#never stopped fearing him and everything he represents

[athousandcowboys]

the new rez dogs episode was so gutting and emotionally resonant i literally cannot stop thinking about it

#i love revenge arcs they’re one of my favorite tropes in fiction #and rez dogs did it in such a fascinating way #the emotional depth of deer lady and how she’s probably killed countless people by now #she seems so put together and in control #only for everything to come crashing down when she goes to kill the monster who killed her friend #after all these years it’s still hard. a part of her never stopped being afraid #never stopped fearing him and everything he represents #why would she? #idk im notnrly coherent just #wow

[voidandradiance]

ANDOR: Ahem. I have heard that the greatest persuasion is nothing more than telling the truth, so I speak in the voice given me by my mother, Freya. I make no grand overtones or guttural whispers for dramatic effect. 

(MARKET VENDOR: More flavours! Come and drink away your sorrows!)

ANDOR: I am only Andor. My voice trembles.

(MARKET VENDOR: More flavours! Come and drink away your sorrows!)

ANDOR: I have come to ask my father a question. Will you listen? Father, I know you're listening too.

LIEUTENANT AL: Prince Andor!

ANDOR: Haven't you noticed? Do these wings look like the product of some frivolous magic? Whom do you suppose the statue at the bridge represents? Not Mianite. I am an acolyte of the wounded goddess; I always have been. We worship Ianite.

LIEUTENANT AL: I have found evidence of a rebellion against Mianite! And I will have to arrest you, Prince, for leading this rebellion!

[With each syllable from Andor's lips grows a surrounding gust of wind, which halts the Lieutenant's advance, despite his best efforts to subdue the awakening acolyte.]

KING HELGRIND, now named APOSTLE HELGRIND: ANDOR!!!

ANDOR: While you have governed this port city and allocated its resources to the glorification of your "one true god," I-

APOSTLE HELGRIND, interrupting: You no longer have a place in this town! During my time away, the truth of the one true god has only become clearer.

ANDOR, speaking louder: I have been chiseling Ianite's likeness into your stones and penning her mantras into your paper. Her teachings have been with me all these years, guiding me towards a day of peace and unity-

LIEUTENANT AL: You will never…!

ANDOR, now shouting: -while you have winced at the thought of our hope and stooped over the corpses of the lost.

APOSTLE HELGRIND: Lieutenant, seize Andor and take him to our Lord.

ANDOR: If you had but journeyed with me! I am at the threshold. Soon, Ianite will rise! And my mother and sister's spirits will rise with her.

APOSTLE HELGRIND: Lieutenant!

LIEUTENANT AL: I- AM- TRYING!

ANDOR: I hear your voice, father. I hear your anger. 

APOSTLE HELGRIND: ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE.

ANDOR: Do what you will with me. But first, know this. If your god is just and blameless, with flawless integrity, then fear not. Your battle is already won. But if there is the smallest fracture in Mianite's armor… then the crevice will widen. The shell will corrode. And Mianite's sins and yours will seep through. All the false glory you have built will be wiped in preparation for this world's restoration and rebirth. I do not know why you begrudge Ianite, for our family's death, nor why you hide your wounds, father. But I do know that healing is available to you. It is the greatest gift anyone can receive, greater than a shield, greater than a sword. 

LIEUTENANT AL: Andor!

ANDOR: Greater than your perfect, made-up world. If it is your wish, see this to its end. Do everything in your power to create the world you so crave. I cannot stay your hand. I raise no sword. I wear no armor. I have only this boomerang, given by a true friend. You could stop this. We could go to the docks, and throw it, just like old times with Mom. We could. I invite you.

[ANDOR collapses from exhaustion. The protecting wind subsides, and he is immediately seized by LIEUTENANT AL.]

#this is a transcription of a canon scene thank you very much

[aajjks]

nowhere (m)

synopsis. breaking up with him is not possible- ever.

warning: yändèrè bèhâvïöür, töxïc rèlätïönshïp dynämïc, töxïc!bf!köö, nön-cön kïssïng, sêxïst bf, cräzy bêhävïöür, ünhëälthy rèlätïônshïp.

disclaimer: this fic contains really triggering dark themes which can be triggering for a lot of people and honestly if you have a significant other that’s like him in the fic then please I’m begging you to leave. This is not something you should have to endure. Please leave. Also reminder that this is completely fictional and this doesn’t represent jungkook at all. This is just a toxic character that’s not him.

How do you tell your, frankly, crazy boyfriend that you want to break up?

You don’t know why you got with him in the first place maybe it was because he was really charming and soft? Respectful and patient? So how did everything change?

Why did he change? It’s like being with him now it’s suffocating you. he’s really clingy and he doesn’t know how to take a no. He does what he wants and you cannot bring it in you to deny him.

Because then the guilt tripping starts.

You don’t understand how a grown man can like him can manage to cry within seconds. You’re tired, it’s been two years- he’s a changed man and you don’t like it at all.

And now you want to break up with him. But you’re not sure on how to go about it. He’s going to be home soon, so you’re feeling really anxious.

Jeon Jungkook is a really sensitive man when it comes to you and your relationship with him, he clearly loves you but his love feels really toxic now.

You love him too but you just can’t ignore the obvious cracks in your relationship- you have to leave before it’s too late. Just as you are pacing around your shared homes living room, you hear someone entering the home code and you’re not surprised because you know who it is.

Ask the door unlocked and he answers you stop pacing around the large room, and before you can even greet him or look at him with focus, he’s calling out your name.

“Yn!!!! my love I missed you so so much!!”

There is the man you’ve been waiting for, and you don’t feel excited to see him, but rather you feel a burden on your heart. Jungkook looks good, he’s always looked good. He’s really particular about his fashion and how he looks.

Something you used to like him but now it’s kind of annoying. Maybe it’s because of the fact that he always wants you to praise him.

You force yourself to smile as he walks closer to you, before dropping his car keys at the nearest table. You wait for him to come to you because that’s how it always is.

He loves it when you welcome him, Jungkook immediately wrapped his arms around your body, his favorite part of your body is definitely your waist. His hands are always resting on it. His grip is definitely possessive..

When he leans in closer to kiss you, you actually manage to dodge it, you can’t help it you don’t want to be with him anymore and what is the point in beating the bush around..? The fear will just keep on fucking with your mind at this point.

Jungkooks gaze changes from affectionate to anger and a small glare is sent your way. You sigh, looking at him.. “jungkook..” you don’t even call him kook or kookie like you used to, and he notices that because he’s tilting his head like he’s confused.

“Yn.. what is going on with you? Why would you refuse my kiss?” Before you can speak. He asks you a question instead, he likes his lips looking like he is genuinely confused and clueless.

He knows how to play dumb.

So before you reply to him, you try to get his hands off your waist, you are actually not sure if you’re going on the right track by doing this but it’s now or never.

“Listen to me.” You look straight into his eyes, but you fail to get his arms off of you. “Jungkook I want to break up.”

You blurt the words out, your heart is beating like crazy right now, because he’s so close to you and his reactions are always over-the-top and unpredictable.

Nothing is the same anymore and it hurts.

“I don’t think we are right for each other and it took me some time to realize that but I’ve given this a lot of thought and I think that this is the best thing for us.” You breathe out when he doesn’t respond. He’s just staring at you with a blank expression.

His eyes are suddenly empty, and his lips are pressed in a thin line, his hands are tightly wrapped around you, it’s like he froze.

“Ugh… I’m so sorry to do this so suddenly, but I cannot be with you anymore” you feel a little bad that you’re being so rude about this but you have to be really blunt because if you’re not, he’s gonna think that you’re just joking.

Because he doesn’t want to take things that he doesn’t like to hear, seriously.

You have to be blunt with him, because he’s always gonna find a reason to dodge your questions or completely avoid what you’re saying.

“can you let me go please? I have to go pack my stuff up… I didn’t do it because I just wanted to tell you first.”

He is still not speaking and it’s getting even more awkward and intense because it’s like you’re talking to yourself, you try again to break out of his grip, but it’s futile.

When you give him a weird look, Jungkook begins to laugh, taking you by surprise. It’s your turn to be confused.

Your soon to be ex-boyfriend, laughing like you just told him a great joke. And it’s starting to piss you off because this is not a joke.

You want to be free.

“Jungkook!” You call out his name, and he just leans more close to you if that’s even possible and all you can smell is expensive perfume, and the scent of cigarette coming from him.

Jungkook doesn’t reply to you and you actually feel like you’ll go insane. If he doesn’t want to reply to you that’s fine why doesn’t he just let you go?

Your questions aren’t answered, but he takes you by surprise once again by pulling you in for a kiss- he immediately shoved his tongue in and you let him because you’re so shocked to even comprehend what just happened.

What the fuck is he doing?

You just broke up with him and he’s kissing you, like his life, depends on it. He’s rough, running his hands all over your back, sloppily kissing you, swallowing your breath away.

You try to push him off of you, but then you just give up when he doesn’t budge, maybe he just wants to kiss you for the last time?

So you let him.

His touch is really familiar and you’re definitely going to miss it. You won’t even lie about that but.. you remind yourself that this is for the better and you shouldn’t melt.

After what feels like hours, he finally pulls away when you try to push him away once again, because he’s forgotten that he hast to stop.

You feel like you’ll actually suffocate, because you are unable to breathe at all, “o-oh my God.” You pant out, finally managing to push him away because he’s also panting, so take the opportunity to remove his hands from you, and you immediately start to back away.

“ what the fuck is wrong with you? I just broke up with you and that’s what you do? You are not allowed to do this anymore… and I’m going away.”

You’re gonna stay with your friend for a while because you don’t have an apartment of your own because you have been living with your ex-boyfriend for the past two years.

This relationship was rushed. You did things with him way too fast. And now you’re regretting every single decision.

“what the fuck are you talking about? Yn… are you fucking stupid? Ha.” he suddenly takes your attention, and you watch him wipe the corner of his lips.

“we’re not breaking up. What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you think this is funny because it’s not- I just came back from a long day work, and this is what you do to me?” He stalks towards your direction.

You back away, and he takes a step closer to you.

“you don’t hold the reins of this relationship- I do.” he scoffs, looking at you, like you’ve grown two heads. “you cannot leave me.” he runs his hands through his long curly locks, looking all frustrated.

“Now shut the fuck up” he smirks, trapping you in. “ do you want me to punish you?” The wall feels so cold, and you actually feel terrified of him.

The look in his eyes right now is animalistic. He looks murderous.

“don’t piss me off- the only way you can break up with me is by dying and I won’t let you die so easily.” do you want to speak but no words come out of your mouth.

Not when he speaks in that authoritive tone, but it’s pissing you off because you’re not a child and he is speaking to you like you you’re one misbehaving child, and you deserve to be scolded.

He’s toxic.

“you don’t own me. I’ve had enough.” You try to argue back but it’s no use really because your words are falling on deaf ears.

He doesn’t even deem you important enough to listen to what you’re saying. “Shut up. You’re really asking for it.” He looks like you with a sickly, sweet smile.

“now… I am hungry, so serve me food. I had a very stressful day and don’t make it even more stressful by talking bullshit.”

you want to scoff but what is the use? There is really no way out of this relationship.- you want to cry right now… this is not the man you fell in love with.

Right now you see a monster standing in front of you, who has got you trapped between him and the wall.

There is really no way out.

“there is no way out yn. Make your stupid little brain understand that. Before I make you.”

#jungkook smut #bts smut #jjk smut #yandere bts #yandere jungkook #yandere jjk #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jjk x reader #bts x reader #bts x you #jeongguk smut #smut #yandere x reader #yandere smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts angst #bangtan smut #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction

[mamayan]

YANDERE! FEITAN PORTER X DARLING!

TOUCH

⚠️ This is a work of fiction with content I do not condone in reality. This is not meant to encourage or represent any type or sort of conduct. This is merely just fantasy ⚠️

MDNI•18+

Trigger warnings!

This work contains: Yandere content/intentions•NSFW•Kidnapping•Holding against will (darling)•Cursing•Mentions of abuse/torture•Stockholm Syndrome•General depravity•Obsessive tendencies•Sexual acts (consensual but darling is psychologically not sound of mind to be consenting, so somewhat dubcon)•Oral•fem darling•Somnophilia

You have been properly warned and notified of what this work contains. If anything above offends or triggers you, please do not continue reading. Don’t make me waste my time writing all this out only for someone to read and get offended when all the warning literally tell them what is in this. You reading this confirms you are 18+ years of age, meaning a consenting adult agreeing to proceed and consume this content, do not come after me or report me because you aren’t capable of managing yourself.

I appreciate support and love from anyone viewing and enjoying my content. Thank you♥️ I freakin’ love this 1999 anime artwork of Feitan!

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*

Time suddenly seemed to become irrelevant.

The days passed in a mundane blur, and at some point, everything seemed worthless.

He mentioned in passing that it was November now, though you’d stopped asking the date a few months after your imprisonment. You stopped talking nearly all together these last few months. You couldn’t be entirely sure the last you’d spoken more than a word or two in response to his questions. His own speech minimal, though occasionally you’d catch a glimpse of his chattier side. Even that still couldn’t be considered talkative, more of a normal amount of speech when in a conversation. You haven’t seen that in a while either, maybe it disappeared when you’d stopped your own blubbering and whining. You didn’t ask questions at all anymore. It was pointless and had little meaning.

He sat in his usual spot.

Perched in the corner of the room, eyes sharply trained on your form as always.

His eyes used to unnerve you, riddle you with anxiety and fear of what he was planning. What he might do. What he will do.

It mattered hardly at all at this point.

You’d senselessly begged once, for it all to stop and for him to just kill you already. That’s what he must’ve had planned in the end, for what else did he want with you? An object to admire?

It seemed mad in it’s own way, that thought. Your questions of something or anything personal went unanswered and occasionally punished with weeks of isolation. It was better not to pry.

Asking for mercy and a faster death only brought a wrath you didn’t know lay inside him down upon you.

It was the first time he became physical with you, touched you more than was the bare minimum of necessity. He was surprisingly warm. Except his touch at that time was anything but the usual gentleness you now realized he used with you. His unforgiving grip on your face as he dragged you to your knees, the absolute agony of having your jaw fractured. The pain was unbearable, and even now left phantom pains radiating down your body. He’d dragged you out the front door, for the first time in what seemed to be forever.

Outside was duller than your mind remembered.

You’d been thrown into a vehicle and taken somewhere new.

You’d never wished to take back words more than you did that day. He’d dragged you to some sort of… torture facility. Chained you in a corner and left you there for hours on end. Nervous and frightened, you waited and waited. When he did return, it wasn’t alone. Someone you’d never met was dragged in, strapped down to a table.

Feitan had never really demonstrated anything so frightening before. He’d been somewhat volatile and brash, but the sadistic side never revealed itself like it did that day.

A day turned into several, and for nearly a week you were made to watch his sessions as he called them. Where he’d laugh like a maniac as he turned living humans into creatures you pitied more than yourself. He’d wipe their blood on you, smile as you trembled and begged for it to stop.

When he finally heeded your pleas, he asked a question that left you numb.

“Still want to die?”

You didn’t want to die anymore, at least not by his hand. He knew no mercy. He had no grievance tearing someone apart and from the inside out. The events that followed spanned longer than you bothered to keep track of anymore. He brought you back to your “home” where you were kept locked away. You had a bed, blankets and pillows, clothes and food, clean water and hygiene products. You’d never appreciated a bed like you did that first night back before. The softness and warmth you felt made tears roll down your cheeks and you had thanked him for returning you. It was the first genuine gratitude you’d ever shown to him.

You glanced up from the TV running a show you barely processed to catch his gaze. Those grey orbs holding emotion you couldn’t name or had never seen. He was always so still, and his porcelain features gave him the feel of a doll. For a moment, you merely held his gaze, feeling oddly calm and panicked all at once. Why you felt panicked didn’t make sense, nor why you’d feel calm in the presence of what seemed to be the Grim Reaper himself. The only movement he made to acknowledge your attention was a slight quirk to his brow. His usually ignored but always open book in his hand closing. His face mostly covered left you little to go off to how he felt. You’d gotten somewhat good at interpreting even the tiniest hint of emotion from him, but currently with your own frazzled feelings, figuring out his wasn’t working.

Your legs were pulled to your chest, arms wrapped around them as you settled into a protected fleshy ball. The blanket on your shoulders helping ground you slightly.

Only a little.

“What?” His voice was raspy, his own lack of use evident.

It didn’t sound annoyed, though you could just be misinterpreting this entire interaction.

It felt odd to speak, your mouth slightly cottony and dry, but the urge in your chest felt strangely compelled to say his name.

“Fei” You’d judged his voice, but your own was just as bad.

His eyes widened slightly, though aside from somewhat visible surprise, you were in the dark on how he’d feel about a nickname. You’d given your captor a nickname long ago, though never voiced it aloud. Feitan… Fei felt less threatening.

Feitan is darkness and fear. Feitan tore your life away from you, terrorized you, imprisoned and controlled nearly every little aspect of your life down to your very diet. Feitan is the infamous torturer of the Phantom Troupe.

Fei… well, in your own mind, Fei had become a fictional sort of character. Fei was gentle, Fei listened when you spoke or rambled, and in your dreams Fei would touch you. You hadn’t felt much of any contact in so long, and the last time had left a physically and psychologically painful memory behind. In your dreams, Fei would hold you, touch and caress, Fei was quiet but powerful. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but nothing happening to you or around you was healthy. The mental sickness and insanity most certainly was tickling around your mind.

You’d tested boundaries early with Feitan.

Screaming, kicking, fighting, escape attempts, refusal to eat or comply… were all met with isolation and revoking of privileges. Asking for death was met with nightmares and aching pain that still bothered you when it was too cold.

You’d tried manipulation and coercion, neither you excelled in though. Feitan may be quiet, and occasionally his grammar is less than exemplary, but he is no fool. All attempts ended in… nothing. He did absolutely nothing. He was like a stone wall, impenetrable. Even now, you knew nothing of his intentions. Your only guess at this point, as out of place and ridiculous as it may sound, is companionship. He likely saw you as a pet of sorts, like one might “rescue” a cat off the street. The treatment you receive is rather similar too. In his eyes, maybe you were just like a cat to him. A weak kitty he plucked off the cold streets and gave a warm home. It used to be a thought which invoked fury, but now…

You wished he’d commit to all acts of a pet owner. This included giving affection. You craved it. Missed it. Needed it. Something. A weird and warbled voice in your mind said you’d even accept the negative attention if it meant he’d put his hands on you again. It’s a suicidal thought, but even as his gaze narrowed, you couldn’t stop your body.

He’s silent as always, as you uncurl from your position you’d taken as your usual way to cope. Holding yourself helped, but it’s be better if someone else did it. He didn’t make any indication your nickname offended him.

Shaking, you stood on weak legs and began a pursuit of something you’d never thought you’d even entertain. He was across the room, and while he was by no means a big man, his presence could be suffocating when up close. Gracelessly and with little tact in your actions, you approached until you could smell him. He always smelled like mint and something metallic. For once, the thought of the underlying scent being blood didn’t bother you. He smelled nice, and while his entire body language was closed off and reserved, he still hadn’t even twitched.

He just kept observing you.

Even as you sank down to your knees in front of where he sat.

Those sharp eyes followed you the entire way. When the realization of what you wanted to do came, you weren’t bombarded with the expected humiliation or shame. There wasn’t guilt or disgust like you used to feel when these feelings would arise.

Maybe it signaled you were too far gone to save anymore.

“Fei” his name left your lips again, and for the first time, his rapt attention felt good. It felt good to have him so focused on you. You watched as his head tilted slightly, his face hidden but you could somewhat fantasize about a soft smile playing on his lips behind the fabric of his collar. His favorite jacket always a staple in his clothing collection.

“What?” The way he asked proved he wasn’t revolted at your proximity. He didn’t seem to be asking what you were doing, but rather why you called his name.

“Touch me?” Though you’d phrased it like a question, it bordered precariously on being a demand. You probably looked ridiculous, kneeling at his feet and staring up at him like a sick puppy looking for even the smallest amount of attention. You should be avoiding him, trying to get away, doing anything but this. The only thing you felt though was fear of rejection. That he’d cackle like he does on the phone occasionally, with someone named Shalnark or Phinks, or like he did when he removed the hands of an artist and found humor in the irony. He didn’t answer immediately like he normally would with a direct question. This couldn’t possibly be considered a personal question that he enjoys avoiding, it has only to do with you.

“Please…” you sounded pathetic, even to yourself. The way your bottom lip pouted out and wobbled, the way your eyes watered a little as if you’d cry at any moment, the way you trembled. You didn’t want to grab onto his pant leg, still mindful that a kick from him could easily be your undoing. You’d have to wait till given permission. A pet is what he wants, right?

You could finally be hitting that special point of breaking.

This could be another delusion you’d conjured up and you’re moments away from a lot of pain or isolation again. It’s impossible to tell. No power rested in your hands, and that small realization had tears rolling down your cheeks as you looked at the man who’d reduced you to this mess.

Begging him for measly scraps of what should be your right. Humans needed the physical contact for their health, and while he was clearly the devil, you needed it. Needed him. Needed anything.

“Fei please… I’ll be good, whatever you want, please… I need- hck!” Your sobs were cut short as your body moved faster than your mind could process. You’d nearly bitten into your tongue as you choked for breath, unable to fully comprehend exactly what happened.

The leggings and sweater you wore weren’t warm at all to you. Even blankets seemed to have a chill that seeped through them. Right now though, warmth was creeping through your clothes as mint and copper flooded your senses. He’d pulled you into his lap. The realization was shocking, but the next thought was thrown away when thin strong arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

“Oh” words died on your lips as a sensation you couldn’t name overcame you. You’d never realized how stiff you were until your body began to relax. Fully relax. “Oh…” it came out breathy and nearly excited, as you foolishly wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in the crook of it.

This was insanity.

He was all muscle unsurprisingly, but it didn’t deter you from trying to mold yourself to him. Your much softer figure held in his arms so gently it made a new wave of tears threaten to spill for all new reasons. You straddled him, front flush against his own, as you struggled to accept that you were being held right now.

“This?” His voice so close to your ear had a strange tingling sensation move from your neck down your spine. The shiver didn’t go unnoticed, as his hold tightened and pressed you further against him. It wasn’t necessarily the most pleasant way to be held, but it was many times better than nothing. You nodded against him, mumbling out a soft good as you basked in a moment of joy you hadn’t experienced in what seemed like forever. It felt good to be held.

It felt even better when his hand moved and brushed through your hair. His touch light and careful, and you could imagine how he was noting every little detail of your reactions. The shivers and little sighs you released as he continued to just pet, touch, and hold you.

For once, you dreaded him stopping.

Even as your eyes grew heavy and body went limp in his arms, you dreaded when this would end. If you could just figure a way to keep him like this, you could envision your life being bearable.

“Fei” you didn’t make any effort to move.

“Hmm” his chest vibrated a little with his hum.

“Can I sleep with you?” It didn’t take a genius to realize your question caused him to tense. His muscles tightening up and panic seeping into your system as you worry this took it too far. You both slept separately unless absolutely necessary, something you used to be grateful for and now hated. It was always freezing when you slept, no matter how warm it actually was.

You might’ve ruined his grace, overstepped if anything, but you needed to stay close to him physically. It wasn’t a want anymore but a necessity.

“Yes” his word both shocked and elated you, and with a few more gentle pats in his arms, you were asleep.

Your cunt throbbed and ached, your lower belly pulled tight inside like a string about to snap. You tried closing your legs, whining as the hot wet sensation continued despite the light struggle you began to put up. It felt good, whatever dream you were having, even as the scent of mint and soap surrounded you.

Small whimpers and gasps became heavy panting as you felt raw heavy pleasure blossom in your core. Something prodded your entrance, wiggling bit by bit till you were penetrated and stretched on something long and hard. It moved and rubbed inside you. The warm pressure on your clit only pulling you further.

It was heaven, even as a slight burn inside had you back to whining and arching your back as your cunt stretched to allow something else inside. Fingers?

The thought was gone as the pleasure radiated throughout your whole body.

It wouldn’t be the first wet dream you’d had, but it was the most realistic. The hot breath on your sensitive clit and twitching insides felt real, and the pleasure was so crisp. Your hands curled into the sheets, struggling between sleep and the impending orgasm threatening to take you.

Your eyes popped open as you came, body twisting as a sharp moan punctuated the air.

You were awake and finally realizing this wasn’t a delusion or dream. Someone was lapping at your cunt, your thighs held open and pinned by two pale hands. The sensitivity and slight bewilderment of the situation had you struggling to form a coherent thought.

“Fei-Feitan…?” If there was one thing you knew with perfect certainty, it was that he’d never leave you alone long enough for someone to find you and do this. It couldn’t be anyone else. Though the fact he was doing this was even more incomprehensible. He seemed so disgusted by touch, so detached from human emotions, it really never occurred to you that he’d have normal human urges. He was still lapping at your cunt, even as your eyes locked with his own, even darker in the barely lit room you realized was his own. You were in his bed, with his head buried between your legs, and his eyes locked on you.

“Fei!” A weaker orgasm than the first was torn from you as you came again, sensitivity skyrocketing when he still continued to lick and suck on your clit. The room was spinning slightly, and your naked body began to cool a little as you sweat. He’d stripped you. He must’ve, but things weren’t really connecting in your mind as white hot pleasure was turning mildly painful.

“Too much!” You gasped and you had to force your hands to stay tangled in the sheet to not touch him. Your eyes watered and you made a pitiful sight with your darkening cheeks and open panting mouth. As your back arched to avoid his mouth, a sharp slap to your outer thigh had you yelping in pain.

His eyes narrowed, and it wasn’t hard to see he became annoyed with your squirming.

“Shut up.” His tone was low, no room for arguing or protest as you bit your lip to do as you were told. Trembling under him as he raised up to stare down at you between your spread legs. He looked gorgeous, something you hated to admit. His dark hair mildly tussled and pale skin a little flushed, his signature jacket gone. This wasn’t the first you’d seen his naked chest, but it was certainly a rare occasion. His pants were still on but unbuttoned. His lips were the most sinful aspect, still glossy from your release. It was agonizing to be silent.

You should cry and beg for him to stop.

Instead you found your legs spreading just a bit wider as you looked up at him like he was your personal deity.

Debauched.

His slow and condescending smirk only made your breathing harder, chest tightening with anticipation and lust. He snorted, hand moving to spread your cunt open as he spit on it. You were panting now, barely following his order to stay quiet. It was difficult when you wanted to beg, for more, for him, to be touched.

“This what you wanted? Whore.” His crude words didn’t make this any less arousing, especially as he unzipped his pants and pulled his cock free. He was larger than you’d have ever expected, though it hardly mattered as he lined himself up and began pushing into your unused hole. Despite the wetness and prep, it was slightly painful as he filled you. The heaviness inside coupled with the burn was delicious as your hips moved to take more of him, deeper. You couldn’t help the moan, the way your body shook and hands finally moved to touch him.

He was fast in securing both your wrists in one hand to pin above your head, his hips finally kissing the back of your thighs. You felt him twitch inside you, and it drove you wild.

“Please Fei, oh-!” His hand came down on your thigh again, before he pulled his hips back and slammed into you. Your head goes back as you arch into him and moan louder, as he begins a brutal pace that has your chest moving in rhythm with his thrusts. His tip kissing your cervix has you unwinding into a submissive mess of whining and pleas. You didn’t even know what you were begging for.

You either annoyed or aroused him further when he sneered and used his free hand to grip your jaw, thankfully not roughly as it ached nonetheless, forcing you to open wide before spitting into your mouth. He laughed when you clenched down harder, feeling the coil in your stomach tightening again as the pleasure increased.

“Pretty slut likes being my bitch.” He hardly seemed out of breath despite how hard you were panting. You felt a bit unfair at how unfazed he seemed, but similarly proud at how he gazed down at you. Like you made him pleased. His gaze wasn’t sharp, even bordering on warm despite how roughly he was fucking into you. All you could do was moan his name and beg.

Like a good little pet.

You could feel your orgasm coming again, and you’d meant to tell him, but his lips against yours shocked you silly. You didn’t even bother closing your mouth, Feitan easily slipping his tongue inside and kissing you so sensually it had you coming on his cock. You could only whine into his mouth as his speed picked up and you became overwhelmed.

He pulled away as a string of saliva connected you two for a moment before breaking. He licked his lips before focusing on where the two of you were joined. Watching his cock disappear in your sopping wet little cunt. It was filthy and erotic.

“Pathetic” his words were cruel but he looked beyond pleased as he looked at your fucked out expression. Unable to even form words as he continued to bully your poor pussy. It was laughable to him, how sweet you are now, how obedient and submissive you’ve finally become. All that fight and control gone, and in its place you lay now.

He’d never tell you out loud how perfect you are. How absolutely precious he finds your attempts to run away from all the pleasure he’s giving you.

His training has been worth while, making you everything he wants and more. Though he’d hated the power you held over him, having you now, moaning as he drills your cunt and begging for more, takes away the shame. You were his weren’t you? Then anything he wanted to do was fine, it wasn’t shameful to fuck his toy. Especially when she whined and arched her back up to take him in even deeper, when she cried and came again around him.

Feitan saw you as much more than a measly pet. Those were replaceable. No, you were just his, whatever he wants you to be, but still his. That’s why when he wraps his hand around your pretty neck and squeezes, he’s beyond thrilled at how you relax. You throw caution to the wind and give him everything. He’s not cutting off oxygen, but enough blood flow and air to keep you light headed and disoriented.

“Who do you belong to?” He knows you can hardly tell up from down right now. He knows how good he’s fucking you. Reducing you to this beautiful mess of feeling only. He’s still him though, and it brings him only pleasure to add in another few painful smacks to your bruising thighs. “Answer slut” he asks again, being thrown for a power trip as you choke out, “You!” to him.

His balls tightening signal he’s close, and the thought alone is enough to amuse him.

“Going to cum inside.” His words don’t register immediately to you, he can tell, but it seems all reality isn’t gone from you when your eyes widen.

“I-I- pregnant! I’ll get-“ he cuts you off with a chuckle, hand squeezing your throat enough to shut you up as he savors the sounds of wet squelching echoing in tune with his thrusts.

“My personal cock sleeve doesn’t get to talk.” The struggle you put up is worthless, but entertaining as he really does cum inside you, a soft grunt his only indication of release and overwhelming pleasure. Emptying himself inside and filling you with him. Marking you, painting you inside, signally you belong to him in every way now.

You lay exhausted and sore in his bed, cold as the various liquids dry on your skin and Feitan leaves.

Where he goes it doesn’t matter. You let yourself lay for a little longer before deciding it’s best not to anger him by staying in his space. You move to sit up, wincing as your intimate areas ache, but pushing forward nonetheless to get cleaned up and change his sheets and any mess left behind.

You hate the hollow ache in your chest the most. You look at your thighs to see his cum leaking out of you, and a sliver of dread echoes in your mind that you truly could become pregnant. The possibilities too much for you to handle right now, as you shakily slide off the bed to stand on wobbly legs. He could be back any moment, and it’s best you get to work early. You work on removing the sheets, just as the bedroom door opens to reveal a fresh Feitan, his signature jacket in place as he holds a glass of water.

“What are you doing?” His question is asked in a slightly lower tone that usual, and you quickly freeze in place.

“I-I’m cleaning up…?” You don’t mean to sound hesitant, but this situation is new and will require months of careful inquisition to avoid punishment under his hand. You knew better than to continue any task without his go ahead though.

You stand in silence as he observes you with a scrutinizing gaze.

“Come here” his order is curt, and while it terrifies you, you are quick to stumble over to him despite still being naked and filthy. You hate how badly you must look, barely able to walk while he is up and about his usual day as if nothing even happened. To him maybe nothing did happen, this being just the same as making a sandwich, and you wished the thought didn’t hurt. Maybe this would just be a new pain to live with, and the sooner you accepted that, the better your pathetic existence would be.

You stand just before him, fingers twisting around each other as you stay with your head bowed to stare at his feet while you concentrated on staying upright despite how difficult it felt for your hips and legs to support you.

“Not hard enough?” His words confused you, as you peaked up beneath your lashes to look at him curiously.

“I-I don’t understand…”

“Didn’t fuck you hard enough?” You froze in shock and slight fear, because what did that mean? He fucked you too hard in your personal opinion, and your poor slit agreed.

“Y-you did though…?” You were unsure of what was happening, his gaze not giving anything away.

“Get back on the bed. I didn’t say I was done with you.” Your eyes widened, taking a moment too long to register what he said before his foot took a step closer to you and you scrambled back onto the sheet-less bed in a panic. He paused, observing you again, before tilting his head.

“Next time I’m done with you, don’t move” he’s undoing his pants again, and moving towards you.

“I’ll fuck you good this time.” His words menacing and mean, and you’re left with little wiggle room as he closes in.

It’s his job after all to clean you up and piece you back together, and if you can fix yourself when he’s done, he clearly didn’t a good job the first round.

#HxH #18+ please #Hunter x Hunter #Feitan Porter #Feitan x reader #mdni #Feitan smut #Feitan fic #not edited sorry not sorry #soft! Feitan #yandere Feitan #Yan! Feitan #Phantom Troupe #Yandere Phantom Troupe

[percheduphere]

The entire series is a love story in every sense of the word. It is a love story, and it is both triumphant and tragic.

The finale was gorgeously executed. It answers every point in Loki's development poetically.

1. He never wanted the throne. It was not about power but loneliness and the need to belong.

2. To have purpose is to choose your burden.

3. Love does not make one soft, it transforms us to be unimaginably strong.

S1 focused primarily on 2 things: 1. a second chance, and 2. Self-love.

The 3 main characters have a relationship in which love cascades. While Mobius loves Loki for who he is outright, his friendship and support allows Loki to have compassion for himself. Sylvie represents all of Loki's trauma and flaws. In loving her, Loki grants her a second chance expecting nothing in return. The second chance Mobius extended to Loki, thus extends to her.

S2 focused primarily on the love between friends, which I do believe turned into unrequited love for Mobius in S1E4 (manifesting as rage and jealousy).

That love turns resigned, and the jealousy reemerges in S2E2 albeit in a constrained, milder form.

Unbeknownst to Mobius, his romantic love is finally returned in S2E5, after Loki experiences enough platonic love for Mobius that the nature of affection shifts upon losing Mobius a second time.

The timing of this realization is profoundly tragic. When they are finally on the same page, the finale sets the stage for Loki to engage with the fourth, most powerful form of love:

AGAPE

A selfless love for everyone. Loki could not have reached this point without first experiencing self-love, platonic love, and yes, romantic love. All forms of love are demonstrated in the series, which gives Loki the strength of sacrifice, confronting his worst fear: being alone.

I find it deeply poignant that Loki uses his magical life force to create Yggdrasil, the tree of life, replacing the cold force of HWR's technology with his own heart, allowing everything and everyone to grow infinitely through space and time. There cannot be a more powerful ending for Loki's character, and the tragedy is the point.

But Loki embraces this burden willingly, lovingly, for all of them, most especially Mobius.

ON MOBIUS

It is only Mobius that senses something is deeply wrong. The first time, he asks, "Are you okay?" The second time, he notes Loki's odd comment, "This time?" The third time, (first for Mobius since he didn't remember each reset) instinctively, he becomes desperate. He grabs Loki by the lapels, "What the shit are you doing?" He tries to stop Loki, but Loki won't let him.

The fourth time, he simply says, "Loki?"

Throughout S2, it is Mobius that Loki turns to when he is afraid, doesn't know what to do, or seeks comfort. He returns what Mobius provides him in S2E2 in the pie automat. In S2E4, he defends Mobius's character to Sylvie and compares where he is now, as a person, with Thor's experience with Jane, a mere Midgardian mortal.

In S2E5, it is Mobius Loki timeslips to the most and the first person his heart seeks out once OB provides him with an answer to his fiction problem.

That Loki seeks Mobius's wisdom one last time and holds onto Mobius's hand as long as he can in the finale is significant. Mobius's words about choosing your burden are devastatingly true. These words propel Loki to make his choice.

And Loki walking out onto the platform in the finale is a direct reciprocation of this (S2E1):

This is an all-encompassing love story. Let noone tell you otherwise.

#loki #loki season 2 #mobius #sylvie #loki series #loki meta #loki spoilers #lokius #my meta #loki season two finale

[kasagia]

In the darkness

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x fem! Alina's sister! Sun Summoner! reader Summary: After you and Alina destroyed the fold, she killed Aleksander and became queen at Nikolai's side, you took the place, tittle and chambers of the General of the Second Army. And then... strange things starts to happen in the darkness. Warning(s): obsessive behaviour; toxic relationship; voyeurism; Aleks manipulates the reader, the reader gives in to him; the reader is alone and needs someone *cough* her Darkling; fight; violence; dark reader; Word Count: 9,2 k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen ~•♤♤♤•~ Aleksander Morozova's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You won. Alina won. The fold did not exist anymore… as well as he. Ravka was safe. And the new royal couple was supposed to provide it with peace and splendor. That's what they were saying.

Nobody talked about the fallen. About the thousands of Grishas still living in fear. About thousands were imprisoned by Fjerdans and Shu-Hans who experimented on them.

All that mattered was that the Darkling was dead. The darkness disappeared. The shadows left with their last summoner, whose body he begged you to burn.

And maybe, after all, he was cruel. Maybe he knew that despite everything he had done, you still loved him, and his request (as well as his staring at you as if you were his only light and the only one thing he wanted to look at before his death) would completely break your already battered heart.

Maybe that was his last act of manipulation and control over you. A pleasure he couldn't slip out of his fingers. Maybe seeing you sobbing over him was the last goal he set for himself, before he leaves this world after the centuries he has lived. Centuries of constant fighting and flight. Centuries of leaving in his own shadows, in hatred, each time he looked at the fold, he was reminded that he wasn't able to achieve his goal.

That he was utterly alone...

Just as you are now.

Or maybe he just loved you, and you didn't want to admit it to yourself...

And now, laying on the bed in which he used to sleep, on the bed he used to hold you, on the bed he spent with you many sleepless nights and long, late mornings, you know that no matter what renovation this room will have, it will always remind you of him.

Your Aleksander... your equal... your monster.

You shiver as the cold, winter air comes to his... your room. You get up from the bed and walk to the window to close the door.

You look at the palace gardens and immediately remind yourself of the days before you found out he was Black Heretic, before that fatal Winter Fete.

Two years ago, Aleksander was chasing you around gardens, laughing, snowballs fighting, and doing all the stupid things he couldn't do in the daylight.

Two years ago, your life looked like a fairytale, and you were blessed to live in it. Now it is much closer to tragedy. And knowing how the events would turn out, you would have definitely cherished those simple, peaceful days with Aleksander by your side more while they lasted.

You sigh, absently stroking your right hand where Aleksander ordered David to physically embed the amplifier into you a few months ago.

You were pathetic. Missing the man who manipulated you, who hurt your sister, who wanted to kill your friends, who hurt Genya... but that was why you couldn't fully hate him. He did everything to achieve his goal. He hurt everyone who stood in his way.

Except you.

Never you.

And it hurt more than if he had physically hurt you.

He always held you up as his equal. The son of a bitch even had his kefta re-stitched to have gold embroidery to represent your power. He wore your combined colours with pride. Just like you did before you discovered how many sweet lies he had fed you since the day you first met him.

Tears come to your eyes as you remember how that fucking bastard, moments before Alina drove the shadow sword through his abdomen, lunged at his Nichevo'yas to stop them from attacking you. You saw the vulnerability and the fear in his eyes until your light drove the shadow monsters away from you. And relief, which was replaced by painful shock when Alina took advantage of his moment of inattention and killed him.

It had never occurred to you to hurt Alina before... except that fateful day.

You wipe the tears from your cheeks with your hand and turn to go back to the bed. You had a meeting with several colonels, including Fedyor and Ivan. The two were also torn apart by the war.

At least Fedyor still has his Ivan alive to atone for his sins. - you think bitterly, even jealousy, as you somehow manage to fall asleep in this big, empty, cold bed.

And when you close your eyes, the candle that was lit on the nightstand that once belonged to Aleksander goes out as you fall into a deep sleep.

If you had been a little more alert, you would have seen shadows that created a curtain covering the window, thus blocking the moonlight from entering your chamber.

"I have no intention of punishing them, Alina." you tell your sister as you work at the war table. Aleksander's plans were somehow still preserved. And you review them, updating and changing them according to your needs.

"They fought alongside the Darkling. What kind of general are you? What example will you set by not punishing those who defied the crown and followed their Black General?"

"That's why I have no intention of doing anything about it, your majesty. You were Grisha yourself before you lost your powers. Whose side would you fight for—the king who hates them or the general who gave them a safe place? And please try to put aside our personal prejudices and see the whole thing, not just a little peace through the prism of your hatred towards him, because we both know damn well that Aleksander was many things. A good commander was one of them."

"I never wanted to be a Grisha." Alina says this with pain in her eyes. You know this very well. You wouldn't have wanted to be a Sankta or general either... if it weren't for Aleksander.

"But you were. You can't just forget about that, Sol Koroleva."

"You're definitely not making it easy for me." she sighs tiredly, smiling at you. She sits down in the chair next to you and takes your hand. "If I could turn back time and... not bring Mal back to life and not lose my power, I would. I wouldn't leave you alone with this, you know, right?"

"I know... but that's not how things went..." you say, swallowing, as you let go of the papers and look at your sister. "But that's okay. I will keep an eye on your children and grandchildren... Maybe one of them will become the next Sun Summoner? Who knows?" you laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but by the look Alina gives you, you know that your tone wasn't as carefree as you wanted it to be.

"Y/N... I'm sorry." you interrupt her before she begins to pity you, before her compassion overwhelms you to the point where you sink into your own pain and suffering, which inevitably entails an eternity ahead of you. And that was just the beginning.

"You don't have to... I... I can always die somehow. I don't have to live forever."

"We both know that's not in your blood to give up. You will fight till the end... till Grishas and Ravkans will live as equals in a safe country."

"Maybe yes... or maybe I will throw it all to hell and go around the world. I remember that Kaz once proposed to me to join their little group of thieves. It could be fun."

You both laugh at that. Then Alina gives you a sad, apologetic look before asking you a very dangerous and… hurting question.

"Do you miss him? Aleksander?"

A dead silence falls between you after her whispering question. As if his name were something forbidden to say out loud between you two. You play with the sleeve of your white kefta with gold embroidery, wondering how to answer this obvious question.

"Sometimes... but I guess it's only because I don't want to... to be alone like him..."

"Did you love him? At the day I killed him?" she asks, assuming that you stopped loving him at the moment he stopped breathing; at the moment when his black, poisoned by Merzost heart stopped beating… as it was just that simple for you to forget about him. The man who made you who you are now. The man who was first to show you how extraoridnary you are. Who understood you more than your sister - your supposed closest person in the world.

"I care more to have someone by my side through all of this that's about to happen… someone who will stay for longer than almost a century. I guess I'm starting to understand why he was chasing after us… why he wanted us by his side in his damn glorious purpose."

"He was chasing after you. He only cared about you. Not only because you were a Sun Summoner." she says it so lightly and so obviously that you start to wonder if she's deliberately trying to break you.

But if Aleksander taught you anything, it was how to keep your true emotions deep inside your heart. So you put your lips into a mocking smile and reply to her in a joking tone.

"Maybe. We will never find out. Anyway, I don't want to."

Fedyor's and Ivan's arrival rescued you from this unconvenient conversation. You nod to Alina as she leaves. She gives Ivan a hating, untrusyful look before guards close the door behind her. You look at the two heartrenders.

"It's good to see you both. I have some questions about these plans, and as general Kirigan's closest people, I assume, you both can explain some things to me, which I don't quite get right now."

You clear your throat, trying to forget about what you and Alina were talking about and focus on what the two men in front of you are saying. But it's hard to look at the Dark General's notes and plans and just not think of your Aleksander... Especially when those damn wooden soldiers are just as spread out on his war table as they were on the night of the Winter Fiesta when you run away from him.

And you have neither the heart nor the strength to move it to another place…

"Fedyor, can you leave us both for a while? You can wait for Ivan behind the door." you say after you've gotten through most of the stuff. Fedyor gives you a surprised look but doesn't question your order. He goes out, leaving you with Ivan, who has been giving you an unfavourable, almost hostile look since he sat down in the chair. You wouldn't care if the situation didn't require you to cooperate with him. After all, he was Aleksander's right-hand man. He probably knew the most about war tactics in the entire Second Army. And now that the fold was gone and you had to defend and fortify yourselves on all fronts, you would need all the help you could get. "Why are you looking at me like that? What's your problem?" you ask the heartrender, watching him carefully.

You both stared at each other for a moment. Ivan tries to hold back something, but the moment he notices Aleksander's ring—the only souvenir you let yourself leave after him—something inside him breaks.

"How dare you sit in his chair, having his tittle, want to do exactly the same things in the Second Army, using the same tactics as he did? You all are no different from him. Actually, you are much worse, and you call him a monster when everything he did was for us. For our safety, so that we can finally break free from the power of Otkazat'syas."

"I know you were loyal to him, but..."

"He had done nothing wrong. And you know it." he cuts you off before you can say anything else. The feeling of guilt awakens within you again, the uncomfortable lump in your throat every time you talk to someone about him growing stronger again. "I hope you also know that you and your sister destroyed everything he was working at. That Ravka will spill blood under your rule. That Lantsov prince will be the same as his father, as every king from their dynasty was."

"Be careful how you talk to me. I am your general now, Ivan. You should probably get used to it, before I change my mind and let Alina execute you." you say it coldly and grab a glass from the table to drink the whisky. "You can leave now."

"Of course, general." he said coldly, but before he stood up to leave, he put a black envelope on your desk.

"What is that?" you ask him, but he just bows to you and leaves. Only when the door closes behind him with a bang do you allow yourself to take the envelope in your hands.

Seeing Aleksander's seal—the eclipsed sun—makes you release the envelope from your hand as if it was burning you. You let it fall to the desk; your eyes focused only on it.

You hold your breath as your fingers land on the seal and stroke it tenderly. You remember the first letter you received from him... right after your first night together, when he had to leave the Little Palace for a while on important matters. He wrote to you every day until he came back again, heading straight into your arms and ignoring the fact that the General of the First Army and the colonels were waiting for him in the council chamber.

With trembling hands, you take the dagger and cut the envelope at the top so as not to break the last seal he left behind and get into the contents of the envelope.

A pendant falls from the envelope with a clatter onto the table. You leave the envelope with the letter and take the pendant in your hands, looking at it carefully.

It is a silver, convex oval with some vines engraved on the front, decorated with small, round pieces (your favourite gemstone). Initials are engraved on the back: A.M. You huff, realising that even in death, he wanted to make sure you were his in some way. And you're about to put the pendant down and hide it somewhere, where you would never find it again, but then suddenly you press something and it opens.

You gasp as you see what's hidden inside. Bone. A medium-sized, most likely from a wrist, finger, or other small part of the skeletal system.

You rummage through the envelope, and, apart from the letter, you find a small note that was probably attached to the necklace.

In case you need a reminder of your real power...

You lift the bone and feel your power flow through you, amplified. You sigh, feeling just like those months ago when his skin pressed against yours as he let you draw on his empowering abilities. You feel a tear roll down your cheek as you tremble with an overwhelming, long-forgotten feeling.

A knock on the door makes you panic, opening your desk drawer and gathering all your items into it. You close the drawer just as Zoya walks in, followed by your colonels. You rub your forehead, mentally getting ready for the next meeting.

However, you can't stop thinking about the envelope and necklace from Aleksander hidden in the drawer.

And if you were more observant, you would notice how shadows are hiding in the corner of the war room, watching you attentively, waiting for the right moment when they can come out of their hiding place. Or at least a bee that flew out of an open window.

You lie in your bed late at night. You stopped trying to fall asleep a long time ago. You laied on your back, breathing calmly with your eyes closed as you were wondering about the new informations from the camps close to the border.

The war was comming. You had right. Aleksander had right. Fjerdans and Shu-Hans wanted to use occasion and attack Ravka, since a fold has gone and now nothing stopped them from attack a West Ravka. If you lost your ports and supplies of food, raw materials and gold, you will lose that war and many will lose their lifes.

You were laying there, wondering about your next move in upcoming war. You shiver suddenly, feeling oddly. A strange chill spread through your body as you went into a more alert mode.

Subconsciously, you look around in the dark, trying to spot the dark, familiar irises. You're doing it under some irrational delusion that he is able to observe you even when he is dead. That he can watch your every move even though you watched his body burn...

Although he has already proved many times in his long, many-centuries life that he is capable of anything he wants...

With a flip of your wrist, a ball of light appears in a room. There was no one. Just you and your paranoya You frown and remove the ball of light as you lay back on the bed.

You sigh heavily, lying on your side. You watch a candle burning on the nightstand on the side that used to be Aleksander's. You watch the fire for a moment, admiring the colours of the flame and how it goes along with a soft wind from the opened window, and then blow it out. You close your eyes, listening to your surroundings, and just as you're about to drift off into blissful unconsciousness, you hear something like a cold whisper in your ear, which makes you shiver.

They are going to lose. They can't rule this country. They know nothing about the pain of war.

That tought appear in your mind, sounding extremaly like somebody you used to know very well... you shake your head. You were not going to imagine his voice on your head. You weren't go mad, were you?

Besides, that was a stupid tought. You will figure it out with Alina and the rest, just as you always do. Grishas will be safe. You will sacrifice your life to make it happen. Horrifyingly, you realise that someone before you has taken a similar oath.

Yet still, you can't help but look at the side of your chamber where Aleksander's letter is, hidden in your desk's drawer. You are so tempting to read it, even after all that happened between you both.

"Get out of my head." you whisper to yourself, as he was still linked with you somehow. As he was still able to appear in a room with you at any second.

You missed him. You admit it to yourself in the darkness of the bedroom you two used to share. But that didn't mean that you would bring him back in some way. He was too dangerous for the good of other people and too unpredictable. Irronicaly, he cared too much. And you were afraid that you were inevitably walking in his path; you were in the same place as he was all those years and centuries ago. But, contrary to him, you will have no one by your side. You will be utterly alone.

You try fall asleep, closing your eyes and ignoring the tears that fall on your pillow. If you learned anything from Aleksander, it was to let no one witness your suffering. They wouldn't understand your pain anyway.

There were no others like you. And there will never be ever again…

Against your better judgement, you quickly get up from the bed, and, before you can change your mind, with a ball of white light in your hand, you walk to the desk, illuminating your path.

You open the drawer and pull out that damned letter, hoping that reading it will give you some kind of closure you need.

You hold it with trembling hands, trying to ignore the fact that Aleksander's familiar handwriting was less refined and more cursive and simpler. There were also black traces of his blood in some places on the page. Even before you start reading, your heart sinks as you think about how Merzost was slowly killing him, as he was completely alone after Baghra's death—as alone as you are now.

And the first line is enough to bring the first pitiful tears to your eyes.

Moya milaya. Moya soverenyia,

The damn bastard knew you would take over his position. He was probably having a lark in hell right now, watching you cry over his letter, how you regretted every decision you made that got you here, and how you tried so hard to hate him with all your heart, but you just simply couldn't. And that made you hate yourself more when, despite everything, you entered the trap he had prepared specially for you while he was still living and clutched the letter in your hands, trying to read it despite the tears constantly appearing in your eyes and blurring your vision.

He wrote to you what you have already heard. That he isn't sorry, that he would do the exact same things except that he would make you his equal, that he wouldn't let you escape his grasp so easily, that he would kill all your loved ones just to be your only shelter where you could go in case of any danger, or simply when you were too overwhelmed by loneliness, like he was many times in his very long life.

And you should hate him. You should be disgusted by this toxic relationship, by his obsessive desire for possession, and by his fear of abandonment. And you could already feel yourself being filled with spite and resentment towards this man, a man who had ruined the relatively peaceful lives of you and your sister... But as you read the last lines of his letter, your feelings towards him became more unclear than before reading that damn letter.

I will be waiting for you. With open arms.

Maybe time will help you realise that there is no other way and that my actions will be yours in the future… that I was not the villain in this story, even if I seemed to be a monster to you, my little Sankta.

Maybe you will finally come to accept that you and I are unity and that we belonged to each other even before the saints decided to create the two of us.

Eya fyela chi(I love you), moya solnyshka.

I always did.

Yours,

Aleksander

You didn't sleep anymore that night. Instead, you lie in bed, your thoughts filled with this damn man who, even after his death, continues to abuse your already bleeding heart for him.

Midnights become your afternoons, that were the hours when your brain works best. You stoped burning candles at night. Surprisingly, you were thinking much better when you were in complete darkness, where the only light comed from the moon shining through the open balcony door.

You spent many nights in bed writing in a notebook, taking notes and plans that came to you as the moon hung in the sky and most of the Little Palace fell asleep.

It has become your little ritual. You sipped kvass or whisky, thinking of military tactics and other manoeuvres in case Ravka was attacked by its neighbors. You often had Aleksander's old notes spread around you. And even more often, you twirled his necklace in your fingers as you pondered over your plans.

You stopped visiting Alina in the Grand Palace. You were less and less likely to be seen by her side. But you were almost always in Alexander's library, the war room, and the training field, looking after the young Grishas who trained under the supervision of Ivan, Fedyor and Zoya.

Without knowing why, you always waited until dusk. It was your favorite time and you couldn't even say why…

Maybe if you noticed that every time you fell asleep, tired, over your notebook, thoughts that didn't belong to you suddenly appeared on the paper; maybe if you noticed how your rooms were covered with more and more shadows night after night, blocking out the moonlight, to get you to sleep faster; and maybe if you noticed how the blanket wrapped tighter around you as you drifted off to sleep and your forehead was tickled by the touch of something soft and warm; then you would realise what was inevitably to come.

Or rather, who kept his eyes on you each night, hidden in the darkness and shadows of the chamber...

Kissing someone else's lips seemed sacrilegious to you. You felt like you were doing something wrong, like you were desecrating and breaking all moral laws. But after all, you were a free, single woman, a general leading her people to war.

You could have relaxed and slept with some handsome Inferni who offered to worship his saint, couldn't you?

As it turned out, you couldn't.

You kissed the man hungrily and threw off his kefta. The moment he reached for the buttoms of your own, he unexpectedly stumbled and fell straight into the spear that was in the rack for swords and other weapons.

You stood there in shock for a moment, wondering how on earth he did this. And if you had been more attentive, you would have noticed how the shadows quickly fled from your gaze, and two dark eyes watched intently as you helped Inferni stop the bleeding enough for him to make it to the healers' tent.

You sigh in frustration as the man disappears from your sight. You clean up his blood and wash your hands before taking off your clothes.

It gives you chills. Not because the cold air of the tent hits your hot skin, but because you feel a slight tickle at the most sensitive point of your neck.

You turn and look around the tent carefully.

For the past few weeks, as soon as you left the Little Palace, you had a strange feeling that something was fleetingly brushing against you from time to time. The feeling of this strange, ghostly touch accompanied you both day and night, whenever you were alone with your thoughts. You thought it was some kind of paranoia and tried to brush this feeling off. After all, no one could touch you if you were clearly alone in the room, with no sign of another living soul.

Once you're sure you're alone, you rub your hands over your arms. Your arousal and desire quickly fade as you remember the battle that awaits you tomorrow—the first as a general of the Second Army. You make sure your weapons and combat kefta are ready and in place before you go into bed and fall into a fitful sleep.

A few hours later, as you lie there, dreaming deeply, your tent fades to black. From the shadows emerged none other than Aleksander.

The man slowly walked towards you, careful not to make any move that would increase your vigilance. Ever since you left the walls of the Little Palace, it has become easier and easier for him to make his way to you, thanks to the bond he established between the two of you by giving you a piece of his bone in a necklace.

It boiled inside him when he saw you with another man. He acted rashly and instinctively, pushing him onto the spear. He was glad that you were careless enough not to notice his presence.

You weren't ready. Not yet.

And this time, he knew better than to push you forcefully into his plan.

"My little Sankta." he whispers, his hand gently brushing your curves hidden from his eyes under the blanket.

He doesn't do anything inappropriate. He would never take advantage of you or touch you against your will... well, at least not in any invasive way. He had several scenarios prepared in his head about how the night would go, when you would finally admit your true feelings and abandon the façade of a righteous Sankta of Ravkans and Grishas.

"Soon you'll realise what you're really missing." he whispers as his fingers tips caress the skin of your collarbones.

He picks up the necklace he gave you that you wore around your neck. He lets his shadows surround you, allowing the moonlight to shine on you enough for the silver pendant to reflect it, making it seem like it was glowing, as if it were a source of your powers.

"I will wait for you… until you finally come to me willingly and accept the obvious truth—that we belong together. I promise you, moya milaya, I won't let you forget this even for a moment. You're mine. You were mine the moment you entered that damn tent—the moment our eyes met before you went on the ship through the fold. You can't deny the connection between us. And soon, you will come to accept that you need a monster by your side. That without me, there will only be suffering, loss, and eternal struggle waiting for you. I've spent centuries struggling with all of this and much more… let's see how long this charming and annoying stubbornness of yours will last, lapushka. I have all the time on earth to watch you struggle with the hatred of this world all alone…"

He pulls the blanket tighter around you and takes the opportunity to inhale your scent, which he had missed so much during those months he had been hanging between the worlds of the living and the dead. He clung to his life with his claws... just to be this close to you again. And he knew he would do the exact same thing in a heartbeat if it led him close to you.

"And in time, when you realise that your little friends of yours are not enough for you, I will be back to you. And I will take you into my arms without hesitation. We are destined to be together. Sweet dreams, moya soverenyia." he whispers and places a tender kiss on your forehead.

You jump out of bed, screaming. You take a few quick breaths and put your hand to your mouth, trying to calm yourself down and not let the tears fall. Your tent is in complete darkness as you try to calm down from your nightmare in which all of your Grishas died in the battle, in which everyone blamed you and started to hunt you and chase after you, just like the king once chased after Aleks...

You let yourself cry silently into your pillow, unaware of the figure sitting next to you and a lifting hand that was just above you, moving as if stroking your back soothingly.

Eventually, you fall asleep, shaking. The shadow of your enemy and lover watches over you and keeps an eye on you without you being even slightly aware of it.

Two years, four months, one week and three days. That's how long the war with Fjerda and Shu Han lasted.

That's how long it took them to take over Ravka.

You have failed. Both the First and Second Armies.

Nikolai was dead. Alina was either dead or in hiding like you, although judging by the recent public execution of Zoya and Alina's other guards, you suspect they had her locked up somewhere until they caught you.

And they were doing very well, considering you were currently running through the forest, escaping from a group of Drüskelles.

You ran through the forest, the cold air stinging your hot cheeks as you made your way through the snowdrifts, occasionally sending a ball of light behind you to daze your pursuers and lose them, if only for a moment. But covering up your tracks was the worst thing—a nuisance worse than the cold seeping into your bones through your soaked clothes.

You hear a gunshot. You groan as the bullet bounces off your kefta, most likely adding another bruise to your collection.

Then everything happens quickly. You are surrounded and forced to fight with both your power and your melee. You're doing quite well when suddenly one of them twists your arm. You groan in pain and use one hand to summon a cut, but it is so weak that it only reaches the lesser half of the men.

As if in slow motion, you see one of the Drüskells pointing a gun at you. Then the clearing becomes dark. You step back in fear and stumble upon the body of one of the men you killed.

Everything goes quiet. There is a deathly silence in which you can only hear your wheezing and breathing. You summon your light and dispel the shadows to see the last person you expected to see... at least when you are still alive.

"But... I saw your death... I watched you burn..." you manage to stammer.

Aleksander just walks towards you, like it was a casual thing for him to do. His black kefta with gold embroidery is intact, at least compared to yours, which is blackened from bullets and patched in a few places. He looks practically like the day he died... except his face is devoid of black scars.

"Won't you even say hello to me, my Y/N?" he asks maliciously and extends his hand for you to take it and stand up with his help. You've seen this scene before. You've been in this situation before, and you promised yourself that you would never step into the same river again.

"You should be dead." you snap at him coldly and stand up on your own without his help. You see him frown as he takes a closer look at your dilapidated and miserable state as you try to move away from him as far as you can.

"Moya lapushka... do you think I would let something like death to keep me apart from you? That your little Sol Koroleva could ever kill me? After I lived a hundreds lifes? Fake a hundred deaths?" he asks mockingly, walking over to you. He cups your cheek in his hand and strokes it tenderly with his thumb. "No. I have too much experience with eternity, milaya. I promised you that you and I will change the world. I intend to keep that promise. As well as the one where I will always come back to you, remember?"

"You were here all this time... you watched me..."

"Simply keeping an eye on you." he interrupts you, and you give him a mad look, knowing full well that he's lying as you realise that all the random things and disasters that were happening around you were his fault... just like the few times you felt someone's ghostly touch on you. "Well... maybe I had also done a little bit more. But don't dramatise... after all, I have to look after what's mine."

"I was never yours." you say furiously, causing a hostile tension to arise between the two of you.

His presence brings you some relief, despite everything. But you know this feeling too well; you know HIM too well to let him manipulate you so he can use you in his plans again.

"Leave me. Live your life. I doubt anyone would be insane enough to resurrect you a second time." you growl angrily and run past him, hitting his shoulder with yours.

Before you can get away, he grabs your elbow. You hiss in pain, making him automatically let go of you. But he steps closer to you and carefully grabs your wrist, observing the blood seeping from your forearm and the swollen, bruised elbow—the result of your hand being twisted and falling to the ground—and the hard roots of the tree that had somehow broken through the now-red snow.

"You need a healer." he says calmly. He seems worried, as he is trying to stop the bleeding from your wound.

"I can handle it. Let me go." you say firmly. His dark-brown eyes meet yours, and you mentally curse yourself for how they can still charm you.

"Let me help you." he says it with such tenderness that you want to immerse yourself in his sweet words again, to surrender to that attraction that has always been present between you. "You don't have to be alone, moya milaya."

"I'm not alone." you deny quickly. However, you give in partially when the logical part of you allows him to give you a band-aid; this is something you are willing to accept from him.

"Aren't you, Y/N? Don't you feel a the weight of the fate of all Grishas on your beautiful, delicate shoulders? Haven't you misssed me all these single nights? When you were dreaming of my touch, of my voice..."

"And where were you when I really needed you?! When your people were dying on the borders! When innocent people died when they took Ravka! Where the hell were you then?!" you shout at him in anger and move away from him before he can tie a makeshift sling around your arm from the black shawl he untucked from around his neck.

"Making sure that YOU will not kill yourself, while playing a hero." he replies calmly, his gaze unwavering on you as his composure throws you even further off balance.

"If you care about me so much, why didn't you stand by my side? Why didn't you help me save Grishas?"

"You said yourself that you don't need a monster. That you can handle it perfectly well on your own, little Saint. I told you and tried to warn you that you can't do it on your own, and neither can I. But you had to be stubborn. These are your words: 'Let them come.' I did. I let them come. Are you satisfied?"

"You let all these people die to just prove your point?" you ask, shocked. He takes advantage of your momentary lapse in vigilance to bandage your arm and place it in a sling made of his black shawl.

"No. I let all these people die to make you see the truth that you are trying to avoid so hard."

"Which is?"

"Don't pretend, moya milaya. I am a patient man, but we lost enough time. Can you honestly claim that you are against me? That you would choose these fools over me again? That you didn't wish to have an equal again? Someone who will stand by your side no matter what? Someone who will protect you? I can be all of this to you and even more. All you have to do, lapushka, is accept that we are all we need. That you and I was enchanted to unite a long time ago. I want you to see all these things from my side of the story, to understand why I did what I did, and why I intend to continue what I have planned."

He talks so smoothly about death, as if it were nothing. And you would have the right to feel outraged by this fact and hate him again if the smell of the metallic blood of the people who hunted you wasn't in the air. People you killed without blinking an eye.

As he caresses your cheek tenderly and stares at you with affection and an understanding you haven't seen in anyone else's face since his death, you can't help but wonder... if he was actually right when he said that in time his actions would be yours.

He leans closer to you. Your noses brush as he rests his forehead against yours. You shiver, feeling his warm breath on your cheek.

"Aleksander..." you whisper shakily as his scent reaches you, his warmth warming your body, frozen from the cold and the exertion of running away. You feel like you're just realising that he's really here. That he's alive.

And you welcome the familiar tingle of your power inside you that he brings back to life with his amplifier powers as his lips capture yours.

And you wanted to move away. Really. You wanted to remain indifferent towards him and laugh at him for still feeling something for you. Scold him for even hoping that you would just melt back into his touch after what happened between you, how he hurt you, and how obsessive and possessive he was.

But all you do is moan against his lips as you respond to his kiss.

It's not one of those hungry, greedy kisses stolen in moments when you were completely alone and couldn't fight the growing tension between you any longer and just had to release it by consuming each other with your desires.

It's gentle, so much so that you're afraid that the butterfly feeling of his lips on yours will disappear in any moment and you'll find that he never came back, that he was just a sweet, cruel delusion of your exhausted mind.

But the moment he tangles one of his hands in the hair at the back of your head and puts the other on your waist to press you against the tree so gently as to not hurt you accidentally, you know it's real. And you can't stop responding to his kiss or pretending that you don't want to caress his lips with yours just as passionately. Or pretend that the thought of pulling away isn't sinful to you.

You pull away from each other after a long moment. Not far, though. His nose brushes against yours as you breathe heavily, both of you with your eyes closed, drinking in the other's warmth and scent after so many years of fighting with each other and your desires... after so many years of being utterly alone.

Your shaky breaths come out of your mouths in grey clouds and merge together. Only now do you notice how warm he is compared to you.

"Come. You can't stay here." he says, taking off his warm coat with black fur sewn to the hood. He puts it on you and pulls the hood over your head.

"You don't need to..." he interrupts you, picking you up in bridal style. He holds you close to his chest and walks in a direction unknown to you, a clear plan etched on his face as he scans the surroundings for any danger in your path. "Hey! Put me down! I can walk by myself! Besides, I don't want to go anywhere with you!" you protest, struggling in his arms.

"I know, milaya. Rest. I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to. I'm just making sure you will be safe when I'm gone. That's why I'm taking you to Grishas' camp. They will cure you there. Besides, your followers anxiously await your return, my little Saint. You are their only hope now."

"When you gone?" you ask slightly panicked and shift your gaze to him.

The weight of responsibility settles on your shoulders once again as you realise how many lives are counting on you... and the one person you can look to for support is, inconveniently, now something of an enemy to you.

But... can you feel towards your enemy the way you feel for him? Can you kiss an enemy as passionately as you did just a second ago? Can an enemy look at you with such care and adoration?

"Do you wish me to stay with you, lapushka?" he glanced at you briefly, just enough to ask you his question.

A dead silence falls between you. You don't need words to understand each other. And it was something that had always both terrified you and made the bond between you more and more irresistible. He knows the answer to your question. He knows you'll never admit it out loud. Or at least not at this moment.

Despite all this, he still holds you close. He leans down to place a kiss on your temple and whispers in your ear:

"I am... a very patient man, Y/N... I can wait, and I will. You will come to me yourself. And when you did... you wouldn't be able to resist or deny the truth about your feelings for another damn second. I will have you by my side. I can assure you that it will happen sooner than you think or are willing to admit."

You don't argue with him anymore. You just don't have the strength. Instead, you lean against him and fall asleep, wrapped in his scent, his warm coat, and his arms that make you feel safe. You decide to hate yourself later for what you feel right now.

After so many years, months, weeks, and days of fighting for your people and country completely on your own, you could afford the comfort of feeling his arms around you for just another few minutes, couldn't you?

It's been three months since you last saw him.

He left you at Grishas' camp just before the sun rose with a kiss on your forehead and a promise that you would meet again and that you would call for him again. Which you highly doubted. You already despised yourself and him enough to stay away from him... or at least pretend that's what you wanted.

During this months, you managed to save and lose many people—many good soldiers. And although you don't want to admit it, this time it makes you even more aware of the truth that Aleksander was trying to drill into your head before you destroyed the fold.

You wandered around like a child in the fog, trying to keep your morality, set an example for people, and play the role of a Sankta who abhors all evil and darkness. Only he had survived enough to know that morality could only be keept in human conditions—when you didn't have to worry about food, a warm place to sleep, or whether every breath you took wouldn't be your last.

But what really broke you wasn't the constant death, suffering, and screaming around you. It was the news of Alina's death.

It was this terrible emptiness, this feeling of helplessness and loneliness that grew inside you with each day, with each Grishas lost, with each drop of blood that soaked into your kefta.

And then you gave up.

"You won! Do you hear me?! YOU WON!" you screamed in your room at the camp after you returned from another mission to rescue imprisoned Grishas, which ended in the bloodiest of all. Which ended with the death of the last person you cared about. "Just come here… I can't… Aleksander, please. Please, I need you."

In your rage, you throw the bottle of alcohol against the wall and scream, falling to your knees. You wrap your arms tightly around yourself and cry, feeling the dried blood on your clothes.

You have enough. You had enough of this war. You didn't want to see your friends lose their lives. You were fed up with constant wars, fighting, and deaths around you.

You only knew one thing: you couldn't stand this alone. You simply must have had him by your side again Somoeone who will stay by your side and simply just be there for you. Someone who won't require you to save the world all by yourself.

"Aleksander, I beg you... please..." you whisper desperately while holding a pendant with his bone tightly in your hand. Maybe the fact that you never parted with that stupid necklace was a sign of what was inevitably to come.

Your failure. Your ruin.

But still, all you can do is melt into his arms as he comes to you through your bond and embraces you, pulling your shaking body into his lap and as close to him as possible.

"Shhh... it's okay, moya milaya, you are safe." he whispers in your ear as he holds you close to his chest with a hand on you mouth so you can make a sound. "As long as I am here, nothing will happen to you. You are not alone anymore and you never will be again, lapushka."

He strokes your hair and whispers words of comfort. A sweet nothing meant to calm you down. You still can't tell whether he does it out of love or because he needs you in his plans. And the scariest thing was that you didn't care as long as he held you, stayed by your side and didn't let you be alone.

If you were any less grief-stricken, you would wonder about the irony of this situation. The irony of how he foretold your fate. How he fulfilled his promise. How he became your only shelter.

"I will take care of everything. I'm not going anywhere. It is you and me, my Y/N. It's only you and me against them all. And we are all we need anyway. I will take good care of you, solnyshka. No more tears; no more lies and betrayals. Our life together is getting started exactly right now. And I can already promise you it will be an incredible future... moya tsaritsa. Ravka will be ours. We will free our people. We will made all of them pay for what they did to our kind. Grishas will enter their golden age under our rules. Nothing will stop us."

"Just... please come back." you sob into him. He tightened his arms around you and pressed his lips against your temple.

"I'm on my way, lapushka." he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear.

You shiver as the warmth of his arms suddenly disappears, and you're left alone, kneeling on the cold floor. You couldn't afford even the slightest remorse. All you could think about, and all you could wait for, was the moment he would come back here in the flesh.

You realised that loneliness was too dangerous an enemy for you that you (or anyone) were unable to defeat. Aleksander has been patiently waiting for years for you to come to this conclusion. A conclusion he understood the moment you fled the Little Palace with Alina and the crows, just before he could have a proper chance to propose to you.

But this time, he won't make that mistake again. He won't let you go of his grip once you came back to him.

The world needs a monster.

You understood his words the moment you created your own fold. A fold of white, pure light which killed anyone who tried to walk past it.

You saw the fear in everyone's eyes. Even your Grishas, whom you swore to protect. Only Aleksander's dark irises stared at you with admiration. Only he doesn't turn away from you, doesn't show any traces of dread.

Only he was brave enough to walk to you, and after that, he kissed you greedily after you all realised you won. Ravka belonged to Grishas. And the new fold that you create will make sure no one will ever think of attacking your people again.

And now you were standing in front of the mirror in the Little Palace. Your people bravely dismantled what was left of the Grand Palace and worked to rebuild the house of Grishas and expand it.

You were entering a new era. And the flags with the eclipse of the sun that now fluttered on the masts of the palace reminded you of that, as did your black and gold dresses, keftas, and the crown that had recently become an extra burden on your head. Just like two rings on your finger.

"I knew you would look stunning in the crown, moya Sol Koroleva." he whispers, making you shiver at his sudden presence. He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you against his chest. Shadows circle lazily around you as his dark eyes catch yours in the mirror.

"You could at least pretend you didn't plan this from the beginning."

"I didn't plan it. I didn't want to be king. But when the dynasty kept taking advantage of us, I had no other choice. I had to start planning to take over the throne. Taking on the burden of power to make sure that the Grishas are finally treated as they should be. And then you appeared. My sunshine, my ray of hope, my little saint."

"A candidate for your queen and a means to a desired goal." you finish bitterly, resting your head on his shoulder to rest for a moment from the irritating weight of the crown. Looking in the mirror, you reluctantly admit that he looks handsome, dressing all like a king.

"Don't be so mean, milaya. You know very well that you shattered any evil plans I had for you when those lips of yours enchanted me. You made me feel like I could control it all for the first time in hundreds of years. That my plans will finally come true. We've come a long way, my Y/N, but we both know this is where we were meant to be. Next to each other. Equals. Together at the helm of Ravka. We are the only ones who will ever wield such power and who can stand next to each other forever."

You sigh. He is right. He is all you have. And you both know that you won't let go of each other anytime soon. You hated solitude. You knew yourselves so well that even for a second, consider leaving the only person who could ever stick so long with you. The ones who understood and were willing to share the burden the world put on the arms of the two of you.

So you turn in his arms, place your hand gently on his cheek, and after caressing his skin with your thumb, pull him in for a kiss.

He pulls you closer to him; you both need the other's touch and tenderness, the reassurance that after so many wars, fights, and betrays, you are finally together and that you will rely on each other to build the greatness of Ravka, leading your Grishas into the years of glory.

Not just as king and queen, tsar and tsaritsa. But also husband and wife. Partners. Equalls. Summoner of the sun and shadows united for the good of all your people.

"I love you, moi sol ye tselai. My Y/N." he whispers into the skin of your neck, placing kisses, especially where was the necklace he gave you, which you didn't dare to take off for so many years, afraid that the last connection and the memento you had left of him would disappear as soon as you lost it from your sight.

But behind these great goals was one common need, to which you agreed only for yourself. The need to love and be loved. The need to have a shelter that will last through the eternity that awaits both of you. And you finally had to admit that despite the darkness in your life and the problems and disasters mostly caused by your new husband, you couldn't imagine anyone else next to you.

"I love you, Aleksander. I've always have." you admit as his hands roam over you, caressing you. Shadows surround you, creating a protective bubble as you kiss passionately, forgetting about the rest of the world for a moment and you give in to your deepest desires.

The prospect of loneliness and everything that you went through in your life have effectively killed any sense of guilt or morality inside you. You could have allowed yourself that one selfish act. Especially when being with him in the darkness was such a tempting and blissful experience after years of loneliness.

#oneshot #darkling #general kirigan #the darkling #aleksander morozova #aleksander kirigan #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander morozova x y/n #shadow and bone #the darkling x reader #darkling x reader #the darkling x you #the darkling x y/n #darkling x you #darkling x y/n #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan x you #manipulation #toxic behavior #toxic relationship #toxic love #dark romance #romance #sab fanfiction

[tarjapearce]

soccer family

how did miguel propose 👀💍

The serious questions yo ❤️✨

Hope you like 🥹✨

Time and life were funny. Sometimes funny in the good kind of way, sometimes in the oddest sorts. If someone would have told Miguel those three years ago, in that evening at Peter's carneada that he would meet his future wife, he'd surely would've just rolled his precious mahogany eyes at cuss in spanish at whoever speaking such nonsense.

He wasn't in the look for someone, yet there you were, his serendipity. Coming into his life like an unforgiving hurricane of things and emotions he had never had the time nor the interest in experiencing at their fullest.

Yet, there you were.

Blatant, not giving two shits on his scary nature, fascinated by him through and through and brazen for making a move. That had surely sealed the deal for him.

He wasn't one for backing away from difficulties, he knew much the challenge he represented to others. And still, you did not only pass it with flying colors, but had actually enjoyed it. Enjoyed him; and in all truth, he enjoyed you too.

Enjoyed the push and pull you offered, the demented moments that certainly earned his brain another wrinkle since he was learning so much from you. Enjoyed your attention and how willingly you'd bask him into it. You were his nepenthe.

How gentle and patient you were with him, when everyone expected so much out of him. Of course he was a genius, or else he wouldn't be into the Lab's head division back in Alchemax. But the way you made him experience things felt surreal, and the feeling increased ten times fold when you shared your first kiss.

The way your lips had tasted and devoured each other was engraved into his core memories. The way you both had explored and shared your emotions was exciting, thrilling yet oh so scary for him.

He wasn't one used to be taken care of. He was the caretaker. A self imposed role he always seemed invested in. But your little ways of weaving into his heart and mind showed him a new perspective of the world he often ignored.

He'd never forget how gentle and careful your tiny fingers were, when helping him patching up in that dirty soccer game. How shameless you were enjoying his reactions. How gorgeous you looked when your eyes wrinkled when laughing your ass off at his suffering. Cruel, but so so hypnotizing.

You'd soon become his wonderwall. His obsession and the only reason he'd go to social gatherings really. If you were there, everything was as it should be. Wonderful, the world would keep spinning normally, but in the few times your absence said present, he'd go home early. Bored out of his mind, the rest was too simple and unworthy of his attention.

Of course, women threw themselves at him. Appearance wasn't something he indulged too much neither care. He was aware of his looks, specially on his little pair of abnormal fangs you loved to feel, for whatever reasons.

"I just do." You'd tell him. And that was more than enough motive to stop worrying over them. You loved them. You loved him.

Every bit of his unwanted self, you made sure he'd know how much you enjoyed it, how much you cherished that certain part he had grown uncomfortable with through his younger years and he'd do the same for you.

After you had shared your bodies, there was no turning back for him. He gave everything of himself into you. His flesh, his scent, his energy and love to you. Something so raw yet pure that turned you into his inspiration, his muse.

You always strived to be better, for yourself mostly.

"How can one be the best version of oneself if we don't grow ourselves as individuals? I want you to have the best of me."

You'd shared in between giggles and drunken thoughts.

He adored your drunk self but would never admit it out loud. You'd come up with the most random yet brain eater questions you could imagine.

He'd fear that day that nearly lost you completely over his stupid pride. A fight ignited by your family. A reason to rarely and never visit them.

He loved your mind. And as months passed on you both, he learned how to love your flaws as well.

And now, three years after, you had given him one of his most precious gifts. His firstborn. His daughter. His child. The result of his unbridled love towards you.

You were his. But of course you had no ways to prove it to the world.

He'd spend hours if possible, watching you through loving yet stoic eyes, feed his little bundle of love, that was overjoyed whenever he held her.

A little Gabriella that was now deep asleep into her crib, in her own room, under his roof. Of course you'd move in with him when Gabi was born. It was the right thing to you.

Six months had passed since her birth, and three years with six months had passed since he met you.

You crawled under the sheets, quanked, yet with the little bits of energy you had left, curled into his chest. Seeking his blanketing warmth. His chest your safe space.

"Took me longer this time to make her fall asleep"

"Yeah. Maybe we should take her to the doctor."

His brows knitted together briefly before kissing your forehead.

"I'm pretty sure she'll be fine."

Silence crawled on you both as you just relished into each other's company. His heartbeat kept pounding in his ears.

The past year and a half had gone through but a certain question was always present. Why hadn't he ask you sooner? It didn't matter.

You remained at his side. So ever loyal, so brave, so rident and brisk. You were exactly what the hypothetical cupid delivered him after his secret longings.

"Mi reina?" (My queen)

An endearing term he only used when discussing serious matters. Despite the exhaustion taking your body hostage, you inquired him with a small and sleepy 'Hm?'

"Would you marry me?"

Eyes looked up at him, a mix of surprise and anger. Surprise that he'd ask such thing out of the blue and anger for the question to be so... powerful and simple that left you speechless. And still, you couldn't help but chuckle out of nervousness.

"It's not a laughing matter corazón. I mean it. Would you marry me?"

You felt your left ring finger being adorned with a golden band that against all odds was perfect in your finger. Like he had forseen this for quite the time.

But it also made sense. All those little moments of him touching and examining your hands resumed into this moment.

"Of course I wanna marry you, tontito" (dummy)

He chuckled as he caressed your hair in his own self grounding and reassuring touch.

"Good. Good."

"Te amo."

His heart wasn't raging anymore, but soaring into this quiet and maddening joy. You had said yes. The words he so yearned for you to say , finally spoken to his heart.

"También te amo, preciosa."

Your own heart soared in bliss at the words you had been secretly practicing over and over. You no longer had to practice, since one of your secret and wildest dreams had came true.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #t writes✨ #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️ #gabi o'hara #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 imagine #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara fluff #proposal #atsv imagines

[littlemoondarlingarts]

Did an artstyle study of the gorgeous art of @iliothermia and I genuinely learned alot so I'm very thankful that he gave me permission to do this 🙏🏻🙏🏻

As usual, rambles and process pics under the cut, be warned that I talk alot because this drawing was a true labor of love both for his art and Rouge

I wanted to use elements from his art but at the same time i know how deeply personal his art is to his own life and struggles and culture so i tried to be as respectful as possible (and if I failed at that please tell me I have no problem in deleting this) and tried to minimize my use of direct elements from his art to keep it to the skull which was heavily inspired by a drawing he has done, the waves which are such a beautiful staple of his art that I just couldn't not put it and the use of candles and small floral patterns and the style of the mold, but I tried to keep the rest to things that are symbolic to the character.

While he may have restraint to not explain everything, I'm not famous for that lol, so I will be explaining the symbolism behind my choices.

Part 1: the symbolism:

The red rose is Rouge's flower and it is heavily associated with him. The meaning of it being romantic desire and passion mixed with the thorns of it perfectly sum up his position as a beautiful black widow.

Voyeurism is a big part of this drawing and it is first noticed with the eyes motif on the roses' leaves, this symbolises his response to his trauma which left him feeling like an unwanted pervert on his own self. I can talk about this aspect of his story for hours but I'll spare you lol.

The X-ray cutouts are his complicated relationship with his own body and death, it is a thing that is constantly on his mind as he suffers from suicidal thoughts but at the same time he is always running away from it in fear, but he knows that eventually, he will have to stop running.

The candles melting represent him being only wanted when he is useful, when he is giving parts of himself up for others to use and abuse, when he is lighting their lives by slowly draining his own.

The piano is one of the rare things that bring him happiness and peace, but he needs to be heavily dissociated to be able to enjoy it which is represented by the hands being disconnected from the rest of the drawing and just floating in their own reality.

The snake represents two things, one is him being venomous to those around him, the mistakes he's made, the promises he's broken, the pain he's caused etc. But it also represents those who slowly wrap themselves around him in a warm embrace, presenting themselves as a saviour in his most dire times only to end up being the ones who will hurt him the most.

The book is about his obsession with keeping track of everything and of studying people, accidentally turning himself into an unwanted voyeur on their lives to the point where he has written the life stories of many people who would never want to be remembered through his eyes in his little books.

The butterflies are him, both in the way they are seen as "the good insects" and the beautiful delicate ones despite the fact that they eat flesh sometimes, it is also related to the way his simple presence for a few minutes in someone's life can create a whirlwind of change that will leave it unrecognizable, or he can simply be another body in their bed.

The hair turning into waves is meant to reflect the way he is always drowning in his own thoughts, a hand crafted constant state of misery.

The beta fish are some of the most beautiful and colourful fish out there, yet they are seen as cheap and easy first pets, leading to them being neglected and given environments that are too small and crammed, making their beautifully slow death the only thing they can offer to their owner. I don't think I need to explain more..

The skull is probably someone he's loved, or someone he's killed, or both.

The heart is his, it is rotten and covered in mold, any love he offers is tainted by his inability to heal and it is spreading to infect every aspect of his life.

Part 2: the inspirations:

The roses are a homage to the way Rachamim always places flowers in his art, either in the background or as a focal point of the illustration, most of the flowers he uses are cultural in nature, so I opted to not reuse any of them and changed it to a flower related to my oc.

Eyes are a repeated theme in his art, whether it be angel eyes, the evil eye or anything else, and as you can tell both of these are cultural and religious and while the evil eye exists in my culture, it does not in my oc's so I didn't use it. Instead I opted to pay homage to one of his beautiful merman drawings in which he used the plants to make an eye-like shape that stares at the viewer.

I thought I was being real smart in turning the hair into waves but yesterday I saw an illustration where he did the same so rip to me thinking i was being original lol.

The snake and butterflies are my way of replicating his use of animals while trying to not directly copy any animals that have a connection to himself or his culture/religion.

The beta fish is just to reference the ever present fishies in his art. I know he uses them because they represent friendship for him and they are the only animals safe from the evil eye (thanks for the fun fact) so I uh... I don't really know if this was disrespectful or not to be honest but I tried to use a different type of fish, idk this might still be slightly problematic and again I'm always ready to delete this if it makes anyone uncomfortable.

The waves are a direct copy of how he draws the gorgeous waves in his art, another case of something I fear may be crossing the line because the waves are drawn in the style of cultural jewelry 😭

The tiny flowers are an obvious reference to his own tiny flowers that decorate his art and characters.

The skull with the candles is heavily inspired by a specific drawing of his.

The cutouts are my way of paying my respects to my absolute favourite piece of art he's done without directly copying its concept because as far as I can tell, it is a very personal and emotional piece.

The mold style is a reference to his mold man (I forgot his name I'm sorry).

And the candles are another repeated motif in his art as well as the pillars and the pant style.

And ouf I sure do talk alot don't I? I just really love the amount of things I was able to cram into this piece and I haven't even mentioned everything😭😭 I will NOT be doing this again because I'm simply not as patient as he is and as proud as I am of the result, this was torture. I hope I didn't disrespect him, his art or his culture and I genuinely tried my best to be as respectful as possible but I might have some blind spots due to our experiences being so vastly different so again, please don't hesitate to inform me if you want this deleted!

#my art #art #artists on tumblr #oc #my oc #rouge #original characters #oc artist #oc artwork #oc art #lineart illustration #artsyle study #art style study #art study #idk how to tag this #anyway #hii #ty for reading #i hope you like it

[creedslove]

BABY BLISS 🍼

Post outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Tommy's daughter was born a couple of months ago but Joel can't bring himself to be around the baby as painful memories of his late daughter continue to haunt him and you try your best to support him

(This can be read as a continuation of SLEEP BLISS 💤, SHOWER BLISS 🫧 and MOONLIGHT BLISS 🌙 or as a stand alone, it's up to you)

Warnings: established relationship, age gap, fluff, angst, hurt, anxiety attack, talks of pregnancy, as usual, out of character Joel as always lol

A/N: I LOVE JOEL MILLER 🥺😔

2k words

You thought Joel was indestructible. He was fearless, courageous, when needed, he was violent, brutal, mercilessly. You'd seen him take down men and creatures without flinching.

Nothing seemed to faze him, and you were sure he feared nothing in his life.

So watching Joel Miller being scared of a baby was actually pretty funny. At first.

Ever since Maria's and Tommy's baby was born, you'd been to their place a lot of times. You just loved helping them out with the baby, it wasn't the smartest idea to have one during the apocalypse, but then, they were married, in love, safe in a community and who were you to judge after all? Babies represented a new life, a wind of change, so when you saw that beautiful little thing for the first time, your heart melted.

She was an adorable baby, so quiet and small and you loved holding her whenever Maria would let you to.

Her sweet precious Flora smelled really good, you had heard of people talking about how babies smelled good but you didn't think it was true until you held her. You just couldn't get enough of your niece.

Niece.

That made you giggle.

You and Joel finally made things official after he took you on a date. You had been in love with each other for long, but you were both too scared to admit it.

Looking back at things now, you realized how silly it was because of how obvious your feelings for each other were, and you could swear you were the happiest woman in Jackson, as you could be with the man you loved.

But when you saw how happy Maria was with her baby, you realized maybe you were the second happiest woman in town.

The only thing that felt off was Joel's reaction. He never seemed very enthusiastic about the news his brother was going to be a dad, and when Maria finally delivered the baby, he was just in a weird mood. He kept to him, didn't say much, congratulated his brother and took him out for a drink, but he declined when Tommy offered him to hold Flora.

And since then, he kept his distance from the baby. He glanced at her from afar and that was it.

At first you didn't give it much thought, but you began finding it weird, especially after the uncomfortable silence that lingered in the room whenever Joel didn't actually acknowledge his niece.

Tommy didn't pressure him into holding Flora or anything like that, he had an idea why his brother was distant, so he'd rather not go there and make him uncomfortable.

You'd spent the whole after at Maria's while the men were out in town working and doing other tasks. Very often Tommy and Joel went back to some construction jobs, just as before everything went to shit.

He knew you'd stay at his brother's so he'd told you he'd stop by later and you two could walk home together.

Joel was hoping that you'd be good to go once he got there with Tommy, but of course you had to be inside, he sighed and looked around, trying to come up with an excuse so he wouldn't get in, but his brother was already holding the door open for him with a dumb smile and he could hear your voice inside.

The house was silent, the only thing they could hear was your voice, but you weren't speaking, you were humming.

Maria was in a comfortable slumber, she lay on the couch and ended up falling asleep once she saw her baby girl was safe in your arms. She'd spent most nights awake and it was a relief to have you around helping her. She didn't even know how to thank you, but to you, it was such a bliss to take care of Flora.

Joel stepped inside, he swallowed hard the moment he saw you holding the baby. You hummed a lullaby but she wouldn't close her little eyes. Flora was smart and curious, always looking around and cooing at people. He knew you'd already told him he should be a little warmer to her, of course she was a small baby and didn't understand things, but you reminded him maybe Tommy and Maria could be offended if he didn't show any interest in their daughter, after all, she'd been born a couple of months ago and Joel had barely looked at her.

But he didn't want to look at her, because if he did, he would recognize the features he used to love so much and he lost. He didn't want to hold her, because he knew her smell would remind him of the smell of the one he lost for good.

He couldn't do that to himself, he didn't want to live through that pain again, now he was happy and though he would never forget what happened, some days it hurt a little less, because he had you in his life and you made it all easier. But when he saw you holding Flora, he didn't feel strong enough. The way she cooed in your arms and blinked curiously and the way you pecked her forehead so gently, it gutted him.

"Hey princess, that's uncle Joel" you cooed at her and saw her fussing a little before giving him a gummy smile.

You chuckled and got closer "do you wanna hold her?" You offered gently. He saw your eyes sparkling and he wondered if you ever wanted to be a mom, you were a natural with kids, they always seemed to love you and sometimes he closed his eyes and wondered what things would be like if you ended up pregnant, but he dismissed this thought as soon as it appeared.

He could see how happy you were to be holding Flora, and how comfortable you were with a small baby in your arms.

He hadn't told you why he didn't want anything to do with the baby, he knew he was kind of a jerk, but since his brother never brought it up, then he didn't feel the need to explain it.

But when you looked at him that way, it melted his heart, he couldn't bring himself to say no to you. He heard a small coo and looked down onto your eyes, taking a deep breath and extending his.

You didn't think Joel would be willing to pick Flora up, and if he weren't you wouldn't insist it at all, but there he was, surprising you after all. Little Flora settled comfortably in her uncle's arms, her small nose nuzzled his chest as she began closing her eyes feeling sleepy. She looked curiously at him, but he was so warm she couldn't fight sleep for much longer.

Joel was in awe at his niece. She didn't even know him, and yet she trusted him enough to fall asleep, silly little princess, he thought to himself and smiled. She was so soft and small and the warmth in his arms brought him back so many memories he thought they were buried deep.

He didn't know why he was blushing, but he still avoided looking at you or Tommy, wanting to focus only on the beautiful little girl he had in his arms. He scanned her features and smiled at her, closing his eyes as he inhaled her characteristic baby scent.

His heart skipped a beat and his smile died as a lump formed in his throat. He was enjoying the moment, he really was but then everything came back, all at once and the moment he opened his eyes again he didn't see Flora anymore, all he saw was Sarah.

His sweet baby Sarah, it'd been so long and yet there she was in his arms. He felt a pang in his chest, thinking he'd gone crazy. The first time he held her in his arms, her first word which was also the first time she called him dada, the first time she scraped her knee and called for him, the movie nights they had together and finally how he held her limp body against his, the smell of her fresh blood invading his nostrils and how cold she got in his arms.

Joel let out a sob and opened his eyes again, Flora was still asleep but Tommy quickly picked her up from him "I got this" he said in a concerned way as Joel walked out the backdoor.

The lump in his throat was making it impossible for Joel to breath, he placed his hand in his chest, trying to reach for air but his heart hammered faster and faster in his chest. He looked around hoping he could find something to focus and calm down, but it seemed impossible. Tears ran down his cheek as he fought for control but felt he got to a dead end.

You ran to Joel as fast as you could, he was anxious and tense and you didn't know exactly how to help him, your eyes glistened with tears as you saw his own.

Your arms wrapped around his body.

"I'm here Joel, I'm here" you whispered to him and felt him fall onto his knees, you followed him and felt him burying his face into the crook of your neck. You pressed it, caressing his hair so gently, reminding him you were there for him.

"Breath honey, breath" you said as calmly as you could. Joel's grip was tight around your waist and you lost track of how long you stayed there.

•••

The walk home was silent, Joel didn't say anything and you didn't ask. He was embarrassed after what happened, to him it was a sign of weakness and he was sure that changed how you viewed him. He would rather be alone than be with you if you pitied him.

You, on the other hand, didn't want to leave his side at all, you didn't feel sorry for him, you felt love. You felt a burning ache, longing for him. You had seen the most human portrait of Joel someone could ever witness.

He wasn't a murderer, he wasn't cold blooded, he was a wounded man. A man who lost all but somehow made his way back to being happy with you.

Once at home, Joel went to his room and stayed there, complete silence filled the house and though you wanted to give him all the time he needed, at the same time you felt a need to be next to him.

You knocked on his door, and opened it, Joel was sitting on the bed, watching old pictures of Sarah.

You smiled sadly as he hid them quickly. They were his and he never let anyone see them, not even you. And you respected that.

You sat next to him and ran your fingers through his hair, feeling his arm pulling you by the waist as he let his heavy body lay comfortably in bed and pull you closer to him.

"We don't have to talk about what happened if you don't want to… but I want you to know I'm proud of you, proud of how strong you are, Joel" you told him and kissed his lips gently.

You wanted to tell him so many things, you wanted to tell him that you were proud he managed to hold his niece, you wanted to tell him you were sure she was as beautiful as Sarah was and you wanted to tell him if the world wasn't going to shit you would be more than glad in carry his baby, or you would never get pregnant at all, you wanted to tell him you would do anything he wanted you to, because you loved him.

So those were the only words you let it out.

"I love you, Joel"

He looked at you completely silent and pulled you even closer, kissing your forehead and closing his eyes, he wasn't there yet, he wasn't ready to tell you those three words, it could've been superstition, as he lost everyone he's ever loved, so you didn't mind, you respected his silence, because you loved enough for the two of you.

_____

A/N: I love Joel so much

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou show

[skeletoninthemelonland]

About BAD PRETENDER

I've been receiving many asks since I posted my last piece, so I decided to share some information.

Bad Pretender was an animated project I planned on finishing before Behind The Codes. I wanted to make something "lighter" that would help me develop my skills for the next and far more ambitious project.

It was essentially supposed to be one single short-length episode displaying a day in the life of Alice, a retired and insomniac woman grieving the loss of her two youngest children.

I'm not actively working on it, but it's still a pending project.

(click in "Keep reading" for more info. Trigger warnings for knives and disturbing imagery)

In the story, Alice never left the home she built with her husband. In fact, she compulsively attempted to keep it the way it used to be, before tragedies took place. She's portrayed as antsy and very attached to her children's belongings.

Due to an increasing amount of sleepless nights and nightmares, Alice developed a bad case of insomnia, and became dependent on sleeping pills.

Alice's thoughts and worries are represented by colorful and abstract shapes that follow her around. They annoy and interrupt her sleep, and become increasingly frequent and disturbing the more she attempts to ignore them.

In the episode itself, Alice's sleeping pills stop working properly, and her hallucinations grown increasingly worse every day.

Some important clarifications include:

She's always known her husband was a serial killer since the death of her first child, but refused to tell anyone by fear of having everything fall apart because she decided to denounce him.

Alice and William were a happy couple, and they did love each other very, very much. Both loved their children. There were never hints, or any aspects about William that suggested he was a murderer. He was a simply a business man and a dad, and he continued to be, until his disappearance. For Alice, learning the truth did not seem to make a difference in their lives, so she let it be, culminating in guilt.

#bad pretender #starbstalks #starbsart #fnaf #five nights at freddy's

[vivwritesfics]

Keep on Rolling - MV1

Chapter Four

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

1.1K words

Next one will be longer, I promise. Next part is actually Y/N doing a QandA video. Sooooo, anything you want to ask about the fic, send in an anon and Y/N will answer ;)

Series Masterlist

"Hello everybody and welcome to the Monaco grand Prix," said Y/N into her microphone. James stood opposite her, camera in his hands as he filmed her.

The Monaco grand prix. It was spectacular. Monaco itself was a place of grandeur, with impressive buildings and spectacular views. The harbour was filled with expensive yachts and boats and the water was sparkling blue.

Celebrities were around every corner in Monaco. Y/N had already met two of the Kardashians and one of her dads favourite actors. She tried not to film them and, if she did, she made a point of going over and asking for their permission.

Y/N had never been this dressed up before. She wore a white, long-sleeved blouse with a cream vest over the top. A black skirt was underneath, both the vest and blouse tucked into it. On her feet she had trainers, going for comfort over style.

She'd been up since the early hours of the morning, doing her hair and her makeup, ready for the grand prix. Lando had waited for her, walking in with Y/N on his arm.

"I can't believe you're not wearing orange," he said to her as they walked into the paddock. "I can't believe you're not representing McLaren."

"I always represent McLaren, Lando. I wanted to look nice today. Got big things planned," she answered.

"And you can't look nice in orange?"

Rolling her eyes, Y/N walked away from him. "I'll catch up with you later!" She called, running off to meet James.

That was where she met the two Kardashians and one of her dad's favourite actors.

She and James began rolling. She did her introduction, showed off her outfit and the video began.

Monaco was one of Y/N's favourites grand prix's. With such a tight track it was exciting and anxiety-inducing all at the same time. She loved it, loved that feeling. Of course, every time Lando was in a tight spot she was biting her nails and trying not to shut her eyes out of fear.

The real part of the video began. Y/N started out in the McLaren garage, seeking out her best friend. "Lando Norris, can we pull you aside for an interview?"

Lando stared at her for a good fifteen minutes. And then he ran off. Just took off across the paddock away from her. "What the hell? Lando! I just want to interview you!"

She turned, looking for the other McLaren driver. "Oscar?"

But the Australian had already disappeared, hiding away somewhere in the garage.

"Assholes," Y/N said into her microphone as she glared in the direction Lando had run off in.

Moving on, her next stop of the Ferarri garage. James walked behind her, keeping the camera following her. "Charles?" Called Y/N, walking into the garage. The Monégasque, already in his racing suit, turned to her with wide eyes. "Wanna do an interview?"

Putting his fingers in his ear, Charles started to sing. "Lalala, not listening! I'm not listening!" He sang and walked away from her.

One and on she went, trying to find somebody to interview. They all either ran away or did the same as Charles. Daniel let her interview him, but every single answer was a joke to him.

"You can interview me, if you'd like," came a voice as Y/N turned away from the Redbull garage. She turned around, recognising the voice. But she didn't expect it to belong to him.

There he was, already in his raving suit, helmet under his arm. His hair was done nicely, but that wouldn't matter soon. The Dutch man smiled as Y/N looked at him. "You'd really let me interview you?"

"Of course," answered Max. "You've got to keep the FormulaY/N fans happy."

Y/N grinned. She looked to James and moved her hand in front of her throat, signalling to him to cut off the camera. "Seriously, Max, thank you. This video has been a disaster and the only footage I've got is people running and hiding from me. You're literally a life saver."

In response, Max just gave a smile. They started rolling again and Y/N began asking the questions.

They weren't her usual jokey questions. Y/N was trying her very best to be serious and Max was helping. Every question he answered in the sincerest way possible.

Before they began filming the video, Y/N made it clear to Max that they could cut out anything he didn't want to be left in there. There were some questions Y/N had that she was sure wouldn't be in the final cut of the video. But, so far, Max had no objections.

It was the last question Y/N thought she'd have to get rid of. "Would you say that you can appreciated how hard your father pushed you when you were a child, or do you resent him for it?" She asked, holding her microphone towards him.

"We can cut it out if you want," she whispered.

Max shook his head. "I'll answer. Just, let me watch it before you post it."

"Of course."

So, Max answered. He was unapologetically honest. As he spoke, Y/N's eyes went wide. It was hard to follow, but Y/N wasn't struggling. Her focus was only on him, completely forgetting microphone in her hand and the camera pointing at her.

"I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that I love my father and I do appreciate how hard he pushed me. Without that, I wouldn't be here talking to you. While I wish I sometimes had a weekend off, I can't resent him for it," he said.

Max seemed to forget about the camera. He was staring at Y/N, heart in his eyes. "Wow, Max," she found herself whispering, her microphone down by her side. "That was incredible."

"Thank you, Y/N." He checked the time on his watch and looked back towards the Red Bull garage. "I should get going. You look nice today."

"So do you." But Max was already gone, walking back towards the Red Bull garage.

Putting the camera down, James stared at Y/N. "You know he's wearing the same thing he wears every day, right?"

"Shut up, James," she muttered and turned towards him.

Holding her microphone up once again, Y/N readied to film the remainder of the video. "Well, there we have it, everybody. Only one of my "so called" friends wants to be interviewed by me. Lovely, aren't they? As always thank you everybody for watching. Don't forget to like, subscribe, and join us for the next race of the season."

James put down the camera. "I'm off to edit," he said, taking the microphone from Y/N's hand. "Have fun at the race."

He walked away before Y/N could respond to him.

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky @arian-directioner @lazybot @lpab @princessria127 @fangirl125reader @honethatty12 @larastark3107 @urfavouritef1girly @cassiopeiia24 @callsign-scully @lexiecamposv @dl-yum

#max #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x female reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x reader smut #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fluff #f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one imagine #formula one x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #keep on rolling

[stardewvalleybut-i-draw]

Humming a tune (writing)

Evelyn notices the farmers both seem to sometimes hum to themselves SO she decides to approach the male farmer and ask what tune he's humming in order to get to know him better.

Word count: 1,378 words (so medium I guess)

Characters: Evelyn and Mask Farmer.

Vibe: nice and wholesome moments :) I'm not really experienced in writing but I'll do my best to make it coherent, enjoy! :D and with pictures!

A lovely spring and sunny day welcomed the valley. Evelyn tends to the town square flowers, putting care and attention to each one.

It's the town's flowers after all. The people in the valley need to be represented properly!

It was nice to be out in the center of the town square on days like this. It allowed her to greet anyone who went through, give them a big warm smile, and catch up about what was happening that day. It was also nice to be able to bathe in the sun's warmth and reminisce on the past and how the valley had changed over the years. In came the male farmer with focused eyes, dedicated to a goal in his mind, ignoring everything around him. She could tell he was passing even with her bad vision by the sound of his fast and heavy footsteps, always in a rush. Both the farmers often cross here in the mornings, although Evelyn really only saw the sister out. Both would look at the bulletin board outside of Pierre's shop, check the calendars, and go on with their daily routine but only she would talk to Evelyn and the other townspeople. "Perhaps he's shy," Evelyn thought seeing him walk to the Help Wanted board. He greeted her once when they both first arrived in Pelican Town and he hasn't talked to her since then...or anyone besides for transactional reasons it seemed. Evelyn's face grew sad at the thought. The poor boy was ignored by everyone or treated as an anomaly to be feared and avoided. It didn't seem to bother the farmer but her heart could not let it be. "The flowers can be tended later, it was about time someone bothered to try and have a nice conversation with him" Evelyn thought. She began to walk towards the farmer who was still reading the Help Wanted note and noticed he was humming something. Thinking about it now, the farmers both tend to hum a tune to themselves. It's almost never the same song and seems to change throughout the seasons. "Excuse me, dear" she asked beside the farmer "May I ask what tune you are humming?"

The Farmer jolts in shock and turns towards her. "Oh I'm sorry sweetie, I didn't mean to startle you." Evelyn says apologetically "I was just curious about the songs you hum to yourself, they sound very nice, was it a band back in the city?" He was really expecting anyone to talk to him today so Evelyn's Interruption took him back a bit. He also had a lot to do but her soft genuine smile guilt tripped him to take the time to answer her. "The song doesn't exist." The farmer stated bluntly "Oh"

Not the answer Evelyn was expecting. She had sworn she heard both the farmers hum the same tune.

Very curious she continued "So did you come up with the tune?" "No" the Farmer responds "I hear them In my head." Evelyn's confused expression let him know it made no sense to her but he couldn't really find another way to explain it besides being direct and honest. Maybe he should have lied, he thought. His sister did all the time to explain weird things like this but her genuine curiosity stopped him from lying to her face. Could he really lie to sweet little granny Evelyn? Evelyn saw the farmer's face slightly turn from her in shame. She didn't really understand the answer but she didn't want him to feel ashamed of his response so she softly said "It's ok. I don't need to understand it, do you like the songs? The farmer nods.

"Oh, that's nice to hear, I assume the song changes through the season? do you hear it all the time?" "Yeah..." he responds. She could tell the Farmer was starting to get uncomfortable with her questions so she tried to ease his nerves. "You know...your grandpa used to do the same thing too" The farmer looks at her in surprise "It's true!" she exclaims Evelyn begins to walk to the town flowers gesturing for the farmer to follow. The farmer does so.

"When he used to run the farm, he would whistle songs to himself while he worked" Evelyn reminisced. "Your grandpa used to say he would hear the valley singing to him, he would call it a superpower! Not many of us understood what he meant but by the sounds of it, I guess it was passed down to you"

The farmer smiles and chuckles at the idea. Their Grandpa did used to whistle a lot on the farm. It was only a faint memory since both he and his sister were so young when they used to visit. In a sense, the valley was singing to them.

"If it's not too much, could you hum a bit of the song you hear?" she asked The farmer paused for a second. He looked slightly at the sky and listened. He did his best to match the tune but it was difficult when there was more than one instrument to hum in his head.

Evelyn listened internally and cheered for the farmer once he had stopped. She could tell he was embarrassed by it but genuinely flattered. "You have a very lovely voice dear, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, oh!-" she interrupted herself. "I heard there was a band in town, maybe you should join, I think you would make a lovely addition!" He knew she was talking about Sam's band but he hadn't really talked to the guy... or anyone in that band. Sometimes he saw Abigail up in the mountains or Sebastian taking a smoke break but never really paid them any attention. He never needed to. Evelyn begins to tend to the flowers as she speaks. "You don't need to if you don't want to. I can tell you don't like to talk much, I don't want to pressure you."

She pauses.

"but I can tell you like to listen" The farmer had never really thought about it that way before... but when you don't say much, the only other choice is to listen to the world around you. "I know not many of us can understand you and I've noticed others treat you differently because of that" Evelyn gently places her hands on top of the farmer's hand. "-but I don't want you to feel like you're not part of the town. You will always be welcomed here...no matter how odd you are"

The farmer softly smiled to Evelyn. "Well," Evelyn exclaimed. "I don't want to hold your day up much longer but If you ever want to talk more about your grandpa or just to hear an old lady ramble about the past, I'm always here for you" The farmer is quiet for a second, taking in her words. "Thank you." He says. "Ohhh, no need to thank me, I haven't done anything, sweetie" She replied but the farmer quickly responded. "You did." Evelyn curiously looked at him confused. "You talked to me."

Evelin's heart was touched beyond words as the farmer leaned down to hug her. She squeezed as hard as her weak arms would allow and stayed there for as long as he needed. But the farmer quickly got up, smiled, and began to walk to the mines. They waved each other goodbye and moved on with their days. The warm moment being over just like that. As the farmer walked up the mountain he began to think. It was only a small moment. It had never really bothered him that the town viewed him as a cryptid. He often reveled in being odd, weird, and feared. He didn't have much of an interest in getting to know anyone. But Granny Evelyn had warmed his heart. Maybe he didn't need to be so cold to everyone. Maybe he should stop by and chat before heading to the mines. It's not like the caves are going anywhere. Maybe... ...he'll stop by and get some cookies :)

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew #stardew farmer #sdv farmer #sdv evelyn #please let me know about spelling or writing mistakes btw! #I am VERY dyslexic and spell checker can only do so much :( #SDVBID art

[ystrike1]

Run, Meil - By Ellian Yang (8.5/10)

A mad Emperor. A garden. Innocent love. Cutthroat competition. Flowers. Executions. Trauma and visions. An explosion of love that can't be stopped. Finally fear is the main element. Can you really forgive and marry a madman who killed you in your past life. Does it matter, when he can force you to marry him? Your opinion is meaningless.

Meil von Biseart is a happy young woman who has bad luck with men. Her favorite hobby is gardening. She's supposed to be a young married woman, but her fiance was a pervert. He left her for a woman that could satisfy his masochistic desires. So, Meil von Biseart lives a peaceful life with her loving father. She's still young and ready for the next proposal.

Everything is normal, but then she has a dream.

A dream where the entire country burns. Her father dies. Innocent people lie in the streets slaughtered.

Why?

What could have caused such a tragic end?

A stupid princess did it.

Princess Riella is a dumb pretty girl with an immature heart. She thinks she's entitled to everything. Her father spoils her too. The terrible dream tells her the princess fell in love. Deep love, with the Emperor who rules the Helberne Empire. The strongest empire.

Princess Riella entered a marriage competition. She didn’t win, and it turned out the Emperor had a lover all along. She was the only one in love, but that cruel Emperor planned to make her a puppet. Someone to warm the seat until he could gift it to his true love.

A sacrifice.

Princess Riella stupidly poisoned that lover.

That lover was, obviously, important to the Emperor. He was willing to use a puppet princess to protect her, after all. Upon her death he went mad. He never saw reason ever again, and his powerful Empire fell upon everything and everyone Princess Riella represented.

All because of some stupid jealousy.

Princess Riella didn't think for a second.

She was full of childish thoughts when she committed the crime.

Meil von Biseart cannot sleep. She's paranoid. She follows Princess Riella. She's smart, so Princess Riella chooses her as her personal lady-in-waiting.

They get along well.

Princess Riella is dumb. A narcissistic child....but she doesn't seem evil.

Meil von Biseart meets a man in the Emperors garden. He has red hair, so he cannot be the Emperor.

They become friends.

The Emperor does have a lover, but their relationship is strange. She's a nobody. The Emperor took her in for no reason, and he has never been romantic with her.

Frankly, the whole situation makes him look insane.

He gave a whole palace to this woman, who is a sickly pale commoner that doesn't even get along with him well. When they eat together they don't even smile.

The poor girl is a pawn.

She was chosen because she looks like his mother.

The Emperor forgot his mother.

She was the third concubine. The only one able to get pregnant. The King wasn't very fertile. Sadly, he impregnated the wrong concubine. The one he loved was his first, Elise.

Elise tormented that pathetic unloved concubine, and her son.

Eventually, she poisoned that concubine.

The boy lost his memories, and now he's surrounded by snakes. People who want him to marry a woman who looks like his mother, so they can kill her and activate his madness.

They plan to pin her death on some idiot princess, so they can take power.

Meil von Biseart makes friends with the red haired man, and she quickly falls into denial.

He can't be the Emperor.

Their friendship deepens.

He can't be the Emperor. That man has a lover he would kill for.

He starts flirting with her.

He can't be the Emperor. The Empress Selection Competition is a ruse to protect his beloved.

His madness leaks out when she is attacked.

It becomes impossible to deny.

There's a minor villain in this story, and her fate is incredibly sad. A jealous and greedy woman targets Princess Riella. Then, she targets Meil. When she dares to target Meil the men in her pocket are murdered by the Emperor himself. She is stripped of her title. The Emperor forces her family to cut all ties with her. She is left penniless in the streets to die the cruelest death of all. Homelessness and incompetence spell death for her. The greedy woman has no idea how to live without her family.

One of the snakes gives her a maid costume.

She tries to attack the Emperor's true beloved, Meil von Biseart, before she can unravel the mystery behind his madness.

Her death is horrible.

In between the horror there is so much sweetness. Meil and "Van" are sweetly in love. He thinks of her always, when he isn't by her side. Talking about plants with her is his solace. They're both plant nerds. Isn't that cute?

Meil digs too deep. She saves Van. The fake copy of his mother is a victim too. She agrees to expose the truth thanks to Meil. Van learns the truth about his past. His fake and twisted love leaves the palace in a hurry. She never loved Van.

She feared him all along.

I'm sure that's not a bad sign let's move on!!!

The first consort is still alive. Safely tucked away in her home country. The former Emperor never punished her. Her brother, and the snakes, are plotting to dethrone Van after the madness takes over.

That doesn't happen, because of Meil von Biseart. The first consort, Elise, is found and executed for killing the mother of the nation.

Meil von Biseart is his hero.

Van says losing her is the only thing that can hurt him.

His "love" for his mothers replacement was never real.

The happy ending you expect doesn't come.

Princess Riella was never the villan.

The snakes behind Van are gone.

The real truth is so much more horrible.

Van confesses his love.

He will propose soon.

The Empress Selection is canceled.

Meil von Biseart will wed him, and she will be loved for the rest of her days.

She dreams again, and she sees it. Van, in the grip of madness. Slashing through her nanny. Her guards. Her carriage door.

Her.

Van didn't just burn down her country. No, he tortured people left and right. He broke into carriages and slaughtered the people inside himself. He was mindless and hateful and he killed everyone she loved in her past life.

She wanted him to die.

That was the real truth lurking in her dreams.

She wakes up shaking in terror, sobbing. Her new love is riddled with darkness. Van is the perfect man for her, because she doesn't know anything.

The readers see it.

She doesn't.

He was behind plenty of horrible deaths during the Empress Selection. He's a terribly sadistic person. His sad backstory can't change that.

Meil von Biseart is a lower noble, from a tiny country.

She is completely in Van's hands.

She finally notices the huge power imbalance between them, but it's far too late.

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Run #Meil [Official] #Run Meil

[myrmica]

i actually love dearly that zam betrayed everyone he ever loved ever in season 4 and i DON'T think it was wrong and i think he should do it MORE. Firm anti-loyalty stance. like do you understand how beautiful it is that his entering subz and vitalasy's relationship revealed the cracks in that relationship and forced subz to weigh vitalasy against something else he loved and made him consider leaving. in addition to the ways in which zam represents a wish for lifesteal itself to remain healthy, he's also like... relationship entropy. seeking conflict in everything. "there was nothing left to fight so i had to start fighting my own teammates!" or whatever he says at the end of s4 because he will never under any circumstances stop trying to keep things moving... opposite of the roshambo eternity thing where his worst fear is the lack of motion.

#m #lifesteal #i need to make a post like this once a week or the thoughts stay in my head and i get sick

[ataraxiaspainting]

Heyy!! I don’t know if you still do Chrollo fics , but if you’re doing recommendations/commissions , can you make something like where the readers like “do you think you’ll kill for me one day?” and he’s like “yes. of course I will my darling” ?? It’s based off a sound I heard somewhere .. I think the song is called “I want it all” by Lana del ray. Thank you!! 🫶

damn he really would say that huh?

Bad Habit.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Synopsis: “Where there is carnage, there is beauty.”

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, general anxiety and uneasiness, references to disturbing works of art (Saturn Devouring His Son, The Nightmare, Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan), manipulation, and talks of violence.

Word Count: 900.

*~*~*~*

There are as many things people can see as beautiful as there are shades of light shining through a prism.

Spectrums are quite common along with comparison and placement. It varies greatly from person to person, their preferences and their life experiences and their joys, and their fears.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, yes, but the eye of the beholder is also the window to their soul, to their psychological responses and traumas and memories of a past that would rather either be forgotten or worshiped. Every soul is different, and there is beauty in that. So, why do you find the heart and soul of Chrollo Lucilfer, whom many would call beautiful if they never knew him for what he truly is, so, so simply lovely? It does not have to do with his mannerisms or his confidence or his knowledge of virtually everything in this world, you concluded one day, after receiving yet another call from him, with him, as always, asking general questions like if you miss him and such. It is because he is the only thing I can cling to that will stay here, with me.

You cling onto him like a lost puppy, yearning for any sort of affection they can get no matter the cost. You did that when he first transported you from one place to another with hardly regarding any words from you on the matter. You do that now, in this art museum, full of unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar artwork and unfamiliar architecture. You missed home, back then. You still do now, and Chrollo still does not care one bit.

His hand is like a cuff, his arm like a chain, as he walks with you from one room to the next. But, still, it is the only thing that keeps you from falling apart.

So, like a sort of dance, you two move in sync. It is up to Chrollo as to if or when you will stop. It is never up to you, after all.

Does Chrollo enhance the horrific allure of these paintings, or does he once again bring all the attention to himself?

*~*~*~*

“Mythology often comes from our own woes.” He says, pointing upward, slowly, to Cronos’s eyes, which are bloodshot and large and dark. “A popular theory was that Goya was representing an oppressive government through Kronos, and the son that was prophesized to kill him as an adult represented the people who had started to revolt. But others don’t see it that way, oddly enough.”

You don’t respond, you simply look at the beheaded infant, which looks so soft and so rotten at the same time, with blood and deskinned chewed flesh running down his neck. He fits into his father’s hands perfectly, like he was made to be eaten.

*~*~*~*

“While most incubi are written and drawn as physically attractive creatures, this one in particular looks more akin to a gargoyle than that of a man.” He hums, and you can feel his hand wrap more tightly around yours. Not so much in a strangling, hurtful way, but rather just in a sort of reminderful way. “Maybe Fuseli was trying to make sure that the point of what the incubus really is is sent across to the viewers?”

With not a single word coming out of your mouth, a sure sign that you are zoning out his words, he squeezes a bit tighter to get your attention back where he wants it to be.

“What do you think, beloved?”

Once again, instead of answering, you choose to remain silent and focus your attention on other things. So, you look around. To the floor. To your high heels. Everything else, anything else. Only silence remains for a few more moments, but when the silence is not enjoyed any longer with another increase in his grip, you decide to answer before you get yourself into trouble.

“...I… I think that maybe it deals with sleep paralysis.”

Chrollo widens his eyes and smirks, and from those actions alone you know you have created a believable lie and concept that is sure to be amusing to him.

You’re forgiven.

*~*~*~*

“Historians say that the son’s death was the point of no return for Ivan.” A cradling of the arms and a Cat’s Cradle are the same; they both trap those within them.

Eyes are still eyes, whether they are real or not. Ivan the Terrible’s show a thousand tragedies and a thousand other faces his destiny could have worn, if he pushed the other one aside, if he had the strength to.

“Just like how Ivan was his son’s undoing, his son was also his.”

*~*~*~*

“...Would you ever kill for me?”

Violence is often not the only path Chrollo can choose to take. His words can be another, albeit that road will be much longer, and less smooth.

Who knows what he will choose when the hour of the heist comes to fruition when the art can finally be grasped and never let go of?

Which path do you prefer?

Which path does he prefer?

Do you prefer to be threatened with sweet honey that sticks to your skin or is so hot that it burns it?

“Of course, my dear.”

What you find grotesque, like the way the topic of violence is spoken so naturally from you and him, Chrollo always seems to find beautiful, like the way your moving lips are so lush.

…

Paintings are often just a reflection of how the world is, after all.

#aya abstractions #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere hunter x hunter x reader #yandere hxh x reader #200 followers event

[fazedlight]

Hero (Kara character study. Angsty but gets better.)

I can save this world.

Kara looked herself over in the mirror, her chest puffing in silent pride at the symbol that lay across it. I am the last daughter of the House of El, she thought to herself. I am the last daughter of Krypton, and no one will ever forget it.

Her mind drifted to watching her cousin’s feats from her living room. Collapsed bridges, raging floods, villains - human and alien alike - who sought to cause harm. How he stood in the way, the El family crest on his chest, cape snapping in the wind. 

She couldn’t save her world, but she could save this one. She could make herself worthy of the House of El.

I can save this world.

She could still hear the screams from across the city, from the child she couldn’t get to on time. The fire had spread so rapidly that the mere minute it took for her to come up with an excuse and run away had cost a child his life. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, but there were others in the building she could still save.

She thought of asking Kal how he handled it, the loss of a single precious life that might still have been here had she been just a little better, just a little faster. But maybe he didn’t really deal with that - maybe she was just the failure he wasn’t. She had failed to be there for him, after all.

Then the news of her father’s involvement in Medusa came to light, and Kara stopped knowing how to feel about the sigil on her chest.

I can’t save this world.

It was the last conscious thought she had, as Reign’s hand loosened. She remembered starting to fall, but she couldn’t remember landing.

She was trapped - trapped in her own mind, away from everyone. Unable to escape. But she wasn’t damaged. She was stuck because… she was afraid? Because she was a failure. Because Reign represented everything she couldn’t be. How could she try to save the world, when destruction was so much easier than creation?

I can’t save this world.

What is it the man had said? “They’re not like you. You’re a superhero.” As though her cape made her any less a refugee who came here for safety, a child sent across skies to protect and be protected.

How does one fight a villain that lives in everyone’s soul, a piece of darkness and fear that turns outward with suspicion and hatred towards those that are different? Even if she was a shining example of the best of her kind, she would simply be discounted. “You’re one of the good ones,” they would tell her. Because hate was easy when there was fear.

I can save her.

Kara’s chest fluttered in panic as Lena held Myriad in her hand. It had been too easy, how quickly their relationship had recovered from Kara’s own cruelty. She never wanted the other shoe to drop. She hid, she always hid, hiding would always be easier than acknowledging the possibility of loss.

She thought she had lost enough in her life, but as the kryptonite encased her in the last remnant of her home, she could only feel a new type of regret.

I can’t save her.

Kara’s fists clenched as she stared down Lena on the balcony. You act like a villain, I’ll treat you like one, she thought to herself, hating herself every moment. She knew the torn woman in front of her was an adversary she had created. But she had tried, Rao, she had tried to do the right thing.

She didn’t know how she could live with the string of failure that had followed her ever since she had picked up the cape. But at the same time, she knew there came a point where - whatever she had created - she still needed to do what was right. 

Even if it meant giving up any hope of being with the woman she loved.

I can’t even save myself.

She could still feel the softness of Lena’s hand in her own when they reconciled. There was still so much they needed to talk about in the aftermath, something else she needed to confess. The bridge was there for them to cross, once it was all over.

But then the only option became to risk her own life. Her soul tore at Lena’s longing gaze when she left the Fortress, and Kara wondered if they would ever get the chance.

It was a twisted comfort, knowing that Lena cared, even in the midst of their fallout, even as Kara faced her eternity in the Phantom Zone.

They saved me.

Kara broke down sobbing when Alex shoved her under the sunlamp, feeling the painful tingling of her cells remembering how to process sunlight. Everything screamed at her - the thundering sound of the light breeze outside, and choking scent of motor oil from the passing cars, and the hammering of all her friends’ heartbeats from the Tower’s mainroom.

Her body screamed like she was 13 again, panic and joy overwhelming her, because the pain wasn’t tied to the loss like it was all those years ago. It was a second chance, with everyone she loved.

We can save the world. 

There was this exhilaration to being back, to seeing the blue oceans and red sunrises and green grass. Maybe it’s easy to get carried away, when you can forget what made everything so hard.

Her father was going to save this world from its own destruction. She was going to absorb the sun. It was easy to seek easy solutions for everything, only for it to solve nothing at all.

We can save the world, sometimes.

It felt so odd to smile and cry, as Lena pulled her into her arms. Kara’s mind jumped from seeing her sister so happy with Kelly as they danced, to the words that were missing. The words Kara needed to say to her best friend.

She knew in the night - once they were out of their wedding clothes and in their pajamas, curled up on Lena’s couch - the words would finally tumble out.

But as Lena stood in front of her, reminding her that the world wasn’t on her shoulders alone, Kara took the moment to pause. She thought of her old cape, torn up and folded neatly in her closet at home. The day she put it on, she never thought she’d need more than feats of strength to save the world.

But how could strength defeat masses manipulated into bigotry? How could strength defeat magic? How could strength defeat the best friend she had betrayed? She wasn’t here through strength alone, but through connection, and truth. As Lena reminded her, the only salve against the darkness was in standing together.

We can save each other.

A small smile crossed Kara’s face, as she watched Lena snooze next to her in the morning light, hearing her voice from the day before. “You can’t always be our savior, Kara. You shine your light and inspire others to shine theirs.” She could never save everyone. No one could. But that’s not what hope was about, as much as cynicism said otherwise. 

As Kara reached up to brush hair away from Lena’s face, she remembered the lyrical sound of her family motto falling from Lena’s lips. With each person who stood next to another, the spark grew. Perhaps they could someday create enough light.

Kara lowered her head, placing her forehead against Lena’s as she slept. As Kara listened to Lena's peaceful heartbeats and calm breaths, she found herself praying to Rao. Thank you for this spark.

#I think Kara is actually really hard on herself but doesn't let it show #apologies for inflicting this on all of you sometimes my brain just does this #supercorp #mel writes ficlets