you reached out and his touch even began to graze your wrist. In a moment of shock, you tug away slightly. You forgot you had gone to grab your phone, letting your hands return to your side at his proposal. In shock from just how forward this man was, you open your mouth to argue. Just as they part, he’s speaking again before you can disagree.

“It's just for one night,” He hums, so certain of himself, “It makes the most sense, doesn't it?”

Usually, his demeanor was so sweet and gentle. He laughed a lot, fidgeted, and stuck himself close to you. When you got to know him, he was always a sweetheart that doted after you. There was something different about the Ji-yong in front of you now, bold enough to invite you over to his house when you had never visited before. Sure, the two of you visited often and you would consider him a good friend, but his house…?

Your fingers tightened at your side, grabbing at the rough fabric of your shirt. It took a moment for your breath to come back to you. Reluctance crept up your chest, your breath faltered for a moment. Something wasn't right, and yet you couldn't place your finger on what.

Ji-yong smoothes it over with a warm smile, tilting his head at your silence. “We’ve known each other a while now. I'd love for you to stay over.”

Shifting uncomfortably, you step backward from the close contact. His foot is still in the water and he's suddenly so close, you need the space to breathe. Away from the growing water feature in front of you two, and Ji-yong steps closer yet again. There's a little more distance between you this time, but he’s not letting you get too far away yet.

“I mean… I’ve never been to your place before,” You pointed out, hesitant, “It's kind of intimate, isn't it?”

Ji-yong blinked, long and slow, almost like an owl.

Then- he laughed.

It's his usual giggle you're used to, his hands flying to his chest as he hides behind his head and fidgets with his shirt. He steps back into the puddle, sending more waves through it and soaking his shoes further. Those were probably designer, now soaked and he didn't seem to care. He stepped forward again, out of the puddle to dry land in front of you.

“Intimate?” He asks, still smiling, “You act like we aren’t close.”

Of course, he’s right. He had always been there by your side, always attentive to your every need. His knack for remembering the things you couldn't, chores you had to tend after, and even your favorite snacks. The two of you became close so easily, it was easy to forget how long you two had been close. It felt like you had known him for as long as you could remember. Especially when you’d desired to become even closer to him, perhaps it was all a blessing in disguise.

Ji-yong hums, tapping his chin, “Besides,” He continues, “I already know everything about you.”

As light-hearted as it is, your stomach responds by tightening up. It's endearing, and creepy all at once. The way his smile stretches just a bit too wide. He's just being friendly, you tell yourself. It's only natural if he’d known you for so long, to know so much about you, and for the two of you to end up easy partners.

“Well,” He shrugged, tilting his chin to gesture behind him, “If you'd rather stay in a puddle, be my guest.”

A pause hung in the air, his gaze expectant toward you.

The water was still dripping from the ceiling, and even though the noise managed to fade into the background, now it seemed much louder. Thumping along with the beat of your heart with the proposition before you and Ji-yong getting closer to you.

“The whole floor might be weakened,” He paused, giving space for a splash between his words, “Or, you can just come with me.”

Tightening your fingers into fists, you exhale slowly through clenched teeth. His aura was all a playful demeanor, light-hearted as he always managed to be. His voice is gentle and welcoming.

“You’re right. It's only for a night, after all,” You finally give in, much to his delight.

Ji-yong’s smile stretches out, grabbing around your shoulders and pulling you into a quick hug and practically tearing you out of your flooded apartment. You don't have time to think about grabbing clothing or any of your belongings besides those with you before you’re in the backseat of his car as his driver whisked the two of you away. Soft music filled the right, Ji-yong sneaking glances at you from his seat as the car traveled across the city.

The car drive seems to fly by as the door is opened to you, leading you inside his home.

Ji-yong’s house is… nice.

Almost surprisingly, the inner decor isn't flashy, just a warm and well-kept room. From a man who loved to dress up and show off to the paparazzi, you would've expected something less humble. His inside didn't match his persona, but that was almost reassuring. Around you, a familiar scent floated in the air. It was clean, something you could nearly recognize, just on the tip of your tongue.

Stopping at the front, you take your shoes off and put them to the side before stepping onto the warmed floor. Beside you, Ji-yong copies your actions and slips off his jacket, hanging it off to the side.

“Make yourself at home,” He hummed, a clear invitation as he stepped past you and bowed, showing off the space.

You hesitate for a moment, your eyes drift over the well-decorated space. Everything was pristine, the couch pillows fluffed. On the table in front of the couch, a ceramic mug waited with steam still curling off from the top of it. Unable to help yourself, you raise an eyebrow at it. All of this happened suddenly, and yet, Ji-yong caught your shifting expression.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with a sparkle of mischief in his eye.

Shaking this strange feeling off, you remind yourself he's only being a good friend. Looking out for you, perhaps he'd told someone to make a tea for him in advance. Yes, that was it. Finally, you step inside and cringe slightly as you feel your clothes drip onto his nicely heated wooden floor.

Ji-yong is still watching, clicking his tongue, “I'll grab you a towel.”

He disappeared into the hall, leaving you alone. Properly taking in your surroundings, out of the corner of your eye you can't help but notice his bookshelf decorated with photos. You stepped closer, eyeing a framed photo on the center shelf and raising an eyebrow. You recognize yourself in the photo, you were surprised he would have one of you in the first place. Worse, though, you weren't exactly sure when the photo was taken. Behind you, you could recognize your favorite café- but there was something so candid about the photo.

A slight blur at the edges of your face, not even looking in the camera's direction. Grabbing the photo up to take a better look is all the confirmation you need. You had no idea when he could've taken something like this. Ji-yong had always been the type to sneak away or hang on the edges of your vision to snap pictures of you and share them on his Instagram or keep to himself. So, it shouldn't have been strange. Right?

“Ah, I remember that one,” Ji-yong speaks close behind you, offering a towel out in front of you casually, “You look cute in that one, don't you think?”

Raising a skeptical eyebrow, you put the frame down in favor of grabbing the towel he offered. The fabric was soft and plush, and you pressed it to your face to finally properly dry your still-drying face. Tactfully, you push your balance onto your other foot as you try to consider how to ask him this politely. Time could fly fast, and he was known for these sorts of things… still, something about it didn’t settle right.

“I don’t remember taking it,” You admit, a little pink rising to your cheeks as you hide behind the towel, a bit embarrassed, “Where’d you even get his?”

Ji-yong remained at ease, grabbing up the photo and tilting it in his hand curiously, looking it over before he placed it back down in the same spot you’d left it. His eyes flickered for a moment, his finger rubbed over his lower thumb in thought.

“I took it a while ago. You invited me along to the cafe with you. You looked cute, so of course I framed it,” He explained, a smile hanging across his face, “As you waited for your order, you laughed at something on your phone.”

Grabbing onto your shoulder, he guided you oh-so-casually to step back with him. The photo came out of focus as he turned him toward you. There was a mischievous glint in his eye, one you were too used to seeing. He had made a habit out of tricking you and messing with you, though your mind would've liked to argue. Almost every time you visited that cafe now, he would always tag along with you. So, to have a photo like this taken shouldn't have felt as strange as it did.

Now that Ji-yong is explaining it though, you can picture that day. Your friend had sent you a funny message, the only thing not clicking was when he could've possibly taken a photo. Even though he’d usually show you the results of his photobombs you hadn't noticed him, and he never showed you.

“You looked happy,” Ji-yong’s voice is gentle, “I liked that. That's not weird, is it?”

His words were reassurance, and your fingers still dug into the fabric of the towel. The question of it lingered on your mind. You shook your head no in reassurance, pushing the framed photo out of your mind.

“Ah, you're still cold, aren't you?” He gestures to your still-damp clothing, “Let me get you some new clothes.”

Just as you're about to protest, the man has disappeared again. Curse his habits of popping in and popping out on you, though his return only took a moment. He appeared from the hall with a stack of neatly folded clothes as he returned and held the pile out toward you. Curious, you took it and unfolded the edge of the shirt on top of the pile. Getting a peak of the design at the front, you instantly recognize it as his shirt. You weren't sure you should've expected something else.

You hesitate a moment, meeting his eye sheepishly, “This is yours.”

“Sorry,” Ji-yong’s smile faded away only for his apology, and his tone wasn't sorry at all, “I didn’t have anything else to offer you. It's only my own here.”

In the silence, his eyes raked over your form. As if he was already imagining how you would look dressed in his clothes instead of your own. He tilted his head and that smile found its way back onto his face. He slipped back into his usually playful self, and he patted at the top of the pile of clothing.

“Want me to help?” He offered with a chuckle at the end of his question.

Even if at first you choked on air at his joke you laughed along, “What?! I can dress myself.”

Ji-yong waved a hand in the air, “Of course I was kidding. Unless you want me to.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him.

Instead of teasing you further, he gives you a small now and gestures to the bathroom down the hall. You sighed shortly, stepping past him. The feeling of your clothing sticking to you was too much, and the offer was too kind to refuse. You slip into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. You set your new clothes on the counter, slipping out of the old and sparing a glance at the soap at the counter. You recognized the scent as one you would've used at your place.

‘Cute’, you think to yourself, toweling over your body, ‘He liked mine so much, he got his own’. Finally dry, you pull yourself into his clothing. It's all a little too big for you, yet at the same time a comfortable fit. You tug at the drawstrings of his sweatpants, grateful they wouldn't slip off you, and tie them just to be sure. His shirt sat oversized on you, flowing just a little. A comfortable oversized outfit.

“You okay in there?” Ji-yong teased you from the outside, a bit muffled behind the door.

Ji-yong’s voice is so close to the door, right outside, and you fumble with your sleeves, “Yeah, just drying off.”

The thought of him being so close sent a shiver down your side. It was almost reassuring to know he was always right by your side. You turn to your side and tug on the handle, pushing it out into the hallway. Just as you exit, you catch Ji-yong moving out of the corner of his eye. If you hadn't been looking for him, you wouldn't’ve caught him stepping back. It was quick, and for a moment you convinced yourself you imagined it.

Ji-yong took in your appearance, admiring the way his clothes looked on you, “You look good in those.”

You shook the thought away and laughed, “It's huge.”

“That only makes it cuter,” He insisted, gesturing down the hallway. “It's getting late, I should escort you to the guest room.”

Your warm drink went forgotten as you followed him down the hall. As you walk down the dimly lit hallway, you admire some of the photos and art he hung on the walls. He’d always been the type to admire such things, along with photos of himself and his friends as well. At least some part of his home was a bit more normal, and finally, Ji-yong paused at a door and opened it with a flourish.

“Ta-da~” He sang to you, gently pushing on your back to ease you inside.

The room is as homely as the rest of his house. It was cozy with a little desk in the corner, and the bed was decorated with plush pillows and warm blankets. Upon further inspection, though, it only became more clear you had stepped into none other than his room. Your gaze darts back to him, looking over him for answers. He’d promised a guest room, and yet here you were. He couldn't be serious, expecting you to stay in the same room as him.

“This is your room,” You say slowly, the weight of realization sinking in.

More than anything, guilt weighed on your mind. If he had no guest room, it meant he would have to stay outside instead. You ended up robbing the poor man of his place to stay, and he remained unbothered. His posture was relaxed, casually nodding toward the bed as if it was all normal. You could sleep in his bed, and there would be nothing strange about it. You hoped so, at least.

“You're probably tired, lay down for a bit and I can tuck you in,” Ji-yong insisted behind you and pushed you toward the bed.

Without much force you sat in the bed, looking up at him and tilting your head at him, “I can take the couch instead.”

“I can't make you take the couch,” You pout, moving to make space on the bed.

You moved toward the wall, leaving a space beside you. Already on his bed, it only feels natural as he leans closer to let him climb into the bed with you. As strange as the day had been so far, it didn't feel any worse to allow him to lay beside you. You shuffle slightly, moving from sitting to lying down against his pillow. Tucked underneath his blankets, surrounded by his scent.

“It's settled then, we can share,” He nodded and sat down beside you, moving to lie down as well. “I promise I'll be a gentleman.”

You roll your eyes at him, scoffing softly at how ridiculous he managed to be. Beside you, Ji-yong rolled over and ever so casually placed his arm over you. He pulled you in close to his chest, tugging you into an embrace. Your face flushed at the realization, his leg sliding up your side and fully cuddled up to you. Just a moment ago you had insisted you should've been on the couch, and now he was cuddled up to you.

As much as you would've liked to argue, it was too comfortable. You always wanted to get closer to the idol, and with him pushing forward it was only polite to play along. Letting yourself ease into his hold, you go to return your arm before you feel a buzz in your pocket.

Curious, you slightly shift back to make room between the two of you. Pulling out your phone, you press the power to check the notification, and before you can even see it, the screen is swiped away from you. Beside you, Ji-yong’s hand squeezed around your phone and easily slipped it out of your hand, taking it on himself to check whatever notification could be pestering you at this time. You push down on the blankets, trying to squeeze closer and see what appears.

“Your landlord texted to let you know the water damage was substantial,” He glanced down at you, your phone somehow already gone from his hand as you met his gaze, “You'll be staying here for a few weeks.

“Weeks?!” You shook your head, reaching out for his hand in an attempt to find your kidnapped device, “This is crazy, weeks?”

Punctuating it, you finally allow your hands to return to your sides and accept your fate. Wherever your phone had gone, it was gone now. Ji-yong had taken it upon himself to answer for you, a friend looking after you as a favor. A small water leak meant you would practically be moving in with him!

“I let him know you already have somewhere to stay. I'm always taking care of you, so please. Don't worry about it,” He insisted, reaching out and letting over your back mock-soothingly.

Had he gone crazy? A night over with someone you knew, in his clothes, and now cuddled up in his bed. It felt like a dream and a trap rolled up into one. Staying out in a hotel for weeks would be far too expensive and so much of a hassle, made easier as he took you in your embrace, He was even kind enough to handle your messages, leaving everything up to him. A kind caretaker, you could tell yourself. Right.

“What about the couch?” You argue, already fighting off the bits of sleep watching over you.

He's so warm curled around you, his scent curling into your nostrils and his gentle breath is a white noise whisking you away, “Just sleep.”

All of the past day and previous events mount on you. Strange photos, perfect gifts that you received even after never mentioning them, and all of this. A conspiratorial voice told you in the back of your mind. Perhaps he'd been planning this from the very beginning. It would be silly though, wouldn't it? He was only being such a good friend, always taking care of you. Would it be so wrong to stay a while with him?

“I was thinking,” Ji-yong’s voice is quiet above you, laced with a long yawn, “We should date. This won’t have to be so strange. I'll keep an eye on your phone, pick your clothes, and we can keep sleeping together.”

With sleep pushing hard on your mind, the surprise of it was weighed by the impulse to go along with him, “Date?”

Reaching up to rub the sleep out of your eyes, your attempt to wake yourself up did nothing for your tired state. He spoke so casually as he introduced himself in taking over your life. Now though, as he rubbed over your back soothingly, you couldn't think of a single reason to say no.

“I'd like you to be mine, jagiya.” He purrs, leaning in and pressing a kiss over the front of your forehead, “You’re not going anywhere else.”

Yawning, the proposition sounded too wonderful to disagree, caught in his embrace, “Yeah… yes, I'd like that.”

As you lay with him, you realize it was designed to leave you with no other choice. It's a strange surrender, meant to tie your fate with his, yet you couldn't care less as sleep finally overtook you.

[rindreamery]

one call away.

after three years of being in love with you, itoshi rin realizes he might never have the chance to confess his feelings. itoshi rin x reader ─ bittersweet/angst, w.c. 500+ ─ content: childhood best friend!au, rin is implied to be younger than reader, reader is one to two years older

note. almost all of my upcoming drafts are angst, free me 😞 i swear i'll get back to writing happier fics when i'm not deep in the trenches of hell and suffering (uni)

nineteen years of being next-door neighbors, three years of being in love with you, and only two days before he has to bid his feelings goodbye. 

rin can’t help but feel bitter and resentful at the thought. only two days before you’re uprooting your life, flying across the ocean and to a completely different continent, and leaving him behind. to be stuck, in this old and unchanging town, to live out his repetitive routines. though, this time, he’ll have to do it all without you. 

no more rocks being thrown at his window, no more random visits throughout the day, and no more two-in-the-morning snack runs when you’re both supposed to be asleep. in a few days, silence. 

something he'd always asked for. but now? he's not so sure.

a part of him wonders, if he asked— perhaps, if he confessed his feelings, and poured out his heart to you right now— would you want to stay? he wonders if his words would be enough to change your mind, and if you would wait until he could do the same. until he could move away with you, to some other country, and figure life out together. 

but, these thoughts are nothing short of selfish, and rin’s all too aware. he knows it's best if keeps his lips tightly sealed, choosing to sit in silence with you as you stare at the water in front of you. letting the sound of the waves, crashing into the rocks over and over, drown out the confessions on his tongue. 

“honestly, i never thought we’d be separated by the ocean one day,” you break the silence first.

he looks at you, but your eyes remain on the scenery ahead. knees pressed close to your chest, arms tucked behind your knees, fingers clutching tightly onto the fabric of your jacket. watching as the ocean stretches, seemingly endlessly into the horizon. taking it all in, one last time. “it’s going to feel weird not living next to you."

rin's mouth opens as if to speak, but he finds himself lost. unable to think of anything he wants to say. so he looks away, hiding the frown on his lips under his scarf, trying to ignore the heavy sinking feeling in his heart. shifting uncomfortably in his spot as if it would miraculously shake the feeling away.

it doesn't.

“i’ll—” miss you, he almost says. but he catches his tongue, biting into it to stop the words from slipping past his lips. “— finally have some peace and quiet around here.”

he hears you laugh softly at that, but it's emptier than usual. “that excited to get rid of me?” you ask, finally tearing your eyes away from the waves to look at him.

it’s hard to ignore your gaze on the side of his face. he tries to look anywhere but you, at the waves, and the sand and shells beneath his feet. but his eyes betray him, like they always do— and you lock eyes.

"i'll be able to sleep without worrying about being woken up at two a.m.," rin indirectly answers, swallowing the lump in his throat, and coming to terms with his cowardice. ignoring the way his heart thumps rapidly against his ribs, as if begging for him to listen. to say, ‘please stay.’

he doesn't.

you smile at him, at his typical and expected answer. you're smiling, and he wonders if he's imagining the look in your eyes and how they mirror his.

© rindreamery, 2025

[thesensteawitch]

A L♡VE Reading You'll Never Forget 🕊️🤍

(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2

Pile 3, Pile 4)

Pick A Pile Reading

Hey, my lovely Senstea Souls!🥹🫶🏻 It took me a lottttttttt of time to write this reading for you. So stick till the end. This reading is divided into 4 parts:

- Your Past Lives Love Energy

- Your Present Life Love Energy

- Your Future Life Love Energy

- Yes OR No Question (Think of a Yes or No Question after picking your pile that will be answered in the end.)

Find the EXTENDED of this reading on my PATREON.

To book a personal tarot reading with me you can refer to these links:

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Pile 1

Your Past Lives Love Energy

As I am starting this reading, it's 1:23. I see the energy of multiple suitors/lovers in your reading. Maybe because we are tapping into your past lives, that's why so many energies are desperate to be seen. And perhaps that was exactly the case with you. So many people wanted your attention, and you did show them affection, but they all weren't a perfect match. The suitors you came across weren't the first time you met them. You knew them, again, from another lifetime. No heart dares to sync with another if not already carrying an unfinished story. These stories were desperate to find their climax (good or bad doesn't matter). But it wasn't about them; it was about you. Your life looked really fun from the outside. Anyone who would witness your life would think that you've got everything. Deep down you were very intelligent, fair, and even intuitive, but when it came to expressing what's there in your heart, you could only express it in tears. No word made sense to you, and these cycles kept repeating, and love remained a fantasy between many choices you had.

Moving on was a task you would dedicate to a single lifetime. It was enormously challenging for you to not see the beauty in another, and hence, you found it terribly difficult to let go. You're from that era where Katherine Pierce once innocently said, “If we cease to believe in love, why would we want to live?” Don't get me wrong, fairytale love is real, but if it's a fantasy of your mind or if it's really happening in reality for you, it's something you need discernment to understand. Your soul has crossed paths with many lovers looking for justice in love without realizing that it's you who must do justice to yourself first. You ask me how? By speaking up. By learning how to communicate the depth you feel in your heart, because the more you would have spoken, the easier it could have been for you to see the truth and let go.

Your Present Life Love Energy

All the hard work that you avoided in previous lifetimes has joined hands with your fate to fall upon you in this lifetime. Fate hasn't been all cruel to you in this lifetime but has helped you by igniting the curiosity within you to understand human psychology and even relationship dynamics. You may be a keen reader in this lifetime or someone who loves to gather information on different subjects. In this lifetime you're very sensitive and a good listener. With age, your intuition is only going to get stronger. There's something about scents too. Either you smell really good or you've got a strong memory attached to different scents. Try smelling different fragrances, and you'll be taken back in time. Currently in your love life you're learning a major lesson about being patient because you're doing the healing work you avoided in your past. The divine asks you to not develop pride while waiting for the one because you may end up feeling that you don't need anyone at all. Do you see the polarity? Your soul has been so tired looking for love that now, when it's finally being forced to heal and is realizing the magic of healing, you may end up feeling you don't need anyone at all. If you look from a healthy point of view, then you do need someone. And deep down you still do; it's just your ego trying to protect you from going through the same painful cycle again. Heal that ego too. Currently I see karma being balanced in your love life. You and those you crossed paths with are receiving what they have sown. The justice you once sought is happening behind the scenes while you're healing and learning to surrender. Currently where you're at in your love life isn't easy, and it even makes you furious at times, but in the end, it's going to be worth it. All the innocence that you lost is going to come back to you. I don't know why I keep seeing Katherine Pierce from Vampire Diaries in my mind. She too lost her innocence believing that love is everything and ended up running from it eventually. The sun is shining so bright while I'm writing this, and you also have the sun card in the end with the 10 of cups on the bottom. The color yellow is very prominent in your reading. Maybe the song “Yellow” has some messages for your current reality. Rainbows and angels are also very significant. Why do I feel like you've been looking for a lover that divine promise you'll find in this realm? And it's been lifetimes. Tiring, isn't it? You're so innocent by heart, pile 1. Did God tell you that first you'll have to go through these trials and learn a few lessons? Stubborn child, you don't listen either, but now you're listening attentively. If God would have told you what you would have to go through to unite with your person, you would have never taken on this long journey.

Your Future Life Love Energy & Yes OR No Question (Think of a Yes or No Question after picking your pile that will be answered in the end.) are available on my Patreon. Go check out the extended version of this reading.

Pile 2

Your Past Lives Love Energy

In your past life, I see a betrayal in your married life. Now either you betrayed or you were betrayed; take it how it resonates because this same energy may have been carried in this lifetime as well. Nevertheless, let's look into your past lives first. Ah! Now I get it. In every lifetime, you two are fated to meet to heal this wound of betrayal. But you don't heal or forgive or choose self-love but rather keep betraying one another in every lifetime. In one lifetime you betrayed this person, and then in another they betrayed you. This way the roles just kept reversing. I feel that your ego was too big to accept your mistake in your past lives. Divine was testing your commitment to your self-respect, but again, in another lifetime, you chose this person. You and your person were a mirror to each other. You were so similar yet so different. You two were meant to heal in separation, but you chose to get married. I see this energy of young love. I literally heard, “'Cause we were just kids when we fell in love. Not knowing what it was...” This love was naive but full of passion. You both never dared to understand the depth of true love but mistook love for passion and adventure. And as you both grew up, all those dreams felt like mere fantasy, where love that could have bloomed into something more suffocated between ego and otherworldly responsibilities. And one of them was your kids. After having kids, both of your lives changed, and even the passion was lost in your connection. I also see that you or your partner wanted a baby boy or girl, but the gender wasn't what he/she expected. Another reason for conflict in your connection. It's also possible that you had to marry because you or your person got pregnant before marriage. Many red flags were overlooked in this connection because you both married young or were young at heart/not much experienced in love. I am also sensing that you both were somewhat religious or spiritual in previous lifetimes. Maybe your marriages were even fixed when you were kids because of similar backgrounds or beliefs, but as you grew up and gained maturity, you realized that what you two had was everything but love.

Your Present Life Love Energy

In your present life the divine is giving you a chance to let go of a karmic connection present in your life. Whenever you try to move on, this person appears. I feel you both have an unhealthy attachment to each other. I also see hidden love. You or your partner are in love with someone else but still can't let go of this past connection. This cycle just keeps on repeating. No matter how much one invests in this connection, it just never blooms. Again, as I said, there's passion, attraction, but no love. Literally no cups card came out this time, which shows emotions. Only security, a false sense of safety, and undeniable attraction toward each other. Whatever this is, it's not good. The universe is nudging you to take the first step and get yourself out of this connection. Don't wait for the other person to end this connection or just because they come back doesn't mean it's meant to be. In this lifetime, this cycle must end. The card at the bottom of my oracle literally says, “Don't let your past hold you back.”

Your aura has been affected by this connection immensely. Both of you feel like you're not good enough. You've spent so many lifetimes with this person that you don't believe that there's a higher form of love out there for you. So you both just keep settling for each other. If you've been seeing too many angel numbers or signs regarding this person, then the universe is pushing you to let go. You need to cut through the illusion. You both can only heal in separation. I don't know who is reading this, but I feel that the masculine tries to move on, but the feminine keeps coming back in this lifetime. I also heard, “No matter how much is given to the other person, the greed never ends!”

Even in this lifetime you've got similar beliefs. For some good reason, you both are being given strength by the divine to overcome the challenges and let go of this connection. The end of this connection must happen for your new lives to begin otherwise this will just keep on going. One of you is really desperate. This person can't let go at all. Even I feel exhausted with this energy. I hear, “I really thought you were on my side, but now there's nobody by my side. I need you, I need you, I need you right now. So don't let me, don't let me, don't let me down. I think I'm losing my mind now.” One of you just keeps making up fake scenarios in your head.

Your Future Life Love Energy & Yes OR No Question (Think of a Yes or No Question after picking your pile that will be answered in the end.) are available on my Patreon. Go check out the extended version of this reading.

Pile 3

Your Past Lives Love Energy

Your love story begins beautifully but later turns into a war. I heard that you were sold a lie. You were just not betrayed by your person but by many people from your life. They all lied to you about something, and you got played. The responsibility of your relationship was solely carried by you. You were sold dreams that became your worst nightmares. And your person? They were nowhere to be found. You can't even find them in this reading. This is a mess. It can even trigger you, so please read further at your own risk. I will try to be as gentle as possible. You're safe with me, but you can have your own shortcomings, so I'm not going to force you to read further. But if you know you've got the strength to read further, then let's move forward. Some of you were even made to marry multiple partners. This literally destroyed your mental health and sacral chakra. If in this lifetime you often get severe headaches or pain in your lower abdomen, it can be due to this past life energy. Your sacral, third eye, and crown chakras may need healing. It's also possible that in many lifetimes you were tricked into marrying someone or being with someone who wasn't a good match for you. You were kind to everybody, but nobody was kind to you. People took advantage of your kindness. They always had an ulterior motive with you. This has happened to you many times in different lives.

Let's understand why this happened with you. All these people saw your light and were energy vampires. You were too innocent to help yourself or truly see the mask that they were wearing. There was something special about you, and somehow being near you triggered their shadow sides. That's why they did wrong to you. People were drawn to your aura like a moth to a flame. You always had ego clashes with your loved ones. You were the black sheep of your family with no help to understand how to release the heavy energies you were taking on from others'. You've overgiven in love. Your love language was acts of service. You were so devoted that even on your deathbed you would make a cup of coffee for your lover. For some reason I feel I'm looking into your recent past life because I feel something happened even before this. There must be a reason for why all of this happened to you. Opposite genders were highly attracted to you, but no one was in love with you. It's possible that you may have your Venus in the first, sixth, or eighth house. It's also possible you may have Taurus in any of these houses. A lot was taken away from you in your past lives when it comes to love, and yet you still believed in love because your soul knew that love exists. In past lives your love life was no less than a horror movie. But after this, in your present birth, something changes.

Your Present Life Love Energy

Your cards are already so excited to come out. This life is full of wisdom and clarity for you. Your painful past has led to spiritual awakenings in this lifetime. Even in this lifetime, you ended up manifesting similar connections as you were heavily carrying the energy of your past life, but you had divine's full support in helping you come out of the past trauma. Divine has intervened so many times. I also heard, “You're an angel in the shape of my mom. When God takes you back, say hallelujah.” In this lifetime, love means God to you. That's going to be your first definition of love. I already hear your child being so grateful for your existence in the future. I know we are looking at the present, but this message wanted to come forward. I feel you have met many karmic partners even in this lifetime. These could have been really short-term connections because God didn't allow them to be dragged longer. Because this lifetime is all about awakening you to the truth. The more you understand the divine, the more you understand yourself and your past connections. You've gained so much wisdom when it comes to relationships that you can now even guide others.

Currently I do see a blockage in your life to manifest your true love. But there's nothing to worry about, as this blockage is going to soon be illuminated to you. Very soon I see you meeting your true love. One last shadow needs to be dealt with, and this has something to do with your thought patterns. I feel that sometimes you don't believe that the best can unfold for you in your love life. You know that true love exists, but you don't know what it feels like, which is why you can't manifest it. Ah! Okay! Now I get it, pile 3. You are not supposed to think or visualize about your love life at all because somewhere you end up visualizing something that used to happen in your previous connection. If you don't know what divine love or true love feels like, then how can you visualize it? You can't visualize something you've never experienced or even witnessed in your surroundings. You're being guided to only ask the divine to show you or make you feel how the world would look when you're with your true love. And you'll see the physical manifestation of it. Currently you must be noticing love around you, and it makes you think, “Oh, I've been through all this. There's nothing divine about it.” Don't visualize, please, pile 3. God listens to you. Ask God to show you, and I can assure you that you will see a totally different world around you.

You're very close to meeting your person; just don't become too critical of them when you meet them, as you may end up doing that. Because I do see this pile has healed themselves a lot, but this can make you overly critical of others. If there's anything at pause in your life, then it's your love life. But the energy is gaining momentum, and very soon you'll meet your person. Also, I do see someone from the past is still in your energy, and they may show up again. This is going to be your final test before you unite with someone God sends.

Your Future Life Love Energy & Yes OR No Question (Think of a Yes or No Question after picking your pile that will be answered in the end.) are available on my Patreon. Go check out the extended version of this reading.

Pile 4

Your Past Lives Love Energy

Oh my pile 4. You've had so little time for love in your past lifetimes. You were so busy making the ends meet that you never truly got lucky enough to experience true love. You tried to understand love, maybe wrote something on it, but it was filled with sorrow. When people read your words, they cried because they could feel your pain, your loneliness. Your work life brought a lot of success to you but no love. Also, as you tried to understand love intellectually, you could never truly listen to the divine's wisdom on love. All your written work or spoken word had a spark of intelligence but no wisdom. You invested in the wrong relationships in some lifetimes because you were so disconnected from your intuition. In one life you lived a complete life where you had a family, money, kids, and pets, but again, no love. In this particular lifetime, I'm seeing you as a woman. After many lifetimes, your soul wondered what was it really missing to see? What was it doing wrong? It again came back to earth to learn its lesson on love, and yet again it failed. In every lifetime you've experienced all sorts of relationships and yet couldn't find love. In every lifetime, your soul challenged itself and had a relationship totally different from its previous lifetime. You had a limited approach toward love despite investing in a different relationship in a different lifetime. God, pile 4, you were just missing opening yourself up to the infiniteness of this universe. You didn't allow yourself to let go of control for once and let the divine take care of your love life. You were hell-bent on solving this mystery with your limited perception.

But one thing is something that I'm sure of is that in every lifetime you found something new about love, and it brought you one step closer to your destiny: to truly understand love. Some of you even recklessly left for Paris only to understand love. You were very clever in your past lifetimes and thought that love was a competition. You wanted to show the world that somehow your love story is the greatest of all time or better than everyone else's. This may even have led to a downfall of your relationship with your partner. Pile 4, this part of your reading is making me laugh. I mean, your pursuit to understand love is adorable. I heard, “You just want attention; you don't want my heart.” I feel like you've written such long paragraphs on betrayals while you've never been betrayed. You've forced yourself to feel all kinds of love. My God! There should be a movie made on this storyline. It's like your partner didn't even do anything, and you made it a situation overly dramatic only to write something on it later. Hahaha, omg!

Your Present Life Love Energy

In this lifetime you're very conflicted on what you really think of love. If someone asks you what you think of love, you either end up getting into an argument with that person or you just surrender and leave the room. You feel like you know what love means, and yet you're confused. You intellectually know so much, but you don't feel that you can define love in one statement that can fit in every situation. Your one argument contradicts the other. You feel like love is a battle that needs to be won. But all you seek is peace. You're finding it difficult to keep your cool or be patient. I feel even self-love is something you're only intellectually aware of. Your soul is finding it difficult to understand its purpose in this lifetime. Some of you may even be good at psychology but bad at feeling things deeply. Surrender is something that you don't know how to do. Only taking action towards self love is going to bring some changes in your love life. It's also possible that your sun may be weakly placed or debilitated in your chart (sun in Libra). I feel in this lifetime your thoughts never match with your partner. You come off as intellectual, and love needs emotions.

The divine doesn't want you to give up on your pursuit of understanding love at all, though. But I do see the need for you to read some spiritual books and ask God to show you what divine love looks like. I do see change happening in your love life, and this is only possible with the divine's help. At present nothing is certain in your love life, but if you make some adjustments within yourself, you'll see some shifts. To get closer to God, you need to understand how to contact God first. Meditation is another way. I do see that you have this desire to come out of your mental limitations and surrender to the unknown and experience the true bliss of love. You are very good with words, but love isn't words. Those who can't speak still love. How? Those who can't hear, speak, or see still love. What's love really? You're very close to meeting someone who is going to be the love you've been craving for in all these lifetimes. But it's only possible if you're willing to see your limitations and let God do the magic. Now you'll say, “Oh, but I'm not stopping God from sprinkling some magic on me!” Well, you are. You're not an empty vessel through which God can speak. Remember in your previous lifetimes? You could speak every language of love, and yet they all were missing the magic. You need God to speak through you.

You need to tell the story of your life to the world, remember?

Your Future Life Love Energy & Yes OR No Question (Think of a Yes or No Question after picking your pile that will be answered in the end.) are available on my Patreon. Go check out the extended version of this reading.

[mystii-gur0]

Guys it took ten years but I think I finally figured out who Gaster is

So I was talking to my friend in DMs yesterday about Undertale and I was telling him about how we basically know nothing about Gaster besides that he was the Royal Scientist before Alphys, potentially made Sans's blaster, and was shattered across time in space after falling into his own creation, which we assume was probably the Core. And also how we suspect he's a skeleton because his name is W.D. Gaster (being likely a combination of the fonts Wing Dings and Aster) and the so far the only characters that are named after fonts and speak with a font/typing quirk are obviously Sans and Papyrus, who are obviously skeletons.

So then I was like "haha, what if Sans is Gaster cause they're both sciency and skeletons" as like a joke. And then I started to think about it.

My initial theory was that Sans is just straight up Gaster and the "falling into his own creation and being shattered across time and space" thing was just a metaphor for Sans loosing his shit over figuring out the whole other time lines thing, but that theory had well- a lot of holes, to be nice to myself. For one thing, Sans and Alphys are friends. And if Sans was just straight up Gaster, one would think Alphys would recognize him and be like- "Dude didn't you use to be my boss?" Or smth. And not just Alphys, if Sans was Gaster I would think more people would recognize him. And that doesn't solve and of the weird stuff about Papyrus either. Given that he and Sans BOTH just kinda showed up one day, according to the shop keeper in Snowdin.

But I liked this theory, so I kept thinking, and came to what can only be described as an epiphany or my very own eurika moment.

Sans and Papyrus are BOTH Gaster.

CAUSE THINK ABOUT OK

IT ANSWERS EVERYTHING

Gaster was shattered across time and space after falling into what we assume is the Core. Key word, SHATTERED, as in split into peices. Sans and Papyrus randomly show up one day with little to no explanation of who they are or where they came from? ANSWERED BY THEM BEING WHAT'S PHYSICALLY LEFT OF GASTER IN THEIR REALITY. THEY DID NOT EXIST UNTIL GASTER FELL INTO THE CORE. Sans (and probably Papyrus) using Gaster blasters? ANSWERED BY THEM BEING GASTER. OF COURSE THEY WOULD USE GASTER'S ATTACKS IF THEY WERE GASTER. Sans being significantly physically weaker and smaller than Papyrus, all though he's better with people and scientific concepts? ANSWERED BY THEM BEING UNEVENLY SPLIT. Sans and Papyrus having drastically different personalities, typing styles, and character designs that could almost be described as exact complementary opposites? ANSWERED BY THEM BEING PARTS OF A WHOLE PERSON. Sans only having one glowing eye that's conveniently the same eye that what we assume is the Gaster overworld sprite has open? ANSWERED BY HIM BEING A PEICE OF GASTER.

"Oh but Sans and Papyrus are brothers!" What other word would they have to describe what they are? They're like brothers by mitosis or smth 😭

I'm loosing my marbles i need a cork board with string

Edit: actually now that I'm thinking about it, their codepency makes a lot of sense if you look at them this way. They just want to be whole again @_@

[xlmibby]

caleb has always been taking care of you. no matter what happened in your life, he was always by your side like an anchor that kept you put together when you felt like everything you touched was slowly falling apart.

it's no surprise, then, that he's taking care of you now that you're sick.

you're not surprised, though. not really. it's just… it feels different now.

you're older, more mature. sure, caleb has been taking care of you since the two of you've been kids. he's your gege, after all; and it was natural to baby you a little when you were just a little child.

so he kissed bruises on your arms and took care of your scrapped knees. he carried you when you felt too tired to go back home after shopping and patted your head gently when you scored an a on some hard quiz that half of your class almost failed.

caleb has been nothing but caring towards you when you were young. the best gege you could ever dream of.

but now you're an adult. and in adult life, there's no place for soft and gentle care.

you've learned that the world doesn't stop when you feel bad and - much to your frustration - you have to push through the hardships most of the time. on your own. even if it makes you feel worse and you cry yourself to sleep. not that it matters, though. even after the worst mental breakdown you have to work hard when the next morning comes.

you sink deeper into the soft mattress of your bad, feeling your forehead getting warm yet again.

you mumble the words that caleb can't baby you forever to yourself, a pout tugging at the corners of your lips. he hears it, nonetheless; and in the blink of an eye he's already in front of you, tugging at the hem of the fluffy blanket you wrapped yourself in.

his hand cups your cheek when you huff that you can take of yourself. an unreadable emotion sharpens his gaze, then. yet he remains awfully patient with you. caring.

you don't know why it makes you nervous.

logically speaking, you shouldn't be nervous when caleb is just making sure you get back to health again.

you silently watch him as he's placing various medicines on your nighstand along with the steaming cup of freshly brewed tea. he's making sure you called in sick and that you are going to the doctor's office if the cold doesn't go away after a few days. he's reassuring you that he'll help you recover quickly.

it's all the usual routine caleb has done it countless times. and yet…

suddenly, his forehead presses against yours to take your temperature. it's the same way he's used to do it when the two of you were kids. his thumb brushes against your cheek, softly and slowly, as if he's trying to coax you into something - what exactly, you're not quite sure.

it's hard to tell, anyway– it's hard to think when caleb is so close. too close.

although you're the one with the fever now, his touch almost burns.

unmoving, you hold in a breath as caleb leans in even more until the tip of his nose brushes against the side of yours. his breath flutters against your parted lips. instinctively, your eyes close.

you half-expect caleb to lean back, say that your fever is high so you have to stay in bed for a few more days and he'll stay with you to take care of you. maybe he'll laugh at the way you shivered when he was only taking your temperature - so why did you overreact and close your eyes? why are you so flustered when he's just your gege?

anticipation makes your skin tingle, and you're almost sure that the warmth rushing to your cheeks isn't only a sign of catching a cold. the side of caleb's nose presses against yours, his lips almost grazing against yours.

right. you're not kids anymore.

[elliewrites77]

An Intimate Celebration

Your birthday had always been a quiet celebration. When you were young, your family didn't throw a fuss about having a big party or anything like that, instead having simple, intimate dinners with a few gifts. That same intimacy stayed with you till even now. Although you didn't do dinners with your immediate family anymore, you still took the day to celebrate without a big fuss. Since moving to Japan, you would simply take the day to yourself, to pamper and treat your self a little. It was nice, using the day to show some self-love, spoil yourself a little.

Even when you started dating Sukuna, you didn't care to make a big deal out of your birthday. After a whole year of dating, you had probably mentioned the date a handful of times, you honestly wouldn't be surprised if he forgot. That's why, when the day comes, you think nothing of it when he doesn't wish you a happy birthday before leaving the house. You simply get ready, looking forward to the day you had planned for yourself.

You get your nails done, get a massage, do a little bit of high-end shopping, have lunch at a fancier placed than you usually go to, and go to see a movie. Throughout the day, you get a few messages from family, and a few close friends. The latter confused you, as the friends that messaged you, you didn't recall mentioning your birthday. You thanked them, all the same, before making your way home as the sun began to set.

When you made it home, you saw Sukuna's bike parked in its usual spot, smiling to yourself. You were excited to spend your evening with the man you loved, even if it would be like every other day.

However, you were surprised when you opened the door to an unexpected sight. The house dimly lit, quiet music playing as you walked deeper. Once you reached the living room, you were shocked to see a dozen or more name brand filling the room, all of various sizes. The next thing to shock you, is when you turn your head to see a candlelit dinner on the dining table, your man standing beside it with his usual smirk. He was wearing a handsome suit, almost making you drool, staring at your frozen expression.

"Happy birthday, baby." He said, his deep voice bringing you back to earth.

You examined the room again, processing the fact that he had done all this, all while you thought he had forgotten. Sure, it wasn't a big deal, but the fact that he remembered, that he knew you preferred an intimate celebration versus some big party or something, and still found a way to celebrate you, it made you feel so loved. It hit you then how your friends knew about your birthday.

It was strange, how his actions made you feel seen in a way you hadn't been before, a way you hadn't known you wanted to be. It made you love him even more.

You didn't reply, simply walking towards the love of your life, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him into a kiss. It was passionate as always, full of the feelings neither of you could find the words for. And when you finally pulled away, due to the unfortunate need for air, you stayed close, still wrapped in each other. You lips brush his when you speak, your voice a mere whisper.

"The best one yet."

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

heres a short, fluffy birthday one-shot with sukuna. It's actually my birthday, which is why this idea came to head. It was very rushed, but I think it's cute.

I also want to thank everyone for 100+ followers!! I am so grateful, literally you guys have no idea. I love that people have been enjoying my works, and I promise to try and have something new posted every few days.

For the people who are here for the Uncle!Sukuna series, there will be a new part soon! as well as some other JJK stuff :)

this was not proofread (im sorry)

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