⋆‧͙˚*✧•̩̩͙*˚  Fairytale  ˚*•̩̩͙✧*˚‧͙⋆

his last unfulfilled wish.

— featuring. sunday x gn!reader

synopsis: before departure, sunday needed to bid you his farewell and make his silent amends, rather than leaving his emotions unsolved.

contains: 1k7 word vomit, 2.7 quest spoilers, angst (& fluff <<< clickbait), childhood bestfriend implication, messy emotions, minor character studies (if u squint), meeting you after he met robin first.

forenotes: sunday is such an overthinker and lana del rey coded to me. however i’m not content with how i write the siblings here so i’m sorry if it doesn’t sit right with you crowbie 😭😭

header img by 隐世樱yyy on weibo. kindest regards to my two pookies @akutasoda and @vxnuslogy for brainrotting with me and proof-reading this piece for me, i love yall so much!

🎼  — ( ding ding!! a message for crowbie @asundries / @rainswept the receiver! )

merry christmas my dear director crow :stares_at_you: are you surprised that i am your secret santa ? (somebody is definitely not ready for sunday angst as a christmas gift ngl.) BRO IT'S YOU HAHAH.

jokes aside for now... iko wants to say that she is very blessed to have such a wonderful friend like you to be around, she hopes your relationship will continue to thrive and maintain as you both step into 2025 ahead! with every kindest words and this piece dedicated to you, she is once again wishing you a merry christmas and a happy new year! xoxo.

“dear mr. sunday, you have now finally witnessed the sun, your wish has been fulfilled.”

in the seemingly deafening silence of the radiant orange-hued sky, sunday stood still.

“however, before you depart,” that indistinct voice was a light and gentle echo but felt dripped with sarcasm in his ears—he believed it was his heart that spoke. the wistful glint in his eyes betrayed the repetitive chant of his rational determination, sabotaging and leaving him slightly wavered about his predetermined decision.

“are you completely certain you would leave penacony behind without regrets?”

was a prime fugitive like him allowed the privilege of deciding such a personal matter? ironically, he wouldn’t want his answer to that question to be anything else.

“…no, i do not.”

not when he never got the chance to justify himself to you before the day he abruptly vanished. vividly, it haunted him—your sad smile haunted him, indicating that he once again had disappointed somebody, and it shocked him at how he never planned that ‘somebody’ to be you. (he never planned to disappointed anyone, really.) it was almost laughable at one’s stupidity, the one who refused to recognise that your reaction he observed this time was never akin to the momentary awkwardness in your voice caused by his usual polite and harmless nonchalance to your little silent declarations out of affection. he heard your love, yet he had never responded.

contrary to the cold and refreshing thin air it seemed, the tip of his tongue felt bitter. sunday knew it all too well. it was the guilt of turning you down and neglecting you for more significant matters that he grew tired of experiencing once more; typically, all of his doubts could only be dissipated as soon as the bright smile he adored written on your face not long later, you seemed to be unfazed quick enough—a truly admirable yet disheartening scene he witnessed; carefree and understanding, that was what you were. 

(sunday never admitted it but your radiant smile was the cause of the thumping heart in his chest, one that made his collected facade falter ever so slightly when looked at, and one suddenly brewing his stomach with guilt each time it didn’t match with your soulless gaze.)

sceptical, cunning man in the way he was, sunday was unsure if that was the very last time he ever saw you like that again after he had failed you so many times before…

you would come back, yes. that was what you’d always done, wasn’t it?

that was what you had always done.

not this time, though… you left him awaiting.

and when he was standing next to you in his cowardice disguise in the light but freezing-cold evening, admiring the way you blew out on your fingers gracefully, hot breaths turning into smoke, that breathtaking smile still, lips plumped red like roses in the white snow, the world stilled for a moment. (he wished it would last forever.) you looked happy and bright, he couldn’t search anywhere in your eyes for the adoration you once harboured, the one that used to be easily spotted every time your eyes met.

maybe you just didn’t know that the one you were conversing with wasn’t a mere dreamweaver.

maybe you still had feelings for him… maybe, it simply wasn't appropriate to discuss such private matters with a passerby, a fact he completely agrees.

but were you, though? after all this time? sunday felt his chest heavy. you were there, like a star within reach, but far enough to only be observed in the radiant sky. then suddenly and a little too late, it came to his perception that his heart had long been beating for you. and at the biggest loss of it all was he only realised, you and robin, were everything he had left. 

was he too late to make amends?

you were beautiful, he’d take that. not to mention the way your hand loosely clung onto the smooth material of your slightly worn-out scarf. a maroon colour that utterly complimented your skin tone, he recognised that scarf.

“you have an exquisite scarf… it suits you.” 

the dreamweaver couldn’t help the words that slipped “her” lips, “she” mentally cursed “herself” for saying such an odd thing, but your light laugh after the bewildered look you gave dissipated every quickened pulse of “hers”, completely drew all of “her” attention to your graceful demeanour, rather than what you were saying by the moment.

“xipe up above… please, hear my plea”

“it was a gift from an old friend, whom i really cherished.” the glowy tint of your lips arched into a thin smile, and, dear aeons… there it was, that same endearing look with so much stars swimming in your eyes. the look of love.

(two winters ago, your endearing shy look, heated cheeks as you reached out for the delicately box in his hands—a simple present for you for the first holiday ever spent together as adults, your fingers brushing against the comforting material as you opened it, eyes glimmered with joy. of course he remembered. that expression of yours imprinted in his mind, confused but amused at how his little gift has an effect on you, you were an adorable thing if he must admit.)

“forgive my desperation to sin just this one last time.”

“he went away for some reasons, i believed it was the same reason why my adoration was left unrequited,” you looked up at the sky, nostalgic. “it’s a little embarrassing to admit, don’t you think?”

at your simple and hearty laugh, sunday could only manage a silent shaky breath.

“please, xipe.”

“i do miss him, dearly,” you let out a light chuckle, nuzzling your face against the fuzzy fabric with the corner of your eyes crinkled. “do you think that i would be able to see him again?”

— “please for once, allow me to be deserving of them, to make amends for everything i’ve damaged”

with certainty, in his heart, that ‘everything’ was you. never one-sided, never unrequited.

sunday thought about you, ignoring the blooming feeling of overwhelmed emotions, his steps were restrained from approaching closer. but then your final question had the words die on his tongue, lingering like an illness that couldn’t be cure.

would your paths converge underneath the sun?

reality is different. having come this far, the boat that used to guide sunday here was burnt down, and there was no way of turning back.

“i miss you, too, dearly.” he wanted to say. 

“i like you” or “the feeling is mutual” even, and how he wanted to tug the strands of your hair behind your ears like he always did back then the moment he saw them fell out of place. but sunday was still a coward. he wondered if you hated him, that you couldn’t bear witness the person you love disappeared then reappear and just begging for forgiveness, it kicked at his dignity and insecurities. perhaps… this barrier between you both was comfortable alright.

“i think he misses you, too.” words emboldened by the sudden courage but soon deflated when “she” meet your observant gaze. yeah… how could a nobody be so sure about that?

“…my apologies, please forgive such an bold assumption.” “she” cleared “her” throat.

“it’s okay, i’m glad that you get comfortable when talking to me.” and sunday realised that he had lost count of how many times he was mesmerized by the melody of your laugh, your soft hum.

the small talk could last for an eternity, that was the greediest wish sunday allowed himself to yearn for. (he thanked xipe for that.)

“mr. sunday, are you ready to board the express?” and he peeked over his shoulder. welt yang, his companion by pure serendipity, stopping on his steps and looked at him with anticipation.

by now, the sun has dipped deeper and almost disappeared in the horizon, purple-blue hued vast sky sprinkling with faint streaks of stars, city lights awaken, leaving the man with the small void in his chest, half-filled. heart spoke otherwise but mind obliged to the better, but wasn’t “better” always hurt most? it was all over, it’s time to go.

you studied the way robin was blowing out smoke, panting softly as she ran over to you not long after the fellow dreamweaver left. the expression on her face was what you couldn’t decipher, a frown was written, her smile was filled with sorrows, and it made you fumbled.

“it seems like you have met her, too.” she sighed with a smile, adjusting her scarf, which was also a gift from her dearest brother. 

the dreamweaver did say an odd thing earlier before “she” departed, though. “she” claimed to only knew a thing or two about beliefs, but then you sensed the dejection in “her” tone before “she” clasped “her” hand together and seeming to close “her” eyes and wish despite the machinery face.

a mutter of sincerest apologies and best wishes for the person “she” wished to make amends to, followed by shaky chants of whispered please’s that sure was heart-warming. then “she” looked at you, “her” wistful and delighted expression was seen through somehow, how confusing, yet so beautiful and sympathetic. 

and when “she” changed her gaze elsewhere, speaking out her final words before silence settled in between the two of you again.

“they mesmerised me, i should’ve recognised that sooner” and you think that was heartening. that it was good for her.

“i’m glad” said robin.

“you’re… glad?” you blinked, didn’t hold a grasp on why she seemed happy about it.

the singer only chuckled brightly, she nodded.

“what a pity that the story of yours was incomplete…” she trailed off.

“…[name], your name has been prayed.” you didn’t miss the way her eyes softened, a glowing hint of wetness then she looked away. “for now, we must wait for THEM to cast an eye upon his unfulfilled wish.”

when sunday was down on his knees, you were how he prayed.

(lol u thought.)

© 2024 https-sourlimes. all rights reserved.

“ AUTUMN OF VERDANT MEMORIES ”

━━ ☆ PAIRING: kazuha/reader

━━ ☆ GENRE: angst

━━ ☆ SUMMARY: the seasons change with the passing of time and it does not pick favorites. when autumn comes, memories of summer’s delights fall just as much as the yellowed leaves do.

━━ ☆ WARNINGS: death, arguments

━━ ☆ OOGA BOOGA: reblogs are much appreciated!!

“kazuha,” the man in question blinks, turning his attention to the traveler who was approaching him with a concerned frown, “you’ve been staring out at the sea for quite some time now… are you okay?”

“ah, yes… thank you for your concern. i was just thinking about… things…”

the traveler didn’t miss the wistful tone he bore but he thought it’d be better not to question it. some things in this world were better off untold, if only out of respect for those who bore the weight of the tales. instead, they sat beside him on the ledge, muttering a quick thanks when kazuha scooted over to give them space.

“may i ask a question, friend?”

“a question, huh… go ahead…”

kazuha returns his gaze back to the unknown, “what’s your favorite season?”

Keep reading

Hello hello hello, I'm here to ask for like headcanons or an imagine (or whatever, idk, can you tell I've never requested a fic in my entire life) about Luka slowly realizing he actually has feelings for someone? Like genuine ones? I'm not super duper into Alien Stage but I imagine him being super fake (and manipulative lol) especially when it comes to dating. Like, I don't even think he would get into a relationship if he doesn't get something out of it, but what if he, y'know, slowly starts to realize he actually likes the person he's with? Like how would he deal with that and stuff 🫣

GOLDEN BOY, BROKEN GLASS, MAY THE SUN SHINE ON YOU !!

premise— it’s hard to know, to realize, that he has fallen in love, not when the genuine concept of it has been slowly eradicated and painted into something twisted and cruel by the hands of these aliens; alternatively, what he’s like slowly falling in love and coming to terms with it. content tags and warnings — pairing: luka (w/ gender-neutral reader) | kind of established relationship, not an alternative universe, slight angst with fluff, i fucking hate you heperu (heperu is luka’s guardian alien) | wc: 0.7k ; headcanons

"jellyfish"— i was listening to sad music so now this came out as sad

The ‘love’ LUKA had received from Heperu was the only love he had known and so, he views the world around him in the same lens, carving his heart out of the same rotten wood that was used to create his being. What can he do in the face of something so tender, so sharp, so gentle, like needles stabbing into his hands but caressing him sweetly all the same?

Was love meant to be as draining as this? Was it meant to tire and wear out his bones? Was it meant to make his heart clench, thorns ripping at his throat? Was it meant to make him reach his hand out for you, to let his touch linger across your skin, to always seek the feeling of your fingers intertwined with his? It’s a little strange, the odd ‘pain’ in his chest blurring into an unfamiliar feeling of comfort and warmth. He’s not one to run away at the face of such unusual feelings, but maybe he’ll turn away from it, to dismiss it as nothing (it’s not what Heperu taught him).

When did his eyes start to follow you everywhere you go? When did he begin to wish to chase the shooting stars, despite the constricting feeling on his throat, just so he could have the chance to see you, bare and flawed underneath the same skies that had forsaken him, that had abandoned you? He never had seen the problem of hurting others or being hurt as long as it is meant for him, for his own good, but when he sees twist in your expression, the hollow in your eyes, the tremble of your lips, he’s suddenly bitter and thorned. He tries to be kind, in ways that he knows of, in ways that he has seen, experienced, and learned.

To be seen as nothing but manipulative and cunning with his princely and charming demeanor, to be seen as a blank slate, to be seen only on the surface of his sweet smiles that never seem to reach his eyes. But it’s better to be misunderstood than to have you see the wretched and tangled strands that is sewn to create the fabric of his existence, to be viewed under the same limelight he is being put beneath than to have you notice the bleakness of color in his golden eyes that rivals the sun—except his light never exists, only when he gazes at you does it ever shine.

It’s hard to understand him either—not when he cannot understand himself also. He wishes to take away all of your pain, all of your problems and worries, to have you rely on him and only on him, to view the world in your eyes, to cup your cheeks in his hands and press his lips against yours (he has heard of the act of kissing, a strange way to convey and pour one’s desire, adoration, and love to another). He’ll lie down on the grass with you and watch the stars, he’ll listen to your songs and music, he’ll let you put those red flowers found in the Anakt Garden on his hair.

Maybe he does and say such things in the name of ‘control’, ‘possession’, ‘obsession’, or anything that can be used to label whatever reason he has just so he could see that pretty shade that adorns your cheeks, the smile that etches across your lips, the sound that bubbles out of your throat, the eyes that glimmer when you look at him. Maybe it’s just those feeble things that make him feel humane, that makes him break away from the shackles that binds him to the image of ‘Luka, the star’, that makes him realize that he does adore you.

(Whatever this fragile bond you share with him, built on weak foundations of the love he has known and the love you have shared, fragile and fleeting like glass teetering on the edge, he’ll seize it, he’ll shape it, and he’ll make it unbreakable—he’ll make it real, he’ll make it his.)

He likes to believe that he deserves the kind of love he has yet to know of, out of the clutches of Heperu and into the warmth of your own. To hold it into his hands, tightly, unrelenting, never letting go—contorting into control as long as it is his.

© AZULLUMI. plagiarism of any form and type, stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms is NOT permitted.

WEBSITES FOR WRITERS {masterpost}

E.A. Deverell - FREE worksheets (characters, world building, narrator, etc.) and paid courses;

Hiveword - Helps to research any topic to write about (has other resources, too);

BetaBooks - Share your draft with your beta reader (can be more than one), and see where they stopped reading, their comments, etc.;

Charlotte Dillon - Research links;

Writing realistic injuries - The title is pretty self-explanatory: while writing about an injury, take a look at this useful website;

One Stop for Writers - You guys... this website has literally everything we need: a) Description thesaurus collection, b) Character builder, c) Story maps, d) Scene maps & timelines, e) World building surveys, f) Worksheets, f) Tutorials, and much more! Although it has a paid plan ($90/year | $50/6 months | $9/month), you can still get a 2-week FREE trial;

One Stop for Writers Roadmap - It has many tips for you, divided into three different topics: a) How to plan a story, b) How to write a story, c) How to revise a story. The best thing about this? It's FREE!

Story Structure Database - The Story Structure Database is an archive of books and movies, recording all their major plot points;

National Centre for Writing - FREE worksheets and writing courses. Has also paid courses;

Penguin Random House - Has some writing contests and great opportunities;

Crime Reads - Get inspired before writing a crime scene;

The Creative Academy for Writers - "Writers helping writers along every step of the path to publication." It's FREE and has ZOOM writing rooms;

Reedsy - "A trusted place to learn how to successfully publish your book" It has many tips, and tools (generators), contests, prompts lists, etc. FREE;

QueryTracker - Find agents for your books (personally, I've never used this before, but I thought I should feature it here);

Pacemaker - Track your goals (example: Write 50K words - then, everytime you write, you track the number of the words, and it will make a graphic for you with your progress). It's FREE but has a paid plan;

Save the Cat! - The blog of the most known storytelling method. You can find posts, sheets, a software (student discount - 70%), and other things;

I hope this is helpful for you!

(Also, check my blog if you want to!)

CYNO | King Deshret and the Three Magi

Let’s Look Over The Garden Wall

Summary: One wants an easy meal and one wants to play house. 

Word Count: 9.9k

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut, MDNI, Modern AU, Vampire AU, Contract Marriage, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, pet name? (calls you good girl) TW: Blood & Blood drinking, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader, slight orgasm denial, slight corruption kink, wedding night, temperature play? He falls hard, slow fic, tragedy

Authors note: This whole fic was a challenge since I wanted to write it kinda from Alhaitham’s pov. I’m not really knowledgeable about vampires, so in this fic they’re just a type of monster and not undead, and vampire blood can turn humans into monsters. Enjoy!

Side note: Here is the other side, Finale

Keep reading

the strongest

▸ gojo satoru x fem!reader

▸ 19k words (um. what)

▸ strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn romance, major angst, fluff, a lot of hurt/comfort

▸ warnings: gojo, spoilers for jjk ch. 65 onwards (gojo’s past arc) and set before jjk vol. 0, references to character death, blood, injury, violence, a bit of swearing, descriptions of trauma and grief, mention of a heart disease, mention of abandonment, mention of overdosage

▸ this fic was born out of my unending awe for the way yuuta’s story in vol. 0 was told because i unironically loved gojo’s line “love is the most twisted curse of all” when he theorized how rika was cursed. i started this fic in 2021 and continued to write for it, little by little, until i can finally say it’s finished. part of my soul rests in this for i love it more each time i reread it.

through a mission he initially perceived as a chore, gojo finds that protecting you was no simple task, especially when things like emotions, responsibility, and morality are thrown into the mix

gojo hates missions like this. it’s the kind where he has to practice patience, discipline, and a plethora of other textbook virtues he never got around to understanding. if he had a choice, he’d get a reassignment in a heartbeat—exorcising a hundred curses in a night seemed a whole lot better than this. after all, gojo works best with his one-track mind backed by his most simplistic philosophy: kill or be killed.

but in missions like this, gojo is constrained by a number of obligations. he has to tune into his surroundings, make sure no civilian is harmed, be mindful about damage to public facilities, blah blah blah. the stakes are higher when it involves other people, he’s told, but gojo couldn’t care less. everything a jujutsu sorcerer does is already for the sake of the world, so did he really have to be so mindful all the damn time?

Keep reading

Angst/fluff Prompt List

Please don’t repost (stealing isn’t cool, but reblog if you wish) <3 <3

“I love you, please don’t go.”

“Stay here tonight.”

“Please don’t walk out of that door.”

“I thought things were going great.”

“Don’t you love me?”

“You make every day worth living.”

“I’ll keep you warm.”

“I’m never letting you go.”

“You meant too much to me.”

“I won’t let you.”

“How could you ask me that?”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“I won’t let anyone hurt you, you’re safe with me.”

“You look amazing tonight.”

“Shouldn’t you be with him/her?”

“I’ve got you.”

“I can’t sleep, can I stay here?”

“It’s late.  Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“How are you feeling today?”

“You look amazing tonight.”

“We’ll figure this out.”

“This isn’t goodbye.”

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

“Wanna go grab a drink?”

“What the hell were you thinking?!”

“Here, let me help you.”

“Kiss me.”

“I care about you.”

“You could have warned me!”

“That was unexpected.”

“You haven’t lost me.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Don’t cry.”

“Please don’t do this.”

“You make me feel safe.”

“You’ve shown me what love can feel like.”

“Thank you, for everything.”

“All I wanted was for you to be happy.”

“I can’t do this on my own.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”

“Don’t be afraid.”

“You’re always on my mind.”

“You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

“You’ve always felt like home.”

“I can’t imagine this world without you.”

“Dance with me.”

“Trust me.”

“Why are you crying?”

“Who hurt you?”

“Nothing is wrong with you.”

“You make me feel alive.”

“I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

“Who cares about what they think?”

“Let’s go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

“You’ve always got me.”

“I’ve waited for this moment for a long time.”

“Is this okay?”

“You look like you could use a hug.”

“Did you need something?”

“Do you have a ride home?”

“I am home.”

“What happened back there?”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

“Why me?”

“I’m right where I belong.”

“Fine.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t think that I love you?”

“You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?”

“You need sleep.”

“Excuse me?”

“What are you doing?”

“What did you expect?”

“You’re not alone.”

“We’re meant for each other.”

“You’re worth it.”

“I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“I’ve always been honest with you.”

“It’s cold, you should take my jacket.”

“Just breathe, okay?”

“When I’m with you, I’m happy.”

“Going somewhere?”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Don’t be scared, I’m right here.”

“You’re so adorable.”

“I’m better, now that you’re here.”

“I could never forget you.”

“Forget it.”

“That’s in the past.”

“You make me happy.”

“You’re more than that.”

“I won’t lose you too.”

“Come cuddle.”

“Can’t you stay a little longer?”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I’ve had enough.”

“I fell in love with you, not them.”

“You’re the only one I wanna wake up next to.”

[ 12:56 AM ] — rin itoshi

✩ ˛˚ . notes— because i headcanon that rin is a lightweight and when he's drunk he becomes a completely different person.

"hey, don't fall asleep here, it'd be a hassle to get you to bed"

rin takes note of your feather-light voice. he feels lightheaded and warm and giddy. his shoulders relax and heartbeat calms at the way your fingers lightly caress his cheek. he lets himself lean into your touch, towards your warmth that's almost beginning to lull him to sleep.

"mmh... 'm not sleeping, just resting my eyes" he slurs when your fingers brush his lips and rest there, you chuckle at the boyish grin he offers at the touch.

"you always say that rin, you shouldn't drink so much when you know you're a lightweight"

rin playfully bites your fingers at that, then kisses them, "don't call me that" he whines in a childish manner, puffing his flushed cheeks in a pout.

"that's your name, rin, what else am i supposed to call you?"

you suppress the laugh threatening to spill from your lips when rin attempts to send a glare your way. his bangs fall over his half-lidded eyes, brows furrowed lightly. it's amusing— the way he looks offended. a drunk rin pouting in all his glory, crimson blooming on his face and ears. it's a stark contrast to the perpetual scowl he has on his face.

his usual sharp gaze, now unguarded and soft is scanning every miniscule detail of you. he's confused and frowning and you want to run your fingers through his hair and ease those worry lines on his forehead.

and when you do, rin almost curls up in your lap like a cat.

he's big and heavy and drunk and he's completely forgotten all about that.

"don't call me by my name," he says. "tell me what you always call me"

you're sure you won't ever catch rin slipping like this again, and you don't waste a second to grab your phone and point it at him, "and what do i always call you?" you hate ( not really ) to tease him like this, but a flustered rin is a rare occurrence.

"call me your love" rin nuzzles closer to you, "tell me 'm your love".

there's an adorable desperation in the way his fists close on the fabric of your shirt, the way he holds you firmly close to him, and he's finally gazing up at you like a puppy waiting for a treat.

"rin, my love, let's please get to bed?"

you laugh at the way his eyes light up like a thousand suns. he parts his lips to speak, but not before leaving a chaste kiss on your lips "say it again"

"love, you're drunk, you really should just get to bed"

rin's smiling like a lovesick idiot, "then come with me" and you're smiling because it's all being recorded. he takes it as a yes, and when he's practically dragging you with him to your shared bedroom, rin's still smiling like an idiot and you're still laughing.

maybe you'll save this recording for when he's sober.

© seimirii 2023

me, with a vague plot idea, 1 (one) character name, and an outline that consists of mostly question marks: