#not drawn in this one. his presence is still integral :]

[intertexts-moving]

an Alternate Universe is a fictional device wherein characters are taken from their 'canon' setting and placed into a different one.

[thethiefandtheairbender]

as a lifelong ATLA fan who narrowly had ATLA dethroned as my top show by The Dragon Prince steadily over the past 5 years, the similarities between the two have very little to do with the surface level parallels that get regularly drawn between them.

Like ATLA, TDP has Books for seasons and chapters for episodes, but unlike ATLA, which only touched on storytelling sparingly as a theme, TDP is obsessed with interrogating storytelling and history and the presence of unreliable, biased narrators throughout many of its episodes (most notably 2x05, 2x06, 3x06, 4x04, and 4x07 among them). Half of what you learn in the 1x01 intro ends up being a lie once you reach S3, with more being steadily deciphered.

Yes, TDP has different magics with people living under those umbrella terms... for the elves. Humans are coming culturally at things from a completely different angle, and the elves' connection to their primal sources are discussed philosophically in detail, informing their practices and their culture first hand, including the way they chafe against humans, who are arcanum-less. Many animals in the world are also connected to magic, which influences both their design and which ones get hunted for humans' more 'clever' solution in dark magic, including each other.

The core issue of the Puppetmaster, down to being a coercive magic formed by someone deeply resentful of their imprisonment? Said puppetmaster is the main endgame antagonist of the entire show with all of S4 onwards being exploring the ethics of controlling people against their will in various methods, and the entire show itself being a thematic battleground of fate (imprisonment) vs free will for virtually every single character.

Where ATLA mostly concerns itself timeline wise with ending the war, very little thought is shown by any of the characters as to what they'll do after the war. This isn't a problem (as it reflects the sheer domineering scope of the conflict) but even Zuko being firelord is only ever really addressed with 2.5 episodes left till the finale. TDP, meanwhile, ends its 'war' in s3 and s4 opens up with dealing with the old wounds festering between people with centuries of history, the struggles that come when people aren't able to let go and believe they're safe or mourn in a healthy manner, and the religious/cultural clashes that may occur when trying to integrate different groups of people.

TDP also has an evil father with a devoted daughter and a brother who eventually defects, but it explores the reality of an abusive parent who loves/will sacrifice for you and your right to leave regardless, even if that means leaving the sibling you truly deeply love and who loves you in turn. Which means that when you and your sibling are on opposite sides of a deep ideological conflict, it actually really fucking hurts bc we've seen first hand just how much they love each other and also how and why everything fell apart not in spite of that love necessarily, but also because of it.

Is this to say that TDP is a 1:1 with ATLA or that it's better? No, not at all, and the latter is subjective. I prefer TDP, but I think they're about on equal ground when you look at each show currently as a whole (although TDP has two seasons left to go).

But TDP takes a lot of what ATLA was doing thematically with some of its most interesting beats and then builds or expands upon them further. It talks further and more consistently about the cycles of violence; in many ways, Jack De Sena's character, Callum, begins the series largely where Sokka had ended (and he's not the most like Sokka anyway; very much his own thing); we get Faustian bargains and centuries' long grief and fucked up people who are trying both succeeding and failing at not doing fucked up things. There are antagonists, but it is very hard to actually label anyone at this point a straight up villain. Moral greyness is where the show starts, and it just continues from there.

That's not to say the show is nothing but dark and depressing - like ATLA, there's a steady thread of hope and humour even as the show gets steadily closer and closer to its 11th hour point - but the show is usually emotionally heavier. There's more blood and potentially disturbing imagery with body horror and on screen death. There's so much foreshadowing you basically can't go more than 5 minutes into any episode without having something that's going to come back around or be referenced again like 3-5 seasons later.

Just to be clear - TDP is like ATLA, but it's like ATLA in interesting ways beyond the more shallow surface level that usually gets attributed to it, while still very much being its own show and its own thing. And that is why I tend to recommend it to people who like ATLA.

Thank you and goodnight

(Also, the fandom doesn't have any ship wars, and the show is queer as fuck)

[xxspringmelodyxx]

Why Her and Not me?

Here part III is! I hope you all enjoy it! I also wanted to thank you all so much for the love and support on this story! I honestly wasn’t expecting this much feedback, so once again, thank you my lovelies! Enjoy~

Gojo Satoru x F!Reader x Geto Suguru (Angst)

Part I | Part II | Part IV

Several weeks had passed and things were starting to look better for you. Your heart felt lighter, your smile was more genuine, and the weight of your past relationship with Toru seemed to be gradually lifting. You found solace in the supportive presence of your friends, especially Suguru, whose unwavering support and understanding had become a source of comfort during these tumultuous times.

Word of Osaka and Toru making their relationship official spread around fast, and it didn’t take long for it to get to you. At first, hearing about Osaka and Toru's official relationship stung a little. It was a reminder of what could have been, a bittersweet realization that the person you once loved loved someone else. But with each passing day, you found yourself accepting their relationship, understanding that it was time to let go of the past and focus on your own healing journey.

And instead of dwelling on what could have been, you threw yourself into spending quality time with your friends, relishing in the laughter and camaraderie that filled the air whenever you were together. Suguru, in particular, had become a constant presence by your side, serving as a beacon of hope during moments of doubt and uncertainty.

Those weeks turned into months, and as the time flew by, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shifts in your relationship with Suguru. What started as a platonic friendship had evolved into something deeper, a connection that resonated on a soul-deep level. His presence brought you comfort in ways you never thought possible, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you couldn't fully understand. It was in the little things—the way he would brush a stray hair from your face, the warmth of his hand on your shoulder when you needed reassurance, the genuine concern in his eyes whenever you spoke of your struggles—that made you realize there was something more between you.

You found comfort in his company, cherishing the moments you spent together, whether it was sharing quiet conversations late into the night or simply enjoying each other's presence in comfortable silence. There was an unspoken understanding between you, a sense of mutual respect and admiration that only deepened with each passing day.

But amidst the growing bond between you and Suguru, there lingered a lingering sense of uncertainty. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was something holding you back, a shadow of doubt that whispered reminders of your past heartache with Toru. Despite your growing feelings for Suguru, you couldn't help but wonder if you were ready to open your heart to love again, to risk being hurt once more.

Yet, despite your reservations, you couldn't deny the undeniable pull towards Suguru, the magnetic attraction that seemed to draw you closer with each passing moment. And as you navigated the complexities of your emotions, one thing became clear: no matter what the future held, Suguru had become an integral part of your life, a beacon of light in the darkness, guiding you towards a path of healing and self-discovery.

However, there were still moments every now and then where you caught your mind going back to Toru. It had been a good 6 months since his confession about Osaka, and you did your best to keep your distance and tread carefully around him, mindful of the emotional turbulence that lurked beneath the surface.

Occasionally, you would find yourself in Toru's company, the echoes of your shared history a reminder of both joy and pain. You always made sure, however, that whenever you were with Toru, either Shoko, Hime, or Suguru were with you. You weren’t quite ready to be alone with Toru, not yet anyways.

You figured he wouldn’t notice, and you were right…for a while. Toru seemed completely consumed by his newfound relationship with Osaka. He appeared to be thoroughly enjoying his time with her, often seen buying her gifts and showering her with hugs and subtle kisses. Their affectionate displays only served to reinforce the growing distance between you and Toru, highlighting the undeniable shift in his focus and priorities.

However, it wasn’t long before he started to notice your absence during his relationship. At first, he brushed it off, attributing it to your busy schedule or other commitments. But as days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, your presence grew increasingly scarce. A sense of unease began to settle in the pit of his stomach as he found himself missing the easy banter and shared laughter that characterized your guys’ time together, the void left by your absence becoming more pronounced with each passing day. It was as if a piece of the puzzle was missing, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the feeling of incompleteness that lingered in your absence.

Whenever Toru and Osaka ventured out together, certain places would trigger memories of him and you, especially your bakery. Passing by it every day with Osaka, Toru couldn't help but be engulfed by the tantalizing scents wafting from its doors. And despite knowing your schedule, he would linger around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. Maybe even get a chance to finally speak to you. Sometimes, he would wait nearly an hour, yearning to talk to you, to see you again. But you never emerged, leaving him with a hollow ache in his chest.

What’s worse is that he now finds his thoughts often drifting to you, wondering where you were and what you were doing. Were you safe? Were you with someone he knows? Were you out and about having the best time of your life without him? He himself couldn’t believe how much you were on his mind. Even when he had Osaka, the girl he had been wanting to date for a while now, he found himself yearning for your company instead. There was something about you that she couldn’t replace, and it was becoming more and more obvious each day.

Beyond the longing for your presence and the fun that came along with you, Toru found himself missing your baking. Despite Osaka's efforts to replicate your treats, they never quite measured up. Your creations were perfection, each bite a symphony of flavors that left him craving more. It was as if every pastry, every loaf of bread, was crafted just for him, tailored to satisfy his every craving.

As time passed, Toru also couldn't ignore the growing realization that he and Osaka had little in common. Their conversations felt forced, their interests diverging more with each passing day. She would suggest activities that held no appeal to him, and he struggled to find common ground with her. It was as if they were two puzzle pieces forced together, their edges rough and incompatible, unable to fit into each other's lives seamlessly.

Despite his best efforts to focus on his budding romance with Osaka, Toru couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. It was as if his heart was pulling him in a different direction, toward someone he never expected to fall for. And as he grappled with his conflicting emotions, he couldn't help but wonder if perhaps he had been looking for love in all the wrong places.

As he reflected on the dynamics of his relationship with Osaka, Toru couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for the growing distance between you. The more he tried to immerse himself in his newfound romance, the more he found himself longing for the familiarity and comfort of your companionship. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to confront these conflicting emotions, choosing instead to bury them beneath a facade of contentment, hoping they would eventually fade away with time.

Despite his outward appearance of happiness, Toru couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that he was living a lie, pretending to be someone he wasn’t just to fit into the mold of the perfect boyfriend. Deep down, he knew that his heart belonged elsewhere, tethered to you by an invisible thread that refused to be severed. And as he grappled with the weight of his emotions, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was destined to remain caught between two worlds, torn between duty and desire, until he found the courage to follow his heart. Maybe he just needed to give everything a little more time and everything would soon fall into place…Yeah! That’s it. All he needs is time…

———

One evening, you decided to invite the group over for a movie night, including Toru and Osaka. It was true that you still had mixed feelings with them, but overall, you were still their friend. And you weren’t cruel to invite everyone else but them. Besides, it’s been a while since you all have hung out together as a group, so it would be good to have everyone back together again.

———

I heard a knock on my door, recognizing the voices of Shoko and Hime from the other side.

“Y/n! Hurry up and open the door already! It’s freezing out here! Honestly, you should just leave it unlocked at this point for the amount of times we come over,” Shoko complained from the opposite side. I chuckled as I quickly made my way to the door and swung it open, greeted by the sight of Shoko and Hime bundled up against the cold.

“Hey bestie! Look what I brought!” Shoko exclaimed, proudly displaying a couple of bottles of alcohol.

I rolled my eyes playfully at her while Hime shook her head in disapproval, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose.

”I tried to tell her not to get so much, but she didn’t listen,” Hime sighed.

”Shoko, you do realize this isn’t going to be a frat party, right? It’s just a casual hangout,” I reminded her, making her pout.

”Yeah, but we can still have some fun! Besides, it was on sale!” Shoko defended her choice of beverages.

”Fine, fine. Just don't overdo it, alright? We don’t want a repeat of last time…” I cautioned, remembering a particularly rowdy night. Shoko had drank way too much for her own good and it resulted in us having to run after her down the street. She was buttnaked, running freely around. Eventually, we caught up to her, but not before the cops got involved. She was dressed properly and taken in.

”Oh come on, you guys are no fun! Besides, it was a great memory, don’t you guys think?” Shoko asked with a playful grin.

”Not when we had to pay a hefty fine to bail you out!” Hime chimed in, earning a sheepish grin from Shoko. She put her hands up in defeat, not wanting to get a rise out of Hime.

”Okay, okay! I won’t drink too much… probably,” Shoko relented, eliciting a groan from Hime.

Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupted our banter, causing us to turn around.

“…Osaka?” Shoko began, momentarily confused. Hime quickly nudged her, prompting a correction.

”I-I mean…O-Osaka! You’re here!” Shoko amended, rubbing her side from Hime's nudge.

”Yeah! Me and Toru brought some snacks to share. I made them myself!” Osaka announced, holding up a box of homemade treats. I smiled, pushing past Shoko and Hime to grab onto Osaka’s arm.

”They look amazing, Osaka. Please come in. You must be freezing out there,” I welcomed her, noticing the curious glances exchanged between Shoko and Hime.

”I can’t imagine they’re anything like your sweets, Y/n, but I hope they at least satisfy you. Toru is constantly talking about how great your food tastes,” Osaka said sweetly, making me, Hime, and Shoko tense up.

”H-He does?” I asked, feeling a familiar ache in my chest.

”Mhmm! I don’t think a single day passes where he doesn’t stop by your bakery. He always talks about how you make the best Kikufuku! Sometimes he stops by to say hi,” Osaka continued, unaware of the tension she had stirred.

Guilt began to build up in my stomach. I knew about him coming to my shop, and I deliberately made sure to stay in the back when he visited, avoiding him. It was just too much for me to talk to him…alone especially.

“Y-Yeah…” I responded weakly.

”Though, I can see why. Your baking is the best! Anytime I talk to my friends back in my hometown, I always tell them about your desserts and how amazing your food is! You’ve sure got a talent for that, Y/n!” Osaka praised, making me smile softly at her kindness.

Guilt nagged at me as I accepted the sweets from Osaka. I couldn't shake the feeling that her presence was a constant reminder of what I had lost.

”I’m sure these sweets taste amazing, Osaka. Now, you go sit over there… and try to ignore the alcohol that Shoko brought. I’m pretty sure it's all just for her,” I teased, hoping to lighten the mood. She nodded, sitting politely on the couch, waiting for Toru to come in.

As I turned to retrieve some movies from my room, I felt a firm grip on my arm, pulling me into the bathroom. I let out a small shriek as I found myself face to face with Shoko and Hime. Osaka looked behind her to see no one. Confused, she looked both ways to see where you went, but saw no sight of you. She shrugged, thinking you just went back to your room. Little did she know, you were being investigated as to why you brought her here in the first place.

”Why is she here?!” Shoko demanded, her frustration evident.

”What do you mean?”

“Y/n, don’t play dumb. You shouldn’t have invited her! It’s only going to make things worse,” Hime interjected, her tone serious.

I listened to their concerns, but a part of me couldn't bear to exclude Osaka and Toru, no matter how much it hurt to see them together.

"I know, but I can’t just invite everyone over and not them. Besides, it’s not their fault that they fell in love with each other. I can’t hate them forever just because Toru chose her over me,” I reasoned, my voice tinged with sadness.

”Yes you can!” Shoko argued, but I shook my head. I placed my hand on theirs, looking them deep in the eyes.

“No, girls. Just because things are complicated doesn't mean we should shut them out," I interjected, recognizing their concerns but unwilling to let bitterness dictate our actions. "We've always valued our friendships and treated each other with kindness, no matter what. Let's not forget that now."

Shoko and Hime exchanged a silent glance, their expressions softening as they considered my words. After a moment, Shoko sighed and nodded in reluctant agreement. "Fine, but I'm keeping an eye on them," she declared, her protective instincts still in full force.

Hime offered a small smile of reassurance. "We'll stick together, no matter what," she affirmed, her loyalty unwavering.

With a collective understanding, we stepped out of the bathroom, ready to face the evening with resolve and unity.

As I opened the door to rejoin the others, a tall figure stood before me, catching me off guard. Another small shriek escaped my lips as I began to fall backwards. Thankfully, the tall figures hand wrapped around my waist, pulling me close to him.

”Woah, sorry n/n. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just wondering where you were when all I saw in your living room were Osaka and Toru,” Suguru explained, his eyes warm and apologetic.

Shoko, Hime, Osaka, and Toru observed the scene unfold, each reacting differently to the unexpected encounter.

Despite the mixed emotions swirling inside me, I managed a smile as Suguru pulled me into a comforting embrace.

“I’m just glad you're here, Sugu!” I said, grateful for his presence amidst the turmoil of conflicting emotions. Toru saw the warm embrace you gave to Suguru and couldn’t help but feel…off about it. Whatever that feeling was, he didn’t like how it felt.

“Let’s get this started already! I’m starving!” Shoko declared, eager to break the tension.

Suguru's arrival seemed to lighten the mood, and soon we were all gathered in the living room, ready to enjoy our movie night together.

———

As the night unfolded, laughter and conversation filled the air, creating a sense of warmth and connection that enveloped the group. Despite the initial awkwardness between you, Toru, and Osaka, the shared moments of joy and lighthearted teasing between everyone helped to bridge the divide, easing the tension that had been simmering beneath the surface.

As the movie played, you found yourself stealing glances at Suguru, noticing the way his eyes sparkled with amusement at a particularly funny scene. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you reveled in the easy comfort of his presence, grateful for the genuine connection you shared.

Meanwhile, Toru's gaze seemed to linger on you more often than not, a subtle shift that didn't go unnoticed by Suguru or your friends. Despite his efforts to engage with Osaka, there was an unmistakable tension in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken feelings that lingered between you and Toru.

———

As the evening wore on, Toru found himself increasingly preoccupied with the sight of you and Suguru. Despite the movie playing in the background, his attention was drawn to the quiet whispers and shared laughter between you two on the couch. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy as he observed the natural chemistry that seemed to flow effortlessly between you and Suguru.

He watched as Suguru poked your opposite shoulder to trick you into thinking Shoko tapped you. He watched as you playfully punched him, smiling at his tomfoolery. He watched you two ignore everything around you, acting as if you two were the only ones left in the world.

Each shared smile, every shared glance—it felt like a silent declaration of a bond that Toru couldn't quite comprehend. As much as he tried to focus on enjoying the movie night, his mind kept wandering back to you, to the way you leaned in closer to Suguru, your laughter ringing through the room like music to his ears.

And It wasn't just the laughter that stirred a sense of longing within Toru; it was the way you looked at Suguru with such genuine affection and admiration. It was as if you were sharing an inside joke, a secret language that excluded him from the intimacy you shared with Suguru.

Toru couldn't help but recall the times when it was him by your side, sharing those stolen moments of connection. He missed the easy bond you once shared, the way you would listen to him with unwavering attention, making him feel like the most important person in the room. He missed the way your eyes sparkled as he talked to you about the randomest things in the world, the way your giggle filled his chest with pride, the way your voice helped calm him down when he needed it most. He desperately missed you and the way you made him feel…and yet there you were, acting the same way around someone else that wasn’t him. As he watched you and Suguru, he couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider looking in.

As Osaka snuggled up to him, Toru was busy in his own mind as an uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. Despite her presence beside him, he found himself drifting into a reverie, reminiscing about moments shared with you.

"This movie is boring..." Osaka's voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present. He glanced up, noticing the familiar scenes unfolding before him. It was one of your favorite movies, a film you'd watched countless times together. The movie held little interest for him compared to the memories it evoked. The thought of you made him smile faintly, recalling how you'd eagerly convinced him to watch it, even if he had already seen it with you numerous times already.

The memory brought a sense of warmth and nostalgia, a stark contrast to the chill that seemed to permeate his current relationship. He remembered your playful insistence, your determination to lift his spirits and distract him from the burdens of his work. It was a small gesture, yet it spoke volumes about your caring nature and the depth of your bond.

As he watched the movie, snippets of moments spent with you replayed in his mind like scenes from a cherished film. He remembered the way you'd prepare his favorite snacks, your gentle touch as you comforted him through his worries, and the soothing sound of your voice as you reassured him that everything would be okay.

Despite his best efforts to focus on his current relationship, his heart couldn't help but yearn for the warmth and familiarity he found in your presence. And It was in that moment that Toru realized the depth of his feelings for you. You weren’t just a friend; You were someone he couldn't bear to lose. And yet, he couldn't deny the growing distance between them, a gap that seemed to widen with every stolen glance between you and Suguru.

As the night went on, Toru continued to find himself lost in his own thoughts, grappling with the realization that he might have let something precious slip through his fingers.

Little did he know, your feelings were also beginning to shift, your heart drawn towards Suguru in ways you never expected. And as the lines between friendship and something more blurred, the stage was set for a love triangle that would test the bonds of friendship and loyalty in ways none of you could have anticipated.

________________

Part IV coming soon? Depending on my school schedule (I hate you college!!)

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[khristie16]

Social dance ¬ One

An old soul, lost in a modern society ruled by concepts which are normalised. Unable to follow them even if tried enough, a risk to be left alone in the dark, where shadows control life and decisions. To learn the normalised and be stumped in it or unlearn some patterns?

trope: childhood friends -> enemies to lovers format: reader x charles leclerc

triggers in this chapter: physically absent father You're free to leave a comment on how you like it, besos❀

Growing up in a tranquil neighbourhood, where silence was only occasionally interrupted by the distant hum of life, seemed mundane as a child. But now, you find yourself yearning for those days when the world was filled with the magic of fairy tales and the innocent fear of imaginary monsters under your bed. The simplicity of those days, when the biggest worry was dark shadows, feels like a comforting memory against the complexities of adult life.

Even as an adult, there's a part of you that still believes in the fantastical creatures that once haunted your dreams, a reminder of the vibrant imagination of youth. You fondly remember Charles, the boy next door, whose presence was as constant as the changing seasons. Living with his two brothers, he was an integral part of your childhood tapestry.

Those summers spent playing with water guns and pretending to be gangsters, with homemade lemonade as your elixir, are cherished memories. The lemonade's tangy sweetness seemed to cool the essence of summer's heat. As second grade rolled around, new friendships began to form, reshaping the landscape of your young heart.

You laugh now at the simplicity of those early days, where girls played with girls and boys did the same. It was a natural progression, the formation of new groups, so subtle you barely noticed it happening.

As time flowed on, your thirteenth birthday brought with it life-changing news. Your father, a dedicated and brilliant engineer, announced his move to a different city for a better job. His unwavering commitment to providing financial security and happiness for you and your mother was evident, a priority that guided his every decision.

As an introverted and shy girl, you cherished the few friendships you had but longed for close ones. You craved big gatherings but remained loyal to your initial choices.

High school began, and the absence of your best friend at the same school made the transition even harder. Making new friends proved challenging as your interests diverged from those of your classmates. The boys seemed indifferent, drawn to different types of girls. This solitude pushed you to delve into your passions—hobbies and sports that brought you joy—and deepened the bond with your father through shared interests.

Charles reentered your life, capturing your attention once more. As a natural observer, you noted the subtle ways girls behaved around him, ways that were foreign to you. There seemed to be a pattern to their actions, a social dance you hadn't yet mastered. So, you stood on the sidelines, watching and learning.

The classroom buzzes with the low hum of chatter, but your mind is elsewhere. Lost in thoughts, you barely notice your friend, Mary, seated beside you.

“What are you looking at?” Mary's voice breaks through your reverie.

Mary, the blue-eyed gamer girl, sits next to you. Her dark, fine hair frames her face, and her headphones rest casually on her shoulders. She hums a Korean song softly while sketching on her graphic tablet.

You shrug your shoulders. “Nothing.”

Mary nods, her attention returning to her art. After a few moments, she glances at you with curiosity. “Seriously, what are you trying to find there?”

Your gaze drifts to Charles—handsome, with a tall figure and brown, curly hair that looks irresistibly touchable. He's smiling at your classmate Liz, who exudes beauty and confidence. An ache spreads in your chest, but you quickly dismiss it as irrational.

“He's hot,” Mary comments casually.

You snap your head towards her, eyes wide in surprise. Mary chuckles at your reaction. “What? It's the truth.”

You shake your head, looking down at your hands. They could use some care, evidence of your passion for hobbies that leave oil under your nails. You've developed the habit of hiding them, but it's clear what you do in your free time.

Mary studies you closely, concern etched on her face. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head again, adjusting your position for comfort. “Nothing, just the usual,” you lie, hating the words as you say them.

“Jeez, I hope the trip will change you a bit,” Mary says, pecking your cheek affectionately.

You chuckle, appreciating her honesty. It's one of the things you love about her. Despite everything, she's always genuine.

You observe the boys, noting how they pay attention to specific girls—girls who aren't like you. You prefer your big T-shirts, allowing comfort while eating a hamburger, and you like your hair in a bun, keeping it out of the way while working under a car.

Your fondness for everything that reminds you of your dad is something you wouldn't change, not even for Charles's wandering eyes. You wish he could see you differently, or more accurately, see you at all.

Ironically, you talk more with his younger brother, Arthur. He's the youngest and always tried to keep up with you and Charles when you played as kids. Arthur has a soft spot for you because you remind him of home. You've known each other since childhood, and you've always looked out for him.

Unfortunately, Arthur started his first year here and is busy with his own life.

“Yeah, it could do me some good,” you murmur, zoning out as you think about the upcoming trip.

Flashback: Two weeks ago

Sweat drips into your eyes as you breathe heavily under the car, working diligently to put the parts back together.

“YN!”

You turn your head to see who's calling, though you already know. Long, slim legs in a pleated pink skirt stand at the doorway.

You push yourself out from under the car and grab a towel to wipe your face. “Yes, Mom?”

You have your mother's eyes—brown and almond-shaped, though yours are lighter, more amber than her dark chocolate. Your father's green eyes give you a unique blend. Your mother is a lady, elegant and beautiful, and you love her just as much as your father.

“I need to talk to you, hun.”

You nod and stand up, ready to listen.

Your mom is looking at you with a pitying look yet a sweet smile, which makes you feel like the sore leg of the whole family. As a child, when the family was still together, you did not experience such feelings. You concluded that this is a natural human development, causing people to feel worse mentally and often physically in today's world. You shook yourself out of your mother's piercing eyes. She misses your dad as much as you do.

The pitying look comes from her resentment of you spending so much time in the garage and not having a life like everyone else. Though your mom was never one of those women who wanted to take it far; she always stayed at home and raised you. For this, you are glad, but you wouldn't believe she could begrudge your decision. Maybe she hates when you ride your motorbike in the rain and it's stuffy every time you come back home.

You had to admit that the adrenaline was the only thing that made you feel alive. And if you didn't have your female friends in your life, you'd probably be even worse off. Sometimes you agreed when this thought made its way to the top of your consciousness, but you chose to ignore it. Every time, it made your heart sink and form a lump in your throat.

The most devastating feeling about it all was that you had a life, in a way. Hobbies, skills, and intelligence allowed you to sail through school academically, but you still felt empty. At first, you said it was puberty, but it took a long time. Even your friends had something you were missing, but you didn't know what it was. When you started to think about it longer, you didn't come to any conclusion. Maybe there's something more to it that you don't know about, but your mom's presence brought you back to the present when her soft and kind hands touched yours.

“Sweetie, your dad and I were thinking that you could visit my sister in Italy. Do you still remember her?”

You sigh, remembering her. She is everything you are not and probably never will be. Full of life, five men in each palm, and her life revolves around fun, a little work, and a lot of sex. You don't blame her, but you wonder why your parents want to send you there.

“You know, she's busy now. She started a babysitting business, and you know Eve. She's a nut, and when she sent me videos, she had about ten kids there at once, but her grace makes everything easier.”

At this point, you want to collapse, go back under the car, and not get out. Your shock is evident because your mom squeezes your hands.

“It would only take a few weeks. You were always so patient and responsible; it would help her a lot.”

Her words warm your heart slightly. At least someone appreciates these qualities. The problem is that it isn't the real reason they want to send you there. But you know your mom too well to pry the information out of her even if you'd asked.

You sigh. “You know school has started and I need to study.”

“It doesn't matter; I already arranged it at school. You will have an individual plan for the time you are not here.”

Unfortunately or not, your face has the ability to show every emotion and thought swirling inside. You want to curse yourself for it the second your mom stands up straight, ready to insist you listen. You raise your hands in anticipation that you weren't going to talk about it any further and go back under the car. After Mom sulks in the garage for a little while longer, deciding it would be better if you both cooled down, you get up again and go to the phone.

Dad picks it up on the other end. “Hello, sunshine, how are you?”

This time, you don't bother with small talk. “Why are you and Mom sending me away?”

Dad is silent for a second and then starts, “So she already told you. I told her to wait until I come for the weekend.”

“That's nice, but I want a reason.”

“Your mother thinks you lack certain skills.”

“Like what?”

Your blood is boiling, and you want to punch the wall or the ground. Right now, you don't care.

“Your mother told me how she was raised differently and she would like it for you as well. She is afraid you'll fall behind—”

You admire how your father is attentive to your mother's wishes, but right now you wish it were otherwise. Dad doesn't have a firm hand when it comes to Mom's feelings, so he allows her everything she has in her heart.

“—that we will send you there for a few months and see how it will benefit you.”

“What? Mom said a few weeks…”

“It wouldn't make much sense. It's far away.”

Tears begin to well up in your eyes and you feel helpless, just like you experience every day at school, but this time much more intense. The other part of you that survives inside is being ripped apart, leaving you with heavy breathing.

“Baby, wait for me to come home. You'll be fine.”

“How could I be fine when you want to send me a billion miles away?”

Dad just sighs. You can tell he’s sorry too, but he's adamant that it will benefit you.

“You'll see. You’ll be able to teach your aunt how to fix cars.”

A small smile forms on your face as you start laughing. The image of your aunt under the car is enough to break the tension. After the phone call with Dad, you head to the living room to talk to Mom, but someone knocks on the door. Mindlessly, you go to open it and there stands Charles.

Except he has Liz wrapped around his neck, hanging on him like a coat on a hanger, with lipstick smeared all over her face. No wonder she wasn't cast for the Joker adaptation. Charles stares blankly with a smudge of lipstick on his face.

After the initial shock, you ask what they would like.

Charles enlightens you about their visit: he needs to pick up some of your mom's freshly baked healthy bread for his mom, without lactose and all the other things discussed in magazines you don't read. You close the door to call your mom. Before you can do that, Liz speaks.

“Is that a boy or a girl?”

You flush like a pan on the stove, not hearing your mother's footsteps as she suddenly appears in front of you with her hands full of buns. You swallow and open the door a little more. This time, you focus your gaze on Liz, who you want to punch in the face and hope her hair turns gray when she sees herself in the mirror.

But when you look at Charles, you see that he’s amused by Liz's comment, as he has a smirk on his face. It doesn’t make you angry; it hurts you.

You wouldn’t expect that from someone like him. You spent your entire childhood together, and you hoped he would at least protect you. Somehow. But who are you to him for him to do something like that? After all, you haven't talked to each other in a long time.

And a part of you is glad to soon be away from people who box you in and don't care anymore.

Now

Back in your room, you start packing reluctantly. Mary calls and tries to cheer you up, suggesting that Italy might be an adventure you need, even if you can’t see it yet.

A few days later, you’re at the airport, saying goodbye to your mom. Her eyes are teary, and she hugs you tightly. “Remember, this is for your own good, sweetheart. Have an open mind, okay?”

You nod, though you’re not entirely convinced. The flight feels long, but you distract yourself by imagining what Italy will be like. When you arrive, your aunt Eve is there to greet you, her bright smile and effervescent personality already overwhelming.

“Welcome to Italy, darling! We’re going to have so much fun!” she exclaims, pulling you into a hug.

You manage a smile, hoping that maybe, just maybe, this trip will help you find whatever it is you’ve been missing. Eve’s place is bustling with activity—kids everywhere, laughter, and chaos. It’s a stark contrast to your quiet, introspective life.

In the following days, you settle into a routine. Helping Eve with the children keeps you busy, and you start to appreciate the small moments of joy in their innocent smiles and giggles. One evening, as you’re tucking in one of the kids, Eve joins you.

“You’re really good with them,” she says softly. “Thank you for being here. It means a lot.”

You nod, feeling a sense of warmth. It’s nice to be appreciated. “It’s different, but I’m getting used to it.”

Eve smiles. “You know, I see a lot of your mom in you. She was always so responsible and patient. But don’t forget to have fun, too. Life is too short to be serious all the time.”

Her words linger with you as you navigate the days. Slowly, you start to explore more—venturing out into the vibrant streets of Italy, tasting the food, and absorbing the culture. You even meet some locals who introduce you to new hobbies and interests.

One afternoon, while you’re out exploring, you receive a text from Mary. “Hey, guess what? Charles asked about you today. He seemed surprised you left.”

You stare at the message, a mix of emotions swirling inside you. Before you can overthink it, another message comes in. “Maybe this trip will show him what he’s missing out on.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. Italy is changing you, bit by bit. You’re finding pieces of yourself you didn’t know were missing. And maybe, just maybe, when you return, you’ll be ready to face whatever comes your way—whether it’s Charles, school, or just life in general.

With renewed determination, you continue to embrace your time in Italy, knowing that this experience is shaping you into a stronger, more confident person. And who knows? Maybe when you return home, you’ll be ready to show the world the real you.

[23victoria]

𝙴𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙿𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚂𝚎𝚊 𝚘𝚏 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎

❥ 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒��𝚐𝚜: 𝚓𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚡 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚔𝚊𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚊!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

⚖︎ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷,𝟺𝟶𝟶

✎ 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙹𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚍𝚜 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙽𝚎𝚢𝚝𝚒𝚛𝚒'𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑.

☠︎ 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛, 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎, 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚜𝚎𝚖𝚒-𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

✍︎ 𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎: 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚛𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘, 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚘𝚊𝚍 𝚒𝚝.

♪ 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌:

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As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow across the vast expanse of the sea, Jake Sully stood on the shore, his heart heavy with grief and longing. It had been months since he had lost Neytiri, his beloved mate, during the fierce battle against the RDA and Qudaritch soldiers who had kidnapped their children. The pain of her absence still cut deep, leaving him feeling lost and broken.

After her death, Jake had made the difficult decision to relinquish his title as the leader of the Omaticaya clan. He felt a profound sense of guilt, blaming himself for not being able to protect Neytiri and their children. Consumed by sorrow, he had sought solace by escaping to the coastal region of Metyakina, seeking the embrace of the vast sea and the comfort of solitude.

As he arrived in the Metkayina area, Jake sought out Ronal and Tonowari, sharing with them the tragic events that had unfolded. He implored them for uturu, a place of safety and respite, and after hearing his story, the Metkayina leaders granted his request. While he stood there, still absorbing the weight of his loss, his eyes caught sight of you— a captivating presence, exuding an ethereal aura that seemed to envelop the air around you. You observed Jake and his children with a gentle expression, offering them a sense of warmth and understanding.

Weeks turned into months, and the Sully family struggled to adapt to their new surroundings. Jake was drawn to you, your presence a comforting beacon in his world of pain and uncertainty. His children, having developed a fondness for you, sought solace and guidance in your nurturing nature. You helped them navigate the unfamiliar Metkayina ways, easing their transition and healing their wounded hearts. The wounds of Neytiri's passing slowly began to heal, aided by their connection to Eywa and the spirit tree. The children found solace in speaking to their mother through the sacred bond, finding comfort in her words and guidance.

You were always there, an ever-present figure in their lives, his children adored you and Jake couldn't help but notice the way you effortlessly fit into their family dynamic. Yet, amidst the healing, Jake couldn't help but feel a magnetic pull towards you. You had become an integral part of their lives, nurturing their growth and aiding them in their transition to the Metyakina way. But Jake held back, haunted by the guilt of potentially betraying Neytiri's memory by moving on.

The children, keen observers of their father's inner turmoil, could sense his affection for you. They had slowly begun to heal from their mother's passing, finding solace in the connection they shared with her through Eywa and the spirit tree. They had spoken to her, pouring out their grief and confusion, finding solace in her ethereal presence. However, Jake couldn't bring himself to visit the spirit tree, his guilt holding him back.

One day, a situation arose that necessitated Jake and your involvement. As you worked together to resolve the issue, a connection sparked between you, a shared understanding that transcended words. Once the situation was resolved, you took a deep breath and turned to him, your eyes filled with compassion.

"Jake," you said softly, your voice carrying a hint of vulnerability, "can we take a walk? There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. But the trust that had been built between you urged him forward. With a nod, he followed you, and together you embarked on another moonlit journey along the shore.

As the waves crashed against the sandy shoreline, you began to gently broach the topic that had been weighing on both of your hearts. You spoke of grief, loss, and the complex journey of healing. With every step, Jake found himself unraveling, opening up about his fears, his guilt, and his unspoken feelings for you.

From that point on, Jake and you began taking nightly walks together, venturing into the depths of the Metkayina territory. The moonlight bathed you in a soft glow as Jake opened up, bit by bit, revealing the raw emotions that had consumed him since Neytiri's death. You listened with empathy, offering guidance and solace as he grappled with the immense loss of his mate, the constant threat of the RDA, and the challenge of finding his place in this new world.

In the nights that followed, your walks continued, but the dynamic between you shifted subtly. There was a newfound tenderness, an undercurrent of unspoken longing that hung in the air. The connection between you deepened, fueled by shared vulnerability and a profound understanding of each other's pain. But still, he hesitated, haunted by the guilt that lingered from Neytiri's passing.

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One evening, as the moon hung high in the Metkayina sky, you both found yourselves standing by the shore, the rhythmic waves echoing the quiet intensity of your unspoken emotions. It was a moment charged with vulnerability, the air thick with the unspoken truth that hung between you.

Jake turned to you, his gaze intense yet vulnerable, and took a deep breath.

"Y/N," he began, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and hope, "I need to be honest with you. My heart... it's been yearning for you for a long time now. But I've held back, afraid of betraying Neytiri's memory. I've carried the weight of guilt, blaming myself for her death."

Taking a deep breath, you turned to Jake, your eyes filled with a mix of compassion and a growing realization. "Jake," you began, your voice filled with tenderness, "you have carried the weight of the world on your shoulders for far too long. Neytiri would want you to find happiness, to embrace the love that still beats within your heart."

He looked at you, his eyes reflecting the tumult of emotions within. "I can't betray Neytiri's memory," he confessed, the weight of his guilt palpable.

You stepped closer, your hand reaching for his. "Jake, love is not a betrayal. Neytiri wouldn't want you to suffer. She would want you to live, to find joy again."

His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he grappled with the conflicting emotions. "I just... I don't want to forget her."

You nodded, understanding the depth of his pain. "You won't forget her. Neytiri will always be a part of you, but you deserve to be happy. To love and be loved again."

His breath hitched as he gazed into your eyes, searching for any signs of hesitation or doubt. But all he found was unwavering love and acceptance. And in that moment, with the crashing waves as witnesses, Jake surrendered to the overwhelming emotions that had consumed him for so long.

With that, he pulled you into a tender embrace, the moonlight casting a gentle glow on the two of you as the waves whispered secrets of healing and renewal. He leaned forward, his trembling lips gently brushing against yours, igniting a fire within both of your souls. It was a bittersweet moment, filled with love, longing, and a tinge of sadness for the love that had been lost. But it was also a promise, a commitment to honor the past while embracing the future.

In that moment, Jake felt a sense of release, a gradual acceptance that he could honor Neytiri's memory without sacrificing his own chance at happiness. He found the strength to visit her. With you by his side, he floated before the sacred tree, tears streaming down his face, blending into the sea, as he spoke to her spirit. He asked for forgiveness, for understanding, and felt a warm light embrace his body, a feeling of reassurance that Neytiri's love would always be with him.

From that night forward, Jake and you embarked on a new chapter of your lives together. His children, sensing the depth of his love for you, welcomed you with open arms, finding solace in the joy that blossomed within their father's heart. Jake knew that he had found not only a new love but a soulmate—a partner who would walk beside him through every triumph and tribulation, as they navigated the challenges of a world torn between harmony and destruction. Together, you would forge a new destiny, carrying Neytiri's spirit in your hearts, honoring her memory with every beat of your love.

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✿ taglist ☪︎ : @dreamingofpandora @stargirlrchive @shadowmoonlight0604

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© 23victoria 2023-2024 | all rights reserved. do not republsh, steal, repost, modify, translate or claim my work as your own.

[bbobpul]

solemn ceremony — yjh

PAIRING. yoon jeonghan x reader SUMMARY. y/n, who was in a six-year relationship with jeonghan, has been attending so many weddings of her friends because they are already at that age to settle down. she starts to feel the pressure because in those six years, not once did jeonghan ever hint about wanting to settle down with her. GENRE. angst W/C. 1.8k NOTE. i miss you jeonghan (⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠→ my other works

'it's okay to outgrow those who don't know how to love you,' says bianca sparacino, and this has been the driving concept of every aspect of my existence. it's what i've committed to all my life. i've navigated this world using the catching and releasing mentality. i've felt the pain of losing friends, the missed opportunities, and the irreversible loss of precious time. yet, in all my years, i could never bear the notion of losing you.

i know deep inside me that it wasn’t easy.. but i did it. i outgrew you.

five years ago…

so, there i was, amidst the whirlwind of vows and joyful dances, attending my fourth wedding of the year. you know how it goes—happy times, smiling faces, and love all around. but within that sea of celebration, there was always this lingering question, like a bittersweet voice tugging at my heartstrings: "when will it be your turn?" or "has jeonghan popped the question yet?" those inquiries had a way of leaving me lost in a haze of uncertainty, carrying the weight of unfulfilled desires.

jeonghan and i, we've been on this rollercoaster of love for six whole years. it all started when fate brought us together on a construction project. can you believe it? both of us are architects, drawn to each other by our shared passion. it was during that time, though, that i was going through something tough—a deep loss that weighed heavily on my soul.

in those moments of solitude, i longed for someone to share my victories, to lighten the load of my accomplishments. it's like i was missing a missing piece in the puzzle of life, you know? but then, like a beam of light piercing through the darkness, jeonghan came into my life.

at first, i thought he'd be like the others—a temporary presence who'd leave once the project was done, fading into the background like a distant memory. but boy, was i wrong. he stayed. he became that person i could share my successes with, the one i'd call up at the end of a tiring day, just to share a moment. can you imagine? someone who truly understood and embraced all that i was.

yet, amidst the laughter we shared and the whispered secrets we kept, there's this lingering realization that the world out there doesn't quite get it. people with their curious glances and probing questions, they can't fully grasp the depth of our connection. behind closed doors, doubts flicker like fragile candle flames, casting shadows on the very foundation of our love. the big question looms over us: will jeonghan be the one to take that leap, to bind our hearts in matrimony, or will our love forever remain a fleeting masterpiece, admired but never truly possessed?

as i witness another union of souls, this subtle sadness washes over me, like a gust of wind blowing through abandoned corridors. i try to find solace in the fact that even without the grand ceremony and vows, jeonghan has become an integral part of my journey—a rock of strength amidst all the uncertainties. but deep down, i can't help but wonder if our love story will forever be suspended in the realm of what-ifs, an unfinished symphony waiting for its final crescendo.

the first crack on the glass

“your mom kept asking me earlier..” i started

jeonghan turned his gaze away from me, his eyes devoid of curiosity. “about what?” he asked, his voice void of any tenderness.

“about us, and marriage.”

his lack of interest cut through me like a knife, piercing my heart with its cold indifference. “hmm, and what did you say?” he inquired, still refusing to meet my gaze.

“i couldn’t say anything, and then she just laughed it off.”

“why?” he asked, still not looking at me.

silence hung heavily between us, suffocating the room with its weight. i mustered a faint smile, desperately trying to find the right words to bridge the growing chasm. slowly, i reached out for his hand—the hand that had held mine during moments of overwhelming loneliness, the hand that had offered solace in the face of my turbulent emotions. at the same time, i tried to lock eyes with him, to seek solace in the same loving gaze that had always made me feel seen and cherished. but tonight, those hands slipped away as he abruptly stood up and made his way to the kitchen. and those eyes, the ones that once held so much love and adoration for me, now seemed to avoid my searching gaze.

a sharp pang pierced my chest, a bittersweet ache that defied reason. i knew deep down that my feelings were irrational, almost childlike, but the weight of our six years together suddenly flooded my senses. memories, both joyful and painful, surged through my mind, each one carrying a sting of sorrow. six years of shared dreams, laughter, and companionship now felt like distant echoes, fading into a sea of uncertainty.

in that moment, the realization washed over me like a crashing wave—i could no longer deny the unsettling truth that we were no longer on the same page. our paths, once so beautifully intertwined, now seemed to diverge, leaving me adrift in a sea of questions and unspoken longing.

but i still tried to speak.

"why?" i confronted him, the raw anguish in my voice unable to be contained any longer. "you know damn well why. we've spent six long years together, and not once have you hinted at wanting to marry me. two years ago, when you said you weren't ready, i respected your decision. but now, we're in our thirties, for god's sake! everyone around us is settling down, starting families, and here we are, stuck in this limbo. what's the problem now? is it because of your job? jeonghan, we work in the same place, we have the same damn schedule. so tell me, what the hell is the matter?"

an uncomfortable stillness settled upon them as the weight of my words hung heavy in the air, smothering the room and freezing our souls. the unspoken truth, full of uncertainty and unfulfilled expectations, left a wide hole between us, a canyon filled with shattered dreams and unspoken wants. we stood in that deafening silence, two souls entwined yet miles away, our hearts throbbing with the unspoken knowledge that perhaps our paths had diverged, and the future we had once imagined together now stood on the verge of irreparable split.

for the first time that night, jeonghan's gaze shifted towards me. his eyes, once filled with warmth and affection, now carried a haunting emptiness, devoid of any flicker of emotion. a feeble smile graced his lips, but it held an underlying sadness that tugged at my heartstrings. with each step he took, drawing nearer to me, i could sense the hesitance etching its way across his face.

"we will get there soon, i promise," he whispered, his voice laden with a profound melancholy. his words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken uncertainties. and then, with a trembling confession, he continued, "i... i love you, jo"

the weight of those three words engulfed the room, casting a shadow upon our fragile connection. it was as if the admission carried a burden, a burden that threatened to drown us in a sea of unanswered questions. in that fragile moment, it became painfully clear that our love, once vibrant and resolute, now teetered on the precipice of uncertainty. how could you claim to love someone if you couldn't even see the pain they felt, their subtle unraveling? my face was pale, but you refused to recognise the sickness that had engulfed both of us. the pain was intense, like an open wound, but you chose to ignore our mutual agony.

"you don't love me, han. you just want me here because i'm the only constant in your life besides your job. if you truly loved me, you would understand me as deeply as i understand you after these six long years. with you, jeonghan, my future remains uncertain. i yearn for stability, for the comfort of settling down. i won't compel you to embark on this journey with me, but remember, you cannot coerce me into staying either."

"i love you but you're losing me, han."

present time

thus, it was at that moment that i brought our six-year bond to an end, unveiling the cruel essence of existence—where we are destined to entangle ourselves only to untangle, time and again. i ended it way before the glass broke. we stumble upon unforeseen souls in this voyage, while losing the one we had envisioned eternally. however, let us not believe that life ceases to exist in those instances. it is, in fact, perfectly acceptable to outgrow those who are unaware of the art of loving you, even though, in this instance, he did love me. alas, his love fell short, incapable of constructing an everlasting sanctuary for me.

once again, i find myself standing at the threshold of yet another solemn ceremony—a retaking of vows by someone who holds a special place in my heart. for the past five years, i had forsaken numerous significant milestones in my own life, choosing instead to embark on a journey to greece, consumed by the demands of my career. yet, in this very moment, the individual who extended this invitation holds immeasurable value, surpassing any sentimental card that would reach their hands a mere week after the celebration.

as the minutes crawled by, we remained suspended in anticipation, longing for the commencement of the main event. in that restless moment, a familiar aura engulfed me as someone settled into the vacant seat beside me. to my amazement, it was the very person who had discovered me in the depths of my wanderings, the one who never coerced me out of my secluded refuge. instead, they held a torch aloft, fearlessly delving into the abyss to find me. it was the person with whom i had once woven dreams of everlasting togetherness. it was none other than yoon jeonghan.

"hey," he greeted me with a smile, "how are you?"

"good, life has been treating me very well these past few weeks, you?"

"yeah, you know, nothing has changed. my life is still all about work," he attempted to laugh, although the palpable tension lingered between us. everyone present at the event appeared preoccupied with their own affairs, yet i couldn't help but sense that many were well acquainted with our shared history. thankfully, they seemed content to focus on their own matters, respecting the boundaries of our past.

i observed how his gaze subtly gravitated towards my hand, resting on the table, particularly fixating on my ring finger.

"married?" he asked

"oh, no, no." i shook my head, "not yet."

[bozers]

Your Eye's on Me

Here is a little teaser of a Rainko one-off I am working on!

After the disastrously embarrassing scene so generously put on by Shao, the dinner quickly drew to a close. Those that remained had retired to the main ballroom to take coffee or perhaps a few more glasses of wine. 

Rain was indulging in the latter. He had endured much during the day's events, and he wanted to enjoy what remained of the evening before the tournament's conclusion. 

This event wasn’t all that different from the usual celebratory fare, but Rain had been drawn to a few of the new faces that graced the palace's chambers, as well as a few familiar ones.

He was quite glad that Shao had taken his leave, otherwise he would have continued to make a drunken fool out of himself. Although, he had been somewhat disappointed that his subordinate had left with him. Rain was planning on catching up with the second in command, as they had both been under Shao’s tutelage when they were boys. 

Rain had never got the chance to get to know the orphaned Outworlder, as Reiko didn’t speak much back then. His traumatic childhood had left deep scars that made socializing with him…difficult. And so, the years went by, and they both went their separate ways. 

Reiko had all but become inseparable from his duties, serving far away with Shao during his multiple campaigns across the land.

And Rain had thrown himself fully into honing his skills in magic, devoting himself to years of rigorous study to finally achieve the status of Arch Mage of Outworld.

However, he never forgot that quiet boy from his youth.

A flash of red caught his attention, and as he squinted through the crowd, he spotted the object of his thoughts. 

Reiko had returned, seemingly free of his General’s presence for the night.

The man had stationed himself against the wall surrounding the ballroom, silently watching the well dressed denizens of the court. 

Rain noticed his glass was still mostly full. He must be holding it for show. Not wanting to seem out of place, and yet he had sequestered himself to the outskirts.  

Curious. 

Rain made his rounds, catching up on the tepid after dinner small talk and fulfilling his social obligations to the who’s-who of the royal court. 

All the while sparing glances over to the lone soldier against the wall. His silver eyes seemed to glow ever so slightly in the low light as he gazed over the milling crowd, seemingly lost in thought.

After a few more glasses of the house red and exhausting the last shreds of interesting conversation, Rain felt his eyes drawn to check if a certain lieutenant was still there. 

He was.

Approaching, Rain casually threaded his fingers around the stem of his glass, cupping the bowl in his palm. 

As he breached the edge of the crowd into the empty area at the side of the ballroom floor, Reiko’s head snapped up to watch him draw closer. His eyes settled onto him, a curious expression on his face, but it quickly shifted to confusion as Rain seemed to ignore him. Instead of a greeting, the mage was looking above the soldier to squint at the ceiling. 

“What is it?” Reiko asked, slightly annoyed. 

“Oh I was merely observing the structural integrity of this wall.” Rain replied, nonchalant. 

“Why…?” Reiko’s voice was flat as he squinted back in confusion. 

“Well, you have been so dutifully holding it up for the past hour I had assumed it was on the verge of collapse.” Rain gestured toward the opulently carved stone wall, holding his glass aloft.

“Heh, you seem to have a fixation on odd details. I would have thought you were too busy chatting up all these overstuffed hens, given the fact you missed a much more interesting detail than this wall.” Reiko smirked.

“Oh? And what would that be?” 

“You didn't notice that I have been staring at you all night.” Reiko said, voice low.

“Have you?” Rain felt a slight shiver run through his spine the way Reiko’s eyes never left his. “Well, I may have spared you a few glances throughout the evening, but I never caught you so much as look my way.” He crooked up a skeptical eyebrow.

“That's because I didn't want you to know. I wouldn't be worth my salt if I was unable to covertly study a target.” Reiko crossed his arms, his untouched glass of wine still clutched in one hand. 

“Am I just a target to you then?” Rain turned on his heel, halfway threatening to walk away.

“Depends. Does that get your attention?” Reiko asked.

“Why couldn't you have been more obvious to begin with if you were vying for my attention this entire time?” Rain turned his back to him, scoffing over his shoulder. 

“I could be.” He pushed off the wall to step closer. Rain could feel the barest hint of the man’s breath on the back of his neck. He tried not to shiver. “More obvious, I mean.”

“Hm, I am not yet convinced. You may need to demonstrate.” 

“I am better at showing rather than telling anyway.” Reiko trailed his fingers down Rain’s side, the movement hidden by the lustrous velvet half cape, before gripping his hip tightly.

Rain sucked in a surprised breath, but kept his face from reflecting the surge of heat at his core. “Not here, what would the overstuffed hens think?” He purred under his breath, a slight smile pulling at his lips.

“Typical royal. Worried about your image despite your desires.” Reiko all but hissed in his ear, the rough quality of his voice stoking the growing flame within his chest. 

“And how do you know what my desires are?” He pulled away, this time forcing himself to take a step or two, teasing his escape. But what he really wanted was to be chased.

“I already told you: I know my targets. You are a still, clear pool of water and I’ve seen right through you.”

[bullet-prooflove]

TheWall! Series Part Five: Nighttime Tea - Bishop Losa x Reader (Feat: Neron 'Creeper' Vargas)

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond @wakeama @fanfic-n-tabulous @dreamlandcreations @anime-weeb-4-life @jp1019 @keyweegirlie @danzer8705 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @the-wandering-lunatic @alwaysachorusgirl @beardedbarba @multifandomloversworld @est1887 @mortal--soul @buddinglinguist @purrrrfect @adaydreamaway08 @stressed-chas @spookyboogyuniverse @librarian1002 @msjava1972 @thanossexual @kishie8 @saltyunicorn079 @nessamc @thebaileybugle @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @justreblogginfics @beccabarba @legally-a-bastard @trublu2u @irishavengersassemble

Companion Series to:

Complicated - Bishop already knows your secret.

The Wall - Bishop comes home to find you covered in blood.

You’re asleep when Bishop gets in. He finds you curled up in the centre of the bed, the sheets drawn up around you, your face pressed into his pillow. You look like an angel and for the first time since you’d taken that bullet, he breathes a sigh of relief because the truth is since it happened you’ve not been sleeping.

He’s spent nights up with you on the couch, watching late night TV because you every time you close your eyes, you’re back in that truck, the windscreen smashing as raw heat sears through your chest.  

He’d had to attend to club business tonight, a meeting between the kings to discuss the disbandment of the pipeline. The negotiations were slow going, Yuma was reluctant. At least this time around he managed to get them to sit down at the table. He’d hated leaving you, but his presence was integral.

He had Neron stay with you instead. He knows you find the other man’s presence soothing. Neron’s always had a way of settling people and it seems to have worked on you.

“I gave her some nighttime tea.” Neron tells him as he collects his kutte from the back of the chair and slips it on over his shoulders. “It helps me sleep when things get a little messy.”

Bishop knows what he’s talking about, they all have their demons. Neron’s spirals back to junkie parents and a childhood spent running away from foster care, he’d managed to get himself clean but those ghosts they still haunt the man. It’s been better since he met Nina, he’s less tense, more grounded. His empathy still shines through, he’s freer with it, more open. It looks good on him.

“We talked tonight.” Neron says quietly. “I think it helped.”

“Thanks brother.” Bishop says earnestly, clasping Neron’s shoulder. “You don’t know how much it means to me.”

“I do.” Neron assures him. “We’re all there, if you need anything just call.”

There’s an ache in Bishop’s chest, the compassion in his brothers moves him. He thinks back to the night you were injured and the time since then, every single one of them had rallied around you.

Riz supporting you by keeping on top of administration at the community centre. Taza ensuring the operations ran smoothly whilst Hank dropped by with meals from his mom and EZ helped around the house because you were finding it hard to adjust to your restricted mobility.

He locks up after the other man, his hands rubbing over his face as he sits down on the couch. He’s exhausted, he can feel the weariness in his bones. This thing with the pipeline, it’s weighting on him. The quicker it’s over and done with, the quicker he can focus on the shit that actually matters. His gaze strays back to the bedroom door.

He’ll let you have the bed tonight; he doesn’t want to run the risk of disturbing you. You deserve at least one goodnight’s sleep. He pulls the blanket off the back of the couch and drapes it over himself, his arms folding over his chest as his gaze comes to rest on the blank TV screen. He’s slept in worse places, in worse conditions but it still feels a little weird because by now he’s used to sleeping with you, to having you draped across him or nestled into his side. He grasps one of the cushions, tucking it underneath his chin and clasping it close to his chest. It’s not the same but it’ll have to do.

He's barely closed his eyes when he hears the bedroom door click open, he’s up instantly, his head tilting towards you.

“You ok?” He asks, his voice gruff.

You linger in the doorway clad in one of his white wifebeaters. It falls past your thighs, barely covering the pair of navy-blue panties you’re wearing.

“Obispo, come to bed.” You say softly. “You know I don’t sleep well without you.”

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[valve3nthusiast]

Hey have I ever mentioned that I'm a teeny tiny bit insane about Crystal City arc. My brain is chewing on wrift sexy kidnapping aus constantly... and then I get frustrated when I have no solid ideas because a barbarian au just doesn't have Crystal City vibes but I'm stuck on a pre-spacetravel setting

I've sort of settled on an ancient greece-esque warring city-states au??? And some wifeposting themes snuck in there too (this ended up more plot-y than smutty honestly) (I didn't realize how long this got so editing a cut here)

Deadlock's backstory is mostly the same with only setting tweaks: he's a Rodion mercenary who rises up and then falls out of Megatron's favor, got assigned to Turmoil and eventually skedaddled, etc

The Decepticon Empire he fought for is a coalition of city-states and conquered territories, led by Megatron, with the goal of uniting all of Cybertron under one banner. Autobots is an alliance of city-states that oppose them, yadda yadda you get the idea

IDK what plot setup needs to happen yet but Wing and "Drift" meet and get to know each other outside of Crystal City and bond a bit. I like the idea of Wing getting to know Deadlock before Wing's very presence and worldview radically changes his personality, with Wing first realizing he's intensely drawn and attracted to Deadlock

Then Wing rescues Deadlock from *handwaves* a situation and brings him back to Crystal City... but in this au, Crystal City has avoided being conquered by having *handwaves again* some kind of myserious, unknown, and impenetratable defense

A defense that get a lot less mysterious when Deadlock sees it from the inside, which now makes him a threat to Crystal City. Wing, of course, protests killing his friend? someone who hasn't yet done anything wrong, but they still cant let him leave...

To avoid alarming the populace by admitting an enemy soldier could threaten the secrets of the City, and to Wing's hesitance and Deadlock's outrage, "Drift" is to be integrated into life in the City as Wing's warbride

It's not uncommon for a mech in an invaded or conquered territory to catch a warrior's eye, and be brought back home as a "kept conjunx". Crystal City holds no outside territories, but venturing Knights still participate in this custom. If Deadlock doesn't want to spend the rest of his life in a cell, it's his best option for keeping some of his freedom in Crystal City

Wing, obviously, feels horribly guilty about this, not helped by his unspoken attraction to Drift. He swears to find a way for Drift to escape while still protecting the residents of the city. Drift was stripped of his guns, so he even secretly begins teaching Drift swordfighting, something that's banned for anyone other than the Knights of the Circle of Light. He doesn't want Drift to feel helpless, but if they get caught he's in trouble

But what they do in secret doesn't change the facts: terrifying deception Deadlock now has to act like a submissive conquest. He's expecing the next years to be torture, upholding appearances by being paraded about like a fancy pleasure drone as Wing yanks him around by a metaphorical (or maybe even literal) leash

That... isn't what happens

When the Circle said "integrated" they meant it. The other Knights have warbrides (I figure ocs) who accept Deadlock into the group with open arms. There's probably a little subplot I could do here with them being autobots and decepticons working together. It would be the first time Deadlock had ever actually felt a strong sense of community, Dead End and the Empire wouldn't have that, and it would start the path to shaking up his worldview on the war

And the way Wing treats him... Wing is... gentle. They go on dates, like a pair of ridiculous, smitten newbuilds. He sees the normal civilians of Crystal City, living a normal life unaffected by war. His instinctive reaction of disgust slowly changes over time, to something else that he can't quantify...

(A guiding hand around his hip, kisses pressed to his cheek. The most amorous thing they do in public is him cuddling into Wing's chest as Wing strokes his finials)

(They should be doing more than that. Crystal City isn't some utopia, plenty of Knights see fit to enjoy their warbrides in public in the "traditional" manner. Warbrides can and do take issue with their situation, hence why they've formed a community to support each other. But even under pressure from the Circle, Wing cannot bring himself to do that to Drift)

(Deadlock doesn't know how to feel when the other warbrides tell him that his relationship is like a fairy tale romance. They're right, after all: he is lucky to have a conjunx who cares)

The juicy part of this au for me is Deadlock realizing he likes the play-pretend. He likes how Wing treats him like something beautiful and delicate... struggling with the realization he's slowly grown to enjoy pretending to be "Drift", Wing's tamed former-deception wife, to the point where he isn't pretending anymore

Maybe some sort of plot thing happens that finally shakes the last of his loyalty to the Decepticon Empire and gets him more freedom, and after so many years of a loving relationship with Wing, he embraces being a resident of Crystal City. The City is far from perfect, but... it has Wing. It's painful, to finally choose to sacrifice being a warrior

He gets a rebuild that at first glance seems more civilian... but he would never be satisfied with being defenseless, so the new frame is covertly armored and insanely flexible (honestly I just want to give him his mtmte childbearing hips again)

The first time they have sex would be so emotionally crunchy, Wing trying so hard to apologize for the poor circumstances through action, tenderly making love to Deadlock like his nervous warbride is a virgin on his bonding night, the way Wing wanted to from the very beginning...

Constantly praising how beautiful he is, how indomitable in soul, how privileged Wing is to be able to call him wife... Deadlock is completely undone by the way Wing makes sure he feels special, valued, being so slow and careful with his pleasure, like he's a blushing noble waif instead of a hardened gun-for-hire

(Like he's worth the effort)

Either wrift lives happily ever after (for a given value of such, Drift is still kidnapped) or more bullshit happens and I write it up in a second post. Honestly will probably make a second post because I can't resist writing about pregnant Drift and I didn't even mention that in all this nonsense

[my-mt-heart]

Les Caryl

Not wishful thinking. Not a ruse. Carol is coming back, and I’m grateful. Mainly, to Melissa McBride for everything she’s given us over the years and for everything she’s willing to give us in order to keep telling Carol’s story. It’s easy to see how much of her heart and soul has gone into this character, and I never want to take that for granted. We all have different reasons for loving Carol, but I think a lot of us draw inspiration from watching an underdog like her turn into the hero everybody needs. It’s been nice to see that mirrored in our fight over the past year to remind AMC how imperative she is to TWDU’s success. 

Whether you participated in blitzes, sent letters, spammed AMC’s/TWD’s social media accounts, or just kept Carol in the conversation on your own terms, you persevered just like she did and now you’re reaping the rewards just like she better will. It just goes to show that when people come together to support a female lead with as much talent and grace as Melissa, that and a little bit of hope can make a huge impact. 

For anyone who didn’t have hope or didn’t want to set themselves up for more disappointment, that’s more than fair. Maybe yesterday’s confirmation will give you something to look forward to again. Nothing is ever guaranteed, but if you find comfort in these characters, it’s perfectly okay to let yourself feel that too. Love what you love.

I know there are some who wanted Melissa to just walk away and leave Norman/AMC in the dust, but unlike Carol, she isn’t a fictional character. We aren’t entitled to her relationships with other people, so we just have to trust she knows how to navigate them on her own. Like I mentioned earlier, landing new roles comes with its own set of challenges regardless of one’s reputation or talent. Casting is a meat market and options for actresses over 35 are limited, especially when execs want to factor in their hair color (because how can they appeal to men 18-49 if they have gray hair 🙄) or their social media presence (because if they’re not active on Twitter, what audience will they bring 😑) All of this is to say, it’s perfectly reasonable for Melissa to choose another path, and no, it doesn’t mean she’s gritting her teeth while she does it. I’m comfortable believing she’s happy to co-lead Caryl’s show. I mean, you saw that smile, right?

I realize that at the end of the day, we’re all just trying to do right by someone we admire, which is tricky from our vantage point because it’s so easy to treat her like she belongs to us, and we have to keep reminding ourselves that she does not. I can’t speak for anyone else, but for me, the intention of campaigning in Melissa’s name was to leave the door open for her to come back on her own terms. If she’s getting everything she wants, if she’s being treated with the respect she deserves, then that’s a win in my book. If this whole ordeal motivates AMC to create a better work environment for all their female talent/employees going forward, even better. 

I know this isn’t news, but I’m still going to hold off on watching the show until Carol comes back and if that sounds biased, let me stop you right there. Let’s put aside the BTS fuckery for a second. Let’s ignore the fact that Carol and Melissa are the ones who got the short end of the stick and need my support the most right now. Not only does S1 sound unappealing to me, it actually hurts too much to think about the ways Daryl’s character has been used for personal gain rather than story integrity, which pretty much guarantees a retcon no matter how long it lasts or how drastic it is. His growth over the past 12 years was some of the best I’ve seen on any show let alone TWD, and I want to preserve the version of him I was drawn to in the first place, the version three out of four showrunners actually took the time to nurture. This version. If it’s all just a marketing ploy, trying to target Carylers’ biggest fears to relieve them later, well, I can’t support that either. Caryl fans have been put through enough over the years, especially in the last season, and I think it’s wrong to try to manipulate them into settling (and paying) for less than what they really wanted. 

Do I think we can still get something worthwhile in S2? Yes. I just don’t want to risk torturing myself to get there. Anyone who’s read my blog for a long time knows I would generally give the show the benefit of the doubt because I assumed the payoff would come sooner or later. Needless to say, it didn’t. I know why it didn’t and I hope those issues have been properly dealt with, but if I want to maintain that Caryl/Carol are important for viewership, then I need to watch and subscribe for Caryl/Carol. If I want Melissa to get the pay hike she deserves, then I need to tune in when she’s on my screen, not before. I do trust her judgement for what it’s worth, and I want to look forward to S2 provided there are no irreparable damages beforehand and TPTB put their audience first, meaning they deliver on the promises they made.

The biggest promise, UNAMBIGUOUS CANON, is crucial for story integrity, character growth, and representation. It shouldn’t be a huge undertaking when the chemistry can practically write itself. Daryl and Carol never have nor ever will need gimmicks to keep me invested. 

While we wait for Caryl to reunite, I hope the fandom can start to heal and get back to spreading endless love for one of the greatest ships on television. I’ll never stop mourning the loss of the spinoff we were supposed to have, and part of me still hopes we can get it back someday. But I’ll hope for the best on the show we’re getting right now. Caryl deserve it, Melissa deserves it, and the fans deserve it. 

[ktzt96-blog]

Back in Time (Xiao Yuan Zhi) Chapter (1 to 10)

Introduction

The Gong Clan stood as a testament to strength and unity, each of its four manors integral to its operations. Jiao Gong handled external affairs, Yu Gong managed internal matters, Zhi Gong specialized in medical care, and Sheng Gong was devoted to weapon-making. This intricate system showcased the clan's cohesion, but six months ago, the Wu Fone assassins shattered their tranquility. The attack left deep scars, filling the air with grief and loss.

The heaviest burden fell on Gong Shang Jiao, the 22-year-old master of Jiao Gong. He lost his parents and his younger brother, Lang Jiao, who was only eleven at the time. The tragedy reshaped the lives of those within the clan, none more so than Gong Yuan Zhi. At the tender age of seven, Yuan Zhi was thrust into the role of master of Zhi Gong. Detached and almost emotionless, he found solace in insects rather than people, earning a reputation for being heartless.

Many whispered that if Yuan Zhi had not opened the hideout, Shang Jiao's mother and brother would still be alive. The blame rested squarely on his young shoulders in the eyes of many, but not Shang Jiao. He saw beyond the surface, wondering why a seven-year-old had faced such terror alone. How frightened must Yuan Zhi have been to run to the hideout by himself? Why had no one ensured his safety sooner? These questions gnawed at Shang Jiao, who felt a growing responsibility to care for the boy.

Despite the whispers and judgment from others, Shang Jiao never blamed Yuan Zhi. Instead, he was drawn to the child, noticing his silent presence in Jiao Gong each day. Yuan Zhi, though quiet and reserved, seemed to gravitate towards Shang Jiao, sneaking into Jiao Gong to watch him from a distance. It was a timid, almost desperate attempt to connect, to find solace in the presence of someone who didn't see him as the cause of their suffering.

The attack left Yuan Zhi with more than just physical scars. The trauma of losing his parents and the blame heaped upon him created a chasm between him and the rest of the clan. He retreated further into himself, finding solace in the study of medicinal herbs and the quiet companionship of insects. In these small creatures, he found a semblance of peace, an escape from the harsh realities of his world.

Shang Jiao observed this from a distance, his heart aching for the boy. He saw the guilt and pain that Yuan Zhi carried, the way he flinched at the mention of the attack, and the way his eyes darkened with memories. Shang Jiao knew that the path to healing for Yuan Zhi was fraught with obstacles, but he was determined to be a guiding light in the boy's life.

Yuan Zhi, for his part, responded with cautious optimism. The initial barriers of silence and detachment began to crack under Shang Jiao's persistent kindness. The boy started to open up, sharing his knowledge of herbs and medicinal practices, demonstrating a wisdom beyond his years. Shang Jiao listened with patience and interest, offering support and guidance without judgment.

The other members of the clan gradually noticed the change in Yuan Zhi. His demeanor softened, his eyes lost some of their haunted look, and he began to interact more freely. The clan's perception of him started to shift, though the scars of blame and suspicion were slow to heal. Shang Jiao remained his steadfast protector, shielding him from harsh criticism and providing a safe space for growth.

❤Chapter 1 : I'll be your brother

Shang Jiao often noticed the small figure sneaking glances at him from a distance. He pretended not to see, but he couldn't help wondering how the boy managed to make it to Jiao Gong every day without any attendants. The people from Zhi Gong clearly needed more discipline if they allowed their young master to wander unsupervised. Yuan Zhi's presence in Jiao Gong, hidden yet so close, puzzled him. He was such a small child to make the journey alone each day.

In the past few days, however, Yuan Zhi's familiar presence had been absent. Shang Jiao hadn't seen the boy for three days, and his curiosity turned to concern. He decided to investigate Zhi Gong, knowing that it was still recovering from the attack and was not yet back to its full strength. That didn't excuse their neglect of their young master, he thought with a frown.

When he arrived at Zhi Gong, he found the place in disarray. People offered various explanations for Yuan Zhi's absence. Some said they had seen him in the garden, others claimed he was in the woods looking for bugs, and a few mentioned a fight with Gong Zi Yu, the nine-year-old son of the Sword Master in Yu Gong. Frustrated by the lack of clear answers, Shang Jiao's anger grew. He decided to look for the boy himself, with his loyal guard Jin Fu by his side.

As he searched, Shang Jiao's mind raced with thoughts of the little boy. How could the attendants be so careless? Didn't they realize Yuan Zhi needed their protection and guidance, especially after the attack? The frustration in his chest turned to a dull ache of worry.

Finally, Shang Jiao found Yuan Zhi in the most unexpected place: the room that had once belonged to the boy's parents. The child was curled up on their bed, a small, vulnerable figure in the large, empty room. As Shang Jiao moved closer, he noticed something was wrong. Yuan Zhi's face was flushed, his breathing shallow and labored. When Shang Jiao touched his forehead, it was burning with fever. The boy was unconscious, lost in fevered dreams.

Panic surged through Shang Jiao as he lifted the boy into his arms. How could no one have noticed Yuan Zhi was this sick? It struck him that, in his illness, the boy had sought comfort in the room where his parents' presence still lingered, seeking solace in their memory. Shang Jiao's heart ached for the child. He should have come sooner. He should have checked on him the moment he noticed his absence.

Without wasting another moment, Shang Jiao carried the unconscious boy to the infirmary, his steps quick and determined. Jin Fu ran ahead to alert the healers. As they moved, Shang Jiao's thoughts were consumed with worry. Yuan Zhi was still so young and had already endured so much. The clan's blame and whispers, the responsibility thrust upon him, and now this illness—Shang Jiao vowed to be there for him, to protect and care for him as he should have from the beginning.

The healers at the infirmary sprang into action as soon as they arrived. They took Yuan Zhi from Shang Jiao's arms and began their work, examining the boy and administering medicine to reduce his fever. Shang Jiao stood by, watching anxiously, his heart heavy with guilt and fear. He couldn't shake the image of Yuan Zhi, small and alone in his parents' room, seeking comfort where none could be given.

As the hours passed, the healers worked tirelessly, and slowly, Yuan Zhi's fever began to break. Shang Jiao stayed by his side, refusing to leave. He watched the boy's pale face, saw the lines of pain ease slightly as the medicine took effect. He thought of the boy's bravery, his quiet resilience in the face of so much loss. Yuan Zhi deserved better than the neglect he had received.

When Yuan Zhi finally stirred, opening his eyes to see Shang Jiao beside him, a flicker of recognition and relief passed over his face. Shang Jiao took his hand, squeezing it gently. "You're safe now," he said softly. "I promise, I'll take care of you."

Shang Jiao sensed a familiar presence behind him as he worked in Jiao Gong. He didn't turn around immediately, giving the small figure time to gather the courage to approach. He had heard that Yuan Zhi had recovered from his fever, and his heart lifted at the thought of seeing the boy again. The sound of light footsteps confirmed his suspicion. Yuan Zhi had returned, and he was peeking at him once more.

Turning slowly, Shang Jiao smiled gently at the boy, whose eyes sparkled with determination. Yuan Zhi stepped forward, his voice steady yet soft as he spoke. "I want to learn martial arts to protect myself," he said. There was a quiet resolve in his words, a desire to be stronger, to be more than just a burden.

Shang Jiao's heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow. He knelt down to be at eye level with Yuan Zhi, his expression serious yet kind. "I will protect you from now on," he promised, his voice firm. "But if you want to learn, I will teach you. Together, we will make sure you are never helpless again."

Reaching into his robe, Shang Jiao pulled out a small, ornate dagger. It was a treasured possession, once held by his younger brother Lang Jiao until his last breath. He had kept it as a symbol of his brother's bravery and spirit. Now, he felt it was time to pass it on.

"This dagger belonged to Lang Jiao," Shang Jiao said, his voice tinged with emotion. "He held it until the end. I want you to have it, Yuan Zhi. From now on, you are my brother." He placed the dagger gently in Yuan Zhi's hands, watching as the boy's eyes widened in awe and happiness.

Yuan Zhi looked up at Shang Jiao, his face glowing with joy. "Thank you, Brother," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. The happiness in his eyes was pure and untainted, a rare sight in a world that had been so harsh to him. This was likely the first real gift he had ever received, and it meant the world to him.

Shang Jiao's heart ached again, not from sorrow, but from a deep, protective love for the boy. He realized how little Yuan Zhi had been given in life, how much he had been deprived of simple joys and kindness. "What gift should I give you in return?" Yuan Zhi asked, his voice innocent and earnest.

Shang Jiao shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips. "No, Yuan Zhi, I don't need anything in return. I already have the best gift in the world. It's you, Yuan Zhi. My DiDi." The words were simple but filled with profound meaning. Shang Jiao had lost a brother, but in Yuan Zhi, he had found another.

He knelt down further and gently wrapped his arms around the small boy, holding him close. Yuan Zhi hesitated for a moment, then relaxed into the embrace, his small arms wrapping around Shang Jiao's neck. The warmth of the hug was a balm to both their souls, a silent promise of the bond they now shared.

🧡 Chapter 2 : New master of Jiao Gong

Yuan Zhi as the new master of Jiao Gong, Shang Jiao made sure the boy had a room within the manor. He issued an order that everyone in Jiao Gong must respect and obey Yuan Zhi, ensuring the young boy would be treated with the dignity and care he deserved. Yuan Zhi began staying in Jiao Gong day and night, under Shang Jiao’s attentive guidance.

Shang Jiao took it upon himself to raise Yuan Zhi properly, providing him with both discipline and affection. The boy, playful and curious, often followed Shang Jiao around like a shadow. Despite his normally reserved nature, Yuan Zhi became talkative when he was with Shang Jiao, his Ge Ge. Shang Jiao secretly loved to hear Yuan Zhi's chatter, especially when he would scold the servants in his small, earnest voice.

Yuan Zhi, observing Shang Jiao closely, tried to fulfill his brother’s needs and desires as much as he could understand. His attempts were often endearing, though sometimes misguided. Even Jin Fu, Shang Jiao’s loyal guard, found himself at the receiving end of Yuan Zhi's scoldings. The boy's dedication was both amusing and touching, showing how much he looked up to Shang Jiao.

On one particular day, Yuan Zhi followed Shang Jiao everywhere, refusing to leave his side despite being told to go and play. The boy's stubborn loyalty was both a source of pride and mild exasperation for Shang Jiao. As night fell, Shang Jiao sat down to read a book, and Yuan Zhi, wanting to emulate his elder brother, picked up a book of his own. However, the material was far beyond his comprehension, and he quickly grew bored.

An hour later, Shang Jiao glanced over to see Yuan Zhi slumped against the wall, fast asleep. A soft smile crossed his face as he rose from his seat and approached the sleeping boy. Yuan Zhi was clearly exhausted from trailing him all day. Gently, Shang Jiao scooped him up, the boy’s hand dangling to the side and his head lolling against Shang Jiao’s chest.

The sight of the sleeping child filled Shang Jiao with a deep affection. The servants, witnessing this tender moment, looked on with amusement and admiration at their master's gentleness. Shang Jiao carried Yuan Zhi to his bed and laid him down with great care. As he tucked him in, Yuan Zhi murmured in his sleep, "Ge Ge."

Shang Jiao's heart swelled with emotion as he brushed a stray lock of hair from Yuan Zhi's forehead. He continued to soothe the boy, his touch light and comforting. Watching Yuan Zhi sleep peacefully, Shang Jiao reflected on how much the boy had become a part of his life. Yuan Zhi’s presence brought a sense of purpose and joy that Shang Jiao hadn’t felt since the loss of his family.

Shang Jiao made it a point to involve Yuan Zhi in various activities within Jiao Gong, teaching him the ways of leadership and responsibility. The boy absorbed these lessons with enthusiasm, his admiration for Shang Jiao evident in every action. The bond between them grew stronger with each passing day, rooted in mutual respect and deep affection.

One evening, as they sat together after dinner, Yuan Zhi looked up at Shang Jiao with a serious expression "I will always try my best to make you proud, Ge Ge," he promised.

Shang Jiao's heart warmed at the boy's earnest words. "You already do, Yuan Zhi. You already do."

As night fell, Yuan Zhi prepared for bed, his mind at ease knowing he was loved and cared for. Shang Jiao, left the door slightly ajar so he could hear if the boy needed anything during the night.

💛Chapter 3 : Distress Child

Shang Jiao had never seen Yuan Zhi so upset before. The boy had always been obedient, even in his stubbornness, but this time was different. When Shang Jiao informed Yuan Zhi that he had to leave for a business journey, the reaction was immediate and intense. Yuan Zhi’s small face crumpled, and he immediately began to protest, his eyes filling with tears.

“Ge Ge, don’t go! Please, take me with you!” Yuan Zhi pleaded, clinging to Shang Jiao’s sleeve. His usual playful demeanor had vanished, replaced by desperation.

Shang Jiao knelt down to face him, trying to soothe the boy. “Yuan Zhi, I have to go. It’s important for our clan. I promise I won’t be gone long, and Jin Fu will be here to take care of you.”

But Yuan Zhi wasn’t having it. He shook his head vehemently, his small fists clenched. “No! I don’t want Jin Fu. I want you! Please, Ge Ge, don’t leave me behind!”

Shang Jiao’s heart ached at the sight of Yuan Zhi’s tearful face, but he knew he couldn’t take the boy with him. The journey was long and dangerous, and Yuan Zhi was still too young. “Yuan Zhi, listen to me,” Shang Jiao said softly, trying to reason with him. “I need you to be strong while I’m away. I’ll come back as soon as I can. You can help me by being brave and taking care of Jiao Gong in my absence.”

The words seemed to have little effect. Yuan Zhi’s tantrum escalated; he stomped his feet and refused to be comforted. “I don’t care! I’ll be good, I’ll do anything—just don’t go!”

Shang Jiao sighed and gently pulled the boy into his arms. “Yuan Zhi, sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to. But I need you to trust me. I’ll always come back to you, I promise.”

Eventually, after much coaxing, Yuan Zhi stopped protesting, but his silence was more concerning than the tantrum. The following day, Yuan Zhi was subdued. He didn’t cry or complain anymore, but he followed Shang Jiao around with a gaze that was unsettling in its intensity. His usually bright eyes were glassy, filled with a quiet sadness that Shang Jiao found hard to bear.

Yuan Zhi ate little, speaking only when absolutely necessary, but he remained by Shang Jiao’s side throughout the day. Shang Jiao tried to engage him, to draw him out of his melancholy, but nothing seemed to work. The boy’s silence weighed heavily on him, a stark contrast to the cheerful chatter he had grown accustomed to.

As night fell, Shang Jiao retired to his room, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of Yuan Zhi. He knew the boy was distressed about the upcoming journey, but something about his behavior felt off. Just as he was about to settle in for the night, he heard a faint sound, barely audible over the quiet of the manor.

It was a whimper, soft and pitiful, coming from Yuan Zhi’s room. Shang Jiao’s heart clenched, and he immediately got up to check on him. When he entered the room, his breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.

Yuan Zhi was curled up under his blanket, trembling as he cried softly into the fabric. His small body shook with each sob, and Shang Jiao could see the damp spots on the pillow where tears had soaked through. Panic surged through him as he rushed to the boy’s side.

“Yuan Zhi, what’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” Shang Jiao’s voice was filled with worry as he gently pulled the blanket away, searching for any sign of injury. But there was nothing—no cuts, no bruises—just the sight of a deeply distressed child.

Yuan Zhi continued to cry, his sobs growing louder and more desperate. “Ge Ge… Ge Ge,” he whimpered through his tears, “I’ll be good, don’t leave me.”

Shang Jiao’s heart shattered at the plea. He gathered Yuan Zhi into his arms, holding him close as the boy’s small hands clung to his robe. “I’m here, Yuan Zhi, I’m right here. I’m not leaving you now. Please, stop crying,” he soothed, trying to calm the boy’s sobs.

But Yuan Zhi’s distress only seemed to deepen. “I won’t stop you anymore… I won’t… I won’t mingle in grown-up business anymore. Don’t hate me, Ge Ge,” Yuan Zhi murmured between sobs, his voice trembling with fear.

Shang Jiao’s grip tightened around Yuan Zhi as the boy’s words hit him like a blow. Who had put such ideas in his head? Who had made him believe that Shang Jiao would ever hate him? Yuan Zhi’s sobs turned into violent coughs, his body wracked with the force of his crying. Before Shang Jiao could react, the boy’s eyes rolled back, and he went limp in his arms, unconscious.

Panic surged through Shang Jiao as he called out urgently for the physician. “Jin Fu! Jin Fu, get the physician, now!” he shouted, his voice thick with fear. As he held Yuan Zhi close, his mind raced. “Find out who told Yuan Zhi those words,” he ordered through gritted teeth. Someone had filled the boy’s head with lies, and they would pay for it.

The physician arrived quickly, examining the boy with care. “He’s exhausted and emotionally distressed,” the physician said softly, his voice full of concern. “But he will recover with rest. Keep him warm and comforted.”

Shang Jiao nodded, his eyes never leaving Yuan Zhi’s pale face. He sat by the boy’s side throughout the night, holding him tightly, whispering soothing words into his ear. “I’m here, Yuan Zhi. I won’t leave you. You’re safe with me,” he murmured, brushing a hand through the boy’s hair.

As the hours passed, Yuan Zhi stirred occasionally, his sleep still troubled, but Shang Jiao didn’t let go. He kept watch over him until the first light of dawn crept through the windows, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow.

When Yuan Zhi finally woke, his eyes were puffy from crying, but they brightened slightly at the sight of Shang Jiao beside him. “Ge Ge…”

Shang Jiao smiled gently, though his heart still ached. “I’m here, Yuan Zhi. I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice firm with resolve.

Yuan Zhi’s small hand reached out to grip Shang Jiao’s tightly, as if afraid to let go. Shang Jiao squeezed back, silently vowing to protect him from whatever fears or lies had caused him such distress. Whoever had planted those poisonous thoughts in Yuan Zhi’s mind would regret it. But for now, all that mattered was that Yuan Zhi knew he was loved and that he would never be abandoned.

💚Chapter 4 : Weakness Unlock

Shang Jiao managed to persuade Yuan Zhi to understand the necessity of his duty and responsibility. Despite his reluctance and sadness, Yuan Zhi eventually let go, though his eyes remained filled with a confusing mix of understanding and innocence. Shang Jiao promised him a gift upon his return, hoping to soothe his distress.

As Shang Jiao departed, he couldn't shake the image of Yuan Zhi's eyes, a silent plea for reassurance, lingering in his mind. He left with a heavy heart, but duty called, and he had to fulfill his responsibilities for the clan's sake.

The journey was supposed to be a straightforward business trip, but things took an unexpected turn. Shang Jiao returned earlier than planned, greeted not by the usual serenity of Jiao Gong but by a dire report. Yuan Zhi had fallen severely ill. The story unraveled painfully: while catching bugs in the garden, Yuan Zhi had accidentally fallen into an old well. It took two days for anyone to find him, and now he was gravely sick, his fever dangerously high.

Shang Jiao rushed to Yuan Zhi's side. The boy lay on his bed, his small body burning with fever, his breaths coming in shallow gasps. In his feverish delirium, Yuan Zhi kept calling out for Shang Jiao, his voice weak and filled with distress.

Shang Jiao’s heart broke at the sight. He took Yuan Zhi's hot hand in his own, feeling utterly helpless. Yuan Zhi's consciousness flickered in and out, his mind clouded with fever. When awake, he was agitated, throwing tantrums and refusing the medicine the physicians tried to give him. The boy's cries for his "Ge Ge" tore at Shang Jiao's soul.

The Sword Master Yu, responsible for the clan’s safety, grew impatient with the situation. His concern for Yuan Zhi's health made him forceful. He ordered the physicians to administer the medicine by any means necessary. They held Yuan Zhi down, trying to make him swallow the bitter concoction. But the boy struggled, his cries of "Ge...Ge Ge, help me...Ge Ge" becoming more desperate.

Shang Jiao couldn't stand it any longer. He pushed past the physicians and pulled Yuan Zhi into his arms, holding him tightly. Yuan Zhi was trembling and sobbing, his face wet with tears. "Shang Jiao, don’t spoil him," Sword Master Yu warned. "The boy needs the medicine to recover."

Shang Jiao looked at Master Yu, determination and pain etched on his face. "Master Yu, the child is frightened. Let me try. I promise I'll get him to take the medicine. Just… don’t do it like this."

Master Yu sighed and stepped back, understanding that Yuan Zhi’s distress was making things worse. "Very well, Shang Jiao. But remember, this boy's well-being is your responsibility."

Shang Jiao nodded, cradling Yuan Zhi closer. He whispered soothing words, trying to calm the boy. "Yuan Zhi, it’s me, Ge Ge. I’m here. You need to take your medicine to get better. Can you do that for me?"

Yuan Zhi’s sobs quieted a little, but he still looked fearful and confused. Shang Jiao continued to speak softly, reassuring him. "I know it tastes bad, but it will help you feel better. Trust me, Yuan Zhi. I’m right here with you."

With great effort, Yuan Zhi finally nodded, his trust in Shang Jiao overriding his fear. Shang Jiao gently took the bowl of medicine and brought it to Yuan Zhi's lips. "Just a little, okay? For me."

Yuan Zhi grimaced at the taste but managed to swallow the medicine, his eyes never leaving Shang Jiao's. When it was done, Shang Jiao held him close, murmuring words of comfort until the boy’s breathing slowed and he drifted back into a restless sleep.

The next few days were a test of patience and endurance for Shang Jiao. He stayed by Yuan Zhi’s side, ensuring he took his medicine regularly and keeping him calm through his fevered dreams. Yuan Zhi’s cries for his Ge Ge never ceased to pierce Shang Jiao’s heart, but he remained steadfast, providing the comfort and security the boy so desperately needed.

Master Yu watched from a distance, silently acknowledging the bond between Shang Jiao and Yuan Zhi. He saw how Shang Jiao’s presence alone seemed to soothe the boy, how Yuan Zhi clung to him for reassurance. He knew that this bond was both a strength and a potential weakness. Shang Jiao’s love for Yuan Zhi could be a powerful motivator, but it could also be exploited by those who sought to harm the Gong Clan.

💚Chapter 5: Child Specialist

Shang Jiao observed Yuan Zhi’s transformation when he was ill; the once bright and lively boy became a shadow of his former self. The sickness turned him into someone nearly unrecognizable—angry, resistant, and perpetually unhappy. Each medicine time turned into a battle, a skirmish between a determined older brother and a distraught child. Only Shang Jiao had the patience to handle the situation, his deep care making him the sole person Yuan Zhi would listen to.

Despite his efforts, Yuan Zhi refused to eat anything. His stomach was unsettled, and each meal resulted in more vomiting and tears. His cries only seemed to exacerbate his condition, leading to a cycle of discomfort and distress. The members of the Gong Clan, observing from a distance, began to label Yuan Zhi as a difficult child, a label that pained Shang Jiao to hear.

Determined to break this cycle and lift Yuan Zhi’s spirits, Shang Jiao devised a plan. He dressed Yuan Zhi warmly and carried him out to the garden, hoping the fresh air and change of scenery might help. He set some food on the ground and watched as ants scurried over it, carrying bits away. With a gentle smile, Shang Jiao showed the spectacle to Yuan Zhi.

Yuan Zhi’s eyes widened in fascination. The sight of the ants at work, so industrious and focused, captivated him. Shang Jiao explained the ants' behavior in simple terms, engaging Yuan Zhi’s mind and momentarily distracting him from his discomfort. As Yuan Zhi watched, Shang Jiao picked up some food and fed the ants, then offered the same to Yuan Zhi.

To everyone’s surprise, the distraction worked. Yuan Zhi, momentarily intrigued by the garden scene, began to eat. The food stayed down, and Shang Jiao’s method seemed to have broken the cycle of nausea. Yuan Zhi’s spirits lifted a little as he ate, his interest in the ants providing a welcome diversion.

The Gong Clan members, witnessing Shang Jiao’s success, began to refer to him as the “child specialist.” They marveled at how he could manage Yuan Zhi’s ailments where others had failed. To Shang Jiao, the title was secondary to the real victory—the sight of Yuan Zhi eating with a weak but genuine smile on his face.

After the meal, Shang Jiao administered Yuan Zhi’s medicine. This time, Yuan Zhi accepted it more willingly. To make the medicine more palatable, Shang Jiao included a small piece of candy as a reward. Yuan Zhi’s smile grew a little stronger, a sign of improvement that Shang Jiao clung to with hope.

That evening, as Yuan Zhi settled into bed, Shang Jiao stayed by his side. It had been a week since he’d last seen Yuan Zhi’s genuine smile, and the small, flickering light in the boy’s eyes was a balm to Shang Jiao’s soul. He gathered Yuan Zhi into his arms, cradling him gently, and began to tell a story about martial art world.

Shang Jiao’s voice was soothing, and he told the story with affection, his words weaving a cocoon of comfort around Yuan Zhi. As the story unfolded, Yuan Zhi’s eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep in Shang Jiao’s embrace, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Shang Jiao’s heart ached with tenderness as he held his younger brother. The boy had endured so much—witnessing the death of his parents, suffering alone in sickness, and enduring two harrowing days trapped in an old well. These were burdens no child should have to bear, and Shang Jiao was determined to make the boy’s recovery as smooth as possible.

Despite the criticism and whispers of others about how Shang Jiao spoiled Yuan Zhi, he remained steadfast in his care. To him, the focus was always on Yuan Zhi’s well-being and happiness. He knew the boy needed time to heal, both physically and emotionally, and he was prepared to offer that time and support without reservation.

🖤 Chapter 6 : Double-faced young master

How Yuan Zhi treated others was starkly different from how he treated his Ge Ge, Gong Shang Jiao.

How Gong Yuan Zhi Treated Others

To the servants, peers, and even those who were older than him, Yuan Zhi often displayed a stern, sometimes mischievous, and demanding attitude.

When addressing the servants, Yuan Zhi was direct and sometimes sharp-tongued. If something wasn't done to his liking, he didn’t hesitate to express his displeasure. His words could be biting, and his expectations high. This behavior wasn't born out of malice but rather from a deep-seated desire to maintain the high standards of the Gong Clan and, perhaps, a reflection of the pressure he felt to live up to his family's name.

Yuan Zhi’s interactions with his peers could be even more complex. He would often test their limits, pushing boundaries, and sometimes playing pranks to see how far he could go. This earned him a reputation for being difficult and unpredictable. Some feared his temper, while others were wary of his cleverness. He enjoyed showing off his skills, whether it was in martial arts, cultivation, or his vast knowledge of herbs and poisons, and he didn’t shy away from demonstrating his superiority when the opportunity arose.

How Gong Yuan Zhi Treated His Ge Ge

But all of this changed when it came to his Ge Ge, Gong Shang Jiao. With Shang Jiao, Yuan Zhi’s tough exterior melted away, revealing the tender, vulnerable side of him that few others ever saw.

Yuan Zhi adored Shang Jiao more than anyone else in the world. In his Ge Ge’s presence, Yuan Zhi was soft-spoken, affectionate, and often sought comfort and approval. The stern, demanding young master who could command a room with a glance would become a gentle, obedient younger brother, hanging on Shang Jiao’s every word.

In Shang Jiao’s presence, Yuan Zhi’s mischievous side would take on a more playful tone. He would tease his Ge Ge lightly, knowing that Shang Jiao would indulge him. Their bond was one of deep love and trust, and Yuan Zhi felt safe showing his true self, free from the pressures of his role as the young master.

When Yuan Zhi was scolded by Shang Jiao, he wouldn’t argue or resist as he might with others. Instead, he would lower his head, feeling genuine regret and eager to make amends. The harsh, demanding tone he used with others was replaced by soft apologies and promises to do better. To Shang Jiao, Yuan Zhi was not just the young master of Gong Manor; he was a little brother who desperately wanted to be loved and cherished.

💙 Chapter 7 : Plump Lips

Shang Jiao had seen Yuan Zhi in various states of distress, but today was a different kind of chaos. Yuan Zhi, ever the curious and playful child, had gotten himself stung by a bee. His lips were swollen to an almost comical size, and the sight of him pouting with his puffed-up lips was enough to make anyone chuckle.

The servants, who were usually careful to maintain a respectful demeanor, couldn’t help but let out a few snickers. Even Shang Jiao found it hard to suppress his laughter. Yuan Zhi, however, did not find the situation amusing at all. He had a slight fever from the sting and was sulking, his eyes brimming with tears.

"Ge Ge," Yuan Zhi wailed, pointing accusingly at the servants, "they're laughing at me. Ge, punish them! Ge Ge… Ge!!" He rolled on the floor, his cries growing louder as he demanded vengeance.

Shang Jiao had no choice. He bent down, picked up the tantrum-throwing boy, and held him gently in his arms. "There, there, Yuan Zhi," he soothed, patting his back. "Don't cry. I'll take care of it."

Yuan Zhi sniffled, looking up at Shang Jiao with those big, pleading eyes. "Promise, Ge? You'll punish them?"

Shang Jiao nodded solemnly, though inside he was struggling to keep a straight face. "I promise."

With Yuan Zhi still in his arms, Shang Jiao turned to the gathered servants. "You all heard him. To make things fair, you’ll each have to experience what Yuan Zhi did."

The servants exchanged bewildered glances, wondering if Shang Jiao was serious. But when they saw the determined look on his face, they realized he wasn't joking. The next day, every servant in Jiao Gong sported swollen lips, courtesy of carefully administered bee stings.

As they looked at each other, the ridiculousness of the situation hit them all at once. Despite their discomfort, they began to laugh, a deep, hearty laughter that echoed through the halls. It was a sight to behold—an entire household of servants, each with a pair of oversized lips, laughing at the absurdity of their predicament.

Yuan Zhi, perched on Shang Jiao's lap, watched with wide eyes. When he saw everyone laughing, including Shang Jiao, he couldn’t help but giggle too. His own tears dried up as he joined in the laughter, the sting and the fever forgotten in the shared mirth.

The incident quickly became legendary within the Gong Clan. It was told and retold, each version more exaggerated than the last, until it became a staple of their household history. The day the entire Jiao Gong was united by their swollen lips.

Shang Jiao watched Yuan Zhi closely throughout the day. The boy’s spirits were lifted, and even his fever seemed to subside as he basked in the attention and amusement of those around him. Yuan Zhi had always been sensitive to the moods of others, and seeing everyone in such good spirits made him forget his own discomfort.

Yuan Zhi’s eyes fluttered shut, his breathing evening out as he drifted into a peaceful sleep. As he finally rose to leave, Shang Jiao couldn’t help but chuckle softly. The image of all the servants with their swollen lips would stay with him for a long time.

The next morning, as the household bustled back to its usual routine, Shang Jiao noticed something different. The servants, despite their temporary discomfort, seemed more united, their laughter from the previous day having forged a new bond among them.

Yuan Zhi, back to his usual playful self, followed Shang Jiao around the manor, his swollen lips reduced to just a faint puffiness. He still giggled whenever he saw a servant, remembering the absurdity of the day before. And every time he did, Shang Jiao’s heart swelled with affection.

💜Chapter 8 : The Bells

When Shang Jiao returned from his business trip, he brought a special gift for Yuan Zhi: small bells from the western region. The bells emitted a faint jingle when Yuan Zhi wore them in his hair, allowing Shang Jiao to always know where the boy was and what he was doing. From that day on, the gentle sound of the bells became a familiar part of life in Jiao Gong.

However, the peaceful days were soon interrupted by an incident that shook the household. Word reached Shang Jiao that Yuan Zhi had beaten Gong Zi Yu, the Sword Master's son, very badly. Despite being three years younger than Zi Yu, Yuan Zhi had overpowered him. When Shang Jiao arrived at the scene, he found Zi Yu with a bleeding nose, crying in his foster mother's arms, while Yuan Zhi stood in the middle of the hall, indifferent and unafraid.

Though secretly proud of Yuan Zhi's bravery, Shang Jiao wore a serious expression as he entered the hall. Sword Master Yu, ever the righteous one, demanded an explanation. "Shang Jiao, your brother refuses to talk. Ask him what happened. I don't want to listen to only Zi Yu's side of the story."

Shang Jiao asked Yuan Zhi to explain, but the boy remained silent, his lips pressed tightly together. The onlookers whispered among themselves, labeling Yuan Zhi as arrogant. Shang Jiao noticed the slight tremble in Yuan Zhi's eyes, but the boy stood his ground.

Fortunately, there were guards who had witnessed the incident. They explained that it had begun in the garden when Zi Yu admired Yuan Zhi's bells and asked to touch them. When Yuan Zhi refused, Zi Yu became upset and insulted the bells, claiming they were taken from the dump. Enraged, Yuan Zhi had pushed Zi Yu and beaten him until the guards intervened.

Both boys were at fault: Zi Yu had attacked with words, while Yuan Zhi had responded with fists. As punishment, they were each assigned to write the Gong Clan rules fifty times. While Zi Yu received help from his sister, Zi Sheng, Shang Jiao did not assist Yuan Zhi. He neither scolded nor consoled him, leaving Yuan Zhi to face his punishment alone.

Determined to prove himself, Yuan Zhi wrote out the rules in a single day without taking a break. His determination impressed everyone in Jiao Gong. The next day, Yuan Zhi followed Shang Jiao as usual, but he was noticeably quieter and more cautious. Shang Jiao found this endearing, watching the boy's sneaky glances and tiptoeing with a mixture of amusement and affection.

One evening, as they sat together, Shang Jiao broached the topic of the fight. "Why didn't you speak for yourself like Gong Zi Yu? Were you scared?"

Yuan Zhi looked up at Shang Jiao, his eyes filled with sincerity. "No, Ge Ge. I didn't want to repeat those bad words about your gift with my own mouth."

Shang Jiao was stunned by the boy's response. He felt a deep surge of emotion, realizing just how much Yuan Zhi loved and valued him. The boy’s loyalty and affection were beyond his years, a testament to the strong bond they shared.

🤎 Chapter 9: First Birthday in Jiao Gong

Yuan Zhi’s eighth birthday was a grand affair, meticulously planned by Shang Jiao to create unforgettable memories for his little brother. Jiao Gong, the richest manor in all the Gong Clan, was transformed into a wonderland of celebration. Shang Jiao spared no expense, determined to give Yuan Zhi a grand birthday that would overshadow any unpleasant memories from his past.

The decorations reflected Yuan Zhi’s interests. Colorful banners and lanterns adorned the halls, each one handpicked to match the boy’s favorite colors and themes. Flowers from distant regions were arranged in elaborate displays, their fragrances mingling in the air, creating an atmosphere of enchantment and joy. Every corner of Jiao Gong seemed to sparkle with festivity.

The highlight of the decorations was a grand canopy in the center of the garden, under which the main festivities would take place. Beneath this canopy, an array of sumptuous delicacies awaited. Sweet treats and savory dishes from various regions were prepared, each one more enticing than the last. Cooks had been brought in from all corners of the land to ensure that the feast was as diverse as it was delicious.

As the sun began to set, guests started arriving, their excitement palpable. The air was filled with the sound of laughter and music. Yuan Zhi, dressed in a beautifully embroidered robe that Shang Jiao had commissioned specially for the occasion, looked every bit the young master he was becoming. His eyes sparkled with wonder and delight as he took in the scene around him.

The festivities began with a series of dance and comedy performances. Foreign skilled dancers moved gracefully, their colorful costumes flowing with their movements. The audience, especially the children, were captivated.

Next came a magic show, a highlight of the evening. The magician, hailing from the western regions, performed tricks that left the audience in awe. Yuan Zhi’s eyes widened with amazement as objects disappeared and reappeared, and impossible feats were accomplished with a flourish. Shang Jiao watched his little brother’s reactions with a smile, his heart swelling with happiness at seeing Yuan Zhi so enthralled.

Throughout the evening, Shang Jiao ensured that Yuan Zhi was the center of attention. He introduced him to guests, guiding him through conversations, and encouraging him to share his thoughts and feelings. Yuan Zhi, though shy at first, gradually warmed up, his confidence growing with each interaction. The guests were charmed by his polite demeanor and the obvious affection between the two brothers.

The feast was a resounding success. Yuan Zhi’s favorites were all present, from sweet pastries filled with honey and nuts to savory meats cooked to perfection. Shang Jiao had taken great care to include dishes that would delight the boy’s palate. As they ate, the guests marveled at the variety and quality of the food, praising Shang Jiao’s efforts in putting together such a lavish spread.

Shang Jiao had one final surprise for Yuan Zhi. As the night drew to a close, he presented his brother with a beautifully crafted wooden box. Inside were a series of small, intricately designed toys and trinkets, each one a treasure in its own right. Yuan Zhi’s eyes shone with gratitude as he explored the contents, his joy unmistakable.

As the guests began to depart, Shang Jiao and Yuan Zhi remained in the garden, reflecting on the day’s events. Yuan Zhi, now tired but happy, leaned against his brother, the bells in his hair softly jingling. “Ge Ge, this was the best birthday ever,” he whispered, his voice filled with contentment.

The night was cool and serene, a perfect end to a perfect day. As Yuan Zhi drifted off to sleep in Shang Jiao’s arms, the elder brother looked around at the transformed Jiao Gong, knowing that they had created a day filled with joy and love that Yuan Zhi would remember forever.

🖤 Chapter 10: Yuan Zhi’s Obsession

Yuan Zhi had a peculiar attachment to the items given to him by his older brother, Shang Jiao. Every gift, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, was treasured with an almost obsessive fervor. His dagger, a gift from Shang Jiao, was meticulously polished and kept close at all times. The toys, the clothes, each item was cherished and treated with reverence. Shang Jiao was aware of his brother’s deep attachment, and it both touched and worried him.

One day, Shang Jiao observed Yuan Zhi arranging the miniature wooden weapons he had given him. Each piece was handled with the utmost care, placed in a precise order on a small display stand Yuan Zhi had crafted himself. Shang Jiao watched from a distance, noting the intense concentration on his brother’s face. It was as if those small toys were priceless heirlooms rather than mere trinkets.

“Yuan Zhi,” Shang Jiao called softly.

The boy looked up, eyes wide with surprise. “Yes, Ge Ge?”

“What are you doing?”

Yuan Zhi’s cheeks flushed slightly. “Just… arranging them. They have to be perfect.”

Shang Jiao walked over and knelt beside him. “Why do they have to be perfect?”

Yuan Zhi bit his lip. “Because you gave them to me. They’re special.”

Shang Jiao smiled, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Everything doesn’t have to be perfect, Yuan Zhi. It’s okay to play with them too.”

Yuan Zhi nodded, but Shang Jiao could see the hesitation in his eyes. The boy’s fingers traced the edges of the wooden swords gently, as if afraid they might break.

This behavior extended to other gifts as well. The small bells from the Western regions, which jingled faintly whenever Yuan Zhi moved, were polished daily and checked meticulously for any signs of wear. The dagger, once belonging to Lang Jiao, was kept in pristine condition, its blade sharpened and its handle polished until it gleamed.

Yuan Zhi’s room was a testament to his meticulous nature. Everything had its place, and nothing was ever out of order. His clothing, particularly the garments gifted by Shang Jiao, was folded and stored with care. The boy would spend hours ensuring that not a single crease marred their surface.

Shang Jiao sighed, pulling Yuan Zhi into a gentle embrace. “Things will get damaged, Yuan Zhi. It’s part of life. What matters is the memories we create with them, not their perfect condition.”

Despite Shang Jiao’s reassurances, Yuan Zhi’s behavior persisted. One evening, Shang Jiao found Yuan Zhi in the garden, meticulously cleaning the small bells in a basin of water. The boy’s movements were slow and deliberate, his focus unwavering.

“You’re still cleaning those?” Shang Jiao asked, approaching with a gentle smile.

Yuan Zhi looked up, his face serious. “They have to stay shiny, Ge Ge. I want them to look as new as when you gave them to me.”

Shang Jiao sat down beside him. “They’re beautiful, Yuan Zhi, but don’t forget to enjoy them too. They’re meant to bring you joy, not just worry.”

Yuan Zhi nodded slowly. “I understand, Ge Ge.”

As the days passed, as Shang Jiao strolled through the garden, he noticed Yuan Zhi standing alone, his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Following his brother’s line of sight, Shang Jiao saw Zi Sheng and Zi Yu playing with a vibrant kite, its tail fluttering in the breeze. The joy and laughter of the other children filled the air, but Yuan Zhi remained rooted to his spot, a mix of longing and pride etched on his face.

“Why don’t you go play with them, Yuan Zhi?” Shang Jiao suggested gently, knowing the answer even before the words left his lips.

Yuan Zhi shook his head, his pride preventing him from joining the others. “I don’t want to,” he replied, his voice tinged with stubbornness.

Shang Jiao couldn’t bear to see his brother feeling left out. That night, he set to work, determined to create something special for Yuan Zhi. He crafted a beautiful kite, larger and more intricate than any other. The next morning, he presented it to Yuan Zhi, who was initially hesitant but soon accepted it with shining eyes.

For a week, Yuan Zhi flew his kite with a fierce joy, the pride in his eyes unmistakable. The kite soared high, its vibrant colors a testament to Shang Jiao’s love and effort. However, one fateful day, the kite slipped from Yuan Zhi’s grasp and drifted away, eventually getting caught in a tree on a nearby mountain.

Determined to retrieve it, Yuan Zhi set off for the mountain without informing anyone. When Shang Jiao noticed his brother’s absence, a sense of unease settled in his chest. He quickly assembled a search party, fearing the worst.

Yuan Zhi’s heart pounded as he climbed the mountain, eyes locked on the kite dangling from a high branch. The wind rustled the leaves, and he could see the tears in the fabric. Despite its damaged state, the kite held immense sentimental value. This was the first handmade toy from his brother, and he couldn’t bear to leave it behind.

He climbed higher, ignoring the increasing danger. As he reached for the kite, the branch beneath him snapped. Yuan Zhi felt a rush of panic as he tumbled down, his small body hitting the ground with a painful thud. Darkness enveloped him as he lost consciousness.

When Shang Jiao and the search party found him, Yuan Zhi was lying still, the broken kite clutched tightly in his hand. Shang Jiao’s heart clenched at the sight. He scooped Yuan Zhi into his arms, his mind racing with fear and guilt.

Back at Jiao Gong, the physician worked tirelessly to treat Yuan Zhi’s injuries. Shang Jiao sat by his brother’s side, holding his hand and willing him to wake up. The hours dragged on, each one heavier than the last.

When Yuan Zhi finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was his brother’s worried face. “Ge Ge…” he murmured weakly, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m sorry… I lost the kite…”

Shang Jiao’s heart ached at his brother’s words. He brushed Yuan Zhi’s hair back gently, his voice soft but firm. “You don’t need to apologize, Yuan Zhi. Your safety is more important than any kite.”

Yuan Zhi clung to his brother’s hand, his grip weak but determined. “I just wanted to keep it… because you made it for me.”

Shang Jiao understood the depth of his brother’s attachment, but he also knew he needed to help Yuan Zhi find a balance. “I’ll make you another kite, but promise me you’ll never put yourself in danger again for something replaceable,” Shang Jiao said, his voice filled with both love and sternness. “You are irreplaceable to me, Yuan Zhi. No object can ever take your place.”

Yuan Zhi nodded, tears spilling over as he whispered, “I promise, Ge Ge.”

In the following days, Shang Jiao stayed close to Yuan Zhi, ensuring he rested and recovered. The new kite was even more beautiful than the first, and when Yuan Zhi was well enough, they flew it together in the garden.

Yuan Zhi still cherished his belongings, especially those from his brother, but he no longer let them define him. He understood now that the greatest gift was the love and care they shared, a bond that could never be broken or replaced.

[csparkles123]

With the emphasis on the whole "loving the right person at the wrong time and having to wait until the right time comes" theme that was introduced with Wen's father and his mother and now the movie where the man still marries his fiance despite being in love with another woman. I feel like this is where this story will go.

At the moment, it has been made very apparent that in Jim's life, Kaipa represents convience, while Wen represents excitement and joy.

The nature of Jim and Kaipa's interactions have revolved around food or finances. In the first episode, their first interaction was Kaipa getting money from Jim for his mother, they later talked while Jim was picking up more food for his restaurant.

In the episodes following, Kaipa brings Jim food and handles his finances. One of the first times we see them having a conversation about something else, it's Kaipa inviting Jim to the festival, however Jim turned him down and eventually ended up going with Wen.

Kaipa's presence in Jim's life is obviously huge, but it's more of a routine. He spends his day worrying about his finances and around food, so when that is the only kind of interaction he has with Kaipa, he probably is bored of it.

In contrast, Wen has been a source of joy and excitement for Jim, something he didn't have before, it's something new which is why he feels so drawn to it.

He has fun with Wen, which probably feels like an escape from his normal routine.

It's also interesting that while we have seen multiple scenes between Wen and Jimbo and Li Ming, two important parts of Jim's life, we have yet to see that with Kaipa, who has known them longer. We also haven't seen Kaipa in Jim's home.

Overall, it just feels like Wen has integrated himself in not only Jim's life, but Jim's family's lives as well, while Kaipa has only done it with Jim.

Now back to the "right love, wrong time" theme. Seeing the difference in what he believes Kaipa and Wen provide, I feel like Jim will see Wen as the right love, but at the wrong time and will decide that nothing can happen between them.

I don't know if this means he'll be more open towards Kaipa's advances, but I can see him having an increased respect and admiration for Kaipa after realizing just how much he cares for him.

However, I do think that there will come a point in which Jim realizes that at no point is love wrong, whether it be the time or the place and that will be when he starts pursuing Wen. I think during this time he'll start to realize that Wen can provide what Kaipa does, maybe not to the same extent, but more of a balance with the same excitement and joy he brings. It has already been sprinkled in a couple scenes where Wen bought Jim food and paid the people Jim hit with his car, but nothing really significant yet.

[crystallinechaos]

I decided to post the new one shot series I have going for Obey me! Hope anyone who comes across enjoys.

Asmo/you(reader) chapter one

The first night it happened, Asmo had been righteously indignant, and irritated. He was a very important demon after all, and he needed his beauty sleep!

It was the middle of the night when he was awoken by the odd sound. Sensitive ears picked up the sniffling cries, muffled by the walls and what he believed was the blankets. His eyes snapped open and the irritation dissipated. The direction of the crying was from the right, which meant it was the exchange student's room.

What an odd human. You had been fine in their presence all day, minus the pounding of your frail heart. Or perhaps not so odd. You had been basically kidnapped, after all, at the whims of Diavolo no less.

Yet you had rather stupidly and maybe bravely plastered on a smile, fraying at the edges, as you tried to navigate. Like a baby deer unsteady on your legs just yet. It seemed your bravery had faded with the day as you now cried quietly in the safety of your room.

Truly, it was cruel. To pluck a weak human like you from the safety of your world and give them to Mammon of all Demons. Asmo snorted. You'd be dead within a week under these circumstances.

If he did anything to you tonight, Lucifer would have revenge. You were integral for Diavolo and his dreams, so Asmo couldn't kill you off for disturbing his sleep. Tragic. Growling lowly, he rose from the bed. If he couldn't sleep, then there were plenty of other uses, and beings, he could use a bed and his time for.

The crying continued for the next few nights, but died down once Mammon, the moron, had formed a pact with you. Not that you'd stopped the pathetic sniffling, oh no. You wore smiles in the daylight, heart still terribly pounding, as you lied to them all you were okay. You didn't know they could smell the fear, was attuned to it, and that the smell was alluring to their darker inclinations.

But Mammon was now caged, by both Lucifer and you yourself, trapped. He couldn't hurt you now, and neither could the others except Lucifer himself. Mammon was more in tune with your emotions now, and was going to your room nightly, calming you down with his stupidly clumsy moves. Mammon liked you.

Asmo sighed. Two stupid people would be drawn together like moths to a flame. At the least he could sleep again, even if they couldn't intentionally manipulate your fear anymore. Mammon would be too loud and annoying to deal with if they did.

Your confidence had built under the clumsy demons machinations. You began to be well rested, and though you struggled with the course work, you didn't complain. That was a plus.

You were attractive. But still so pitifully weak. Once, Asmo had been bored and under the sway of his sin. Solomon had been busy, and Asmo felt like having his dessert in that night, rather than going out. He'd toyed with you half seriously and half curiously. Hanging out with Mammon, Levi, and Beel hadn't influenced you as it would most humans. But could Asmo sink you into unbearable heat and lust?

Caging you in his arms had been easy, as you looked at him with curious eyes. His words, low and filled with warmth, with promise, dripping in his sin, coaxed you forward. Hand wrapping around the delicate curve of your throat, feeling the pulse flutter and pound beneath fingers. Fanning his breath over your cheek intentionally to feel you shudder under him. Half lidded eyes had watched your chest expand with your breaths before he'd dismissed it, licking his lips to draw your gaze.

"What do you say, Y/N? A night with me would be infinitely better than whatever Levi wants you for."

As he spoke against your ear he'd applied pressure to get you to bend your legs, lowering your body to the couch. He didn't surrender his weight to you, but did crawl down as well, hovering, caging you in further. Legs trapping yours, one hand caressing your throat still, the other scraping along your scalp in a half massage. Your hair was cool against his fingers while your face was reddening more and more. He wanted to tug your shirt down, to see the blush extend elsewhere.

"It's a…" He distracted you by tugging your hair a little. "A new d-dating sim. I- I promised I'd play it with him."

Asmo cooed at your voice. So soft and unsure. He'd have you demanding and begging all at once soon. "What sounds better? Some simulation that can't really warm you up? Or reality? I know you're smarter than that."

Then he smelled it, mixing into the arousal he'd managed from you. Fear. You were right to be afraid, after all. One of the classes detailed perfectly what a lust demon could do to a human, and he was the patron to the sport. But that sudden burst of fear meant only one thing would happen now.

Mammon burst in loudly and you'd jumped, body pressing against Asmo's for a brief moment. The greed demon took one look at the scene and Asmo preened at his jealousy.

"Oi! Get off of them, you pervert!"

His chuckle low and breathy, he gave you a look of mock hurt. "So rude. You didn't have to summon your guard dog on me, Y/n. I'm hurt."

Confusion cut through your eyes. You hadn't meant to summon Mammon. And truthfully the fear had been but a short burst, quickly overcome by the way Asmo controlled the room.

Asmo smiled, booping your nose. He'd leave you wanting, as a punishment for ruining his fun. "Oh well. Next time, Y/N! Now I simply must be off. It'd be a crime not to let others see my beauty after all."

You were very confident by the time Asmo made his pact with you. You didn't shy from his flirts, but now Asmo was hesitant to take what he knew he could have. Without manipulation. He actually, que shudder, cared about you. And didn't want a messy one time thing, although he would make sure it was memorable.

Lust came in many forms, and he was the sins patron demon. He felt it all, at all times. He just chose to allow it to manifest as lust for attention. He believed it, too. He was the best-looking Demon around, period. No one held a candle to his looks, nor his prowess with his sins many facets. He earned and deserved all the attention he was lavished with. And now it barely covered what he needed.

Getting you on his lap for five minutes uninterrupted to cuddle, or running brushes through your hair, swiping on cosmetics or lotions, fed him more than a night with the wildest of demons. He wanted your attention, and when he had it, he absolutely feasted.

Then Belphie happened. Your corpse bloody, and broken, tossed before them like a doll. He'd once relished watching as little gasps left your body, cooed at the sight of red decorating your skin as he or one of the others toyed with you. Now, gasps tore for the wrong reasons. Red covered you like a hideous blanket. Mammon was the one brave enough to cling to you, while the others stared in confusion or anger. Sorrow.

Asmo was not any of those things. What he was, was lust. And it came in many different forms. Blood lust being the rarely indulged facet that he hid. But he craved it now. Itching and burning through his veins. Demanding, as he felt his pact mark sear into his skin, demanding he protect the human. Protect you, except he wasn't an Angel who could influence life. He was a demon. Your life was forfeit, now.

Lucifer had blocked him, despite Asmo hissing and lunging. "Control it," he'd snapped out.

All Asmo wanted was for Belphie to bleed, to match what he'd done to Asmo's master. Lucifer had a tight grip on him though. The lust demon could kill Belphie in terms of strength. But he couldn't overrule Lucifer.

Then you were gone, amidst the wild cackles of Belphie. Then back again, trembling and more afraid than you'd ever been. When Belphie had made a move against you, Asmo had found himself moving quicker than even Mammon. In front of you as you fell back, unintentionally sending out summons for all your pact demons. You drug them all into their true forms, only Lucifer immune to the call.

Diavolo had came with Barbatos then. The situation cooled but you did not. Your mind, so beautiful and adaptable… part of it was most likely broken. You had watched yourself die. And by the interference of Barbatos, combining the timelines, you now knew the feeling of it too. The way your body had ached before going numb, the way true suffocation felt. You knew the feel of the banister cracking against your weight before it gave and you tumbled down to the first floor.

Every day, and through the night, screams and cries echoed through the house of lamentation. Lucifer did his best. As the only one not in a pact, you couldn't force him away, intentionally or not. Asmo, nor the others, were getting any sleep. Unlike before, he didn't leave the premises or wish Mammon would mess up and leave you alone. He settled back and simply listened to you, listened to Lucifer employ soothing tones to his smooth voice. Sometimes, he could talk you from your delusions and nightmares. Others, he resorted to spelling you, the house of Lamentation becoming heavy with the smell of ozone from his magic.

Lucifer was heavy handed, yet effective. Your name came up often during the council meetings. Asmo hated it. They debated wiping your memory of the devildom, of breaking your pacts. How could forgetting HIM lead to your betterment? Asmo snorted.

He argued against it, of course. As did Mammon and Levi. Satan remained tight lipped, and when pressed, he merely spat out he was thinking of your betterment only. No one could deny the rage swirling around him when it was brought up or Belphie was near him. Only Beel kept his mouth shut, miserable looking and broken in his own way. The Brother he cherished had taken their Y/N away, one way or another. Asmo felt his bloodlust simmer and boil, but he didn't act.

They had all hurt the blood of Lilith more than could be accounted for in one way or the other, all of them except Mammon.

Lucifer had finally calmed you enough, broken through enough, for you to come to breakfast. Weeks had passed since any of them besides the first born had seen you. You looked terrible and Asmo ached for it. Hair a mess, night clothes rumpled and too loose. Lucifer barely got you to eat.

You seemed at the least soothed by their presence now, rather than fearful. Levi even got a small smile from you, and a promise to watch some boring anime he'd been saving just for you. The long winded title made them all roll their eyes.

Your appearance alone made them aware you weren't going to school, which prompted Satan to mention he'd been quietly collecting and then turning in your work for you. Dumbing it down as well, most likely, as no way you or any of them except Lucifer could churn out a Satan level report.

It almost felt… normal. You felt normal. Enough so Asmo had tutted and clicked his tongue, coming behind you to finger comb your hair.

"Honestly, Y/N! It's okay, I'll take care of this for you. You have to take pride in yourself. I mean, you're the most beautiful thing, besides myself of course. What would you do without me?"

He felt the grease on the limp strands. Internally he shuddered, but soldiered through. For you, everything for you.

"You don't have to," you murmured. Voice hoarse from all the screaming and lack of real use in the last week.

Asmo giggled lightly. "Now, now! No fuss, Y/N! It's an honor to be fussed over by me."

You're returned giggle made them all relax a little. The way you relaxed back as he massaged your scalp soothed them all. Your heart was placid, normal.

Then it ended. Belphie came in, late as usual, settling next to Beel. Your heart jackhammered. Breath sped up enough to be noticed even if they weren't demons. Asmo didn't hesitate to move to stroking your neck, relaxing the tense muscles there. He hoped it soothed you. And it did, enough that you were able to sit there still. You stopped eating though, and were pressing into him as much as you could.

When it happened, no one could blame Asmo, but he knew Beel did. Maybe Lucifer too, for he usually had better control. The others didn't judge, as he merely did what they wanted to do. They all loved Belphie. But love didn't negate the fact he'd broken something they all cherished.

"Y/N, you aren't eating. Here, try this." Beel had dropped a fluffy pancake onto your plate, his large hand making you flinch a little but you smiled. Toyed with a fork and poked holes into the food covering your plate.

Asmo tipped your head back, a piece of food in his fingers. "Oooh Y/N, let's feed each other! Doesn't that sound romantic?"

"Oi! If anyone is gonna feed them it'll be me!" Mammon said. A little off beat. He wouldn't lunge, too worried for your mental state.

"Oh shush, Scum bag. Y/N would love to feel my fingers in their mouth, right?" He pressed the piece of food between your lips, pleased when you opened and allowed him to place the morsel against your tongue.

"Keep it appropriate, Asmo," Lucifer sighed in resignation.

Levi was blushing and fangirling. "This is exactly like when in 'Help I've been surrounded by multiple-"

"Beel, pass them the syrup. Dry pancakes can't be that appealing." Satan grinned wickedly, eyes locking with Asmo's. He didn't want to get sticky fingers from the syrup and they all knew it.

Still, when the syrup spilled across the tablecloth, red and thick, and also against the lethargic seventh borns arm, you broke.

"Watch it!" He'd snapped tiredly. If Asmo had to guess, his tone had caught you. And the way the red looked.

You shrieked, would have fallen backwards had Asmo not been directly behind you, and you panicked more when you couldn't throw yourself away. Asmo clung to you, feeling the way you turned and clung to him. Felt and heard your heart speed up dangerously, smelled the sweat suddenly pouring from you along with tears and terror.

"What the-" Belphie began.

Asmo didn't let him finish. His eyes flashed, and Belphie slammed into the wall behind him, grunting as his body dented into it before slipping to the floor.

"Belphie!" Beel had gotten up, despair and worry clouding his vision before he turned angry eyes to Asmo. They faltered when they took you in, clinging to him like a second skin at that point.

Took note of the deadly aura around Asmo. Beel was physically stronger. But Asmo wasn't playing by strength of body and never did. They all felt the telltale feeling of his influence, giving them desires to tear something or someone up.

All while you sent out signals to keep your pact demons away. All except Asmo, who you clung to in delirium.

He lifted you into his arms, shushing you. He glanced to Lucifer. "We'll be staying home today."

The lust demon saw Lucifer nod, before he used his own influence and magic to calm them all down.

Asmo took you to his room. You were filthy, after all, and he only knew of certain ways to calm someone. His bath was always full with cleanly scented water, magically equipped to become the perfect temperature. It was his pride and joy. Where he stripped off the sweat and smells of his sin. He stepped into the tub with you, clothing still on. He didn't relish the way it felt, but he ignored it while he held you close in his lap.

He dropped water onto your head with his palm, massaging it in until you became boneless against his form. He would eventually strip you both, cleaning your body tenderly, before wrapping you in a sinfully soft robe and depositing you into his bed. Going forward, so long as you didn't push him away, he would take over your care, until they either took your memories. Or you came back to them… to him.

[spyder-m]

Zerith - "Sanctuary", Ch. IV preview

A/N: For more previews/updates, check out my Ko-fi.

Sanctuary

Chapter IV - One Time Gig

Cloud's decision, as Zack had quietly hoped, was met with cause to celebrate. 

Tifa was beaming radiantly as he gave her the word, springing to her feet with her hands clasped together. At Zack's side, Cloud rubbed the back of his neck, flushed, but smiling dopily. Despite his bashfulness, he was clearly pleased to have spurned such a response from her. 

In fact, Tifa was overcome by such joy, Zack sensed she was about to move into Cloud’s embrace, once more. This time, however, she caught herself, instead extending a hand toward him; perhaps a gesture she hoped would appear more professional. Zack was tempted, briefly, to ‘accidentally’ knock Cloud off balance, closing the distance between them. He thought better of it, though, feeling it wasn’t the appropriate time.

There would be plenty of chances later to relish in teasing his younger friend.  

To commemorate the good news, Tifa insisted that they stay for dinner. 

Eager, Zack accepted the invitation before Cloud could get a word out, suspecting his friend wouldn't want to intrude. Any urge Cloud had to protest, however, all but disappeared once Tifa shuffled behind the bar, a spring in her step and a smile all the more blinding. 

From their shared table, Biggs, Jessie and Wedge seemed equally delighted for the extra hands, growing all the more excited about proceeding with their next mission, knowing now that they would have the knowledge and strength afforded by two ex-Soldiers in their ranks. 

Zack happily dug into a generous portion of stew, managing to stay well-engaged in the conversation even amidst heaped spoonfuls. Cloud, however, for his part, nursed his own meal in awkward silence, unsure of where to rest his gaze. Having been shy in his younger years, Zack wondered if all the attention and scrutiny he was receiving from the rest of the room was making him uncomfortable. The loud, gregarious voices of their new Avalanche companions must have been overwhelming, not to mention the way their leader was still eying him sceptically. Though Zack seemed to have won Barret over, it looked like he still had some reservations about Cloud. 

It was likely only the presence of Zack and Tifa that was helping to calm the nerves bundling for Cloud.   

Though happy to take part in the celebration, as the night dragged on, Zack suspected it was a convenient excuse for Tifa to keep them; Cloud; around, even if for just a moment longer. 

That much was solidified later when, after they'd eaten their fill, she offered to walk them back to the station, despite knowing they could more than comfortably navigate Sector 7 alone. The gesture almost offended Zack, who couldn't recall Tifa showing him this much hospitality when he had turned up on his own. 

Still, he couldn't be too mad. It was obvious that she wasn't quite ready to part with Cloud yet. 

As they made their way through the Slums together, Zack would catch her, every so often, glancing discreetly in the blond's direction. Though, her cheeks burnt and her eyes dipped whenever she felt Zack's gaze weighing on her. 

Cloud, all the while, didn’t seem to have noticed. 

Being in Tifa's company, made for a stark difference in how they were received by the Midgar locals. People were much friendlier, drawn toward Tifa; who, clearly, was an integral part of the community. Many passersby greeted her with a smile. Some called her by name, while others offered more... colourful greetings. Zack swore he could make out Cloud’s teeth grinding together with each one. 

Still, not wanting them to feel ignored, Tifa did her best to muster up a conversation as they made their way along the Sector’s outskirts. Cloud, however, was far from talkative at the best of times, let alone when tongue-tied by nerves.  

Tifa, however, appeared conscious of this and was careful in her approach; offering occasional, gentle attempts to coax him out of his shell. Unsurprising, given how long they had known each other, Zack guessed.  

“So… Where have you two been staying all this time?”

“The Church in Sector 5,” Zack replied, teasingly, knowing it was Cloud she was hoping to receive an answer from. Though, if he was aggravating her, Tifa hid it well; a polite smile illuminating her features as she continued.

“Oh… Really?” 

“Yep!” Zack exclaimed. “Got the whole attic to ourselves.”

"An attic?" Tifa echoed, her expression slipping and eyes flickering with concern. She looked to Cloud for confirmation, who ducked his head, suddenly ashamed.   

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it!” Zack laughed with a nudge, a gesture he hoped would ease her worry. “But really, we’ve been wanting to spring for a room at the Inn for a while now. It’s just, most of our gil has gone towards… re-establishing ourselves.”

"I see." Tifa nodded, the answer working to placate her. "Well, if you ever need a place to stay, there’s an apartment building not far from here that has a free room. I know the landlady, so I could work something out if you’re interested.”

That piece of information caught Cloud's attention, as he stopped in place, turning toward Tifa. 

"R- really?" 

Tifa blinked, taken back initially by Cloud suddenly engaging her. Yet, she met him with equal enthusiasm. 

“Yeah! Well... It might be a little cramped for the two of you... there is only one bed. But still, it’s a start.”

Cloud sighed, that momentary spark of hope he’d felt, snuffed out. Though the Church's attic was far from an ideal set-up, they were at least afforded their own space; a marked improvement from the conditions they’d struggled through, travelling cross-country on the road. 

Judging by his reaction it was clear to Zack that Cloud had been hoping to accept Tifa's offer, wanting to be closer to his old friend. Yet, he could hardly justify moving what little they’d established of themselves and their new lives over to an entirely different sector when there wasn’t even enough room for the two of them. 

He couldn't put their comfort behind his own selfish means. That wouldn't be fair. 

Zack, however, felt differently.  

Cloud was someone who, on the surface, appeared withdrawn and distant. Even, at times, snarky. Zack, however, knew better. He knew that, at his core, Cloud was someone steadfast and optimistic, always striving to see the best in others and fighting for what was right. 

These past few weeks, though, Zack worried that that part of him was slipping away. 

He could understand, given the recent, poor fortune their lives had seen. Being discarded by the company you’d worked tirelessly to serve was only bound to fuel one’s inner cynic. 

Still, Zack didn’t want his friend to become so jaded that he lost touch with himself. Not when he’d seen so many others he cared for fall down similarly dark paths.

He wondered if perhaps rekindling his friendship with Tifa more could help him regain a semblance of his old self. 

It seemed counterintuitive for Cloud to deprive himself of something that made him happy. 

At least, in Zack’s mind, it was worth a try. 

Smirking, he clapped Cloud across the back, enough to penetrate the funk covering him. 

"You know what, Spiky, why don't you take her up on that offer? I'm sure I can manage on my own."

Cloud stumbled, enough for Tifa to reach out and help steady him. He held up his hands to reassure her, his cheeks dusted with a flush, before eventually regaining his composure. 

"Zack, what are you talking about?"

To Zack’s surprise, from the way Cloud’s gaze lingered and his eyebrows knit together sharply, he did not seem open to the idea. In fact, he appeared to be giving every silent indication that he was upset.

Zack couldn’t understand. He thought Cloud would have appreciated the chance to be closer to Tifa. His earlier disappointment realising there wouldn’t be enough room for them both to stay clearly suggested as much. There must have been a lot they needed to catch up on still. 

Though, having always harboured insecurities about being a burden and given, Shinra’s recent abandonment, Zack supposed he could understand how Cloud might have found the gesture abrupt, even hurtful. After all the time they’d spent together, he was casting him aside so easily. 

It had been thoughtless of him.

Biting his lip, Zack glanced around. The station was still bustling with life, despite the late hour. It really wasn’t the right place to unpack all of this, but there weren’t really any other options. Glancing helplessly toward the steel sky, Zack sighed.  

"Sorry, Tifa. Do you think we could... have a moment?"

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

The Handee Nutcracker: The Snow King

Ah yes, the epic Return of Charles in this AU. I do still remember and do think of him, but I haven't thought how could I implement him XD

This one was a bit hard to make as I haven't drawn or redesign the poor bro in two years T.T

(I do consider him a himbo tbh)

A bit of a fun fact, Charles (or Charlie) actually featured in my Hello Sisterhood fanfic as Riley's future crush that later will become her best friend (as the two better worked as friends) So I am keeping the friend aspect of their relationship in the Nutcracker AU

As I mentioned in the Queen Angel thread, he is happily married to Angel herself. He rules over the land of snow (or the Frostbite kingdom.) He is quite jolly and has the energy of a golden retriever. He often helps Angel take care of her plants and love designing patters for ice

His design was a bit hard as I wanted to keep the elegant and royalty look the others have, but also avoid the whole Genderbend Elsa or Jack Frost, so I tried to give him a more relaxed type of outfit and a cool cape inspired by winter, with some ice-looking jewels

I think Charlie would be like the fun Uncle to Scout and the friend who adores helping people as he is very connected to many citizens of the Fantasy world, and was generous to give Riley a sled and a magical coat to her Rosco after taking care of him while he got lost

He also has a library that looks...frozen in time (bad pun and joke, i know), so this is like the sorta thing Riley could use to learn more about the fantasy world and find some clues about the roots of the darkness affecting the kingdom

He also has a magical staff that helps him unleash his winter-like powers, which he often uses to make snowmen or snowflakes for the kiddos as he is fond of kids and likes to make people smile. He is greatly afraid of Mortimer, but is nice enough and does invite him to balls. Mortimer refuses due to his paranoia and knowing his presence won't be too welcoming for the people, which does make Charlie a tad sad as he doesn't like people feeling left out. So, he was one of the people who came right away and support Riley in her idea to integrate Mortimer

Most likely, what inspired Owen to create him was some fond memory of Amy trying to catch snowflakes and a bit of her extroverted and sweet personality. I do think he placed something of her in the fantasy he created, as it was meant to be a coping mechanism after her death

[srmthfgrimworld]

Game 1: Day 11

Startled by a loud explosion in the night, Mandarin rushed outside. Flames engulfed the alien body and his trap tunnel. Rain helped extinguish the fire while Mandarin fought to prevent further damage. 

Mandarin realized the alien's demise had triggered a violent explosion, his body trembled involuntarily. Swiftly, he gathered the remnants of the shattered body and relocated them to a stockpile outside. 

Jolted from his slumber by the deafening explosion, Mandarin found sleep elusive for the remainder of the night. In the early hours, he immediately ventured outside, grasping a shovel tightly in his hands.

Mandarin proceeded to bury the remains of the alien body.

He was determined to ensure that the explosive threat was permanently extinguished and he didn’t wish to see it anymore.

As the sun slowly ascended into the sky, casting its warm glow upon the scene, Mandarin stood over the freshly dug grave, a mixture of weariness and relief on his face. The burial complete, he allowed himself a moment of respite.

With the arrival of the sun, Mandarin's attention shifted from the burial to obtaining more food, he picked up his bow and ventured out.

He closed in on a ram, its majestic form silhouetted against the vibrant backdrop of nature. Unfazed, Mandarin made an excellent shot. The ram, caught unaware, succumbed to his skillful pursuit.

Later, while patrolling an area near his base, Mandarin's eyes scanned his surroundings, searching for any signs of activity. His attention was drawn to a lifeless rat lying on the ground, its body still fresh.

As he continued his exploration, Mandarin's gaze fell upon a scattering of broken tanks, their shattered forms a testament to a tumultuous past. A pang of curiosity gripped him, thoughts of intelligent life or a catastrophic conflict that had ravaged this land in the distant past.

Amidst his contemplation, Mandarin caught the presence of a watchful leopard. The same one he’d been seeing for a while now. The predator's piercing gaze locked onto him, a silent acknowledgement of their shared territory.

Returning to his base, Mandarin began replanting his rice field. 

As he worked the soil with careful hands, he couldn't help but ponder harnessing power for his abode. Ideas of electricity sparked within his mind. 

However, he recognized the danger of harnessing power without a reliable means of storing it, he needed batteries and wasn’t sure how to make them. 

As the evening descended upon Mandarin's sanctuary, he worked on repairing the damage inflicted upon his trap tunnel by the earlier explosion. 

Though lacking the necessary materials to completely replace the first trap, he was determined to restore the structural integrity of the tunnel. He was glad he’d spent the time constructing it, without it, the alien may have done a lot more damage to both him and his home.

Afterwards, Mandarin headed out to cut a tree for firewood, Mandarin swung his axe at the bark, his keen eyes detected a figure emerging from behind another tree. It was a fox-like creature, upright on two legs, a sight beyond ordinary. 

He called out to it, hoping to engage. Yet, no reply came, and the creature quietly retreated, vanishing into the embrace of the forest. Mandarin's calls echoed through the woods unanswered.

Fear gripped Mandarin's heart. The encounter with the fox-like creature had rattled him more than he was willing to admit. Abandoning his pursuit of firewood, he retreated to the safety of his shelter, the realization sinking in that this was no ordinary creature—it possessed intelligence and awareness, knowing his whereabouts.

Inside his refuge, Mandarin sat by the crackling campfire. The relentless thunder outside seemed to echo his unease. Would the creature dare to breach his sanctuary?

Night stretched on, an eternal battleground of restlessness. Mandarin, alert and poised, sat with his bow firmly within reach, every sense attuned to the unfamiliar sounds that punctuated the storm's symphony. Each rustle and whisper in the darkness caused his muscles to tense, his nerves on edge. Hour after hour, he fought against the relentless grip of sleep, refusing to succumb to its seductive embrace.

Finally, exhaustion conquered his determination. Weariness crept through his veins, and despite the lingering fear, he drifted into a restless slumber, his bow still clutched tightly at his side.