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beloveds-embrace · 20 hours ago

Note

dukedom!AU but they realize she’s quickly become a type of ‘peoples princess’ outside the duchy

The timeline for this one is before reader tells john her request! I got this ask before part two dropped and already had some of it written. Hope you enjoy, anon! <3

Dukedome au masterlist

I can imagine them realizing it not from seeing it, but from hearing it, maybe during a gala hosted by John and uou. The evening is alive with music and laughter, the grand ballroom brimming with nobles and dignitaries. Yet the chatter revolve around one figure: you.

“She’s truly remarkable, isn’t she?” one elderly countess says, her voice carrying across the marble floors and gleaming ceilings. “Always so graceful, so kind. I am quite glad she is Duchess Price, now.”

John stands near the refreshments table with Simon, and overhears the conversation. His hand tightens slightly around his glass, though his face betrays nothing. Nothing new to be talked about, it was natural. And yet-

“Graceful?” a younger lady chimes in, voice calm and polite. “She’s more than that. Did you hear she personally visited the orphanage last week? Brought food and clothing, spoke to every child. And not for show- she refused to let any journalists near. That’s a true duchess.”

Simon’s brows furrows slightly, his jaw tightening. He exchanges a glance with John, the unspoken thought between them clear: she hadn’t told either of them about that visit. It wasn’t because John didn’t trust you, or that you need his permission; he just wanted to be aware of where you go and which guards you’ll take. For your own safety.

“She’s so approachable too,” a lord adds, gesturing with his wine glass. John knows this lord, he always ends up drinking too much and being too handsy. Why would you need to speak to him? “I spoke to her briefly earlier- she didn’t just listen, she cared. You can see it in her eyes. It’s no wonder the people adore her.”

Adore is putting it way too lightly.

From the other side of the room, Kyle watches as a small group of maids gossip near the staircase. He wasn’t one for eavesdropping, but their excitement is hard to ignore.

“I heard she gave her own jewelry to the head maid’s daughter to help her pay for her dowry.” One of them whispers, clutching her tray.

“That’s not all,” another group are speaking, talking about her as well. “The market vendors say she always pays more than is needed, even when they insist she doesn’t do. Such a lovely woman.”

“Wish the other nobles were like her,” the first maid says with a wistful sigh. “She’s the only one who treats us like people.”

Kyle’s lips press into a thin line as he adjusts his gloves. He prides himself on protecting you, but hearing how far your kindness extends fills him with a quiet sense of urgency. What if someone takes advantage of you and your tender heart?

It’s not just in the main hall that these words are said; down in the kitchens, Johnny is busy ensuring there’s enough food with the rest of the chefs. But still, he can hear two others talking while they work, trying not to sound too snappy or angry while he listens in on them.

As the night continues, the men find themselves more and more aware of how often your name arises in conversation. They hear nobles discussing your fashion choices (Simon secretly preens), others whispering about your visits to the poorer parts of town and the funds that have been allocated into revitalizing the areas, and even rival duchesses grudgingly admitting that you’ve set quite the high standard.

“I heard she stopped Lord Clinton from evicting his tenants,” one man says near the dance floor, though not quite close enough to be drawn into the dancing bodies. He is within John and Simon’s earshots.

“Not only that,” someone else “whispers”. “She made sure they had food and shelter through the winter. commoners love her, and she truly embodies what it means to be a noble. A true people’s princess, I say.”

John’s gaze flickers toward you, standing across the room and laughing softly with a group of nobles. You’re glowing tonight, the light catching in your hair and your smile as warm as ever, adorned in a beautiful dress.

“They don’t deserve her,” Kyle mutters, sidling up to him while holding a plate of finger foods.

John doesn’t respond, but his grip on his glass tightens again. It’s a wonder the glass hasn’t broken et.

Simon’s voice is quiet when he speaks. “The people see her as theirs.” He pauses, his gaze hardening. “But she’s ours first.”

“I cannot blame them.” John sighs. “She is the perfect duchess. But she is also my duchess, and they seem to have forgotten that.”

John means his words, and he knows his men agree with him. The world may love you, but they know the truth: no one else can have you- not the people, not the nobles, no one but them.

The ballroom continues to buzz with conversation, and John focuses back on the two men near the edge of the dance floor.

“She’s wasted on a duchy,” one of them says, swirling his wine with a smirk, more than just a little drunk. “With her charm, she could outshine the Queen herself.”

“Not just charm,” the other adds in, just as drunk. “But Influence.”

Simon stiffens, his fingers flexing at his sides. “Influence” isn’t something he takes lightly when it comes to you. It’s a dangerous thing in the wrong hands- or with the wrong admirers.

“Careful,” John mutters to him. “They’re complimenting her, not threatening her.”

Simon’s glare softens ever so slightly. “Yet.”

Johnny slowly makes his way towards a hidden corner of the ballroom, gnawing on his lips as he listens to the whispers of you.

Did you see the way she stopped to speak with the gardeners?” one of them asks. “She even complimented the hedges I trimmed last week!”

Johnny’s grin fades, his fingers drumming against his thigh. He enjoys seeing people appreciate you, but this feels different. They speak of you with reverence, as if you’re some untouchable figure. But Johnny knows better. You’re no untouchable goddess- you’re his. Theirs. That’s what matters most.

It’s when you step onto the dance floor that the tension truly rises. A duke- one who’s been eyeing you all evening- approaches you with a bow, extending his hand for a dance. You hesitate, glancing toward John out of instinct. He doesn’t move, but his eyes darken, his jaw clenched as he watches you take the duke’s hand.

The music swells and you move across the floor, laughter bubbles from your lips at something your dance partner says. The men see it for what it is: polite, nothing more. But it doesn’t stop the knot of irritation tightening even further.

“She’s a vision,” someone murmurs nearby, unaware they’re being overheard.

“Who wouldn’t fall for her?” another replies.

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication.

Kyle’s gaze sharpens. Johnny’s grin vanishes completely. Simon’s fists clench at his sides. And John, ever composed, finishes his wine in one long swallow, his eyes never leaving you.

He can’t allow this to go on for any longer.

The dance ends, and as you return to the edge of the ballroom, you’re immediately surrounded by more admirers- ladies complimenting your gown, lords vying for your attention. Or would have been, if John hadn’t started making his way towards you, presence larger than life.

“Your Grace,” he says smoothly, and extends his hand to you, his expression unreadable. “Dance with me.”

The request- or rather, the command- is met with stunned silence. The nobles exchange glances, but a single glance from John keeps them all silent.

You blink up at him, momentarily caught off guard, before placing your hand in his. “Of course.” you murmur softly.

John’s grip is firm but gentle as he leads you to the dance floor, his other hand resting lightly at your waist. The orchestra begins a soft waltz, and he pulls you into the first step, his movements confident and assured.

Around you, the crowd watches, whispers starting anew, though you barely notice. All you can focus on is the intensity in John’s eyes as he looks down at you.

“You’ve been busy tonight.” he says after a moment, his voice low enough that only you can hear. It sends a shiver up your spine- his voice always so nice to hear.

“It’s my role,” you reply, offering him a small smile. “Everyone has been so kind.”

He hums, his eyes flicking briefly to the onlookers before returning to you. “Too kind, perhaps.”

You raise an eyebrow at his tone but say nothing, letting him guide you across the floor. His hand tightens slightly at your waist, and he pulls you even more closer.

“You’ve done well tonight,” he says after a moment, his voice softer now. “Better than I expected, if I’m honest. But I shouldn’t have been surprised. You always seem to surprise me, my dear.”

Your cheeks warm at the unexpected praise, and you smile up at him. “Thank you, John. That means a great deal.”

He leans in just slightly, his breath ghosting over your ear. “The way they look at you,” he murmurs, his voice dropping even lower. “They can’t take their eyes off you. And I don’t blame them.”

You glance up at him, startled, but his expression is unreadable once again. He continues to lead you effortlessly through the dance, his movements precise.

“But,” he continues, his gaze locking onto yours, “they’ll have to remember who you belong to.”

Your heart skips at his words, and for a moment, you forget where you are, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His eyes soften, his grip steady as he twirls you into the final steps of the dance.

As the music fades, he leans in again, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re exquisite tonight, wife. Don’t let them forget it.”

With that, he leads you off the dance floor, his hand never leaving yours. The crowd parts for the both of you, their gazes following you both as John guides you back to the edge of the room, where the others wait.

You’re still breathless, his words replaying in your mind as he steps aside, positioning himself at your shoulder. Whatever protests the nobles might’ve had about your absence dissolve under his watchful glare.

And though John doesn’t say another word for the rest of the evening, his presence alone is enough to ensure no one dares to crowd you again, and no one comes between you and them. Simon and Kyle keep you busy, chatting happily with them, and Johnny joins later when the guests begin to trickle out and no one would question why a chef is there.

People’s princess you maybe, you are still theirs. John simply had to show and remind everyone of that fact.

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okwonyo · 2 days ago

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INTO YOU, 或 𓈒𓈒 navigating a secret relationship.

❛𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇’ 𝗎𝗌. 𝗌𝗈, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗅𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𓈒𓈒 ❜

𝒾 ⠀⦂ ⠀ 엔하이픈 ୨୧ f ╱ r! 16OO fluff ── non idol au skinship kissing ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ ( 𝑜𝑜𝑒𝑢𝑣𝑟𝑒𝑠 )

지아 ⠀⦂ ⠀i miss summer and i desperately need winter to come huhu >< idea from my favorite oomf @soov 🎀 enjoy !

( ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks · C𝑙𝑖CK )

HEESEUNG

the cold air brushes your face as you step outside. you wrap your arms around your body, trying to get warmth by hugging yourself.

you walk to the usual corner where your boyfriend organizes your little meeting. the weather gets colder as you walk to it, you swear it.

it puts you in a bad mood, you can feel your eyebrow furrowing and a frown forming on your lips.

there is a fire that lights in your freezing heart when you finally see his face. he leaning on the wall next to him, and he seems to be smiling at your misery.

“what?” you say, harsher than you initially attended to— it doesn’t seem to bother him. not in the slightest, his smile grows wider. you smile as well, “what?”

standing straight, he steps closer to you. so close that you have to tilt your head up to see him properly. “nothing,” he shrugs, “jus’ wanted to see you.”

you don’t answer, just staring at him blankly. although the warmth of his words touches you, you sniff, “‘m cold, hee,” you state.

the said ‘hee’ laughs, loudly. in a way that makes his adam apple move, in a way that makes you flush, in a way that keeps your eyes on him.

he steps even closer, your chest gets pressed against his. he wraps his arms around you putting his face in the crook of your neck:

“i’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, you don’t hug him back. even though you close your eyes. “is it better now?”

you only hum before adding, “i hope no one catches us.”

JAY

the first thing you feel on your skin is the sunlight peeking through the windows’ blinds. it kisses you slowly out of sleep, welcoming you warmly in the new day.

the second thing you feel is the gentle pressure around you and the circle of warmth— that is not yours—swallowing you whole. you hide your face further into the body in front of you.

the arm holds you closer as you hug the body tighter.

all your senses slowly awoke and you can progressively recognize the scent enveloping your nose.

it smells like cologne, like a real man, like home, like home, like—

“jay!” you exclaim, jolting awake. the man groans next to you, his arm sliding on your thighs. you tap him, “jay, wake up!”

his deep, sleepy voice emerges from him, “what?” he almost whines.

“we fell asleep,” you whisper loudly, looking at your barely conscious boyfriend. that should also definitely be anywhere but in your bed. “you are not supposed to be there!”

it looks like it takes a while for him to register, but when he finally does, he almost falls on the floor.

he gets his shirt back on himself, kisses you quickly and escapes from the window.

JAKE

he loves when you kiss him. he loves when your soft lips brush his skin and when your mouth rests on his ever so softly.

and you know it. he tells you always, how much he loves it, hushed and hurriedly between two kisses in the corner— hiding from the public eye.

this is why you already know, from the look in his eyes weighing on you from right across you, that he wants to kiss you.

he watches you amongst the crowd of all your mutual friends together and when they all leave, back turned toward you, he stays.

he holds your waist and, in a sort of instinct, you cup his face.

you aim for his pretty nose first, then you peck his cheek two times in a row before finally kissing him on the mouth.

“i got to go,” he whispers against your mouth before kissing one more time.

when you look one last time on his face, you giggle— seeing lipstick strains about everywhere you kissed him. he wears them like tattoos and leaves before you can even tell him anything.

(he is cheeks blossom with a red hue when his friends tell him about it.)

SUNGHOON

you barely survive the entire day with someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in the tiniest room possible.

surprise doesn’t over take you anymore. you already know why you are here and who you are with.

your boyfriend’s hand cups your jaw, gently and carefully. he tilts your head up, just a little to be able to lean in a bit and kiss you as your fingers slide in his black thick hair.

“hi,” he says when he pulls away a tad to tilt his head to the other side.

he kisses you senseless. loving and passionate like he usually does. his tongue slides in your mouth. you let him lick the inside of it instead of greeting him back.

his free hand hugs your waist, pulling you closer to his body, impossibly so.

your boyfriend is all over you. he takes over your senses and swallows whole. you cannot think of anything else but his hot tongue teasing yours.

until someone tries to unlock the door and you jump, breaking the kiss and pulling a weird sound out of your lover’s throat.

“did you just bite me?” he hushes and you apologize, eyes still worriedly looking over the door. he chuckles, “i liked that.”

you beat his chest with your fist playfully.

SUNOO

he swears to you—brags even— whenever he has the chance that he is not a jealous man.

you almost started to believe it, if it wasn’t for how often he brings it up. almost as if he is trying to gaslight you or desperately trying to convince himself, or rather manifest it.

and you could even consider it, rethink it when you are on your own. but you can always feel it, see it in his face.

the heaviness of his gaze whispers the truth to you. whenever you are talking to another man a few feet ahead of him.

in your peripheral vision, his arms are crossed under his chest. and his teeth are pressed so tight against one another, that his jaw is more defined than ever.

he comes to you as soon as the stranger leaves, “who was that?” he asks, nodding his head towards the leaving man.

you study his frustrated face with an amused look. his eyebrows are furrowed, his mouth is frowned— he looks cute, if you were to be honest.

you opt for something funnier, “are you jealous?”

he instantly opens his mouth, to defend himself and closes it immediately.

his sighs, “yes,” he states. shock explodes in your stomach. “i don’t like seeing guys flirt with you,” he leans to whisper the rest in your ear: “when they don’t know you are already taken.”

JUGWON

this entire situation seems to be very funny to your—secret—boyfriend.

it is no surprise that he is annoying in private. his fingertips melting in your sides, him tickling you, your skin getting pinched and getting a yelp out of you each time. just because he can.

and just because he can, he does his best to get a reaction out of you in public.

sometimes, he stares at you from across the room, tilting his head to the side with a grin when your eyes lock. you ignore him each time.

sometimes, his knuckles brush smoothly and ever so softly against your skin as he passes by you. his touch stings all day long.

today, he aims for a mixture of it.

“look,” your friend whispers to you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention. her finger is pointed to his direction when you look at her, “he is doing it again.”

your boyfriend is staring at you from across the end of the hall you are walking down. he is walking towards your direction, but you tell your friend to ignore him.

he takes a step to the side as he approaches, exchanging places with his friend to walk next to you. his fingers quickly wrap around yours as your shoulder brushes.

he holds onto it enough to make your heart skip a beat, but not enough for anyone to see.

RIKI

his hoodies are way too soft and comfortable for you to not steal.

he always manages to find the sweetest material. the kind of tissue that his scent soaks into perfectly. a tissue that keeps his warmth days after he wears it.

you love to be enveloped into that said material. so big and perfectly cozy like the embarrassed he locks you in.

“you want it?” he once asked you. seeing the way you buried your face in his hoodie. you shook your head against his torso, “i insist, sweetheart.”

you didn’t fight against his own wants and you find yourself in it a few days later. the cold wind doesn’t go through it when your coat gives up for a mere second and you hold onto it for dear life.

you bury your nose in it when you miss your lovely boyfriend. his cologne is still impregnated in it— it makes your stomach fill with butterflies.

when you meet each other at his, he comments: “isn’t that my hoodie you are wearing?” your cheeks get pink. “were you really walking around with that on your back?”

you study his own outfit before answering, “and isn’t that my shirt you are wearing?” you pinch his cheek and he laughs. “i thought you hated pink, mh?”

you taught him well.

ㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open

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luveline · 2 days ago

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missing spencer x stripper reader these days

—Spencer visits the strip club unannounced. fem, 1.1k

Spencer can’t be clinical about it forever. You’re a sex worker. He doesn’t care, but he can’t ignore it when you look like that.

You’re standing by the bar slouched backward, your abdomen bent forward, an unsexy position if you were to ask a patron, but weirdly endearing from where Spencer’s standing. Your heels are completely clear. He can see your toes, their painted nails, and the bandaid on the back of your foot where you twist. “Can I have another water, please?” you ask.

The lingerie is blue. Spencer loves blue. Three pieces, a bra, underwear, and a suspender belt holding stockings the colour of your skin. He knows this is just work, that he’s not being a good friend thinking about how pretty you really look, but it’s not just pretty. His ears start burning the longer he sees it. You shift your weight from one foot to another and your thighs looks soft.

You take your new glass of water and press yourself flush to the wall. Then you level your gaze and see Spencer watching you, expression jumping from happy to confused to knowing.

“Hey, Spencer,” you call, hard to hear over the music pounding and the sound of men jeering at to the left near the big stage. “Are you here to see me, or is it a pleasure trip?”

He clears his throat as discreetly as possible and makes his way to you. The heels make you taller, your legs longer, and the lingerie reveals simple things he doesn’t often think about, the shapes of your breasts, the curve of your sides, your hips leading down… Oh, god, he thinks, feeling sorrier than sorry.

“You okay?”

“I came to ask you that.”

You frown, perturbed. “Why?”

“You didn’t answer your phone. I just wanted to make sure everyone was still being nice to you.”

Your frown softens but doesn’t fade. “It’s broken.”

See, he’d believe you, but you used to wear this Tiffany necklace with a soft bevelled heart around your neck until recently, when you told Spencer you lost it, and showed him your second tell. When you’re in pain, your hands tend to strain from you, pushed out and fingers curling. When you lie, you smile too soon, and your eyes catch on the freckles on his nose.

He pulls open his messenger back and sorts through papers for the black and silver mobile. It’s his emergency phone; should something ever happen to the first, he still wants to be able to contact the outside world. “Here,” he says, offering it to you.

You’re still. “I can’t take your phone.”

“It’s a spare. A burner phone? I bought it for emergencies, and this could be one.”

“Spencer, I can’t…”

“Please, will you? I’ll get another one.”

You need a phone. Maybe ten years ago you could get by without one, but you need a phone to arrange bills, talk to your landlord, your boss, your doctor, whatever. Being without one in an emergency could mean bad things.

You take it, biting the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not very fast,” he says. “There’s a prepaid sim in there for now, but I can get you a real one.”

“I can do that. Thank you, Spencer. I’ll pay you back.”

“I don’t want you to pay me back,” he says with a real smile.

“I could pay you back… with a dance?” You lean across to tap his elbow. “I saw you looking at me, Spencer Reid. We can go somewhere private.”

Suddenly, it’s like the air in the room is being sucked out, leaving him, and you, and your beautiful bare skin alone in a tight space.

He raises the arm you’ve tapped to tap you back. “You’re beautiful,” he says, sure you can see the blood in his cheeks, “but I don’t need anything from you. I want you to have the phone because I know you walk home by yourself most nights, it’s not so you owe me. You don’t owe me anything.”

He shouldn’t have added that last part. He’s worried you’ll be angry with him for saying something that might embarrass you, but you give him a softer smile. Real, and nothing like the playful fire you’d held when you were offering a dance. “You sure?” you ask quietly.

“I thought we were friends?”

“I think so too.”

“Can I ask you something unrelated?”

You squint with mock suspicion. “That depends.”

“Are you cold?”

You laugh, grabbing his arm as you do to steady yourself on your precarious footwear. “I’m surprised I haven’t got hypothermia,” you say, face tipping gently to your shoulder. “But I don’t think I’d make any money in a hoodie.”

Spencer doesn’t see how that could be true. You're one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen, if not the prettiest, and even if you were in a hoodie that would still leave your legs to make money. He’s sure they could. He’s also sure that he shouldn’t say that aloud, instead digging through his bag for the real thing he’d brought you. “Here,” he says, handing you a chocolate chip and strawberry protein bar, “for your rumbling stomach.”

Those few nights you’d stayed with him, you’d been a little shy and more afraid, probably worried he’d hurt you while you were vulnerable, though he had no intention, but you’d start to let pieces of you through the cracks. You like dancing but not men. You like fresh fruit, the smell of a new car, and buying new clothes. Stripping isn’t, like, easy, you’d said once, sitting cross-legged on his couch with a bowl of soup and that awful shiner, It probably looks easy. People think that the hardest part is being pretty, but it’s not.

What’s the hardest part? he’d asked, sympathetic and curious simultaneously. The hardest part statistically would be the high rates of femicide and assault.

It makes you so hungry. It’s like constantly working out every night.

“That’s for me?” you ask.

“So you can survive your workout.”

“Spencer, I think you’re the most romantic guy I’ve ever met.”

He presses the protein bar in the same hand as the phone, ducking his head just a bit, just to see you clearly. “That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

You seem to think this is the funniest thing he could’ve said, pressing your face briefly, heart-achingly to his shoulder, before pulling away to beam at him. “Don’t be sorry. You’re the best guy ever. And I had this investment banker come in a few days ago who gave me a hundred dollars to listen to him talk about his new kitten.”

“I’m surprised I beat that.”

You spread a hand over his heart. “I wouldn’t worry about competition, Dr. Reid.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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wonderjanga · 3 days ago

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Can I Please be Your Friend?

Billy doesn’t have friends. Between being Marvel and working odd jobs, he hasn’t really had the time some. So when he got invited to join the newly formed Justice League. He was ecstatic! Sure, these people were at least a very minimum of 20 years older than him and sure they would probably talk about taxes and stuff, but superhero friends! Meanwhile, the Justice League is like, “wow this guy is so social. I like it!”

Marvel: “You have a lighthouse…?” *sounds so amazed*

Aquaman: “Yeah. My dad was a lighthouse keeper so I got it when he passed.”

Marvel: “That’s so awesome! Can I come over?”

Aquaman: “Oh, okay? Sure?” *a little surprised he asked but eh whatever*

That was how Arthur spent the day showing Cap around the lighthouse. The man was a really good listener and was surprisingly very interested in listening to Arthur talk about how to use the light. You couldn’t even ask Arthur how they both ended up jumping off the railings of the lighthouse of dive into the water. You also couldn’t ask him how they ended up having a water fight, with the Atlantean calling for some sea creatures as back up. You also also couldn’t ask him how shocked a hotdog vendor was when he saw Captain Marvel and Aquaman, both of which who are supposed to be revered heroes, soaked, looking like wet dogs, asking for a couple of hotdogs after they nearly caused a tidal wave.

They got scolded by Batman a little while later for acting like children and almost causing the previously mentioned tidal wave. It was a little funny to see Batman scolding a man a solid two feet taller than him.

Soon after that whole incident, Marvel went to befriend Martian Manhunter next.

Marvel: *staring at J’onn while holding a box of cookies*

MM: *can hear him thinking about how to approach him and looks over to Marvel*

Marvel: *thinks a little too loudly and J’onn hears a nearly deafening “FRIEND”*

MM: *flinches and clutches his head* “Captain. Is something the matter.”

Marvel: “Oh uh…” *walks over and looks between the cookies and J’onn* “I was uh- wondering if you wanted to eat these with me.”

And that’s how J’onn spent the rest of the afternoon eating cookies with Marvel. J’onn had at first thought Marvel was quiet because he was something humans called awkward. But no, every now and then, when J’onn forgot that humans preferred to keep their thoughts private, he’d hear how happy Marvel was that he accepted. He’d also heard a couple other voices which was slightly concerning. He didn’t know if that was normal for humans or not.

Then, the next was Batman. Bruce honestly didn’t even know how they had started talking about this. All he knows is that they were talking about the team’s performance in the field, then that somehow transitioned into talking about superheroes in general, which then somehow led to fictional superheroes, which led to now:

Marvel: “Oh, you like Gray Ghost?”

Batman: “I was… a fan of him when I was a child.” *doesn’t know why he’s telling Marvel this*

Marvel: “Cool! Did you see the movies?”

From there on was a forty minute yapping session about Gray Ghost, his lore, the movies, the comics, the action figures, and so on.

Marvel: “I even had his comics as a kid too.”

Batman: “Really? Reprints or originals?”

Marvel: “I wanna say originals? What do you mean by reprints though?”

Batman: “Reprinting is when they take a comic, and remake it to look a little better, such as brighter colors or slightly tweaked dialogue, so they can sell it again.”

Marvel: “Oh. Then I’d say I probably have originals then.”

Batman: “Interesting. Those are collectors items now. They go for thousands.”

Marvel; “Really?!” *eyes nearly bug out of his skull* “Huh. I had no idea. Which ones did you have?”

Batman: “Mostly reprints. But I do have a couple originals on display.”

So yeah. The two were geeking out and stuff. Bruce honestly has literally no one to talk about this with so he’ll admit he was a little (a lot) happy.

We can’t forget the other JL heroes though.

Flash: “Like, he is so nice, and for what?”

GL: “I know right he let me ramble for like 45 minutes about planes! He was asking questions too!”

Supes: “And he’s always willing to help with anything. I didn’t even get to finish asking if he could cover my monitor shifts before he said yes.” *sounds slightly guiltily (he still feels bad for asking)*

In conclusion, Billy really wants to be friends with these guys, and his methods are definitely working.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #batman #aquaman #arthur curry #bruce wayne #martian manhunter #j’onn j’onzz

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april-december · 14 hours ago

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Okay now I’m having thoughts.

Because I think you’re right there. I’ve been wondering if maybe Rio doesn’t understand Agatha’s grief over losing Nicky, because for her, Nicky isn’t lost. He’s dead, yes, but she /is/ death. There’s been much talk about how Agatha doesn’t want to die, and becomes a ghost in order to avoid facing Nicky in the afterlife and having to admit that perhaps the way she handled his life and certainly the way she acted after his death were, you know, not what he would have wanted. So there’s an indication there that there is some kind of afterlife, and this is strengthened by both the fact that ghosts canonically exist, and the fact that Billy was able to pluck Tommy out of the ether and reincarnate him into another body.

So with the presumption of some kind of afterlife, I think it could be argued that in some ways, Rio didn’t lose Nicky in the same way Agatha did. He’s with her in death, because she is Death. Now, what manner of existence that is, there’s not enough evidence to say, but I think it’s useful to consider when thinking about why Rio doesn’t understand grief.

But then there’s Agatha. We saw how Agatha said that she wanted Rio to stop pursuing her, and that when she eventually died, she didn’t ever want to see Rio again. Agatha is denying Rio that reunion in death. And Rio agrees to abide by Agatha’s wishes.

There was also a deleted bit to that scene, where Agatha effectively tells Rio to retire the form she takes when she wants to pass as mortal; Agatha asks Rio to stop using the face she loved so much.

And then we come to this shot:

(Gif credit to @billykcplan)

Agatha has just died. She’s gone, and per their agreement, Rio isn’t allowed to be with her. And when she looks at Billy, her face is gone. We’ve seen Death’s true form before, but I don’t think we’ve seen her with the red eyes. She’s changed it.

So now Rio knows grief, and as anyone who has been touched by it knows, to know grief is to be changed.

No one in history has had special treatment like you.

#everyone is having SUCH GOOD THOUGHTS #I couldn’t help but add my own #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agathario #nicholas scratch #meta

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steveslevis · 2 days ago

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i love you, it’s ruining my life

azriel x cassian’s sister!reader - part 3 of 3

summary: you finally start to recover from the attack at Windhaven, but struggle with the ghost of your suppressed mating bond.

warnings: mentions of injury and assault self-deprecation, use of painkillers, two idiots in love, lots of angst <3

word count: 9.6k (sowwy <333)

Three weeks, four days and thirteen hours.

That’s how long Azriel stayed away from the House of Wind, from Velaris, to give you space and time to heal.

He would’ve stayed away longer if it hadn’t been for Rhys’ incessant questioning ringing through his mind while he wasted the days training with the soldiers in Windhaven. The soldiers that were left after he and Cassian had banished–or taken care of–the ones who had planned to rebel with Cormac and Balvard.

He would’ve stayed forever in Windhaven, as a punishment to himself for everything he’s put you through by pretending you didn’t even exist for the last four fucking centuries.

But he couldn’t.

Rhys demanded his presence at dinner tonight, telling him that he would have to face this–face you–eventually. Azriel knew that, that he would have to face you. He could handle seeing you again to make sure you were safe once more, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to handle seeing the fake glare you’d put on at dinner when you looked his way.

Truly, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to be in the same room as you right now, because he didn’t know if he’d be able to stop himself from telling you to wipe that fake hatred right off your face, from grabbing you by the neck and kissing you in front of everyone, just like he’d wanted to for the last four fucking centuries.

Still, he swallows his feelings and keeps the shadowy wall up around his heart as he heads to the Townhouse, mentally preparing himself to pretend as if he doesn’t know that you, of all people, are his mate.

——————————————————————

Three light knocks on your bedroom door signaled that your brother was on the other side, causing you to hum in response, to which he took as an invitation into the room.

You looked up from your spot on the bed, your thumb wedging between the pages of the book you were immersed in seconds before while you searched for your bookmark that was lost somewhere between your comforter and the fluffy white throw you had laid over your legs.

“You’re disrupting my reading time,” you say to your brother with a glare, finally finding the bookmark you’d been searching for to shove it into your book, “I was just getting to the good part.”

“Well, too bad, your disgusting romance novel can wait.” Cassian says with a grimace, pushing the door open to lean against the frame while glaring back at you, “it’s time for dinner. At the Townhouse.”

A groan falls from your lips at his words, making you shake your head as you toss the book onto the bedside table next to the other books Nesta had lent to you in the last few weeks to keep you from driving yourself insane while bedridden.

“Do I have to?” you say with a frown, forcing your legs over the side of the bed to stand, since you already know the answer to your own question.

Cassian is at your side in an instant as you stand from the bed, making you shoot him another glare when he grabs your forearm to help you up.

“I can stand on my own, y’know.” you snap, shrugging out of his grip as you walk across the room to put on your shoes, “It’s been three, almost four, weeks now for God's sake.”

“Okay, okay fine.” your brother says, throwing his hands up in defeat as you walk across the room with ease. “Just hurry up, we’ll be late if we don’t leave soon.”

You bite your tongue to hold back from throwing another snide remark his way, quickly sliding into the shoes you’d toed off earlier in the day. Dread filled your chest as you turned back to Cassian, slowly realizing that you’d be–well, Cassian would be–flying to the Townhouse for dinner.

The thought of being unable to fly yourself to the home across town makes you feel so empty and detached, like you’re no longer deserving of your spot in the Night court or the Inner Circle. You weren’t sure you could even use your daemati powers anymore to be honest, you’d been so drained mentally and physically that you hadn’t even tried.

You felt so useless and alone and sad and so fucking worthless–

“Hey,” Cassian’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his elbow nudging your forearm lightly as he peers down at you, a smile–one that you can tell is forced–on his face, “you ready?”

You knew he wanted to say more, to tell you to get out of your own head, but held back for the risk of starting an argument. So you only smile up at him and nod, shoving your feelings down as you walk towards the balcony of your room, letting your brother take the lead as he takes to the sky.

The wind against your skin is such a freeing feeling that you nearly forget that your wings aren’t the ones carrying your own body, but Cassians’. The crisp evening air nips at your cheeks as you fly over Velaris, as if the city is welcoming you home after so long stuffed in the House of Wind. A genuine smile crosses your face for a moment during the short flight, heart fluttering as you let the wind welcome you.

The trip is over just as quickly as it started, and you’re being set down on the steps of the Townhouse before you even realize it.

There’s a lone tear trailing down your cheek as Cassian sets you down, causing him to frown at you when he notices.

“Soon, Y/N.” is all he says, smoothing your wind-blown hair down before turning to push the front door open.

Once again you’re forced to push your emotions down, to put on a weak smile as the two of you walk into the Townhouse. You’re greeted in the entryway by Feyre, who hugged you as if she hadn’t seen you in weeks, though she had seen you mere hours ago to drop off your favorite pastries to the House of Wind during breakfast, before pulling you towards the kitchen almost immediately, insisting you come to taste the new wine she’d bought to celebrate with before dinner.

Before you could protest, you find yourself in the kitchen with Mor, Amren, and all three of the Archeron sisters. Mor is the first to wrap you in a hug, a grin spreads across her perfectly red lips as she pulls you in for a gentle hug. Elain follows closely behind Mor, quietly asking how you were feeling as she holds out a plate of fruit for you to choose from as she speaks.

Nesta and Amren sit on the stools on the other side of the kitchen island, both giving you sidelong, but somewhat kind glances as they were deep in conversation. You didn’t take the cold welcome personally, as you and Nesta had become close over the last few weeks in the House of Wind, and Amren was…well, Amren.

Feyre comes up beside you as you chat with Elain, a small and sympathetic smile on her lips as she extends a glass filled with what you can only assume to be faerie wine towards you. Your heart drops as she does, mind immediately thrown back to that moment when you were shoulder-to-shoulder with Cormac, the last time you’d drank wine. You didn’t know if you’d ever be able to stomach drinking it again in all honesty. Before you can shake your head in protest, Feyre opens her mouth to speak instead.

“My special faerie wine, just for you.” Feyre says quietly enough for only you to hear, giving you an understanding look as she still extends the glass, “I didn’t think you’d feel up to drinking just yet, but I know how annoyingly incessant the males can be about celebratory drinks, so here,” you take the glass from her hesitantly, giving her a weak smile, “just some sparkling juice, I promise. There’s a whole bottle in there that I already told everyone was just for you.”

You smile at the High Lady, a sparkle of relief lighting your eyes as she reassures you. You had divulged the whole truth to her a week after the incident, letting her see into your mind to understand the extent of the damage that had been done that night in Windhaven, and even divulged a little too much about Azriel in the heat of the moment, too. She had known you felt more comfortable with her than with any man, and in that moment you were grateful Rhys had found an equally skilled mate who could help you when he couldn’t.

“Thank you, Feyre, really, this means a lot to me.” you say genuinely, pulling her back in for another hug, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill at the sentiment.

You cursed yourself for being so emotional lately, but knew there was no stopping the inner turmoil you were dealing with unless you went straight to the source, to Azriel to finally spill your guts, which you knew wasn’t in the cards any time soon.

You spent the next thirty minutes sharing laughs and talking about nothing in particular with Mor and Feyre, only stopping to give Elain input on the new tart she was trying to make for dessert. The empty feeling in your chest from the last three weeks in near solitude was quickly replaced by one of warmth and happiness, finally feeling at home once again in the room full of your favorite females.

It was foolish of you to think the sentiment would last, though. You should’ve known that this wouldn’t be a normal and happy night, that you’d be faced with the one person you didn’t want to see.

You nearly dropped the glass of sparkling juice when you pushed through the kitchen doors and into the dining room, faced with not two, but three Illyrian males at the table. They’re lost in conversation when you and Mor enter, but Azriel’s attention quickly snaps in your direction, eyes widening for such a short moment that you’re unsure if you imagine it or if they actually do. You collect yourself before turning your attention to your brother and Rhys, who both stopped talking to look over at you and the rest of the females walking through the kitchen door.

“Finally done gossiping so we can start dinner?” Rhys suggests as you all begin to take your typical seats at the table, yours being between Cassian and Mor.

Habitual conversations begin as soon as everyone sits down, food soon appearing in front of everyone thanks to Rhys. Things feel relatively normal as you pile the food passed to you onto your own plate, unsure of how much you’ll actually eat of it as your mind wanders back into thoughts of the hazel-eyed, mysterious asshole sitting across the grand table from you.

Every once in a while, you feel his eyes on yours as you pick at your food, as if he’s checking on you. And with every look in your direction, you feel yourself sinking into the chair beneath you, wishing for nothing more than the ability to winnow in that moment.

You felt like you’d fully regressed back to that person you were when you’d just found out Azriel was your mate, the shell of a female that it had made you was once more. You cursed the Gods for making this male have such a strong effect on you, for making you want nothing more than to be with him, to grab him by the neck and kiss him in front of everyone, just like you’d wanted to for your entire life.

But you knew better than that, knew that you had to keep up the act like you hated him as much as he hated you, knew that you would have to wait until that Gods damned bond snapped for him, however long that would take.

So you did what you did best, shooting a glare in his direction the next time you saw him looking your way, in hopes it would keep him from looking your way and make you fall even further into that shell than you already had.

You’d already fallen so deep into that hole during your time at dinner that you barely heard when Nesta said your name, voice sounding like it was coming from miles away.

“Sorry, Nes.” you reply, giving her a sheepish smile, “what’d you say?”

“I asked if you were ready for tomorrow?” she repeated, eyes sharp yet understanding as she looked your way.

“Oh–Yeah!” you say, a laugh falling from your lips, nodding quickly, “Of course, I’m excited to get back out there.”

“Back out where?” Cassian interjected, concern lacing his words as he turned towards you, never stopping his shoveling of the potatoes from his plate into his mouth as he spoke.

“You’re such a pig, finish eating before you talk.” you retort, shoving his shoulder with a disgusted look, “but if you must know, I’m coming to training with the Valkyries tomorrow morning.”

“Training?” your brother says with wide eyes as he drops his fork with a loud clunk onto the plate. “Like hell you are.”

“I am perfectly capable of training again, Cassian.” you snap, narrowing your eyes at him.

He opens his mouth to make another snark, yet protective comment at your words when the world seems to stop for a moment, a humorless laugh coming from the other side of the table, coming from the male who’d been staring at you all night long.

A laugh. He actually fucking laughed at the thought of you training.

Wide eyes from everyone at the table focus on the shadowsinger, the air seems to go still as everyone waits anxiously for the next words.

“Do you have something to say about my training, spymaster?” you nearly snarl at the male who seemed to share an equally annoyed expression with you.

“Like hell you’re perfectly capable.” he says lowly, eyes flickering to your still-healing wings at your back. “You can barely hold your own weight right now, let alone the wings at your back pulling you down and leaving you fucking limping from your back and hip pain. You wouldn’t be able to hold your own training for more than five minutes out there. You’re—You haven’t fucking healed at all. You haven’t been cleared to fly, let alone train in any capacity. It would be so damn foolish to even let you step foot out there.” Nobody dares to interrupt the male as he continues his rant, “I’m sure you’re back on those damn pain killers too, considering you can’t even feel—”

“Azriel—“ Rhys’ voice comes out in a quiet warning as he shoots his brother a glare, knowing exactly where he was going with his next sentence.

Everyone else at the table continues to stare at Azriel, seeing through the facade to see a love-sick and extremely worried male. You, on the other hand can only feel anger radiating off the male, can only feel spiteful words being spewed your way.

“No, Rhys.” you say with a bitter smile, blinking back the tears that are threatening to fall from your shimmering eyes, “let him continue, he obviously knows what’s best for me.”

The table is silent at your watery retort, even the previously fuming Azriel grounded by the tears in your eyes.

It hits him like a wall of bricks then, all the regret he had for the foolish rampage he had begun to slip into. His chest nearly caves in as he takes in the scene in front of him, how broken you looked as stared back at him, he could feel the anger and embarrassment radiating off you.

He opens his mouth to backtrack, to apologize, to take back the venom that just spewed from his lips and toward you, toward his fucking mate. But words fail him now, unsure of how he can make it any better at this moment.

“Tell me, Azriel.” you muse bitterly, “do you think it would just be better for me to follow the true Illyrian customs then? Should I have let Cormac and Balvard clip my wings? Should I have let Ci–”

Now Rhys cuts you off with a warning growl, knowing you were about to expose your tragic past in ways you’d regret as soon as they’d fall from your lips.

“No, no.” Azriel shakes his head rapidly at your words, blinking quickly, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

“Like hell I did,” you scoff, pushing your chair from the table loudly, tossing your napkin onto the tabletop before excusing yourself.

Azriel knew better than to follow you, knew it wouldn’t end well if he tried to.

You sat on the couch near the fireplace only one room over from everyone, listening to their low conversations. Listening as Cassian scolded Azriel, telling him how stupid he was for trying to push you too soon, and how he needed to give you time and space. The wording of your brother’s scolding confused you slightly, but you didn’t care. You only cared about the hollowness that crept back into your chest, the empty feeling from where you couldn’t feel that unrequited bond anymore, likely from the painkillers that dulled any magic within you. So you let your silent tears flow, let yourself cry over the man who you had convinced yourself could never love you, let yourself drift into a sad sleep on the couch, the warmth of the fireplace inviting you into a dreamless state.

Unsure of how much time had passed, you awoke to the feeling of weight on the other side of the loveseat you sat on and a dark breeze passing over your neck, the caress of a shadow over your skin.

Your eyes flutter open and Azriel’s heart almost breaks at the state of you. Your wings are tucked behind you tightly as if you were ashamed of them, eyes glossy from the remnants of sleep and tears, lips full and red from trying to bite back the sobs that threatened to escape before you let sleep take you in. The look you give him is one of confusion at first, but quickly turns to one of frustration then anger at the sight of the male in front of you.

He tries with everything in himself to reach out to you, to your soul, to tell you he’s there, but he can’t get through that haze in between the two of you put up by those painkiller tonics Madja gave you. She’d explained to him that you wouldn’t know that the bond had snapped for him until you were completely off the tonics, your magic was restored to its full power and he willingly uncovered his side of the bond to you. So he would wait, would try his hardest to befriend you and make you realize that he never hated you until that moment actually comes when you feel the snap.

“Before you try to kill me–and rightfully so–” he starts, pushing his hand out in front of you, holding a plate of the tart Elain had made for dessert out to you, “I come with a peace offering, your favorite.”

You narrow your eyes at him, hesitant to take the plate from him at first. But there’s a pleading and truly apologetic look in his eyes, one that makes you give in almost immediately. You take the plate from him finally, gaining a small smile from the shadowsinger that makes your heart skip a beat, though you don’t let it show.

Azriel watches as you take the first bite wordlessly, watching your features soften as you let out a soft groan, mumbling about how good it is.

“How would you know berries are my favorite?” you question finally, setting the fork back on the plate after another bite.

“You and Cass, you’d always give him your melons and he’d give you his berries at breakfast in Windhaven–” Azriel says, cutting himself off when he sees you wince at the mention of the camp, frowning as he speaks, “s–sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head.

“No–no. I’m sorry, for everything.” he replies, sitting up straighter on the couch to sit face-to-face with you. “For being an ass when you said you work alone, for doubting your abilities, for–for acting like you don’t exist for the last four and a half centuries.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you say with a sad smile, sinking back into the shell of self-doubt you’d grown accustomed to, “I get it, you don’t want anything to do with me.”

“I–That’s anything but true.” Azriel says, shaking his head quickly, the corners of his lips pulling into a frown. “I know I acted like that but–I want to know you. I want to get to know you and be your friend. I just–just never knew how to approach you.”

Truthfully, he wants to say that he never knew how to approach you without giving in to his desires and without telling you how much he needs you in every way, shape and form.

You look up to him, weary eyes meeting his hazel ones in a curious gaze. You’re unsure if you truly believe him or not, but the look in his eyes seems sincere so you stay silent for now, willing him to continue.

“I wanna make it all up to you,” he suggests, gauging your reaction as you continue to eat the tart. “I wanna train you, wanna help you get back to being the warrior that you were before everything happened. I can work with Madja too, to make sure that you’re healing properly and not over-exerting your wings. I can help you–”

“Why would you wanna help me now?” you interject quietly, still not believing that he actually wants to help you after essentially calling you incapable less than an hour ago, “did–did Rhys put you up to this? Did Cassian–”

“No, nobody put me up to this.” Azriel starts, shaking his head quickly, “I shouldn’t have said all those things back there, I was just worried. I don’t want you to get hurt anymore than you already are.”

You stare at the male for a long moment, searching through those amber eyes for any notes of deception but find none. Your heart tugs for his, trying to feel him through the obsidian smoke and gray haze between your souls, but there’s nothing, no tug in return, for now. The logical, and traumatized, part of your brain is screaming at you to run from the Illyrian male in front of you and never look back. But the romantic, and bonded, part of your heart is screaming at you to take anything he’ll give you, to trust him endlessly.

You were never one to listen to logic, anyways.

“Fine.” you say finally, narrowing your eyes at him. “We start tomorrow. If you don’t think it’s good for me to train with the Valkyries yet then I’ll come after they leave in the morning.”

“You’ve got a deal.” Azriel says, smiling wider than you think you’ve ever seen him smile, making your heart flutter as you can’t help but give an equally wide smile in return. “I’ll see you at ten.”

——————————————————————

The late morning sun beat down on you as soon as you stepped foot on the roof of the House of Wind the next morning, dressed in your fighting leathers.

You spot Cassian, Nesta and Azriel across the roof, so deep in conversation that they didn’t notice your arrival.

“Are you ready to get your ass handed to you, Shadowsinger?”

The three turn to you when you speak, the ghost of a smile on Azriel’s lips when he takes you in, taking in your raw beauty as you stand in front of him in your leathers with your beloved sword sheathed at your side, your wings hanging higher than usual as you grin excitedly over at them. Azriel swears his heart skips a beat when he takes it all in, the hope glimmering in your eyes makes him extremely grateful that he decided to shove his feelings aside to help you train.

“Oh, you’re not doing any kind of combat today.” Cassian scoffs at you, as if he’s offended that you’d even think you were going to spar with the Shadowsinger during your training.

Your smile falls as your brother talks down to you, and almost instantly turns into a scowl directed at him.

“You aren’t training me today, so you have no say in what I do and don’t do during this session, asshole.” you snap back as you take one last step to stand in front of Cassian, shoving your finger against his chest pointedly.

There’s an expression you can’t quite read on your brother’s face when you look up at him, but he only ignores your combative response, looking to Azriel instead. He sighs and slaps Azriel’s shoulder before mumbling ‘good luck, brother’ under his breath as he begins to walk away. Before you can question the odd interaction, he and Nesta are already making their way back into the House of Wind. You turn to Azriel then, brows furrowing as you stare at the Shadowsinger. He gives you a sympathetic look then, his eyes softening as he notes the confusion in yours.

“Don’t shoot the messenger here, but I did speak to Madja in order to see what she’s okay with you doing during these training sessions.” he starts, brows knitting together as he tries to think of how to explain the situation. “Long story short, she doesn’t think you’ll be ready for combat or flight for another month or so.”

Your heart sinks to your stomach at his words, disappointment settling in your core as you feel your throat start to constrict and tears prick your eyes. You only shake your head in disbelief, though you know deep down that you’re in no shape to even think about sparring right now, considering your body is running off three and a half hours of sleep and an extreme amount of pain tonics. You’d been telling yourself that you were healing perfectly for the last three weeks, but it truly has been anything but perfect.

Azriel reaches for your elbow with one hand as you take a step back in shock, concern filling his hazel eyes as he watches your internal panic.

“I know that’s not what you wanna hear today, but I promise that it’s for the best. Madja won’t clear you because she knows you have a lot of healing to do before fighting again.” Azriel interjects gently, careful with his words so he doesn’t set you off.

“W–Well, what did she say I could do?” you say quietly as your voice strains, using all your strength to hold back from breaking down in front of him. You don’t have the energy to argue with him about it, to tell him that you’re fine. You want to scream and cry and fight him, but you know it’s no use.

“She suggested that we try some of the exercises that we use during initial flight lessons in the camps, as physical therapy in a way.” he says, and you can tell he doesn’t like the thought of doing that based on the tone of his voice.

“Like–doing the exercises we teach the children when they’re learning how to fly?” you retort, brow furrowed as you mull over the suggestion. “That–That’s ridiculous. I’m five centuries old for fucks sake, I will not be treated like a damn child–”

Your eyes are squeezed shut in frustration as you speak, so you don’t see Azriel’s hands reach up to cup your cheeks, only feel it as you start your angry spiel, but it’s jarring enough to stop you in your tracks. Your eyes fly open at the featherlight touch, looking up to see the Shadowsinger staring at you with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

“I can’t let you get hurt, I–I can’t let you do something you’ll regret for the rest of your life.” he says once he’s got your attention, “You can’t fly right now, you’re still healing. I know Madja has you on bone-mending medications and is giving you tendon repair salve every damn day and I know you should not strain your wings with anything other than light physical therapy right now. I know how much flying means to you and I know you don’t want to be treated like a child but please.” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper as he stares down at you, “Please, just let me help you heal, let me show you that I want to help you and that I’ve never hated you. A–And once you’re healed, once Madja clears you for flight and combat, we will do anything you want.”

There’s a sense of urgency in Azriel’s voice as he pleads his case, his hands firm against your cheeks as he stares down at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen from him before. He looks desperate, broken even. Little do you know, he’s tugging with all his might on his side of the clouded bond, silently hoping that you’ll feel him if he pulls hard enough, though it doesn’t work. You search his eyes for any signs of dishonesty, for any ill intent, but find none, so you sigh.

“Fine,” you finally say, forcing yourself to stay composed in front of the male as you step back and out of his grasp, though the feeling of his touch lingers on your cheeks as though he’s still grazing them. “Let’s get started, then.”

Azriel’s shoulders sag in relief, surprised that you give in without much of a fight. Truthfully, you’re too mentally exhausted to even think about protesting, too tired of being kicked down every time you get your hopes up. So in the moment you choose to lower your expectations and tell yourself that you don’t deserve to fly anymore after being too damn stupid to see the attack coming, that you have to earn your wings back, that you might never earn your wings back if things go poorly.

“Right,” he says with a nod as he stands up a little straighter, trying to stay serious as you look at him expectantly, “we can start with some simple things, like wing-lifts and getting your back and shoulders back into shape with a few different workouts.”

——————————————————————

Your training sessions with Azriel carry on for weeks, spending every single morning together after the Valkyries leave their training sessions. Sometimes you’ll see Gwyn or Emerie with Nesta when you make it up there a little early. There’s always an ache in your chest when you see the females, desperate to get better so you can just fucking train with them finally.

But you push your feelings aside and train with Azriel, pushing yourself past the point that you knew you should, but you couldn’t help it. Azriel always asked if you were okay to train, he genuinely could never tell, since you’d become almost completely unreadable after the incident.

Your body ached after every session, joints sore and wings aching, but you didn’t care. You needed to get better, you needed to get strong again and never let anything or anyone get to you in any way ever again.

Though you were with the shadowsinger every single day, he felt as though he wasn’t making any progress with getting to know you or making you open up to him. His heart ached with longing after every training session, when you’d simply mumble a ‘thanks’ to him and make your way back to your bedroom at the House of Wind. He would try to joke with you, try to make conversation with you, hell, he’d even try to tug on that damn bond as hard as he could, but he could never seem to get through to you. So, he gave you space, gave you time, gave you what he thought you wanted from him instead of what he wanted.

His desires could wait until you were off the pain tonics and could finally feel him reaching out to you.

Since you couldn’t be sent on any missions until you were off the pain tonics that suppressed your daemati skills, you had all the free time in the world. Any time not spent training your body, you spent training your mind. Though you didn’t have the ability to use your powers, you could still waste the days away with your nose buried in books about how to hone your skills and how to strengthen your mental shields.

Everyone in the Inner Circle notices you reverting back to the shell of a person that you were when you initially found out that you were mated to Azriel, but this time was different. You were even quieter, kept to yourself even more, and they could all tell that you beat yourself up over every little thing you’d do wrong. Cassian tried to call you out on it one time when you were in the living room with him, Rhys and Feyre, but soon swore to never mention your new behavior again after you threatened to destroy him with your mind once you were able to use your powers again when he inquired.

The only one who you ever confided in about your self-loathing and hatred was Feyre, she was the only one you felt you could trust enough to talk about everything with, about the mating bond, about the wing-clipping, about it all. She made it a point to check on you almost daily after that, insisting that you spend time with her a few times a week, whether it’s only to sit in silence and read your books together at the River House or to run errands around Velaris. You’re eternally grateful for her being there for you, for her forcing you to leave your bedroom and spend time thinking about anything other than the self-deprecating thoughts you had about yourself.

It’s almost three whole months before Madja clears you to come off your pain tonics, but warns that the first full day off of them will not be completely pain-free.

You heed her warning and tell the Shadowsinger that you won’t be attending training the next morning, in case you’re in excruciating pain. You swear you see a flicker of disappointment in his eyes when you tell him, but the expression is gone before you can question it, and so is he, as he turns on his heels to avoid facing you as his chest aches and his stomach churns at the thought of you possibly not wanting to train with him anymore.

——————————————————————

Azriel is woken from a dead sleep in a cold sweat, shadows skittering nervously around his head as he sits up, an unfamiliar gnawing feeling eating away at his chest.

He looks around, glancing out the window to realize it’s still the middle of the night. He feels it again, that tug in his chest. It’s a feeling of agony and panic, a feeling coming from deep in his soul. It was something he’d never felt before, something so curious that he wasn’t sure how to deal with it, until the shadows came closer to his ears, whispering mate, mate, mate, in his ear.

His heart flutters at the words, hands shaky as he pushes himself up in the bed. It’s the first time since you’d been on those painkillers that he’d been able to actually feel you through, actually reach out for you.

He could tell you weren’t doing well by the tension on the thread between your souls, but he wasn’t sure what to do to help.

In that moment he thanked the Cauldron for fae hearing, because he heard a muffled cry of agony coming from down the hall that once again made his chest ache. Immediately he stands from bed, hastily shoving a sheathed Truth Teller into his sleep pants pocket before making his way out of the bedroom.

It nearly feels like an out-of-body experience as he rushes toward your room, mindlessly opening the door. All he can think about is helping you, making you feel better. He doesn’t even know what’s on the other side of that door, doesn’t know if you actually need help or not, but he’s ready to face whatever it is no questions asked, to help his mate.

You’re laying on your side in the middle of your large bed when he steps in, only the moonlight flooding in from the window lighting your figure underneath the sheets. Your wings flare weakly as you squirm, small cries escaping your lips as your eyes squeeze shut. Azriel can tell you’re sleeping, and likely having an awfully realistic nightmare considering how strongly he could feel you when he woke.

He rushes to the bed, sitting on the edge while reaching for your face. His large hands stroke your cheeks as he tugs for you through the bond, silently attempting to soothe you, willing you to wake from the nightmare.

It takes nearly a minute for you to stop thrashing in his grip, for you to finally come back to consciousness.

You’re clammy when you wake, sweat and tears glistening over your face as your eyes flutter open. Your brow furrows when you look to see who helped you come down from the Gods awful nightmare, and it’s none other than your mate.

Azriel gives you a gentle smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, which are shining with concern as he grasps your cheeks gently.

“There you are,” he says softly, hands finally falling from your face, “I—I wanted to make sure you were okay, heard you from across the hall.”

You stare up at the male before you for a long moment, taking in everything you can about your current situation. Azriel has one hand on your arm and the other next to your side, your faces mere inches from each other from when you sat up slightly in the bed. It’s the closest the two of you had ever been, and it took everything in you to not reach out and touch him to bring him even closer, to kiss him and never let go.

It takes a few moments for you to fully register what’s happening. When you finally do, you sit up and push out of Azriel’s grip, embarrassment flushing through your chest as you stare at him. He stands from the bed as you sit up, something deep within him taking over and telling him you need space, and a glass of water. He knows the bond is directing his every move now, which makes his heart throb against his chest as he turns to your bedside table. There’s a carafe next to your pile of novels, which he takes in his unsteady hands to pour into the accompanying glass.

He’s back to sitting on the edge of the bed in an instant, far enough away to give you space as you catch your breath. You take the glass of water when he offers, taking a long sip before looking back to him. When your gaze slips back to his, you become painfully aware of the very shirtless male in front of you. Your cheeks flush as your mind slips to places it shouldn’t for a millisecond, but you compose yourself quickly when his brow furrows.

“Did you have a nightmare?” he presses, a frown on his lips as he watches you carefully.

“Y–Yeah, I did.” you breathe out, hands shaky as you raise one to run your fingers through your hair. “I guess those tonics were repressing more than just physical pain.”

“You stopped taking the painkillers?” Azriel asks, trying not to sound too excited. “Did you get cleared from Madja? Did she say it was okay?”

You nod once, wondering why he’s so invested in your consumption of pain tonics all of a sudden.

It all makes sense to Azriel then, why he could feel you so intensely after not feeling you through the bond for so long.

A rush of relief mixed with a twinge of terror flows through Azriel when you nod, realizing he has less time to mentally prepare for the truth that the two of you would have to face very soon. But it also means he’ll finally get to breathe around you, finally admit that he knows that you’re his mate, his fated lover.

Deep down, you know it too, but are too scared to admit it at the moment.

So the two of you stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, neither sure of what to say to the other. Two cowards in love, two cowards afraid to fess up, two cowards staring the mating bond in the face but choosing to ignore it for the sake of saving their hearts.

The silence between you is too much for Azriel, so he stands from the bed. You look up to him, eyes shining with a look that he can only describe as fearful enough to make him stop in his tracks.

You truly are disappointed when he stands, secretly wishing he’d attempt to coddle you and offer to take care of you. You curse yourself silently for letting yourself feel so much towards him in this vulnerable moment, especially after working so hard to become an emotionless wall of obsidian for the last three months.

“I–I’m sorry for barging in, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” he stammers, watching as his shadows insist on swirling around you in a protective manner insteading of coming back to him. “If you’re really okay, I’ll just go–”

“S–Stay.” you nearly beg, eyes shimmering with tears you didn’t know were there as you stare up at him. His face flares with shock at your words, taken aback by your desperation. “I–I mean, if you don’t mind. I just–just would really appreciate the company.” you continue, feeling pathetic as you try to reel yourself back in mentally before you start sobbing in front of him.

“If you want me to, I can, I’ll keep guard for you if it makes you feel safe.” he says simply, smiling weakly at you.

Azriel is quiet as he walks towards the desk on the other side of your room, pulling the chair to face towards the bed before sitting down. He turns to you to see your brow furrow as he sits, lips pulled into a frown. His gaze softens as you stare at him and you know you look pitiful, but can’t help the way your heart aches for him, the way your body craves his next to yours right now.

“Are you alright?” he questions, frowning back at you as his shadows skitter around your face in an attempt to soothe you.

“Would you–fuck.” you murmur, blinking back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Would you want to stay in the bed with me?”

He’s up in an instant, his heart working faster than his mind as he nods at you. Your own heart skips a beat as he glides over to the bed, climbing into the spot that you leave for him. He slips under the covers but sits with his back propped against the pillows, halfway sitting up as one of his wings hovers over you in a protective manner.

You can’t help but give him a watery smile as you inch closer to where he’s sitting, looking up at him as if you’re waiting for permission to approach him. He gives you an inviting smile back, adjusting his arms so you can get as close to him as you want. You’re hesitant at first, but push past your doubts as you lay next to him, your body flush against his side as you lean your head against his warm chest.

You try to go back to sleep, but your body is still tense against his, on edge as the nightmare you just woke up from replays in your head every time you close your eyes. Azriel’s arm relaxes at your back, his hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder gently.

“I’m here,” he says, voice barely above a whisper as he reaches down to wipe a rogue tear that slipped down your cheek. “You can sleep, you’re safe with me.”

That’s all you need to hear for your body to fully relax finally, drifting to sleep as you try not to think about the conversation you’ll have to have with the shadowsinger in the morning.

——————————————————————

Sunlight streams through the large window in your bedroom when you wake, groaning softly as you grab a pillow to cover your eyes and curse yourself internally for forgetting to shut the blinds last night.

It takes a moment for you to realize that your bed is emptier than it was when you fell back asleep last night, the space where the shadowsinger once sat now empty next to you. You sit up in bed when you realize you’re alone, a sinking feeling in your chest as you do.

The sinking feeling is quickly replaced by one of joy when you look to the empty side of the bed and see what he left in his place. There’s a silver tray on the bedside table next to where Azriel slept, and on top of it is a plate with an almond croissant from your favorite bakery and a cup of berries next to a glass of water and the rest of the pills and salves that Madja had you on.

A note sits by the food that reads ‘Gone to train. Didn’t want to wake you, you looked too peaceful. Enjoy.’

You truly don’t stop smiling the entire time you eat, unable to fight the giddiness that you feel from the tiny act of kindness. You read over the note at least ten times, memorizing every swirl and scribble of his writing before starting to get ready for the day.

Though there’s an ache in your wings as you stretch them when getting dressed, just like Madja had warned you about, you realize that you haven’t felt this good in months. Your chest feels lighter, mind clearer, and eyes brighter as you think about your mate.

Mate…Mate…fuck.

Your excited mood sours when you think about the conversation that has yet to be had with Azriel. You’re almost entirely sure that he knows now, considering you’re 99.99% certain you could feel his concern for you striking down the bond last night when you woke from your nightmare.

It takes you longer than it should to get into your leathers, but you’ve decided that you want to train, want to face Azriel this morning, want to see which of you will be the first to break.

The sun feels more intense than normal as you make it to the roof of the House of Wind, just in time to see Azriel, Cassian, and–surprisingly–Rhys stowing their weapons away after wrapping up their own training. It’s well past the time that the Valkyries finish their daily session, so the three of them must’ve wanted to take advantage of you asking for the day off, using the hour to spar with each other instead. They’re all shirtless, likely due to the heat, so your eyes obviously drift directly to your mate as soon as you step foot onto the roof.

He’s facing away from you, so you can see the swirls of his dark tattoos over the expanse of his back and shoulders. There’s sweat beading down his neck and you can see that his hair is slightly damp as he runs his fingers through it. Your mind wanders as you stare at him, wondering what it would be like to dig your fingers into the skin of his back while you’re under–

Your thoughts are interrupted by a lone shadow snaking around your hand as Azriel whips around, looking in your direction likely due to his other shadows alerting him to your presence. He raises a brow when he sees you in your leathers, mouth open as if he’s about to speak as you approach the trio, but he says nothing.

“We thought you were taking the day off today,” Cassian says, stepping in for Azriel as he’s obviously at a loss for words.

“I was supposed to be,” you start, looking down to your side to adjust the sword there as it wobbles in its sheath, “but Madja’s prediction about my pain levels after coming off of the pain tonic were wrong, I’m feeling great this morning. So, I decided to come up and train, with or without a trainer.”

Azriel doesn’t miss the way your eyes glimmer with confidence and hope as you speak to your brother, knowing that he’s not likely to try to argue with you now that you’re cleared to spar and use your powers again. It’s the happiest he’s seen you in months, and it makes his heart swell, accidentally projecting his adoration in your direction. Your smile falters as you feel a tug at your own chest, eyes flicking towards him as your heart lurches.

As the two of you stare at each other with wide eyes, you feel a talon rake down your obsidian mental walls that you’re finally able to put up again.

Are you alright? Rhys questions wordlessly, making you finally break your staring contest with Azriel.

Quite alright. Just ready to spar and have a very serious conversation with a specific shadowsinger, if you don’t mind giving us some privacy. You snap mentally, glaring at Rhys as he smirks at you.

Is it finally happening? He retorts teasingly.

Not if you don’t get out of my head and off this damn roof. You bite back before slamming your mental shields back up, blocking the High Lord from teasing you anymore.

“Well, I don’t have any urgent tasks this morning, so we can continue with training as usual if you’d like.” Azriel suggests, the faintest smile on his lips as he stares at you.

Cassian looks between the two of you for a moment, eyes wide before taking a step back with Rhys, who leads him away before he can ruin the moment for you. He’s probably silently telling your brother what’s about to happen as they walk away, considering you hear Cassian say ‘fucking finally’ as they reach the door.

“That sounds great,” you say finally, smiling at him meekly.

The morning proceeds as usual, but you’re a little more distant than usual, and it definitely doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that he’s standing in front of you shirtless as he instructs you how to kick and punch defensively, or the fact that you just felt him tug on the bond. Yeah, it definitely has nothing to do with either of those things.

“You’re distracted.” Azriel says matter-of-factly when you throw a half-assed punch that he easily blocks with his forearm.

“Oh, am I?” you say sarcastically, sweat beading down your forehead as you throw another kick towards the male, though he easily pushes your leg back down.

“Wanna talk about it? Or do you just want to punch it out?” he suggests, raising a brow as you huff in annoyance.

“Just wanna punch it out, can’t–can’t talk about it.” you retort, shaking your head.

You’re terrified to admit what you felt earlier, terrified that he’s going to laugh in your face and tell you that he’d never want you and that you’ve been pining over him to no avail.

“I think you can talk about it. I think you’re just scared,” he taunts, confidence rising in him as he feels your frustration and longing subconsciously projected down the bond.

“You’ll laugh at me,” you pant out, pushing down your feelings as you throw another punch. “You’ll hate me and never talk to me again if I talk about it.”

That’s when Azriel’s face drops, his hand coming up to grasp your wrist when you try to throw one last punch. He feels like he’s just been punched in the gut, like he’s the biggest asshole in the world. You truly think he hates you and that he would never want anything to do with you other than training you and being acquaintances. His heart lurches at the thought, but he keeps his composure as he looks down to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he insists, frowning at you.

Your breath hitches as he maintains his light hold on your wrist, tugging you closer so you’re shielded by his wings from the sun beating down on you.

“You–You don’t get it.” you say, voice barely audible as you fear for the worst.

You tell yourself that he’s going to want nothing to do with you after you finally say what you’ve both been feeling for the last day, that he’s going to reject the bond and never speak to you again. That’s what you’ve told yourself since the day the bond snapped for you all those years ago, so why would it be any different now?

“What don’t I get?” he implores.

He wants you to be the one to admit it, to confirm what he’s been feeling, to confirm that he isn’t delusional. He needs to hear you say it, he feels like he’s going to die if you don’t say it in the next thirty seconds to be honest.

“You can say it, tell me what I don’t get.” he coaxes, eyes glued on yours as you stare at his hand wrapped around your wrist. “I won’t laugh at you.”

You finally look up at him with that, seeing that there’s nothing but serious adoration shining in his eyes as he waits impatiently for you to speak. He’s about to explode if you don’t just fucking admit it.

“I know that you know, Azriel.” you say bluntly, frowning up at him, “I–I know that you know that I’m your Gods-damned mate, and I know that you’ve been ignoring it because you don’t want it to be true. I know you wish that anyone else in this world was your mate–”

Before you can continue your breakdown, you feel two warm hands on your cheeks, pulling you towards the male in front of you. Something wonderful blooms in your chest as he leans down, pressing his lips against yours in a searing kiss. There’s five hundred fucking years of intensity behind that kiss and it almost knocks you off your feet, but Azriel is there to wrap a strong arm around your waist to pull your body flush to his instead.

He doesn’t pull away for a while, savoring the way your lips feel against his as if it’s the last time he’ll ever be able to touch you in his life. It feels so right to be kissing you, like your bodies are made to be flush against each other, like your lips were made to mold to each other’s.

Once he does pull away, there’s a wild look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, one you can only assume is filled with love and satisfaction.

“I don’t know what made you think that I would hate the idea of being your mate, but I’ve been waiting five fucking centuries for this moment right here.” he says against your lips, both of your souls humming with excitement as he pulls you back in for another quick kiss. “It’s a true honor to be your mate, and I promise to make up for every moment of lost time that we had over the last five decades in any way that I can. I promise to keep you safe and never let you feel alone ever again. You’re not getting rid of me for a very long time.”

Relief washes over you at his words, though you’re unable to completely comprehend the fact that he actually wants you back. It’ll come to you eventually, so for now you push the doubt you have away in order to enjoy the moment the two of you are sharing.

“You promise?” you say, eyes shimmering with more tears, thankfully these ones are happy tears for once.

“I promise,” he retorts with a smile, “I promise to give you everything you deserve and more, okay?”

“That sounds perfect to me,” you giggle, reaching up to cup his cheeks gently as he leans into your touch.

He grins and pulls you in for another kiss, this one just as passionate as the last, if not more. You never want him to pull away, never want to forget the feeling of his lips against yours. It feels as though time stops for a moment while the two of you stand there, soaking up all of the love shimmering through the bond between your souls.

“Hey! Finish up your love fest and get your asses inside.” you hear your brother call out from the door to the roof, wondering if he was eavesdropping this entire time, “It’s time to celebrate you two idiots finally admitting what we’ve all been waiting to happen for years.”

Azriel chuckles against your lips one more time before pulling away, placing a kiss on your forehead before reaching for your hand.

“You ready?” he asks gently as you intertwine your fingers with his.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” you retort, following him inside to begin the rest of your eternal lives, finally together.

tag list: @minaethrym @5onedirection5 @bubybubsters @brieflyclassymortal @fxckmiup @ubigaia @mariahoedt @buttermilktea11 @annaaaaa88 @lilac5ix @mybestfriendmademe @landofpetrichor @lilah-asteria @darlingbravebelle @wingardiumweasley @coolepowersthings @cherry-cin @mendes-bae @thatacotargirl @esposadomd @saltedcoffeescotch @scatteredstardustt @ccacotartoglover @nickishadow139 @hayley-jadee @i-am-infinite @whyonearthisyourusernamethi-blog @acourtofdreamsandshadows @username199945 @b0xerdancer-writes @anuttellaa @azzydaddy @aunicornmademedoit @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @darkbloodsly @anainkandpaper @craigorynotgregory @acourtofmoonlightandstars @sourapplex @thatgirlangelb @405rry @prrius-tylersapphire @rogersbarnesxx @aelincaddel @marina468 @lwyourx @kennedy-brooke @mp-littlebit @sstanbarnes @happypeanutstrawberry @whyshouldihaveanam3 @larissa01-blog2 @superspideyparker @touchstarvedandinlove @cheneyq @pvrkacciosan @savannah-0000 @acourtofbatboydreams @melmo567 @everyonesluvah @theintimatewriter @xtreme-shipper @sunnyspycat @romantasyreader28 @miadialila @anxious-study @justyouraveragekleemain @tee-hee135 @i-have-a-thing-for-the-dark @tenshis-cake @rubberducky-jrr @curse-bearing-hips @calisnewworld @freyagallileaevans @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @havenhavoc @actuallyverysoft @fanficscuziranout @bookishbishhh @angelbunny222 @dreamloud4610

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst #acotar #azriel x you

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moonlightcycle571 · 2 days ago

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Rock of Eternity Getting Offerings because they deserve it

I like to think that whenever there’s a magical artifact that needs containment, Billy just… takes it. Here is how it started.

Billy, after defeating an evil wizard: so… what do I do with the Staff???

Solomon: it cannot be kept in the world of man, it’s far to dangerous. You must destr-

Achilles: NEW LAMP

Hemrmes: YESSSSSSSS

Hercules: WAR TROPHY

Solomon: that is highly irresponsible, we cannot keep highly volatile objects for ‘the aesthetic’

Zeus: the burning violon

Solomon:

Solomon: well some decor never hurt anyone.

*and*

JL, after a long battle: Finally the foe has been vanquished! Now to find a secure place to stor-

Marvel, yoinks it and yeets it in a portal: done

Everyone present: w h a t

*or*

Amanda Waller: -thus the proof we need to detain you for breaking into secure government location and theft of a classified artifact

Marvel: *points to the screen* that’s not me

Waller: that’s litterally you in a French beret and a fake mustach

Marvel: I don’t know who that is, but they do look dashingly handsome. And look like a Gustavo. Probably a French mime who failed mime class and left on a journey of self discovery.

Waller: you can’t be serious

Captain Atom, fuck the government rn: I don’t know, Cap doesn’t have a mustach

Batman: the mime theory seems like a pretty sold theory to me

Several people (heroes, civilians, villains and all in between) telling Cap was with them as the time at the crime, each of them being vastly different.

Waller: this mf secretly a mass manipulator???

*or*

Cap, fighting in a museum:

Hermès: Ooh I know this pendant. Super magical, super cool.

Cap, on instinct, puts in pocket dimension to put it on the Rock:

Flash: … did I witness a theft????

Wether the pendant was actually magic or just a shiny jewel Hermes wanted is up for interpretation.

Anyways that’s how whenever he finds magical artefacts or books or whatnot, he just puts them in the Rock of Eternity. It’s a logical solution, as it serves as a place to safeguard and examine, and maybe purify some objects to use later.

The Wizard is so done. It started off as ‘dangerous artefacts to be relocated when a suitable place is found’ but then it became the go to storage and all the stuff just stays.

Thé Rock in the other hand, loves it. Getting more and more offerings by their new champion really shows how loved they are. It’s has been way too long since they got any offerings and new additions, so the newest champion giving them plenty of nourishment / stimulation is as if they are being spoiled.

Billy, brings an ancient cursed crown:

Wizard: another one???

Rock, already pushing Wizard aside: FOR ME!!!! TYTYTYYTY OH MY ME YOU ARE GOING TO LOOK SO CUTE WOTH THIS HOLD ONE LET ME JUST REPLACE THE MAGOC WOTH MINE

Five hours later Billy is chilling in one of the thrones with his new crown and one of his magic cape to match.

In conclusion, Billy is like a cat bringing a mouse in the house, except the mouse is actually a rubix cube that sometimes turns into sushi.

Yes Billy did bring a magic rubix cube that makes sushi when completed. Now I kinda want sushi ngl

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #dc #captain marvel dc #too lazy to tag properly #rock of eternity #Billy’s a street kid he has no qualm just taking stuff #Solomon says it’s for the greater good #man can’t be trusted with these #absolute power corrupts absolutely #hermes wants the bling

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aewon · 1 day ago

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all night, in love — YJW

pairing- jungwon x fmr genre: fluff, e2l, fake dating ⚠️: kissing, cursing, slight slight very tiny angst (practically nonexistent) wc: 3k

You hate Yang Jungwon, and he hates you too.

The reason? You ACCIDENTALLY tripped him in front of his crush in 9th grade. You never knew someone could hold such a grudge for something that wasn’t on purpose.

Ever since that day, Jungwon has made it his life mission to make you miserable.

He doesn’t do anything physical, he just makes annoying, mean jabs at you whenever he can, which you don’t hesitate to fire back.

What you never expected was for him to come up to you, asking for a favor.

“A favor? Why would I ever want to help you?” You scoff at his audacity, turning away from him on the bench you’re currently occupying.

He doesn’t go away, instead sitting next to you on the other side, facing you.

“Please, I’ll do anything!” When you look at him, he’s pouting, something that’s never been directed toward you.

He almost looks…cute?

“Anything?” You ask, not concealing the smirk gracing your face.

“… As long as it’s nothing super crazy, yes.”

You ponder for a moment, what could you possibly need from Yang Jungwon.

“I’ll help you, but I’m not telling you what you’re doing until after we’re done! So what exactly is it that you need?”

Jungwon suddenly looks away from you, biting his lip as if he’s afraid to say it.

“Well? We don’t have all day.”

He looks down at the ground, twiddling his thumbs before finally speaking, “I need you to date me.”

You almost spit out the sip of coffee you just took.

“What?”

“Look, you know Yoona, right?”

You nod, having met the girl before in science class.

“I have a huge crush on her but she never notices any of my attempts to talk to her or engage so I figured if I’m dating someone, that’ll make her notice. Everyone knows we don’t like each other so it’ll make a huge spectacle.”

Your eyebrows furrow at his rhetoric.

“Everyone knows we don’t like each other, so they’ll definitely believe we just started dating? That makes no sense, Jungwon. Come on, you’re smarter than that.”

“We can say it was all a ruse! We just didn’t want people knowing how much we like each other so we pretended to have a fued instead.”

“Still doesn’t make sense. Our friends and peers aren’t stupid, they’ll see right through us.”

“Not if we’re convincing! We’re talking right now, right? Not arguing. We’ll just tell everyone we decided to come clean. Please do this for me, you know I’d never bother you with something like this otherwise.”

That is true, and although you can’t ever imagine yourself liking someone like Jungwon, it’s fake.

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

Jungwon, for the first time, gives you a genuine smile. One that’s not devolving into a sneer or fake.

“So, what do we do now?” He asks.

“Do you have any boundaries you don’t want crossed?”

He shakes his head, “I want this to be believable.”

Without warning, you tug him forward by his shirt, planting your lips on his.

You don’t open your eyes to see if he’s shocked or not, but soon you feel his lips moving with yours.

His large hand travels to cup the side of your face.

You don’t know how long you’re kissing for, or rather making out at this point, but you’re interrupted by the bell ringing.

As you pull away, Jungwon looks as if he’s in a daze.

Your eyes look around the courtyard and multiple people are staring at you, looking away quickly when they realize they’ve been caught.

“Bye boyfriend, I’ll see you later.” You wink, getting up from the bench and leaving to go to class.

The end of the school day comes quicker than not, and you wait outside for your friend Ningning so you can drive her home.

A hand comes to rest on your waist, and you turn to find Jungwon standing beside you.

“I figured I’d get your number now so none of our friends suspect us.”

You nod, taking his phone and putting your number in, texting yourself quickly.

You save his number in your own phone as “wonnie ❤️” while he saves yours as “babe 🩷.”

“You drive Ningning to school right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’ll start driving the both of you, just text me your address and I’ll pick you up first tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, we should also figure out some kind of timeline for this relationship. When do we wanna say this started?”

Jungwon ponders for a moment, “A few months ago? Not too specific but not suspicious either. We could say after a while the dislike toward one another became tired and we decided to be friends which then developed into a relationship.”

“And why did we hide it?”

“Because we were embarrassed.” He shrugs and you nod along.

“Sounds good, we can figure out details later.”

Out in the parking lot, his group of friends are all staring at you. “I should get home,” Jungwon says, “we’re all hanging at my place and I know they’re dying to ask me about us.”

“Call me tonight?”

He nods, wrapping you up in a hug, pulling away to kiss your lips.

You can’t help but like the feeling of his lips on yours, or maybe it’s because you haven’t felt the kiss of someone in so long.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re obsessed with my lips. You like kissing me.” Jungwon smirks at your reddening cheeks.

“Please, it’s just been a while. The feeling is nice is all,” you respond, pushing him lightly.

He raises his hands in surrender before walking away, toward his friends whose eyes are on him like a hawk.

“What the actual fuck is going on!” You hear Ningning from a mile away as she quickly approaches you, “Why the hell did I have to find out from Minji that you and Jungwon are dating?”

“I’ll explain in the car.”

Ningning doesn’t hesitate to ask a million and one questions about your newfound relationship, and you answer to the best of your abilities without making too many plot holes.

You tell her about the new arrangement with Jungwon picking you both up which she agrees to easily.

After dropping her off, you make your way home to relax and de-stress.

You shower before changing into more comfortable clothes.

Your parents won’t be home for a while so you sit on the couch, watching Netflix with an after school snack.

You must’ve fallen asleep on the couch because when you open your eyes, you’re in your room and not on the couch.

You check for your phone, finding it on the nightstand beside you.

The time reads 8:00pm and you sigh. Now you’ll be up all night.

Your phone begins to ring, Jungwon’s name popping up.

“Hello,” you say, grogginess evident in your voice.

“Did I wake you?”

“No, I just woke up. I fell asleep after school, my dad must’ve moved me from the couch to my bed.”

“Okay, good. Did Ningning bombard you with questions? Because my friends did.”

“She absolutely did. I stuck with our plan and tried to avoid any personal questions.”

“Speaking of, I figured we should learn more about each other if we’re gonna make this work.”

You agree and begin asking each other questions.

Favorite color, hobbies, family info, things that a couple should know about one another.

You learn that you and Jungwon actually have a lot in common. You both love action movies, dogs, cats, food of course among other things.

It feels very normal talking to him like this, and not arguing or making jabs at each other.

It feels like you’ve been on the phone forever, checking the time as it reads 10:00pm.

“We’ve been on the phone for 2 hours. It’s crazy how quickly time passes.”

You hum, feeling yourself start to get tired again.

“Are you sleepy?” Jungwon asks, and you hum once more.

“Then we should cut this call here, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The only response Jungwon gets is your quiet breathing on the other end, knowing you’ve fallen asleep.

He smiles on his end, ending the call before going to sleep himself.

The next morning, Jungwon texts you that he’ll be there to pick you up at 7:15, then you’ll swing by Ningning’s.

You get ready quietly, deciding to dress up a bit.

When Jungwon arrives, you get in the passenger's side of his car, wishing him good morning.

“Morning,” he says before kissing your cheek.

You smile, side eyeing him slightly, “You know you don’t have to kiss me when we’re not around others.”

You see his cheeks flush pink, “I know, but I figured it’s better to be as natural as possible.”

“Ah, okay. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you just like kissing me,” you say, throwing his words from yesterday back at him.

“Pft!”

You playfully argue all the way to Ningning’s house.

When she gets in the car, she greets you and Jungwon like this is a normal occurrence.

You talk with Ningning the rest of the way to school, with Jungwon chiming in every once in a while.

When you arrive, Ningning leaves first, needing to see a teacher before class.

You and Jungwon get out, and he takes your hand in his larger one while he carries both your bag and his.

“Who knew you were such a sweetheart?” You laugh as he glares at you halfheartedly.

The cafeteria is where students wait for class to start if they’re at school early, so you and Jungwon find a quiet corner to occupy.

His friends come in and make their way to you.

They all greet you, albeit hesitantly as if this is all still one big prank.

You realize you’ve never taken the time to get to know any of them either, just associating them with Jungwon.

They’re actually very funny, making you laugh freely.

When the bell rings, everyone disperses.

Jungwon kisses you goodbye before handing you your bag and making his way to class while you do the same.

In class, you’re just doing self work, but people still talk quietly.

“Hey, Y/N,” a voice says from beside you.

You look up to see Yoona, the girl Jungwon was talking about.

“Hey Yoona, what’s up?” You whisper, trying not to draw any attention.

“I just wanted to ask you… since when have you and Jungwon been dating?”

She’s asking, that must mean she’s at least somewhat interested, right? This could be good for Jungwon.

“A few months. We just didn’t tell anyone cause we were kinda embarrassed.”

“Ah, I see. Good for you.”

You thank her and she goes back to her work while you do the same.

During lunch, which you unfortunately don’t share with Jungwon, you text him about Yoona.

“That’s cool, our plan must be working 😈,” he responds.

You eat with Ningning, gossiping as you always do.

Later on, Ningning texts you to tell you she won’t need a ride home. She has a project to work on with a classmate so they’re going to her house.

That leaves you and Jungwon alone in his car at the end of the day.

“Do you wanna come over?” He asks.

“Sure.”

The drive to his home is quiet, but he stops at the coffee shop to get you both something.

Your large caramel macchiato is delicious and you promise to pay Jungwon back but he dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

“Nothing’s too much for my girl.”

You don’t know why your heart beats so fast when he says that.

Arriving at his home, you leave your backpack in his car. He invites you inside and a white ball of fluff greets you eagerly.

It’s a dog and it sniffs you before jumping on your legs.

“This is Maeum,” Jungwon says, picking up the dog. “He likes meeting new people.”

“Hi Maeum!” You take the dog into your arms and he nuzzles into you immediately.

After he’s been put down, Jungwon takes you to his room.

“Do you wanna watch a movie?” He asks, and you agree.

He lets you choose and you pick a recently released action film.

As you lay on his bed, Jungwon puts his arm around you, pulling you close.

The sunlight from outside shines into the room, illuminating it in a beautiful glow.

As Jungwon seems to be entirely grossed in the movie, you take the opportunity to look at him.

His dark hair is fluffy, his bangs laying on his forehead.

His jaw is sharp even as he’s relaxed and his eyes are big and wide, watching the screen intently.

You admire his face, his nose is long and big, something you’ve always found attractive.

His lips are plump and so, so kissable as you already know.

You can’t help it, you take his face into your hand, turning it towards you.

“What?” He asks, staring into your eyes.

You lean forward, connecting your lips with his.

He responds immediately, pressing harder.

You move before you even realize it, swinging your leg over his lap to straddle him.

You’re making out eagerly, running your hands through his hair while his hands travel down your back to eventually rest on your thighs.

His tongue meets yours as it gets hotter inside the room.

You don’t know how long you spend there, your body pressed against his.

By the time you separate, both your lips and his are red and swollen.

Jungwon’s eyes are narrowed as they stare at you.

“What?”

“You must really like me or something,” he says, giggling as you hit his chest before moving to get off him.

“No,” he stops you, “stay here.”

You end up laying on top of him.

It’s quiet and he’s playing with your hair, gently, trying not to disturb you.

Time passes and before you know it, it’s 8:00 pm.

“I have to go home,” you tell Jungwon, who whines in protest.

“Don’t want you to go.”

“I know, but I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Jungwon concedes, and you both get up so he can drive you home.

The drive is quick and he’s bidding you goodbye, not before giving you a kiss.

After doing your night routine, you lay in bed, thoughts full of Jungwon.

It’s only been two days since your plan started but you feel different.

You feel happier, happier than you already were.

Is it because of Jungwon? You feel like the answer is obvious but you’re too afraid to admit it.

The next couple of days follow the same routine. You and Jungwon meet in the morning and hang out after school.

He takes you out for ice cream and coffee, takes you to the local park to have a picnic and more.

This fake relationship starts to feel more and more real everyday.

“Heeseung is hosting a party tomorrow, do you wanna go?” Jungwon asks, watching the tv while you pay attention to your phone.

You look up, “Sure.”

Jungwon hums in acknowledgment, his arm coming to wrap around your shoulders.

You unknowingly lean into his chest.

The next day, Saturday, you do nothing until it’s time to get ready for the party.

You find a pretty dress in your closet, one that’s not too revealing but just enough.

You text Jungwon a picture.

y/n: what do you think :p

wonnie ❤️: you look beautiful 🥰 i’ll be there in 5

In the car, you and Jungwon agree to stick together and send a text if you get separated.

The party is already thriving by the time you arrive.

You and Jungwon hold hands, walking through and greeting people.

You find the other guys in the kitchen, pouring drinks.

They greet you cheerfully, handing you a drink of something. You don’t know what it is, but it tastes good so you don’t complain.

You and Jungwon make your way to the dance floor, where your bodies are pressed against one another tightly.

After some time, you excuse yourself to the bathroom.

“Do you want me to come with you? I’ll stand outside?” Jungwon asks but you shake your head.

“I’ll be fine.”

Heeseung directs you to the bathroom upstairs.

You pass by people on your way there.

The light isn’t on and you knock, no one answers.

Once you deem it safe, you enter.

You lock the door and do your business.

After washing your hands, you make your way back downstairs.

Before you re-enter the living room, you hear two voices that sound familiar.

You choose to ignore it, wanting to find Jungwon.

You search for him for 5 minutes before giving up.

Making your way to the backyard, it’s empty, to your relief.

You sit on the outside table, breathing in the fresh air.

“Hey, I was looking for you,” Jungwon says from behind you.

“I was looking for you too but I got impatient after 5 minutes.” You laugh as he takes a seat beside you.

“Yoona came up to me,” he says.

“Oh? What’d she have to say?”

Jungwon takes a deep breath in, “She confessed to me.”

Oh.

“Oh? That’s…great, no? This is what you wanted. That means we can end this whole thing and—”

“I rejected her,” Jungwon says firmly.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “But the whole plan was to get her to fall for you, I don’t understand?”

“I rejected her because I realized that I really like you. I know it’s only been a couple of days but you’re nothing like I thought you were. We feuded because I was being petty. I never took the time to really get to know you. You’re…amazing, to put it lightly. You’re smart and kind, funny, we have so much in common and at this point I don’t see myself with anyone except you.”

You reel in Jungwon’s confession. Here you thought he was going to break everything off.

“Jungwon, I like you too, a lot.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, “You do?”

“Yeah, I’ve realized how sweet and kind you are. The thought of you being with Yoona made me crazy but I didn’t want to get hurt by rejection.”

“Well you don’t have to worry. You have me, no matter what.”

He kisses you, fiery and passionately.

The next day as you walk hand in hand with Jungwon around town, you think you’ve hit the jackpot.

239 notes · View notes

chososcamgirl · 2 days ago

Text

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER NINETEEN: toothpaste

masterlist

*if you want the full sjap chososcamgirl experience click here!

Toothpaste.

That was all she needed.

The familiar jingle of the doorbell sounded as she stepped into the pharmacy, its ring echoing briefly before being swallowed by the soft hum of fluorescent lights above. She moved past the aisles with purpose, the faint scent of antiseptic and the bittersweet smell of charcoal lingering in the air.

At the counter, a brown-haired girl in her late twenties leaned against the register, lazily blowing out smoke from a cigarette.

"Shoko," her name tag read in bright red letters.

Pretty name.

"Hey," she muttered, a casual greeting as she passed. The girl didn't look up, but offered a half-hearted smile, her eyes unfocused as she exhaled smoke, lost in whatever thoughts dulled her day.

Toothpaste.

The word repeated in her head like a quiet mantra, the task simple, mundane. She wandered down the aisles with mechanical precision, her gaze flicking over shelves of medicines and other pharmacy essentials.

Her fingers brushed against boxes, but she didn't really look at them. She wasn't here to linger.

And then she stopped.

A stillness took hold of her. Her body froze mid-step, her pulse quickening in a way that had nothing to do with the cold air of the aisle.

In the distance, there was a figure. His back was to her, his face buried in his hands, almost in a gesture of resignation or frustration. His stance was familiar in an unsettling way, as if he was trying to disappear into the shelves, as if he were searching for something he didn't know how to find.

She stood there for what felt like an eternity, the hum of the lights suddenly deafening in her ears. The shape, the posture, the way his shoulders slumped-it was him.

For a moment, she debated standing there. Still, until he noticed her.

Then, just as her mind screamed at her to stay, she saw him start to turn—his head shifting, eyes beginning to look her way.

Her heart slammed against her ribcage, and without thinking, she bolted. She pivoted on her heel, her breath quick and shallow as she darted toward the next aisle, her legs carrying her as fast as they could.

She whips out her phone in frustration and starts furiously typing.

“Hey.”

She freezes, fingers hovering over the screen of her phone, her mind torn between the message she was about to send and the voice she recognizes. Slowly, she looks up.

His gaze locks with hers.

Megumi Fushiguro.

Her eyes narrow, irritation flaring as she exhales sharply. Without a word, she pushes past him, intent on finding what she came for.

Toothpaste.

The aisle ahead is a chaotic jumble of brightly coloured shampoo and conditioner bottles—too many choices, too many distractions. She weaves through the sea of products, her focus narrowing to the search for the one thing she came here for.

“Yn, please, I’m sorry.”

The words make her blood boil. God, she hates the tone he’s using. It’s almost like he doesn’t get it.

She bites her lip, trying to ignore the sting of his voice, but before she can refocus, she feels his hands settle gently on her shoulders. It takes all her willpower not to jerk away.

Not now, Megumi.

Finally, she spins around, giving him the sharpest glare she can muster.

“What do you want, Megumi?” she spits, every syllable laced with frustration.

His frown deepens, his eyes flicking to her lips, a hesitant tension hanging between them. He bites his lip, visibly unsure of how to proceed.

“I just... I wanted to tell you I’m sorry.”

Her jaw tightens, and she shoots a pointed glance back at the shelves, pretending to be absorbed in the endless row of oral care products. She couldn’t care less about his apology.

“I heard you the first time,” she mutters, grabbing the toothpaste off the shelf with one hand, her grip tight and fingers stiff.

A beat of silence stretches between them. Megumi’s voice cuts through again, softer, but with the same persistent edge.

“So... you’ll forgive me?”

She scoffs, shaking her head with a bitter laugh, her patience wearing thin. Of course, he would ask something so dumb.

Finally, her eyes land on the familiar packaging.

Toothpaste.

She picks it up, turning to face him with a glare that could melt stone.

“No. And if that’s all you have to say, then I’m leaving.”

With that, she brushes past him once again, this time with more force, walking swiftly toward the checkout counter. She can still smell the lingering scent of cigarettes, the same stale air she’d walked into when she first arrived.

The conveyor belt moves slowly beneath her, and she places the toothpaste down with a faint clink. Her fingers automatically slip into her pocket, searching for her wallet.

And then, she hears it—the unmistakable sound of footsteps behind her.

She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. Her shoulders sag, frustration mounting in her chest. Of course he’d follow me.

She groans internally, preparing herself for whatever nonsense he’ll say next.

"Will this guy ever get a fucking life?" she mutters under her breath, barely holding back an eye roll.

“I got it,” a voice called from behind her.

The cashier, unfazed by the tension hanging in the air, set her pornographic magazine aside and casually picked up the toothpaste. Her cigarette, still smouldering in her mouth, bobbed up and down as she scanned the item, her expression completely indifferent to the moment's awkwardness.

She paused, her eyes narrowing as she studied Megumi from head to toe, as if waiting for him to do something else.

"Oh shit, uh, and these too," he stammered, placing the box of Magnum condoms on the conveyor belt, nervously scratching his neck.

Yn's eyes flickered to the box and then back to him. "Big night planned, huh?" she said, her voice dripping with mock amusement as she glared at the condoms.

Megumi’s face reddened. "Oh, uh, those aren’t for me," he mumbled, his discomfort palpable.

She merely gave a disinterested "Mhm," chewing the inside of her gum as the cashier processed the transaction.

Megumi opened his mouth, ready to defend himself, but was cut off by her.

"Did you guys want a bag?" she asked flatly.

"Yeah, please," Yn answered quickly, eager to leave the awkwardness behind.

The sound of plastic rustling filled the silence, only intensifying the tension. The cashier bagged their items with a practised, almost bored efficiency—as if this kind of transaction was the least exciting thing to happen all day.

Before Megumi could protest any further, a cloud of smoke from the cashier’s cigarette drifted in their direction. She didn’t even flinch.

“That’ll be 4250 yen, please,” she said lazily, still grinning, unfazed by the duo hacking their lungs out from the smoke.

Megumi quickly covered his mouth with his arm, pulling out his wallet with the sort of frantic haste only a person desperate to escape awkwardness can manage. He fumbled with his card, sliding it into the reader. The machine beeped.

Yn grabbed the bag in one swift motion, already on her way out of the store.

Megumi, looking flustered but relieved, gave a curt nod to the cashier before jogging after her, eager to leave the bizarre scene behind.

The cashier took another slow drag from her cigarette, her eyes following the two figures darting across the parking lot. She exhaled a thick plume of smoke, watching them with a detached amusement, tinged with something darker—something she didn’t care to name.

"Kids," she muttered to herself, shaking her head with a soft, resigned chuckle before turning her attention back to the magazine before her, as if it might shield her from whatever she couldn’t bear to witness.

—

The sharp click of shoes on wet concrete echoed in the cold night, piercing the stillness like a warning.

"Yn, please!" Megumi’s voice cracked, strained with exhaustion and desperation as he closed the gap between them.

Yn kept her head down, hands shoved deep into her pockets, the cold metal of the keys biting into her skin. Her pace quickened, heart racing as though the faster she moved, the less likely he would be able to reach her, to make her turn around. She couldn’t hear him. Not now. Not when everything she’d been holding back was on the edge of spilling over.

"Megumi, stop," she whispered, voice tight, trembling at the edges. "I already told you, I—"

Before she could finish, she felt his hand grip her wrist, pulling her to a halt. The sudden force of it made her breath catch, and for a moment, she was still trapped between the pull of his touch and the weight of her own resolve.

She looked at him, and everything inside her stilled.

His eyes weren’t the same. They were darker now, heavy with something deeper than she had ever seen in them before. No arrogance. No defiance. Only raw, unfiltered regret. Sadness. The kind that seemed to press in on his chest, making it hard to breathe, to think. He couldn’t meet her gaze for long; his eyes flickered to the ground, and for a moment, he looked like he might break. Like his whole world was about to shatter into a thousand pieces, right there on the wet pavement.

"Yn, please," he whispered, voice breaking, so full of pain it made her chest tighten. "I never meant any of it. What I said... it was so fucking stupid. I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lose you. I know... I know it’s selfish, asking you to stay, but I can’t... I can’t lose you. Please."

"Megumi, I—"

He cut her off, his voice hoarse, trembling with the weight of everything he hadn’t said before. "And I know you told me you weren’t ready for a relationship, and I’ve tried to understand that, to give you space. I’ve accepted it, even if it wasn’t easy. But..." His words faltered, and for a moment, he looked like he might swallow them back down, like they were too heavy for him to carry. But then he breathed in, steadying himself.

"But Yn... I would wait a thousand lifetimes for you. I would wait forever, if that’s what it took, because I want to be with you. I need to be with you. And not just because I miss you, or because I feel lost without you, but because... because, Yn, I want you. In a way I never thought I could want anyone."

He paused, the weight of his own confession sinking in, and when he spoke again, it was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the space between them with the quiet intensity of a truth he could no longer keep buried.

“So hate me all you want Yn, just please don’t shut me out. I’ve spent so much time thinking I could walk away, that I could let you go, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Not anymore."

His chest rose and fell with the effort of his words, like he was trying to catch his breath after running a race he didn’t even know he was in. His body trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer force of his emotions breaking through. His hand clenched at his side, his knuckles white, as if holding on to something he might lose if he let go. His eyes were fixed on hers, pleading without words, desperate without asking.

For the first time in a long time, there was no bravado, no walls between them. Only the quiet truth of a man who had finally realised that what he felt for her wasn’t something he could walk away from. And he was asking—no, begging—for her to see it, to feel it, too.

His grip on her wrist tightened, his fingers trembling. He looked away, unable to meet her eyes, as though the weight of his own guilt might crush him if he held her gaze for too long. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold back the torrent of emotion that was threatening to spill over, but it was there—raw, uncontained.

Yn exhaled, the weight of his words settling over her like a fog. She wanted to pull away, to shut herself off from him—everything inside her screaming for distance—but she couldn’t. Not with him standing there, broken, stripped bare in front of her.

She shook her head slowly, the words thick in her throat. "Megumi... I could never hate you." The confession hung in the air between them, fragile and heavy with everything they had left unsaid.

His eyes snapped back to hers, searching for something—anything—that would give him hope. And in that moment, when the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them, a single streetlight flickered above them, casting his face in a pale, golden halo. She froze. In that soft glow, she remembered. She remembered how he had always been beautiful—how she saw him for the first time underneath the lucent lights with his guitar, to the man standing in front of her carrying nothing but a bag of toothpaste and condoms. For a fleeting second, it felt like time had both stopped and rewound, all at once.

A fragile shift passed between them, unspoken but undeniable. His hand slipped from her wrist, fingers brushing lightly against her skin as if afraid to touch her too firmly, as if the very act of reaching for her might undo them both. But then, with no more hesitation, no more words to hold them back, he kissed her.

It wasn’t a kiss of anger, of apology, or even of reconciliation. It was everything—everything they’d held back, buried too deep for too long. The crash of everything unspoken, everything broken, everything still raw between them. It was the kiss they should have shared ages ago, but neither of them had been ready for. It was the space between their words—the silence that had stretched so long, finally, finally given form.

And in that kiss, there was no more distance. No more fear. No more hesitation. Just the weight of everything they hadn’t let go of, suddenly, impossibly, all at once.

extras!

• panda sent the ynmegumi gc a text like “plan in motion” so they all celebrated with a movie night (??)

• dunno know WHY they thought it would work

• it did so ig it’s okay…

• they knew their plan worked after ynmegumi turned their location sharing off LMFAOOOO

• shoko was definitely fan service for ree (are you reading this ree? are you?? are you?? did you like it??? do i get a kiss on the cheek?? do i??)

• but her working in the pharmacy isn’t THAT ooc so #cry

• she did not gaf about ynmegumi😭 she just let them have their moment

• brought her flashbacks to stsg gay asses #LetGodBeTrueQuickly🙌🙌

• yn wants to be main character soooo bad omfg girl give it up

• complete parking lot fight slash makeup scene cliché SUE ME

• btw they left the toothpaste out on the gravel for some reason so yn did in fact not get the stupid ass toothpaste

• got the condoms though😛😛😛

• yuta will definitely be questioning as to why they were open

• may or may not have done something not very sft in the car but hey!! you didn’t hear it from me…

a/n: aaaand we’re back!!! how’s everyone doing? good? okay? horrible? all three? same❤️ i hope this sufficed for taking a week off (i’m still in my shackles) this was probably my favourite chapter to write. gonna lie and say it didn’t make me teary eyed towards the end… champagne coast being the recommended song of the week even though it was a gag for the first chapter is a full circle moment. a bit of tzc reeferences sprinkled in the chapter bc i love those girls to death (even though mitch gave up on chapter 2… she didn’t even make it to lesbian digresser… #shitfriendmoment😒) ANYWAYS enjoy and see you guys tmr!! <3

taglist: @shokosbunny @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @sluttkuna @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm @syxoki

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

328 notes · View notes

starlightshadowsworld · 2 days ago

Text

Concept: Jason and Leo are the ones to fall into Tartarus.

To storm or fire they both will fall.

Jason’s trying so hard, fighting against the pull of Tartarus to fly them to the ship. But Jason’s already tired and Tartarus is so much stronger then him.

Leo’s terrified but smiles anyway and tells Jason it’s okay. Jason releases his power and goes limp in his arms.

He tells Percy to keep an eye on everyone as they both plummet.

Leo using his fire to light a way and keeping them both warm. He makes a makeshift shelter and is relieved when his tool belt has some first aid supplies.

His jokes become more and more flat the longer they’re down there.

But Jason laughs every time.

Jason falls back on what he learned in the Wolf House. He patrols the area and his sword is covered with dust. He doesn’t let go of his sword even when there’s no monsters around.

There’s a tiredness that hangs over him but Jason can’t sleep. Leo wants to say something but he can’t either. Sometimes he thinks he’s weighing Jason down.

And then Jason wraps his arms around him and in a heartbreaking whisper says I’m glad I have you.

Leo goes to the Phlegethon to heal them both. It does the job but has the unintended effect of bringing back Jason’s memories. It’s a relief but there’s a new kind of pain that comes with the Romans betrayal.

Leo tries to apologise for that but Jason won’t let him.

It also erases the false memories Hera gave them both. And they resolve to make new ones when they get out.

“You know I’d kill for one of your tacos right now.”

“Yeah? Let me sleep for a millennia and I’ll make you one.”

Also the rest of the seven are trying to figure out how to fly the ship and do all the things they need.

And realising huh maybe we shouldn’t have given Leo so much shit.

#leo valdez #jason grace #valgrace #heroes of olympus

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hedwig221b · 3 days ago

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Witch or magical Stiles recs..?

Hi! I did magical!Stiles fic recs here! This time, let's focus on witch!Stiles (my beloved)

A Thousand Fiery Suns of Angst - Just Press Play by apocryphal

All Stiles wants from life is to learn to control his magic, keep his grades up, and not die horribly while saving Beacon Hills from supernatural threats. It's all going pretty well until Derek Hale, werewolf extraordinaire, has to go and ask him on a date. That asshole.

The Wolf in the Tower by exclamation

Too many people are scared of witches so when Stiles accidentally sets a building on fire with magic, he is taken prisoner and dragged before Lord Hale. Rather than leave an untrained magic user free, Peter Hale thinks he might be able to make use of Stiles' skills and hands Stiles over to his sorceror Deaton to be trained. Stiles is still unsure about his future, but he's even more confused when he finds out that one of his new duties involves feeding the black wolf imprisoned at the top of one of the towers. There's something very strange about this wolf and Stiles can't help wondering if magic might be involved.

Dead Things by standinginanicedress

Derek blows some more smoke out. He chooses to look at Stiles’ mouth instead of in his eyes, again. “I need you to bring someone back.” “Back.” “From the dead.” “Absolutely not,” Stiles scoffs, shaking his head. “Not for you, not for all the money in the world.” Derek looks at him, just looks. He is not going to accept no for an answer, and Stiles knows it, but it doesn’t matter, because Stiles will not do that. He cannot do that, not again. “Why not for me in specific?”

For My Flesh Had Turned to Fur, and My Thoughts Had Turned to You by literaryoblivion

They’ve known about the other pack for quite some time now. They know the pack is young and small, formed together more by accident and necessity than anything else. But, they haven’t done anything about them because they’ve been fairly quiet, kept to themselves, and haven’t caused any trouble. That is until the Hales start hearing rumors about the McCall pack acquiring a very young and inexperienced but powerful witch. So Alpha Hale sends her eldest son, Derek, for all intents and purposes, to spy on the McCall pack and their so-called witch, to see what the truth of the situation is.

The Ink Under My Skin by rainsoakedshoes

Derek is looking for an Emissary. What he finds is Stiles Stilinski; resident witch. Stiles would do whatever it takes to protect the Hale pack and his Alpha. “I want to protect my pack as well as I can,” Derek continued. “Emissaries traditionally keep balance, having someone who wants to tip the odds in our favour may come in handy.”

Destiny is the Rising Sun by asswords

Stiles and Derek are best at keeping secrets – the biggest one being the fact that they knew each other long before Scott had to go and become a werewolf. (The second biggest secret belongs to Stiles, something about how he’s not allowed to tell Derek he’s the trusted advisor and kind of a witch.)

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles. He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough. He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower. Witches didn’t get happy endings.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation by grimm

There's something weird about Beacon Hills that Stiles can't quite put his finger on. The way everyone in town knows his name the day he arrives. The way they insist the melancholic howling that echoes through the forest every night is just a dog. The way his dad denies getting a dog, even though Stiles comes home to find one sprawled across his bed, some big black thing whose eyes gleam red in the right light. The way that massive oak tree out in the woods vibrates under his touch, pulsing with sickly life. There's something weird going on in this town, and Stiles is determined to get to the bottom of it.

These Scars Tell A Story (But It’s Not Mine) by HappyJuicyfruit

Derek’s eyes widened in confusion as Stiles babbled at him. “I know it’s not up to you, but you’re like, my guard, right? You’ve been keeping an eye on me? Tell your mom I wouldn’t lie about this, my dad deserves to stay here. He’s happy here, please let him stay!” Guard? Keeping an eye on him? “Stiles, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stiles face crumpled, his hands clung to Derek’s shirt tighter as tears and snot dripped off his chin. Derek frantically tries to think of the right thing to say. “You think- you think I’m your guard? That I’ve been watching you to, what, make sure you don’t do any magic? Stiles, that’s ridiculous. Beacon Hills is a sanctuary for supernaturals. We allow people to use their magic. I was just trying to be your friend.” Stiles breath hitched. “My friend?”

#sterek #sterek fic #stiles x derek #eternal sterek #sterek fanfic #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fanfiction #sterek fic rec #teen wolf fic #teen wolf fanfic #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fic rec #derek x stiles #teen wolf stiles #teen wolf derek #hedwig221b replies #anon asks

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nadvs · 2 days ago

Text

　　　⊹　❀　︵　∘　 destined ⟢

pairing singledad! zach maclaren x nanny! female reader

summary after you find out you’re pregnant, you tell zach and prepare to share the news together.

this is a continuation blurb of this two-shot! requested by anon.

You impatiently check the time on your phone again. It’s been fourteen minutes since you sat down in the private room at the doctor’s office.

Your eyes travel over the lockscreen photo from your wedding half a year ago. In the captured moment, Zach is holding Ella. Her left arm is around her father’s shoulders and her right is around yours.

Her poofy dress is sparkling under the warm banquet hall lights, her smile just as big as yours and Zach’s.

You’d done a lot of happy crying that day, but a moment after the photo was taken, you’d never had tears of joy quite like this.

Ella had run off after the shutter of the photographer’s camera and Zach pulled you in by the waist, his lips soft against your cheek, murmuring just loud enough to be heard over the music and people dancing around you, “You know what she asked me this morning?”

“What?”

“Since I get to call you my wife, if she can call you her mommy.”

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, tearing up as he held you tighter. She had just turned seven years old and still didn’t talk about her biological mother all that much. She also hadn’t called you anything other than your name.

Zach had told you he’d be comfortable with it if Ella grew to want to call you her mom. You’d told him you’d be, too, but that you hoped she didn’t think you were ever trying to replace anyone.

“Really?” you said, your hand over your heart. “What’d you say?”

“I said she can,” he replied. You pulled back to meet his eyes, beaming up at him, almost in disbelief that three years ago, you’d knocked on his door for the first time. You could have never known the turn your life would take.

“You love her like she’s yours,” he said, his eyes glossy, “and she loves you the same way. I’m so happy she has you.”

You squeezed his hand. He’d already reassured you many times that you weren’t taking the place of Ella’s mother or being a substitution for what she lost. Instead, you’re an addition to their lives.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he said. The tears he was trying to hold back fell from his eyes and he chuckled defeatedly. “Who’s cried more today, do you think?”

“I’d say it’s even,” you said with a laugh.

The door opening pulls you out of the memory. You meet the doctor’s eyes, your heart thrumming.

You and Zach had been trying for a baby for four months now. You didn’t even have to ask Ella what she thought about gaining a sibling. She’d been asking for one for a long time now.

After a string of failed attempts, you prefer not to tell Zach every time you take a test. You can see the disappointment in his eyes, no matter how hard he tries to hide it behind a gentle, “The baby just wants to make us wait.”

A couple of nights ago, when the home test you secretly took showed two lines, you booked a blood test to be sure. The doctor starts her sentence with Congratulations and you exhale a shaky breath of relief.

────୨ৎ────

Later that day, you’re folding laundry in the living room while Ella’s at school. Zach gets home from an early practice and beams when he sees you, dropping his bag on the floor.

“Hi, baby,” he says. “How are you?”

“Good. How was training?”

“I’m getting old,” he chuckles, stretching his arms over his head. You laugh.

Zach had already decided that after eight years, this is his last season professionally playing. He was offered a position on the coaching team after he told his managers he’d be resigning. He’s ready to slow down, to work a job that doesn’t have such a high risk of injury, to have more time for his family.

He sits next to you, takes the t-shirt out of your hands, folds it and then puts it on the stack on the table so that you’re free to hug him. You giggle as he leans forward and pushes you back against the couch. He’s hovering over you, his cheek pressed on yours as he hugs you, smelling like his body wash.

Zach lives for these simple moments. Getting home to you, holding you, grounding himself and reminding himself that this is what life is about.

“Hey, how’s your day look six Mondays from now?” you ask.

“That’s specific,” he laughs. “I’ll have to check. Why?”

“I’d prefer it if you came to the ultrasound with me.”

He pulls back, searching your face in awe.

“What?” he whispers. “Are you… What?”

“I am,” you laugh, tears building in your eyes, stroking his soft hair.

“When did you…?”

“This morning,” you say. “I didn’t want to tell you in case it came back negative.”

“I’m…” Zach doesn’t have words. He leans forward, gently pressing his lips against yours, shuffling quickly so he doesn’t put any weight on you.

“It’s okay,” you laugh. “You won’t break us.”

“Us,” he repeats happily, his voice cracking. He looks down at your stomach, gently putting his hand on you. “It’s okay that you made us wait,” he whispers to the baby. “I already know you were worth it. Are you being gentle with your mom?”

He looks up at you, a flash of concern washing over his awestruck face.

“I’m a little more tired than usual,” you say. “But nothing crazy yet.”

“I can’t believe it,” Zach sighs. He sniffles, his heart racing with happiness as his eyes fill with tears. “I can’t believe it.”

“I know,” you breathe. “Me, neither. We can give her the book soon.”

Zach smiles. He’d bought a children’s book a few months back about becoming a big sister for when it was time to tell Ella a baby was on the way.

Having known you for nearly four years now, he was already well aware of how pure your heart is. But the fact that your first thought is to tell Ella is yet another reminder of how you’ve always seen yourself as not only sharing your life with him, but with her, too.

“Gonna be hard not to do it right away,” he says.

“Do you have any idea how hard these last three hours have been?” you laugh. “I couldn’t wait to tell you. But we’ll share the news with her after the first trimester. To be safe.”

“Of course,” he agrees, cupping your face and pulling you in for another tender kiss.

────୨ৎ────

By the three month mark, your appetite has grown and fatigue has hit you hard. When the day comes to tell Ella, you’re bursting with excitement to tell her the news.

After dinner, you sit on the couch, already used to Zach quietly telling you to sit down and not do any housework.

Ella’s doing homework at the coffee table as you help. You gaze at her as she concentrates on her writing and remember the four-year-old she was when you first walked into this house.

She’s nearly eight now and still has so many of the qualities you’d first noticed about her. She’s energetic and loves conversation and never hesitates to show affection.

Zach comes in from cleaning up after dinner and raises his eyebrows at you, discreetly holding the book. You nod to confirm you’re ready, nervous.

He sits next to you, taking one last moment to look at you and at his daughter, accepting that this is the last moment the three of you will have like this. His family is growing now, and it feels like his heart is, too.

“Is it two R’s? Or one?” Ella mumbles, the pencil in her hand. She looks up when you don’t answer, too busy trying not to cry as you watch her. “Are you okay, mommy?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m okay. Can you sit with us for a moment?”

Ella nods, running towards you. Zach stops her in his arms before she lands too close to you. You laugh, having already told him privately that she’s never rough enough to hurt the baby, but he can’t be too careful.

“I have a book for you,” Zach says, kissing Ella on the temple as she sits between you. “Can you tell me what you think?”

He hands her the purple hardcover.

“What’s it called?” you ask.

“Big Sisters Are The Best,” she reads. She curiously opens the page, gazing over the illustrations of a little girl with a baby.

“Thank you,” she says politely. “I’ll tell my friend Kaley about this book. Maybe she can borrow it. She’s a big sister.”

You chuckle, meeting Zach’s eyes. He rubs Ella’s back and tells her, “You’re going to be a big sister, too, honey.”

Ella’s gaze darts up to him, then to you, then back again.

“Really?” she says. Zach’s face brightens with endearment, eyes growing shiny with tears.

“Really?” she repeats, looking at you.

“Really,” you say, putting a hand over your stomach. “That��s why I keep going back for seconds at dinner lately. There’s a baby in here making me extra hungry.”

Ella stands up, unable to contain her happiness, jumping up and down in her spot a few times before wrapping you into a hug. You laugh as she wiggles in your arms.

Zach wipes his eyes, still unsure of what he did to deserve this sort of happiness. It’s like he’s in another world, experiencing a type of joy reserved specifically for him.

“This is the best day ever,” she says. “And you’re the best mommy ever and daddy’s the best daddy ever.”

“He is,” you agree, looking at him with pure love.

────୨ৎ────

“You’re such a girl dad,” you say amusedly when you go into Ella’s bedroom.

Zach’s sitting on the floor as Ella adds what looks like the twentieth clip in his hair, while he holds Olivia, who’s happily ripping up a piece of paper.

He smiles at you gratefully. Your one-year-old is exactly how Ella was at that age. Curious, smiley, and eager to make messes wherever she can. He knows you’re technically a blended family, but it has never felt like that.

“Ella, can you do mine next?” you ask.

“After Olivia,” she says happily. “I told her she’s next and I have to keep my promise.”

“Of course,” you say. “She’s lucky to have such a nice big sister.”

“Ebba,” Olivia babbles.

“Ella,” Ella corrects. You laugh. It feels like yesterday, you’d just met her and Zach, and he was correcting her on how she’d called him the bestest. Now, she’s growing before your eyes, already so mature and well-mannered.

“But Ebba’s okay,” Ella says with a smile. She leans to give her little sister a kiss on the forehead, earning a giggle from her, clapping for more.

You sit on the floor next to Zach, squeezing his knee lovingly as your daughters laugh together. He takes your hand and brings it up to kiss the back of it.

“And to think,” you joke, “we wouldn’t be here if I bombed my interview.”

Zach laughs, shaking his head as he kisses your hand again.

“No,” he says. “This is how life was meant to be. You would have found us, no matter what. I know it.”

You grin at him, nodding in agreement.

Sitting here with his wife and daughters is the definition of destiny. Zach knows deep in his soul that he was always fated to be right here, with his heart split between three beautiful girls.

(the end)

if you enjoy a fic, reblogging is the best way to thank and support the writer!

#zach maclaren and you #zach maclaren and y/n #zach maclaren and reader #zach maclaren x you #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren x reader

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