Decided To Actually Post My Doodles Of Drea Tlatilpa, So Here You Are :)) (i Actually Changed Up My Art

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

synopsis: jjk men reacting to your death :3 contents: angst ofc featuring: yuuta okkotsu, toji fushiguro, yuuji itadori

a/n: it was supposed to be way angstier but since I love you guys, I made it bittersweet-ish :D

𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐎𝐊𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔 ☆ (@cafunewon : i love you🥺🫶🏼)

Melted together, like time.

Another ring on his necklace, another person he loved, was gone.

Seconds passed, minutes dragged together and hours flowed, like the tide of the rebellious current of a river.

'you could've taken anything from me.'

tears flowed, like the very rain outside, thunder rumbling, like the emotions within himself, because, you took his soul, his heart, his very person.

'but why did you take them?'

You wiped it clean, you made him want to change, become stronger so he could protect you, protect the one thing he valued over his life and-

here he was.

over your tombstone, he stood over the freshly dug grave, and he thought how much you would've hated the bland, grey, of your tombstone.

The only thing that you would've liked about your final resting place, were the flowers that he planted himself, digging through the rich brown dirt to give you one last gift.

rich purples, deep reds, soft blues, vibrant pinks, all giving him an excuse to go back to you.

to take care of you, even if you weren't in this world.

The sky screamed out its rage, splitting the once beautiful sapphire sky into shades of grey, water pouring down from the heavens, the tears of the angels pouring down on Yuuta's silent form.

Saltwater mixed with fresh, pure water.

Sadness and grief, mixed with renewal and purification.

the petals of the flowers, sag underneath the skies tears and yuuta's deep blue eyes filled up with his own tears, salt now landing on the ground.

Almost like a curse, huh?

everyone he loved, everything he cared for, would always leave him, one way or another.

"please. wait for me, okay?"

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 ☆ (@unknownspecies you already hate me soooo😋)

He still thinks about you, a year after your death.

The worst year of his sad life.

He still thought about you, each minute, each hour, every. damn. second.

He thought of you when going to bed, his arm already reaching out to the empty space where he expected to feel your warm body against his bare skin, he thought of you when he heard your favourite song on the radio, practically hearing the way your voice cracked on the ridiculously high note, the teasing smile when he gazed at your photo-

your laugh haunted him, leaving echoes of happiness, of laughter, of love, of joy around the now sad home.

Echoes were all that remained of you.

"Together right? in this world, and in heaven as well."

Brushes of your skin, your voice drifting in his air, your smile, the way you held his hand-

How did you go in the blink of an eye?

How did you flood his thoughts, memories, when you weren't there?

Liquor was all that he tasted on his tongue, the taste flooding his mind, the feeling soothing his brain-

But not him.

He stared at the ring on his third finger, still wearing it, still calling you his.

Because you were.

In this afterlife and the next, you would always be his.

Even if you were just a memory.

Just another star in the brilliant, vast sky.

Seconds merge together, time standing at one point as his foggy mind stared at a constellation, the one specific star that glowed brighter than the rest, the one calling him in the remote distance.

"even... if you gave up on me......"

He whispered, his eyes closing as for a second, he could feel your comfortable presence beside him, holding his hand.

in the serene calmness, toji dropped the bottle, causing the glass to shatter, with remains of the liquid spilling out on the floor and one small tear carving it's way down his face, almost like a kiss.

"i.. will never give up on you."

𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 ☆ (@delulusioanlol h-hey diane🫣)

'i've been told to get you off my mind.'

He stared blankly at a picture of you, his dull hazel eyes transfixed on your laughing face. He could practically hear your sweet laughter echoing in his head.

But it was just imaginary.

He'd been counting days, seconds, anything to get your face out of his mind, your figure lying so, so still, on the white parchment of the hospital bed.

You died in his arms.

Yuuji let out a shaky sob, his vision blurring as a lump grew in his throat, because without you-?

The one thing, that kept him sane?

The one thing he loved most of all?

If you were gone, what was there to do?

Sobs enclosed his throat, suffocating him, entrapping him in the never-ending cycle of sadness and self-pity as your voice swam around in his messed up head.

But tears didn't slip out of his eyes.

So instead of crying, Yuuji dully stared into space, feeling his heart shatter into millions of tiny pieces.

Each little happy memory with you, cut a deeper hole into his soul, because all that was left-

were memories and photos.

He was falling apart, in the worst way possible.

"i miss the way it used to be......."

"i....hope your happy y/n."

tagging you: @no-b10g-here @anxious-chick @aleluvsuu @funky-writes @oneofthesevensins @ladywinterfell13 @kazhyloveslaw @dazaisms @cyb3r-c44t @princessluvz @notherenortherejustaway @okaydokeyyo @iheartamora @haloswrld @churipu @lysaray @olivianyx @desihopelessromantic @kiri1330 @scryarchives

moved -> @satorusgummies

my art masterlist ✧ where i doodle my ocs + favourite characters !

metal family

sketches: — natasya solovyova completed works: — natasya solovyova

adventure time

sketches: — doodle dump 1 , the lich

blue beetle 2023

sketches: — drea tlatilpa canon & oc: — drea & jaime

avatar: the way of water

sketches: — näytle te iviu oa'ite

the way this absolutely breaks my heart is just *chef's kiss*

EVERY CORNER OF THIS HOUSE IS HAUNTED. (4)

Synopsis ! Jake had taken you as his own after Tsu'tey's passing, leaving no one to care for you. Things had been good before your relationship with him had blurred along growing of age. You and him fought all the time; argued each other's ear off and tonight was no different-- except words have been said, severing the already damaged bond. Content & warning Jake sully x Daughter!Reader, Sully kids x Sister!Reader Neytiri x Daughter!Reader. Mentions of violence and death. (wc: 4955 )

Neytiri was up early– too early. 

She ran her hands tiredly over her face, her fingernails barely grazing the creases of her skin. Her eyes felt heavy, but it wasn’t tiredness that forced itself to weigh on her lids– it was the dread that continued to settle in; she could hardly make out the sound of the pot blowing out steam, rising in pitch with the soup threatening to boil over. The lid covering the kitchen pan was shaking fiercely, trying desperately to contain itself.

No, who was she kidding? She had lain awake all night, tossing and turning in her hammock. Not a single wink of sleep had been granted to her. 

Neytiri swore her heart cried every time she took a deep breath, gravelly gasping along her. She couldn’t sleep even if she wanted to– not when tuk-tuk quivered in her embrace the whole night; the slightest movement made her flinch and the softest touch made her cry. It was gut-wrenching, the thought that her own child felt no safety in the arms of their mother.

Not my children, eywa. Not them too. 

War had started long before her mate had come, Neytiri couldn’t blame him– but sometimes, late at night when the only sounds that grace her ears are the thoughts running through her head, she dreams of a life away from the wildfire and bullets; a life where she had fulfilled her mother's desires and took Tsu'tey’s hand instead. Every once in a while, the idea pierces her heart as she finds herself tucked in between Jake’s embrace. It felt wrong to think so, like being unfaithful, but not quite.

Tsu’tey was never someone who crossed her thoughts as a person that had gotten away from her, nor had she ever been attracted to him in a romantic way. It would’ve been an union of convenience; for the clan and the people itself. They would be unhappy– unhappy and awfully miserable. With Jake, it was something else entirely; like marriage had more meaning to it rather than a simple alliance. Sure, it was miserable, but they were happy– she was happy. Neytiri could never resent her mate, not when they’ve come so far already.

However, in terms of her children’s well-being, she couldn’t help but think if Jake was the bane of it all– the root of every bad thing that has happened to them. There were no softer words to lay it out, but they deserved better. Her children deserved none of this war. 

She was crying again– crying for them. She let the beads of tears roll down her cheek as she stared afar with not a single coherent thought behind her eyes. 

It was no surprise that Neteyam was already up with the sun rising. He moved quickly, quietly lowering the fire and lifting the lid of the pot with caution— hissing when its hot liquid splashed onto his skin. With a concerned look on his face, he glanced over at his mother who sat an arm’s length away from the very stove; how could she not have heard the loud cackle of her own cooking? He was sure it would’ve caused a wildfire if not for him. 

He slowly moved closer to Neytiri, gingerly reaching out and nudging her with his fingertips. He was mindful not to startle her already tired state. “Sa’nok– sa’nok?” Neteyam called out to her, “Sa’nok, are you okay?” 

Neytiri stirred just slightly, turning her head to view the worried face of her eldest. Her lips thinned involuntarily, a feeling of relief washing over her; her children were here, safe and sound. Nothing will happen to them– not ever.  As long as she lived, they will never be harmed ever again. No demon would take this away from her.

A wave of panic swept over her as she finally realized that she had been cooking before. She quickly turned back to see a billowing cloud of smoke rising from its surface. Neytiri cursed under her breath as her small attempts at fanning away the fog that had settled upon the area were to no avail, finding herself in a fit of coughing. “Why don’t you get y/n?” She requested, voice strained. “She can help with breakfast.” 

With a heavy sigh, Neteyam could only nod, quickly leaving.

Right, y/n– you. When was it never about you? 

Neteyam grumbled as he dragged his feet towards their thatched hut, kicking at every pebble that came across his path with a grunt. It wasn’t you who had woken up early to assist Neytiri nor was the one who had stopped fire from possibly spreading and yet, your name just had to be the first he’d heard today. 

It was you. Always you. 

Neteyam would be a big fat liar if he said it didn’t affect him. He saw you as a parasite – a damn leech that was draining the life out of everyone around him. He couldn't understand why you had to be so selfish and callous; why you were unable to look past Jake’s reprimands when all he desired was your well-being or how you had driven his own mother to such anguish that it became her own undoing. 

You weren’t a kid anymore. On top of that, you weren’t theirs– so why had you always been on top of their priority? Why had you become a chore? 

But never his, oddly enough. You were too good for him and he hated that. 

(Heavy steps thudded behind Jake as Neteyam trailed, his disappointment palpable. He had been unsuccessful in his mission to persuade his father to let him come along on today’s expedition, always quick to dismiss him. He had gone through all the training, but what was the point if he still wouldn't be able to put it into practice? 

Being olo’eyktan one day will never feel rewarding. 

“It’s too dangerous, Neteyam.” Jake grumbled under his breath, eyes never meeting his as he gathered his arrows. “I need you here. Make sure Lo’ak doesn’t follow– do you copy?” 

Neteyam couldn't help but wince when he remembered the time they had failed to be spotters, but it was just that one time– why couldn’t he let it go? It weighed down heavily on his conscience; the mistake that even still, months later, sent shame prickling on every fiber of his being. 

Jake expected a copy in return– a curt yes-sir but Neteyam was silent. He finally urged himself to look up, only to see both his eldest locked in an intense stare, eyes never wavering nor breaking away from one another.

It clicked almost instantly the moment you walked through the flap of the hunt, clutching on the strap of your woven bag that held your own weapons. The war-paint drawn across your face had been the salt on the already deep cut of his– you were coming. Jake had asked you to come and he wasn’t. 

You were looking down at him, Neteyam was sure of it; judging him, and no doubt thinking of how much he had failed himself. His sense of shame deepened as he saw the derision in your expression, feeling more exposed than ever before. He wanted to disappear right then and there, anything to escape this moment that felt like an eternity. 

But you were there. You always were– and you could see straight through him. 

If only he knew how different your mind worked– how you desperately ached for the same concern Jake had for his son. You wanted him to understand the immense longing to be seen in the same light that he was in, to receive even a fraction of his unwavering affection; wanted Jake to care enough that this could be the last hunt he would have with you, that you could get hurt or worse. 

Jake was worried enough to sit his golden-child down; the one with capabilities greater than those warriors years older than him– the one he would make olo’eyktan someday. 

Not you. Never you. 

Neteyam was the first to turn away, a deep rugged grunt leaving his lips as he nodded once. 

“Lima charlie.” ) 

What really messed with his head was that, despite his obvious resentment, he couldn’t actually bring himself to truly despise you the way he felt he should. Every time Neteyam looks at you, he swears he only sees himself– the same child that only yearns for the recognition of a father. There is a reflection of each other in the two of you that binds you nonetheless. 

He wanted to truly look up to you; he wanted what Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk felt when they were with you– to have someone older, to feel as if the weight on his shoulders wasn’t his alone. Neteyam tried, he really did, but as much as you were there, you also weren’t. 

It wasn’t always like this. Your relationship with him wasn’t built entirely on rivalry– he knows he had something more familial with you before, but whatever it was had blurred along age. As much as he wanted to come closer, you were always two steps ahead of him. To you, he will always be olo’eyktan– but never a brother. 

It was a harsh reality– the same hands that cradled him when he was small couldn’t even look at him the same; like he had grown so ugly that you couldn’t recognize him at all. You didn’t even want to fly your ikran with him, nor did you want to train the same time he did. 

He hated you, but not quite– he could never hate his sister. You were more of a stranger now that lived under the same roof as him and it was better than to perceive you as someone rather horrible– but that was what you were. A horrible, horrible stranger. Someone who saved him once from trouble and handed him years of headache in return.

You were a horrible sister. That’s what you are. 

(“Tsmuke, what do I do?” 

You couldn't believe your eyes as you gazed down at the mess on the floor of the hut. Beads were all over, and what used to be a clay tray laid shattered into several pieces. Neteyam stood still in midst of it all— the culprit of such doing evident. Your brain wracked itself to move, to do something.

“This is sa’nok’s favorite necklace. She told me to come get it for her, but the shelf was too high–” Neteyam spoke in a rush, hands gesturing wildly as he talked. His face crumpled in worry and his brow furrowed with frustration.

"’Teyam, don't move!" you said in a hurry, alarmed at the thought of him taking a step forward. Moving quickly to his side, you gently stopped him from doing so and scooped him up under his armpits. He was heavy in your arms as you stood there with him, but the shards beneath were sharp enough to cut skin. You grunted as you moved him aside. 

"Tsmuke, what are we going to do?" He asked again, his voice running high with worry. 

You tried to think of another solution, assessing the situation once more. You glanced at him and said, "I'm going to tell ma I broke it so she won't be mad at you." You quickly search for something sturdy enough to scoop the pieces off the floor. Maybe you can redo the necklace, but there was no salvaging the tray. 

“But I broke it– she’ll know.” He visibly deflates, not exactly thrilled about not being truthful to Neytiri.

“Only if you tell her.” You said, looking up at him with a slight smile, though your heart was racing. You felt terrible knowing that you were going to disappoint Neytiri, especially since her beloved necklace had snapped– but something about your little brother's worry-stricken expression tugged on your heartstrings. You understood why her scolding was necessary, but it felt wrong to leave him alone to bear the brunt of it. “This will be our little lie, okay?” 

“Lie?” 

You immediately dismiss him, gesturing impatiently for him to exit the hut as quickly as possible. “I’ll tell you about it later, but you have to promise now that whatever mom says, just know that I broke it.” 

He only offered a subtle nod in response, his eyes glossed over as he nervously played with his hands.

“Say it, ‘teyam. She’ll be back any minute now!” 

"You broke it!" Neteyam had shouted and almost as if in response, Neytiri had walked in through the hut's entrance, all but gasping as she took in the sight before her– shards of what once held her jewelry now on the floor. She stumbled slightly as she carried the basket of fruits, before dropping it to the ground and quickly scurrying over towards you.

The scolding you got was harsh, but Neytiri couldn't do much other than wrap her arms around you and sigh. You were just a kid, after all. Mistakes like these are inevitable and all she could do was understand. 

Neteyam was patiently waiting just outside the doorway, swinging his legs back and forth as he listened with a heavy heart. He awfully felt guilty. You sat with him moments later.

“Why did you do that?” He quietly asked.

You looked at him with a confused face, “Do what?” 

"Lie." He says, his accent making the word feel awkward in his mouth. It was unfamiliar to him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You only say, casually shrugging as you swung your legs along his. Little Neteyam looked at you with the most confused face; eyebrows furrowing and the creases in between deepening as he tried to make sense of everything that had happened. 

But then you glanced at him again– winked and gave a small giggle. 

And only there did he understand. He leaned his head on your shoulder.

“Thank you, y/n.” )

Neteyam didn’t even realize he had finally reached home. He stared at the flap of the hut, unable to let himself in, despite living here ever since. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about having a moment alone with you– not when the thoughts that ran through his head had been unpretty. 

He knows damn well Eywa could strike him down if she heard herself. 

He sighed, “Y/n? Sa’nok asks for you.” He softly said, waiting for a reply. You had never been a deep sleeper; any little noise would bring you right back to consciousness. Every creak from the floor, every whisper and murmur from outside, even the lightest rustling of leaves would startle you wide awake in an instant. Neteyam knew of that, knew of the many sleepless nights you had. You had the habit of scratching the walls of the hut, carving who-knows-what on its surface. It kept him from being able to get any rest himself. 

When only silence greeted him, he finally urged himself to go inside only to be met with an empty space. 

Your absence now felt different to the other times when you had gone for a stroll through the forest or set out to train before dawn. It was not like that this time, and Neteyam felt it deeply. He frantically rummaged through the hut, searching every nook and cranny for anything that you possessed. Nothing. Neteyam stood at the center of the room, taking in the now cluttered room. 

His fingers nervously reached up to the intercom on his ears. A voice crackled over the device, "Sir, is y/n with you? Over." He took a deep breath as he glanced around once more. 

Almost quickly, Jake answered. “No, she should be back at the hut.”

 Neteyam gulped, “She isn’t– nor any of her things are. What do I do?”

“You– you! You let this happen, Jake!” 

After spending hours on scouring the forest for any trace of you, they had finally concluded that you had chosen to leave of your own accord. This was not something that anyone wanted to believe and yet it seemed like the only option left; none of your things were to be seen back at home, or at least those that were valuable to you— your worn-out saddlebag, the wooden bowl that you had carved yourself, weapons. All of it. Soon, eclipse neared and everyone was tired.

Neytiri was quick on her feet. As soon as Jake had returned from the south, she lunged at him – pushing him forcefully with a look he didn’t want to come home to. He attempted to grasp onto both her forearms, wanting desperately to soothe– but, try as he might, she continually knocked away his hands with increasingly greater force. It was like his very touch had burnt her skin; the same hands that held her children. 

“What did you do? What did you say?” Her panicked voice quivered as she asked in desperation. She felt her breath quicken, body absolutely worn out from everything that had happened. Neytiri’s tear-stained face was like a punch to his already battered heart. He had caused this. Jake had finally pushed you away. 

“One thing I asked of you– and this one thing you couldn’t do!” Each word that left her mouth was accompanied by a strike to his chest, not enough to cause any physical pain but enough to emphasize the anger he knew he had been keeping to herself for years. Neytiri was patient with him– understanding. Jake had pushed the limits of what she was capable of doing for him and this was the very consequence.

Shame. Nothing but shame. 

People were watching– warriors that had accompanied him on the search and lingering eyes of the clan, but he couldn’t care less. Jake allowed her to hit him, he let her push him around; it was better for him if she inflicted the pain instead of harboring it. He’d let the people talk for all he cared. He failed as an olo’eyktan and as a father. 

Let everyone know he failed his eldest.

“I did talk to her, please listen to me.” He begged, his pleadings faint. He desperately tried to reach out and grasp Neytiri's arm, yet his hands seemed unable to find the strength to hold her. His voice quivered as he spoke, fragile and hesitant in its delivery.

“Tell me how exactly!” 

And he couldn’t answer that. Not when he made the crucial mistake of not checking the hut beforehand. Maybe if he did, he would’ve known you had run away– maybe he could’ve gotten to you. The fact that you weren’t able to hear his vulnerability was a different heartbreak he refused to acknowledge. You were never there to begin with. 

When Neytiri saw that Jake had nothing to say in response, she was rendered speechless. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth as she tried to muffle the cry that threatened to escape her throat. She frantically paced around, harshly tugging on her braids. Jake could only close his eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat. He stood there, stunned in silence. 

“My daughter, Jake! My daughter is out there with those– those demons scattered! She could be lost– dead! Do you not understand?” 

Dead. You could be dead. Jake refused to close his eyes, hoping he could keep the thought at bay. But it came back again and again, wriggling its way into his mind like a snake. He let his heavy eyelids shut and instantly, he was presented with a vision of you in the dark - his sweet babygirl, lying there lifeless. It would be his fault. The blood would be on his hands.

"Ma, please," Neteyam had spoken, his voice gentle in a bid to soothe his mother. He tried desperately to soften the blows, carefully pulling her away from Jake. It was Neteyam that calmed Neytiri and all he could do was stand and let it happen– what the hell was he doing? How could he fail so miserably? His eldest had to step in and do his job, his pride and joy. 

His gaze drifted across to where his other children were, huddled together on the corner. They looked bewildered at what they were hearing, unsure of what to make of it all. It seized him, squeezing what’s left of its already limp heart. Tuk was nestled in Kiri’s protective embrace, asking her– trying to understand. She asks of you, where have you gone? 

A father protects, that’s what gives him meaning and Jake Sully has done the opposite– ushering you to danger. 

“Have we failed them, Jake? Have I been a horrible mother?” Neytiri asked, her voice now barely above a whisper. She tried to be gentle with pushing Neteyam away, attempting to continue nonetheless. Jake placed a firm hand on his son's tense shoulders, and he gave him a subtle tilt of the head. He could see the battle that was raging inside of his young boy's head, between wanting to do what he felt was right and obeying his father's instructions. “Jake what have we done?”

Your mother needs this, his eyes try to tell him, go. Neteyam reluctantly steps back, deciding it was better to return to the others.

“Look for her again. Send out everyone this instant!” She sobs, pounding her fists against Jake’s chest in a desperate attempt to get her point across. Her neck is strained with veins popping out and bulging eyes filled with desperation, pleading him to understand. Each beat of her fists matched the intensity of her wails, no amount of tears ever seeming to be enough. 

Neytiri takes a heavy inhale once more, “I beg of you, Jake Sully. Find our daughter, bring her back home.” 

His gaze finally met hers and the feeling it brought was more than he could bear. He had to make a decision, another choice that would have to let her down again. “We can’t go looking for her now, Neytiri. We are already short on warriors, you know this.” He gently says, as if it was enough to soften the blow– but his eyes saw how her face slowly fell. He could clearly hear the telltale sound of her broken heart, shattering once more.

“I have to ensure everyone’s safety. Warriors are out scouring perimeters and we can’t risk one hold-up. Our family, Neytiri, I cannot risk our family,” 

“She is our daughter!” 

“And I am still olo’eyktan.” He was heartless. He was sure everyone thought so, but he had to be the one to make decisions. His composure was a mask that hid the fact that inside he was breaking apart; that he was failing– that he already had failed. If he let himself break down now, he might as well gamble everyone he loved. 

Jake’s responsibilities weighed down heavily on his shoulders. Everyone was at stake– Quaritch was on the loose. 

Neytiri told him he had a strong heart the moment they had met, but right now, it was stone-cold– shut off and mean. Not the compassionate man she had once saved. “I’m trying, Neytiri. I’ll get her home.” He tries to assure her, but the breathy shudder that left her lips only made him wince. 

He was finally able to wrap his arms around her mate and when he did, it was tight– as if he was trying desperately to piece her back together. He closed his eyes once more, kissing the top of her head. “I promise. She’ll be back, I promise.”

You were out there. Alive. He had a chance. 

Your mama’s crying for you, sweet child, come home. 

“Mawey, Mawey!” 

You found yourself in an unknown area. How you had gotten there, you could not explain. Your ikran, exhausted from the raging storm, needed some respite and so did you for that matter. After all, it would be cruel to deny her this much needed break even if it were just for a night. You only prayed that it’d be peaceful. 

You searched the space for materials needed for fire, but the rain was ruthless and provided no light. You felt a chill as you curled up beneath the shade of the tree. Hugging your knees to your chest you tried to conserve warmth, shivering slightly as a gust of wind blew past. Nothing around you but darkness - no stars, no moonlight, and not even the bioluminescence around provided much warmth. This was it, you thought.

Should I go home instead? Have they even noticed that I’ve gone?

Why couldn't you just stay? Why couldn't you have simply kept it all down inside rather than running away? You had been content enough to stay silent before, content enough to ignore everything; what had been different now? It was home still— who were you kidding?

Thoughts ran unmercifully inside your head as you sat motionless. 

You are never satisfied. 

I miss my mom. 

They deserve the heartache. 

You should’ve listened instead– now look at where you are.

Why couldn’t they love me?

Maybe I should head back. 

Father will be mad.

You wanted this– needed this. You had to prove yourself. There was no use crying over something small, a night had only passed. 

The snapping of leaves and rustling of bushes pulled you abruptly back to reality, your head quickly turning in its direction. You had been lost in thought before the sound startled you; the somber pool of thoughts still eddying in your mind. But there was something else nestled in that pool now, taking up the space– fear. Genuine and terrible, terrible fear. You might never come home ever again. You will never see them again. 

This was it, you thought, something that had been swirling around in the back of your mind since you’ve left now finally felt certain. You gripped your spear tightly in both hands. 

The cry that ripped through the air was deafening, shaking every part of your being. It felt like each syllable ricocheted around your entire body; coursing through your veins and settling in the cavity of your chest. Even the ground seemed to tremble in response, shaking beneath your feet as you tried to keep composure. There was no mistaking it; it was an 'angtsìk— a particularly angry one, at that. 

The loreyu that once surrounded you shriveled in response; coiling up and retracting to the ground, and then was gone completely, leaving you exposed to the hammerhead. 

You were in a desperate situation. It didn't help either that you were unable to make out your surroundings– you were one on one with an 'angtsìk with nothing but a spear and a lousy handgun (that you don’t even know why you brought in the first place. It was small on the palm of your hand, but it was valuable to Jake– this couldn’t damage any animal even if you tried.)

Lifting your bow and arrow and preparing to shoot would be pointless. The threat could be just a moment away; it could pounce on you in the blink of an eye, leaving you as food for its prey before you even have time to process the danger. 

You stood your ground, constantly shifting on your feet as you carefully backed away. You kept your gaze steadily ahead, refusing to break eye contact with the 'angtsìk– but when it roared again in response to your steps, you couldn't help but express your annoyance with a loud kiss of your teeth and an exasperated groan.

You did something that no one in a million years would ever consider or do– you ran straight towards it. 

You stepped forward with your spear raised, shaking it threateningly in front of the strange creature that had been creeping closer. Your movements were frenzied, a frenetic attempt to scare it off and make it retreat back to where it had come from. You could feel your heart pounding against your rib cage as you readied yourself for whatever would come next. All around you, an eerie silence had descended upon the dank forest that seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation– watching both of you. 

As it was poised to launch a counterattack, the creature suddenly halted; its gaze directed toward something past you with an expression of sheer terror, but your mind was too clouded for you to take any hint of the bigger threat skulking just behind you. You could feel the nervousness bubbling up from your chest, but before you knew it, a confident chuckle had escaped your lips that soon turned into fits of laughter, not believing how that foolish move of yours had made the 'angtsìk retreat.

“Yeah? Yeah! That’s right– you better run!”  You yelled, brandishing the spear in your hands and waving it around in triumph. “Get your punk-ass back to mommy, penis-face!” 

As the 'angtsìk disappeared into the distance, you allowed a sigh of relief to escape your lips. "You're not getting any of this, keep running!" You called out after it mockingly, putting your hands on your hips. In spite of this bravado, your heart was pounding and your knees were weak with fear– you were this close to give Eywa an early visit. 

You slowly turned back, that’s when you finally saw it; the force with which the thicket of bushes violently parted around it, the palulukan emerging from behind. It was like all the air had been sucked from your lungs, and a chill ran through your body as a wave of fear engulfed you. Every part of you tensed up, and you could feel your soul being wrenched from within.

You looked at it like a poor deer in headlights, grip momentarily loosening around your spear.

 If death knocked tonight, let it be instant.

NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT ?? ???? finally, after a month! (i am gonna be honest, i am this close to loosing interest in avatar.. jesus. i am holding onto crumbs people) this is so long overdue, but i hope it's good enough!

put so many references here, hope ppl can tell! teehee

not thoroughly edited so please feel free to point of any mistakes! thank you so much for being patient with me, until the next chapter loves! smooch &lt;;3

(i removed tags that didn't work anymore :/ again, i am not taking anymore tags! please leave your notif on instead) tags: @reyalvr @sparklyphantom @iwanttohitmyself @planetslove @teyamsjustsleeping @grandgreengrapes @erensbbg @queen-dk @loaklvr @theyoungeagle @ducks118 @teyyyteyyy @yeosxxx @simply-lovely78 @ellabellabus07 @thehoneymushroomhealer @saturdayrj @kingjulian0o9 @hippiezworldz @joemamalackin @random-3455 @zoetrope1997 @cl0esblogg @anxietydrogz @lokisfirstandlastwife @lunyyx @blkmystery @marsbars09 @gcldtom @luna-salem @wolflover384 @mushy-mushroom04 @whatthemonsterfuckisthis @eternalidentity @celi-xxmoon @dumb-fawkin-bitch @pinkeroppi @mellowdiy @jimfiqs @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ayra2452008 @vodoo-heart @rose-brulante @starxao @bluevenus19 @entertain-my-lvst @wwwellacom @starjane312 @mona-aiko @audigay

HEY JAIME, PETER AND I ARE INFP TWINNIES!! <33

My favorite INFP characters. Yes, yes, I’m a Gemini and INFP. Hby?

[ all pics filtered by me, artwork is not mine, respective to the original artists. ] I made a TikTok version of this on my page here:

↳ pairing : miles morales x reader

↳ synopsis : shenanigans with your favorite classmate :) (maybe even a secret crush)

↳ authors note : i'm rlly trying to expand through fandoms, plzzz don't leave i promise i still write hsrr ;o; !!!!! i'm gonna be on a LONG atsv brainrot plz <\3 wuts a proof-read idk what that iz (/j)

MILES MORALES was the new student two years ago, some people thought he was an oddball since the first day encounter with his dad.. but you didn't really mind it honestly. You had much more important matters to attend to, like not listening to gossip.

After learning he was in some of your classes, you decided to try and get to know the guy. He seemed pretty cool, and you never passed an opportunity to know someone new.

"Morales, right?" Miles hears from behind him, it's currently lunch and so he turns his head to see you standing there with a tray in hand. "Mind if I sit with you?"

Since that day, you two hit it off like crazy, with sharing interests and hobbies it wasn't hard to talk every single day and run out of things to talk about.

"So, my Uncle Aaron took me to this crazy place like 2 years ago maybe? But yeah, it's where I did one of my first graffiti art." He explained, leading you through the dark traintracks while holding your wrist so you don't lose him in the darkness. "Sounds cool! Is it the same one that you used in your essay?"

You listen to the echo of his laughter. "Yeah, it is.. He was a great man, made me who I am today."

The way he talks fondly about his Uncle makes your heart sting a little. Though you were never able to meet him yourself, the way Miles talked about him to you made it clear he was a man who loved his nephew like he was his own son, and it was like you could emphasize with his pain of losing him.

However your thoughts are interrupted at the loud sound of a light switch turning on, illuminating the room and different graffiti art draw on the walls. Miles laughs at your breathless expression, admiring the way your eyes seemed to glow at the art all around you.

"Heeey, look at that!" You chuckled, pointing at the 'Expectations' graffiti you brought up earlier. "You were so much shorter back then.." And Miles rolled his eyes at that comment, knowing that you were referring to the silhouette on the wall. "Very funny."

Then you realize theres a section of the wall thats covered with cloth, and he notices how you take notice of it. Miles immediately clears his throat, puts a hand behind his neck and looks at the ground. "Oh, uh.. that's a work in progress. I wouldn't want you to see i-"

Suddenly his spidey-senses go off, the second he looks up he already sees you right infront of the wall and about to touch the cover. "(name)!"

Pulling it off, it reveals a wall full of.. you? You were surprised that the details were down almost perfectly, your nose shape, your eyes and your smile. It was all so perfectly done that in a way it could either be flattering or a tiny bit creepy.

Of course, Miles being your best friend, you may or may not sketch or write about him every now and then (or rather all the time) depending on which one you felt like doing, but he didn't have to know that.

"I'm.. honored?" You laugh, looking back at your poor friend whos pulled his hoodie over his head and his hands covering his face. "Oh, come on! It's not that embarassing- And it looks good I promise!" You tried to reassure him, but the boy has no intentions on budging.

"I forgot I had that." Miles mumbled to himself, ignoring how you pull on his arm to try and get him to show himself.

At some point you've given up, and let the guy wallow in his own embarassment for a while. Your attention shifts back onto the art wall, seeing the several doodles and actual art pieces that you can only assume Miles was working on for the past 2 years you two were friends.

The much smaller doodles were your favorites, ones where he made you a tiny little creature were the cutest ones, and at some point you noticed how so many of them involved.. him. He drew tiny moments of you and him holding hands, going on walks, sharing earphones and little cliche date stuff.

You were about to say something, but are stopped at the realization Miles was right next to you while his eyes never seemed to break contact from yours. "Miles?" You say in almost a whisper, seeing how focused his gaze was on you.

"I mean, we're both smart enough to realize it.. right?"

The urge to play dumb was strong, it really was, but Miles could see through you like he was staring at glass. That's how well he knew you, and how transparent you were with him.

"And maybe I'm stupid enough to make up delusions in my head but.. do you.. feel the same?"

The question leaves you stunned, stammering to find an answer, but the serious facade Miles kept up melts at your nervous reaction. He begins to laugh, digging through his pockets and pulls out a paper you recognize all too well, it had to be either a drawing or a poem you had written for Miles and considering one of your recent ones going missing.. if what he had in his hands was that one, it gave him more than an answer.

That realization makes you gasp, and Miles' laughter only grows stronger as you've now realized what's happening in its full extent. Miles liked you, and he knew you liked him too.

"You cheeky-" You try to grab the paper from his hands, but the tall piece of shit tip-toe's just to make sure you couldn't grab it. "Whaat? What am I, hm?" He'll playfully taunt at you, still unable to control his smile as he knows that deep down you enjoyed this banter just as much as he did.

You two continue to playfully argue for a while, laughter echoing throughout the abandoned area as hours passed on and on. The talk about either ones feelings never came to light, but you two were content with the moment, and in another time you'd talk about the confusing thing that is the feelings you both mutually share.

You had all the time in the world, right? Miles Morales wasn't going anywhere.

The Caged Beast

Itadori Yuji x Reader / Sukuna Ryomen x Reader

There was a curse living inside your husband.

The strongest curse was only able to stay alive inside Itadori.

Rather than choosing death, Sukuna decided to stay in Yuji.

As the years passed, many things happened.

Yuji changed, grew into a man, met you and got married.

You were a kind soul.

Someone even Sukuna looked at with suspicion. 

Kind yet deadly, is the correct description.

You could be smiling, baking cookies in one second and in the next, you could be slaying curses left and right.

Sukuna had to admit, that Yuji chose well. He approved of you.

And now, after three years of marriage, you were pregnant. 

Your first child and Sukuna knew it would be a girl.

A little girl indeed.

A beautiful and healthy little girl. 

A true princess.

Yuji helped you every second of your pregnancy and even now with your baby.

He helped when he didn't have to go to fight.

Like now, Yuji was out with Megumi while you gave a bath to your daughter.

Yui, lovingly named after his father, was a rather calm baby. She liked to sleep and babble when she was awake. 

Yui adored her father and you. She wanted to be held at all times.

A true princess.

You soon dried her with a soft towel and got her into her fluffy pyjamas. 

Placing her on your chest you started to watch a show on TV.

The front door opened, but you were too immersed in the show to care.

"Food is on the table, I'm watching this, I hope the lady wins!" you said not looking away but you did notice your husband walk into the room. He moved over and got Yui from your chest, placing it on his as he sat down next to you on the couch.

His silence should have alarmed you.

It truly should have.

But it didn't.

Instead, you didn't even notice that Yuji didn't say a word until the show was long finished.

Then you felt it, the change, but it didn't scare you.

"Nice to see you from time to time. What prompted your visit?" you turned and looked at Ryomen.

His eyes locked with yours.

"I just wanted to see my Princess." he said as he ran his hand down Yui's back.

"She is Yuji's Princess." you said as you reached for your cup of tea and started to drink.

"I live inside this idiot. You made sure I would never leave. At least, let me have an hour with her."

You found it strange how Ryomen liked your daughter so much.

"You can have your hour. Just making sure you know she is not yours."

"She is My Princess. The only being on this world worth being in this idiot's body."

"Ouch. So it is not worth living for me? And here I thought we had a thing."

"I would have made you my bride. You are way too powerful for me to ignore." you nodded and began to look for something on the TV.

Yui slowly began to stir.

"She must be hungry," you said. "Her bottle is on the counter." you pointed behind yourself, not looking away from the TV.

"Are you joking?"

"It is part of your hour, go feed her." 

Sukuna mumbled something under his breath before leaving to get the bottle.

As he sat in her room, feeding and burping her, Sukuna wondered if he should tell you.

Since he became a part of Itadori's body, when you bonded their souls during a fight, technically this was as much as his body as it was Itadori's. So technically, the child sleeping in his arms was as much his as it was Itadori's.

Yuji asked you during a very intense fight to bond Sukuna to his body. Destroy the rest of his fingers and kill him.

But you couldn't do it.

You love Yuji too much to hurt him, instead, you bonded Sukuna to his soul, using Yuji as a cage to hold the beast.

You didn't know but by doing so, you got Sukuna's blood mixed with Yuji's. You didn't know or rather you chose to ignore the fact.

Sukuna was sure you didn't know but had suspicions.

You were a smart woman after all.

But you loved Yuji. Sukuna was just a plus one in the mix, one no one asked for or needed. But he was there.

Yui is Yuji's daughter. And you will never let anyone tell you otherwise.

--- 

You looked up as he exited the room, it was Yuji this time.

You smiled at him as you rushed to hug him.

"Did you put her to sleep?"

"Yup. Weird, I can't remember coming home."

"You are too tired, let's go to bed." 

Yuji smiled and you both moved to the bedroom.

You quickly fell asleep when Ryomen decided that he still had 10 minutes of his hour.

He looked at you sleeping beside him, it was strange. He only ever cared about power.

He lived to see the fear in people.

And yet, you never feared him, he feared you.

Your fierce attitude, your power and that look... is that what they call a mother's look? You could make the entire room shut up with just one look of yours.

Fierce and powerful. Yuji didn't deserve you in his eyes, he did.

But he was okay with getting just an hour with you and Yui... for now.

Please, for the love of god, please don’t be this person. No matter how long it’s been since an update, no matter how many unfinished stories are sitting on their account, no matter what - do not be this person.

Not only is it insanely rude, but you also do more damage than you think be being such a self-entitled ass about something someone created for free and for fun. “This author” can see what you say.

RIP decency indeed.

shout out to jaime reyes for being literally the only dc superhero who not only has living parents, but also a supportive and loving relationship with his entire family!  king of work-life balance and communication!