ivelle

19 her, infp

[veiledyearning]

personal blog that occasionally rarely posts my writing ab my favs

honestly i just wanna improve my writing so im taking the humiliating step of posting it online ✌️

i dont really plan on writing a lot so i definitely won't do requests, sorry cuties!!

first time fic writer so don’t expect much

[akamigi]

"no need. I already patched myself up, see?"

[miiroki]

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 ┅ 𝖪𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍! 𝖦𝗈𝗃𝗈 𝖲𝖺𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗎 & 𝖶𝗂𝖿𝖾! 𝖱𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘈 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦.

﹙𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭﹚

NOTE: yes this was inspired by short king Napoleon and his yearning for his wife, bc every woman deserves that much love. I was originally gonna make this about Choso but I started to miss my blue eyed king. Anyways I kinda love how this turned out, giggling and kicking my feet in the air as I was typing this out LMAO.

From the Muddy Trenches of the Northern Front:

My Dearest, My Only Soul,

I have not seen your face in three weeks, and already I am convinced that the sun has forgotten how to shine. This wretched northern border is nothing but gray skies, ceaseless rain, and mud that threatens to swallow my boots whole. Nanami tells me I am being dramatic. I told him he lacks a soul, which is why his armor always looks so perfectly polished while mine is caked in grime.

They call us the realm’s greatest defense, but what good is being the strongest knight in the kingdom if I cannot even hold my wife? I spent the afternoon pretending to listen to Shoko discuss supply lines, but in truth, I was only remembering the way you laughed when I dropped that entire tray of pastries last month.

The campaign is tedious. The enemy forces are stubborn, but they are no match for us; we will break their lines soon enough. Yet, victory means nothing if it keeps me from your side. I wake up in the dead of night, reaching for you, only to grasp cold canvas and the smell of wet wool. It is a cruel torture.

Write to me instantly. Tell me you miss me. Tell me you are wasting away without me, just as I am without you. If a letter from you does not arrive by the next courier, I might just ride back through the enemy lines myself, consequences be damned.

Ever and completely your devoted husband,

Satoru

—

From the Comfort of the Hearth:

My Dearest Satoru,

Your letter arrived soaked in rain and smelling faintly of wet dog, though I suppose I must blame the courier’s pouch for the latter.

You are being entirely dramatic, my love. Nanami, as usual, possesses the soundest mind in your entire regiment. You have been gone for less than a month, yet your letter reads as though you have been exiled to the ends of the earth for a decade. Pray do not ride back through enemy lines; I would rather not have to explain to the King that his star knight abandoned the vanguard because he was lonely.

The manor is quiet without you, it is true. I do not have to hide the sweets from your voracious appetite, and the floors remain remarkably clean without your muddy boots tracking through the halls. However, the bed is indeed too large and too cold without you stretching across the entirety of it.

Do your duty, protect your men, protect me, and listen to Shoko. You are the strongest knight the realm has ever seen—you will be perfectly fine. Stop picking fights with your commanders and focus on bringing yourself home in one piece.

With all my love,

Your wife

—

From a Command Tent, Past Midnight:

To the Cruelest Woman in the Kingdom,

How can you be so terribly reasonable when my heart is breaking? I read your letter by the light of a dying candle, hoping for words of desperate yearning, and instead, you praise Nanami and celebrate the cleanliness of our floors! You wound me deeper than any sword ever could.

We had a skirmish today. It was a decisive victory, of course. I shattered their vanguard with a single charge. Everyone cheered, the others wept with so much relief you would think I delivered their wife’s babe, and all I could think was: I wonder if she is reading in the garden right now.

I am bored, my sweet. Miserably, terribly bored. The strategy meetings are an exercise in listening to old men drone on about maps, and I am tempted to set the next map on fire just for some excitement. The only thing keeping me sane is the ribbon you tied around my hilt before I left. I press it to my lips before every battle. Aren’t I incredibly romantic.

Do not tell me I will be fine. I am a man dying of thirst in a desert, and your letters are the only drops of water I receive. Tell me you wept when you read my last letter. Lie to me if you must! Just tell me you want me home tomorrow and I will make it happen. Please.

Your miserable, adoration-sick husband,

Satoru

—

From the Sunlit Garden:

Satoru,

If you set fire to the war maps, I will personally ensure you are banned from the kitchens for a year upon your return. Do not try me.

I did not weep when I read your letter, but I did smile so fiercely that the maid asked if I had received good news. You are a terror on the battlefield and a child in your correspondence. It is a wonder the kingdom sleeps soundly knowing its grand protector is currently pouting in a tent because his wife told him to be sensible.

The spring flowers are beginning to bloom in the courtyard. The blue ones remind me of your eyes—though the flowers are much quieter and far less demanding of my attention.

You speak of thirst, Satoru, yet you forget that I am holding the well. Win this war. Secure the borders so that no more husbands have to march away into the rain. I know the burden you carry, even if you mask it with complaints and theatrics. You will hold the line, because you are Satoru Gojo, and you will come back to me because I expect nothing less.

Take care of yourself. My heart is with you, always. And do not talk about delivering babes anymore.

Your loving wife,

Who loves you

—

Dusk on the Northern Front:

My Sweet, My Salvation,

Tomorrow we march for the enemy’s main stronghold. The others say it will be the bloodiest clash of the entire campaign, the one that decides the fate of the borders. How poetic old men can be. The others are tense, sharpening their blades in a silence so thick you could cut it with a knife. And here I am with a quill and ink.

But I am not worried. In fact, I am practically vibrating with impatience. The sooner I break their gates, the sooner I can leave this miserable, sodden north behind and fly back to your arms.

I have your latest letter tucked safely beneath my breastplate, right against my heart. Your scoldings are the finest armor I possess. You told me to win this war and secure the borders, and so I shall. Do you remember our wedding vows? I will give you a victory so absolute that the King will have no choice but to grant me a permanent leave of absence to do nothing but follow you around the manor like a stray dog.

Expect my next letter within the week, my love. Once the stronghold falls, I will send a courier with the news of our triumph. Hold the well for me just a little longer.

Your fiercely devoted, forever husband,

Satoru

—

From the Manor, Seven Days Later:

Satoru,

The week has passed. The official royal couriers arrived in the capital this morning with tidings of a glorious victory at the northern stronghold. The bells are ringing across the city, and everyone is celebrating the end of the war.

Yet, there was no private rider bearing your coat of arms.

I know the aftermath of a siege is chaotic, and I know you must be buried under administrative duties and the demands of the King’s generals. I am trying to listen to my own advice and remain sensible. Geto would tell me you are simply being careless, and Shoko would tell me you are sleeping off the exhaustion.

But please, Satoru. Just a single line. Write to me to tell me you are whole.

With all my love and a growing impatience,

Your worried wife

—

From the Manor, Three Days Later:

Satoru,

Ten days now. Still nothing.

I have asked the garrison commander in town if any news of casualties has been held back, but he assures me the list was complete and your name was spectacularly absent. He looked at me with pity, assuming I am merely an anxious wife. I’ll have him butchered the next time I see him.

They do not know you like I do. You are too arrogant to fall in battle, which leaves only two possibilities: either you are gravely injured and hiding it from me, or you are being entirely thoughtless.

The blue flowers in the garden have fully bloomed now. I sit by them every afternoon, waiting for the sound of hooves on the cobblestone driveway.

If this is a jest, Satoru, or some twisted way of getting me to admit how desperately I miss you, it is not amusing. Consider it admitted. I miss you terribly. The manor is too quiet, the bed is too cold, and I am sick with worry. Write to me. Please.

Please again,

Your wife that misses you

—

From the Manor, Midnight:

Satoru,

I am writing this because I cannot sleep, and leaving my thoughts on paper is the only way to keep my mind from fracturing into a thousand terrors.

Where are you?

Even when you were surrounded by enemy forces, you found a way to smuggle out four pages of complaints about the mud and the soup. Now that the enemy is defeated, there is only silence. I have stopped pretending to be the reasonable, calm wife you accused me of being. I am terrified.

If you are alive, if you can hear the wind blowing south from the mountains, know that I am calling you home. Do not dare leave me alone in this world, Satoru Gojo. You promised me a victory, and I expect you to deliver it in person.

Please Satoru

—

Epilogue:

The ink on the eighth letter was barely dry when the heavy oak doors of the manor's study creaked open.

You didn't look up immediately, your eyes blurred with exhaustion and the dim candlelight. "I told the servants I was not to be disturbed until—"

"Not even for the grandest husband in the realm?"

The voice was rough, raspy from weeks of shouting commands and breathing in battlefield dust, but it was unmistakably his.

You dropped the quill, the black ink splattering across the pristine parchment and your nightgown as you stood up so fast your chair scraped violently against the floorboards.

Standing in the doorway was Satoru. He looked nothing like the pristine, untouchable knight who had marched away months ago. His silver hair was unruly, his cloak was torn and stained with blood, and travel-grime. His heavy armor was dented and scratched in half a dozen places. He looked exhausted, with dark shadows bruising the skin beneath his striking blue eyes.

But as his gaze locked onto yours, a familiar, blindingly arrogant grin broke across his face.

"I didn't write," he said, stepping into the room, his heavy boots thudding against the floor you had bragged about keeping clean. "Because a horse moves faster than a courier if you ride it into the ground. And I couldn't spend another second waiting for ink to dry."

You didn't care about the mud. You didn't care about the ruined letter. You crossed the room in a blur, throwing yourself against his chest. The cold, hard metal of his breastplate pressed into you, but beneath it, you could feel the frantic, heavy thudding of his heart.

Satoru’s arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you completely off your feet and burying his face into the crook of your neck. He held you with a desperate, crushing strength, inhaling the scent of you as if he were finally breathing real air after months of suffocating.

"I told you I’d be fine," he murmured against your skin, a low, rumbling laugh vibrating through his chest, though his hands were trembling as he held you. "Did you doubt me for a second, my sweet?"

"You are an absolute monster," you whispered, gripping the fabric of his torn cloak, tears finally slipping down your cheeks. "I was frantic and sick with worry."

"I know," Satoru smiled, kissing away the tears as he finally set you down, his blue eyes burning with that familiar, intense adoration. "I met the courier on the road and took your other letters from him. You missed me. You admitted it in writing. I’m keeping them forever. I’ve thought of framing them.”

“Satoru…”

[veiledyearning]

once i post a fic i never look back or read it again EVER

[oneweek]

aki by animator shun

[veiledyearning]

platonic rudo & reader

synopsis: rudo brings you a gift. a metal flower that never wilts.

cw: fluff, found family trope between reader and rudo, enj*n, reader is a healer, lwk not proofread cus i wrote this at 4 am, first fanfic kinda nervous

a/n: i do this gesture with my parents and got inspired lol originally i was going to post the first meeting between you both but this piece ended up better sooooo i scraped the other one whoops

“”””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””””

Rudo saw the beauty in things that others failed to see; it had always been like this since he was younger. He often rummaged through piles of discarded items looking for anything that caught his eye. Today was no exception. He was on his way back from a mission when a piece of scrap caught his eye. He inched closer to the bright item. Bending down, he picked it up. It was a thin sheet of metal that shone a pretty white in the light. It was reminiscent of a flower that Regto once introduced him to. Hearing the call of his name from Zanka, he pockets the item, saving it for later.

At hq, he heads straight to his room, the item still lingering in his mind. Once inside, he places it on his desk, which holds other trinkets he collected recently. He sits down, examining the item, its then he decides to try to recreate the flower. The process itself was straightforward; the thin metal was easy to manipulate and cut through. The only thing that troubled him was that he didn't have any place to put it in his cluttered room. He stares at the flower situated on his desk, the light hitting it, reflecting a warm white. A sunny white close to the colour of the infirmary and— you. 

Rudo searches for you in the halls of hq, the flower in his hand. Without realising it, he bumps into Enjin, who notices the item. 

“What’s that?”he asks, bending down to get a better look at the object. 

“It’s a flower”, he says, looking past him to see the infirmary door open. 

“Oh, I see,” Enjin grins. “You trynna impress a chick or somethin’?” he teases, a smile on his smug face. 

“It’s not like that shitbag!” he yells at the man, growing irritated, before running away towards the infirmary. He hears Enjin’s roaring laughter echo in the hall. Hurriedly, he enters the room and he slams the door shut, the loud noise drawing your eyes away from your paper. 

“Hi Rudo”, you call out from your desk. “What’s wrong?” you ask, looking at the boy who stood in front of the closed door. He walks over to your desk and stops just before you. You look at his hand and see a pretty white object, one you’ve never seen before. 

“Nothing”, he mutters. fingers fidgeting against the flower, suddenly feeling nervous. The idea seemed like a good one at first, but now that he stood in front of you, his confidence wavered. ‘What if you didn’t like it?’ he thought. The sudden gesture probably felt weird coming from him. 

“Rudo?” you ask, concern now evident in your tone. Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts, his eyes snap from his hands to you. he takes in a breath. 

“I... wanted to give you this,” he holds it up in the air now. The light coming from the window reaches its petals, emitting a soft gleam. Seeing your confusion, Rudo explains. 

“It’s a flower from the sphere, my father once brought me one. I found a piece of scrap that has the same colour as the real one today, so I made this.” his voice now trailing off. 

“Oh, so that’s what it is,” you say, taking the flower into your hand. Twirling the bronze stem between your index and middle finger, letting you appreciate the entire flower. It had six long petals that curled towards the end, thin wires sprouting from the middle, and the colour was a very pale yellow that glimmered white when under the light. 

“Do you like it?” his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty. 

“It’s pretty,” you let out a small chuckle. “I’ve never seen a flower like this, so I was a bit confused. But I really like it. It’s a flower that’ll never wilt.” You run a finger along the artificial flower's petals. 

“Wilt?” he asks, confused. 

“From what I studied, flowers are similar to humans; they're living things just like you and me. They need nutrients, water, and like humans, they also grow old over time. It’s hard to come by plants here on the ground, and if by the off chance you do, they die off quickly. It’s a bit sad,” you say, admiring the flower before shifting up to see Rudo’s knit brows, his gloved hand awkwardly scratching his elbow. 

“Oh”, he pauses “, I didn’t know flowers made you sad.” he apologises. seems like he got the wrong idea. You let out a little sigh, a soft smile ever present on your face. You take hold of Rudo’s wrist, guiding him closer to where you sat. 

“I mean, flowers are a special luxury here. But you know what else flowers and humans also need? Love and care. That’s why I especially like them.” You look him in the eyes, a gentle warmth radiates off of you, it's the same colour as the flower he thinks.

“So thank you, Rudo.” You smile, “I’ll treasure it forever,” you say, leaning towards him, your cheek meeting his little flushed one, a gentle cheek kiss you call it. Rudo instinctively wraps his arms around you, and you hug him back, careful not to break the flower. 

Rudo thinks he made the right decision that day; the flower matched you perfectly. 

[veiledyearning]

I SAW TAKING A SMALL BREAK FROM WRITING AND LOST MY PROGRESS ON HERE STOPPPPPP

[veiledyearning]

i don’t even mean to mess up i don’t know why it happens so often

[veiledyearning]

i need more flustered caleb

[danijaci]

I've always wantedd to draw caleb :>>>>

[veiledyearning]

i need pure tooth rotting fluff of caleb and rafayel rite neow…. STOP WITH THE ANGST

[veiledyearning]

why hasn’t anyone wrote a fic of assassin!raf x princess! mc x general!caleb

[akiisks]

Measuring? 📏

inspired by: baobei-bu

[pret-boy]

Matching your freak is beautiful and all but what you really need is a boy who's infatuated with your freak. Down bad for your freak. Deeply intrigued by your freak. Eager to see more of your freak. Supportive of your freak. Gets bricked up witnessing your freak, even.

[mojinchiimanga]

[veiledyearning]

i can’t tell if people don’t approach me because i look ugly or mean. maybe both

[veiledyearning]

i want to be as pretty as a flower. pick me & love me even as i wilt.