#good. I'll rest and draw again in peace

[yuseirra]

It's so weird. I keep listening to Fatal and this guy loves Ai so much. It's still something I can interpret as love, and is this the right way feel about it? Why do I still feel like Ai's chosen the one that'd treasure her when I'm so stern about moral values and feel like someone who's done wrong should be sufficiently punished in fiction if needed? Why do I still feel this isn't that unhealthy? This feels like intense longing from someone who's so lonely and hurt driven to the point of being utterly broken?

He misses her so bad. It's so painful. What is the point of making an originally good person like him suffer so bad? This is wrong. That's so horrible. It feels really bad... I sense these enormous, overwhelming feelings, and I'm still not sure if I can dismiss this only as pure insanity because this happened because he really did care about Ai. Is it that it's got overridden and taken advantage of? Fatal is so weird because that whole song screams.. of this feeling of becoming tainted and madness, the whole melody feels like it; yeah, I can see that, but..

I actually see what the story is doing as a whole. I think I have a good idea of how this is going to be wrapped up and why they made this choice, but as I always say, I'm not the one responsible for forming the story and having crafted these characters so I can't say it for sure.

If what I anticipate does come true, then this can be a really meaningful piece of work. I want to believe in that. But it's so hard to hold out on that and see these pointless sufferings in the process. Aqua's hate should not have been directed at this guy. This character...I think he needs love. If just one person was kind enough to him, he could have lived with that, and he just didn't have that, it's so unfair.

I think I can sense what this character is feeling you see, it's what's made me draw so much about him and Ai,

in that case, I see why the writers and staff cared enough for him to give him two songs, but if I'm wrong on this, I just don't know.

I think I will have the answers.. by December? I hope so.

I would like to believe in my feelings and go on because, in terms of feelings, I know what this is, what's being displayed doesn't entirely make sense, the only consistent things I can read about this character are the feelings and his state is really, really, really bad. They are so depressed on the near verge of death, they are so weak... If someone is feeling this despaired, maybe they can turn into something different but I'm not sure about that, I can't determine that, I need more information to piece things together, but I can say, this is a really huge feeling they're feeling, and I sense a lot of sorrow. It's so weird...

It's different from what I feel from seeing the comic, you know. You know how sometimes you act and you feel the sort of feeling your role may feel. Or when you read a work and you can get a sense of what a character may feel. I've been good with these. It's what I rely on...this sounds really dumb, I know, but... I feel really sad when I try to match up my feelings with what this guy may feel. With this level of sadness... I just don't know what to make of him but it's really reasonable for him to have this sort of feeling too, since someone who cared for died. They don't exist anymore... can I even sympathize with him? Am I supposed to? It's not.. actually insanity I feel as the core, it's sadness. Everything he does seems to stem out from that sort of feeling, "sorrow" is his core. so I can't help feeling pity when he's this... horrible mess right now. But what did he even do? we never even got to see that. Why is he like this? It's actually really painful to try and sync up with him, I do that when I draw characters, and I had to back out several times from getting too deep because it hurts. I'm adjusting my level of doing this with this character time to time because what he's going through is really intense. The same with other characters in this comic, had this happen with Aqua and Ai too, that's why I'm so impressed with how this comic builds its characters, the characters in this manga are suffering internally so realistically, you can actually feel their emotions if you try really hard haha. It makes it really intriguing, that's how I was drawn to it in the first place. Do you have these things happen to you, do? I certainly cannot be the only way who has this happen, I am sure!

The reason I keep talking about him is because. the information that is presented doesn't connect with each other.

Still I feel like I can sense what Ai saw in this guy. Then he should be saved; I want that to happen. And if the way I see it is correct, it actually will happen. I don't know how but by the end of the series, it will. I sound like I have little base, don't I? but I'm usually right with these, I had something like this happen lots of times, so I think-and hope-I'm being so this time as well!

[kiwriteswords]

You can hear it in the silence [Aaron Hotchner x Reader]

Masterlist|| Ao3||Word Count: 5k|| AN: After the gifset, I needed to play around with storyline! I tried to remain as sensitive to the topic as possible, so I hope it is seen as an exploration into Hotch's characterization and not as an attempt to glorify or mislead anyone on the topic! Tags/Warnings: female reader, hearing loss, hard of hearing, Hotch losing his hearing, spoilers to season 4, hearing aid, age gap, established relationship, mentions of sexual themes, canon typical themes Summary: As Hotch struggles with gradual hearing loss from an old injury, you stand by him through his stubborn pride and hidden vulnerability, guiding him gently toward acceptance, healing, and a deeper love.

You tucked your legs beneath you, sinking into the plush corner of Hotch's sofa. Warm, golden lamplight spilled across the room, softening the otherwise sharp angles of his apartment. 

There was something intimately peaceful about the quiet--

The muffled rush of cars passing outside, a faint echo of jazz filtering from his speakers, and the occasional tap-tap-tap of raindrops against the window.

He stood near the kitchen, sleeves rolled carefully to his elbows as he stirred the simmering sauce, the spicy, hearty aroma drifting pleasantly toward you. 

Watching him cook was an indulgent pleasure you'd grown quietly attached to. Hotch cooking felt both endearingly domestic and intensely personal, a side of him few had ever glimpsed.

He glanced up and caught you staring, and you didn't look away. Instead, you raised your eyebrows slightly, a playful smirk ghosting your lips.

"What?" His mouth curled into a soft smile, his dark eyes glinting in quiet amusement.

"Nothing," you teased gently, resting your chin in your palm. "Just admiring the view."

He chuckled softly--

A rare sound, warm and rich. 

The low hum vibrated pleasantly across your skin, drawing heat to your cheeks. "Dinner will be ready soon. Think you can survive until then?"

"I think I'll manage," you replied, stretching lazily and shifting your gaze toward the bookshelf behind him. "But it wouldn't kill you to hurry up. I'm starving."

"Careful," he said, deadpan but with unmistakable warmth, "I might be tempted to slow down just to teach you patience."

You hummed lightly in response, content in the easy banter. Moments like these--

Unhurried. Quiet.

They made everything else disappear. 

With Aaron, you felt profoundly safe. 

Secure, in a way you'd scarcely dared hope was possible.

Hotch turned slightly away, and you watched curiously as he tilted his head just slightly, brows knitting in brief confusion. 

It was subtle--

A momentary lapse in his carefully composed expression.

"Everything okay?" you asked gently, your voice cutting through the silence.

He straightened, expression immediately smoothing over, shoulders squaring. "Fine. Thought I heard something."

You studied him quietly, unconvinced but choosing not to press. 

Yet, somewhere deep in your chest, a faint unease flickered. It wasn't the first time you'd caught him reacting that way--

Tilting his head. Eyes briefly distracted as if straining to listen to something faint or far away.

You pushed the concern aside, smiling softly instead. "You know, if you're losing interest in my excellent company, you can just say so."

His mouth tugged upward again, but his eyes remained slightly guarded. "Never."

"Good," you breathed softly, allowing your playful tone to smooth away the subtle tension lingering in the air. "Because you're stuck with me."

He moved closer, placing two bowls carefully onto the coffee table, the steam drifting upward, mingling with the cool air. He eased onto the sofa beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. 

Warmth radiated from him-- 

Soft and reassuring. 

You reached instinctively for his hand, feeling the slight roughness of his skin as his fingers wove through yours.

He lifted his free hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing tenderly across your cheekbone. His eyes held yours, the intensity in his gaze making your breath hitch. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Your heart fluttered, breath stuttering for a moment as his quiet, sincere words settled deep in your chest. You gently squeezed his hand, leaning into his touch, savoring the moment.

Yet, despite the tender exchange, a quiet, uneasy feeling lingered--

His brief moment of hesitation from earlier replaying in your mind. 

You'd noticed it happening more frequently: moments where Hotch seemed to drift, as if missing parts of conversations, his gaze slightly distracted. 

You remembered briefly overhearing something from Rossi years ago--

A cautious conversation mentioning something about the explosion Hotch had endured, how doctors had warned of hearing loss over time.

How, per usual, he didn’t follow orders, and it bothered him from time to time. And how, most of all, he’d never admit it. 

The BAU briefing room buzzed gently with early-morning energy. 

JJ and Penelope stood confidently at the front, flipping smoothly through photos and maps projected onto the screen. Beside you, Emily scribbled quietly into a notepad, while Morgan drummed his fingers softly against the table, eyes focused forward. Rossi looked less than entertained watching the slides unfold, and Spencer was rambling on about something. 

You settled comfortably into your usual seat, your thigh subtly pressed against Hotch’s beneath the table--

A quiet intimacy in the bright, professional atmosphere.

Hotch sat beside you, posture rigid but composed, pen poised over his yellow legal pad. His suit jacket was neatly buttoned, every hair meticulously in place, but the slight crease between his brows told you something was troubling him.

Occasionally, his knee pressed gently back into yours, wordlessly reassuring, even as he kept his eyes fixed on JJ and Penelope.

JJ tapped the screen softly, her voice measured and clear. "Local PD found another victim early this morning in Annapolis. Same MO: blunt force trauma, wrists bound, no defensive wounds. The unsub is cautious, controlled--clearly experienced."

You glanced at Hotch, noting how his gaze flickered briefly down, brow furrowing deeper, jaw tightening ever so slightly. The subtle shift in his expression was fleeting but unmistakable.

Penelope continued smoothly, gesturing to the screen, voice steady but quiet as she explained something more about the latest victim. Her age, occupation, and the location where she'd been found. 

Yet Hotch’s eyes narrowed, head tilting minutely toward his right shoulder, almost imperceptibly angling his ear toward Penelope’s voice.

Something twisted softly in your chest--

An echo of that vague, uncomfortable worry from days before.

"So we're thinking he's escalating?" Emily asked, pen poised mid-note.

JJ nodded slowly. "Yes. At this rate, the window between kills will shorten. If we don't catch him now--"

She stopped suddenly when Hotch cut in, voice clipped but uncertain, betraying an uncharacteristic hesitation. "Wait, JJ--repeat what you said before."

The room fell quiet, eyes briefly flicking toward Hotch. JJ recovered quickly, professionally smoothing over the awkward pause. "The unsub is escalating. The gap between each kill is narrowing, and we anticipate he'll strike again soon."

"Right," Hotch said stiffly, his eyes flickering down briefly to his notes, cheeks faintly flushed with something--embarrassment, frustration, maybe both. "Continue."

Your stomach twisted slightly. Beneath the table, you subtly shifted your knee, gently nudging his in quiet reassurance. Hotch responded almost unconsciously, nudging back, his hand tightening around the pen.

Morgan’s eyes flickered briefly toward you, then Hotch, expression unreadable but concerned. You pretended not to notice, instead focusing intently on Penelope’s continued briefing. 

Your mind, however, lingered uneasily on Hotch’s brief lapse. 

Was it becoming more frequent, or were you just now noticing how often he seemed to miss bits of conversation?

Penelope wrapped up, clicking off the projector as she gathered her files. Chairs scraped softly against the carpeted floor as the team stood, quietly murmuring. 

Emily and Morgan moved toward the door, and Rossi paused to speak with JJ in low, quiet tones. Spencer shuffled out behind with his files and book. 

You stood slowly, eyes lingering briefly on Hotch as he remained seated, focused intently on his notes, frustration radiating faintly from the set of his shoulders. 

The room had emptied around you both, leaving you together in silence, the quiet hum of electronics filling the tense space.

You moved carefully closer, gently leaning a hip against the edge of the table near him. "Hey," you said softly, voice deliberately casual.

He didn’t immediately respond, still staring down at the legal pad, jaw tight. Then, finally, he exhaled softly, looking up at you with carefully guarded eyes. "I missed something important."

Your heart tightened at the quiet frustration in his tone. "It happens," you said gently, attempting to ease his tension. "You've got a lot on your plate."

Hotch's mouth tightened briefly, clearly resisting the reassurance. "No, I--" He hesitated, shaking his head slightly, eyes briefly drifting downward. "This is different."

Your chest ached at the quiet admission. You reached instinctively toward his hand, your fingertips grazing softly against his knuckles. 

"Aaron," you began softly, voice gentle yet firm. "If something’s going on, you know you can talk to me."

He glanced up sharply, eyes intense, briefly clouded with vulnerability, embarrassment, fear--

Emotions he rarely let you see so plainly. 

Then he swallowed, clearing his expression quickly, forcing the careful neutrality back into place. "It's nothing. I'm just tired."

You hesitated, knowing he was holding back, but recognizing the stubborn tilt of his chin--

The silent, firm resolve behind his eyes. 

Pressing further right now wouldn’t help.

"Okay," you whispered softly instead, your thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. "But I'm here when you're ready to talk."

Hotch met your eyes again, quiet gratitude softening the hard lines of his face. He squeezed your hand gently, silent acknowledgment passing between you both. 

For a moment, you simply stood together, the quiet tension slowly dissolving into something warmer, gentler.

Yet, beneath that warmth, a quiet worry lingered--

Because despite his reassurance, you could sense something deeper brewing, 

Something difficult. 

Painful. 

That Hotch wasn't yet willing to face.

And something, you feared, that might soon be impossible to ignore.

The air was thick with tension, humidity clinging to your skin, pressing in like a tangible weight. It was late afternoon, but thick, gray clouds made the sky heavy, draping the crime scene in muted, eerie twilight. Tall grass swayed gently around the abandoned farmhouse, whispering secrets with every subtle breeze.

You moved cautiously, weapon drawn, heart steady but pulse thundering quietly in your ears. 

Morgan was ahead of you, shoulder pressed against the worn, splintered wood of the house's side wall. Hotch stood just to your right, face etched with sharp determination, jaw clenched tightly as he raised his gun.

"Hotch," Morgan hissed urgently, voice tight with anxiety, one hand held up cautiously, signaling you all to halt. "Stand back--there’s movement inside!"

Your eyes shot quickly to Hotch, stomach tightening painfully as he continued forward, seemingly oblivious to Morgan’s hushed warning. 

His eyes narrowed, searching the shadows of the building's interior through a cracked window.

Your voice caught in your throat, your heart suddenly seizing in panic.

Then, in a rush, everything unfolded at once. A shadow moved sharply inside. The unmistakable glint of metal flashed--

A barrel aiming directly toward Hotch. 

Fear surged through you. 

Hot and immediate.

"Hotch, down!" you shouted desperately, lunging toward him. 

You collided roughly, shoulder meeting his chest, shoving him forcefully out of the way. His body hit the ground beneath you, solid and warm even as the sharp crack of gunfire echoed violently through the humid air.

Splitting your ears with a painful roar.

You lay there, breathless, heart slamming against your ribs, your body shielding his as silence suddenly descended--

Heavy, deafening.

Then beneath you, Hotch shifted abruptly, groaning in evident pain. You scrambled off quickly, eyes immediately scanning him for injury, chest heaving in sharp, panicked breaths.

"Aaron," you gasped, voice strained, searching his tense expression urgently. "Are you hit?"

He shook his head, teeth clenched hard, eyes squeezed shut briefly, brows knitted together tightly. "No, it's--I’m fine," he rasped, clearly anything but.

A flicker of raw agony danced briefly across his features as he pushed himself up onto one elbow, jaw tense. He winced visibly, a hand instinctively pressing against his ear--

The injured one. The one from the explosion all those years ago.

You watched helplessly, fear tightening your chest as Morgan rushed closer, his voice filled with concern. "Hotch, man, you didn't hear me?"

Hotch's eyes snapped up sharply, dark and defensive, embarrassment and frustration flickering just beneath their surface. "I heard you," he lied tightly, voice strained, glancing toward the farmhouse. "It's nothing."

Morgan's jaw tightened, unconvinced. "Doesn't look like nothing."

Hotch shot him a sharp look, face rigid, pushing himself onto his feet with visible effort. He swayed briefly, fingers still pressed tightly against his injured ear. 

You gently grasped his elbow, steadying him, your pulse racing beneath your fingertips as you felt the slight tremble in his frame.

"Aaron," you whispered, your voice filled with quiet urgency, desperate for him to listen. "You need to--"

"Later," he cut you off. Sharply. Voice hoarse, and frustration evident but hidden beneath firm authority. "Let's clear the house first."

You bit your lip, stomach churning in helpless worry, but nodded silently, acknowledging his need to regain control. You stepped back, forcing yourself to refocus, feeling the warmth of Hotch’s gaze linger briefly, heavy with gratitude and quiet vulnerability he wasn’t ready to voice.

As Hotch moved past you toward Morgan, Rossi appeared suddenly beside you, his eyes quietly intense with a knowing look. "He's getting worse."

Your chest tightened painfully, and your voice dropped to a careful whisper. "He won’t admit it."

Rossi exhaled quietly, his gaze following Hotch's tense movements as he tried to regain composure. "Eventually, he'll have to."

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of unspoken fear settle deep in your bones. Your gaze stayed locked on Hotch, noting the slight wince he couldn’t fully hide each time a sound echoed too loudly, each sharp voice crackling through the radios.

Quietly, privately, you worried--

More afraid now than you'd ever been. 

Afraid not only of what this meant for his job.

But more painfully, of what it meant for the man you loved so fiercely and the future you had quietly hoped you'd share.

You exhaled shakily, gripping your weapon tighter, forcing back the quiet, fearful ache in your chest. 

Because right now, he needed your strength. 

Your steadiness. 

Your silence.

The lights in your apartment were dim, casting comforting shadows across the room. Rain fell softly outside, droplets tapping gently against the windowpane, offering a quiet rhythm that ordinarily would soothe--

But tonight, tension hung thickly in the air.

Stubbornly resistant to any comfort.

Hotch sat silently at the edge of your bed, shoulders slumped forward, head bowed low, fingers clasped tightly in front of him. 

His tie was loosened carelessly, his usually crisp shirt wrinkled from restless movements. You watched quietly from the doorway, your heart aching sharply at the sight--

This towering, steady presence in your life suddenly appeared unbearably…small.

You approached carefully, your steps nearly silent across the carpet. "Aaron?"

His eyes lifted slowly, dark and heavy with exhaustion and something else--

Something raw, 

Fragile.

Something you'd never seen before. 

You gently sank down beside him, your knee softly brushing his thigh, offering a quiet, grounding comfort.

"Talk to me," you whispered, your voice carefully steady despite the tightness in your throat. "Please."

For a long moment, he said nothing, his jaw tight, the muscles beneath his skin tense as he struggled to gather words. When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, thick with emotion he struggled to suppress.

"I couldn't hear him," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly. "Jack...he stood up there, proud and excited, and I couldn't hear. a. single. word."

Your chest tightened painfully at the vulnerable confession, your fingers instinctively reaching for his hand. Gently lacing your fingers through his. 

His hand trembled faintly in yours, and that subtle movement sent an aching, helpless pang through you.

"The ringing," he continued quietly, his voice shaking subtly beneath its calm exterior. "The pain...it won't stop. It's constant. I can't sleep. I can't focus. I've missed things at work, important things--and now..." He swallowed tightly, eyes falling closed briefly as he inhaled sharply. "Now it's stealing moments with my son."

He shook his head bitterly, frustration and shame mingling in his eyes as he refused to meet your gaze. "I ignored it. I thought I could handle it. The doctors warned me after the explosion. Told me this could happen eventually, but I thought--"

"Aaron," you breathed, squeezing his hand gently, desperate to ease the pain radiating from every tense muscle. "This isn't your fault. You couldn't have known it would come this quickly."

"I ignored every sign," he interrupted sharply, voice thick with self-directed anger. "I was too stubborn, too proud. And now--now it’s costing me things I can't get back."

The admission fell heavily between you, laden with quiet agony. 

You moved closer, turning slightly so your knee pressed more firmly against his thigh, desperate to offer comfort. 

Grounding. 

Anything to ease the pain that radiated from him in palpable wavves.

"You can't change what's happened, you whispered, carefully choosing each word, voice gentle but unwavering. "But you can still take steps forward. Let me help you, Aaron. Please."

He finally turned, meeting your gaze fully, eyes vulnerable, haunted by embarrassment and shame he struggled deeply to hide. 

His voice was barely audible, weighted with a defeat you'd never imagined possible from him. "I've never felt so powerless."

Your heart shattered quietly at those words, the painful honesty behind them overwhelming you with tenderness and sorrow. 

Your hand lifted instinctively, gently cupping his cheek, thumb softly tracing the sharp line of his jaw.

"You aren't powerless, you murmured, voice quietly fierce, unwavering in conviction. "And you're not alone. You never will be, as long as I'm here."

He exhaled softly, leaning subtly into your touch, eyes falling shut for a moment, surrendering briefly to the quiet solace of your closeness. When his eyes reopened, they were softer, the rawness replaced by something tender and grateful.

"I don't deserve you," he whispered, voice cracking gently.

You shook your head softly, heart aching fiercely at the vulnerability of his words. "You deserve far more than you'll ever let yourself believe."

Slowly, cautiously, Aaron leaned forward, pressing his forehead gently against yours. Your breath caught, chest tight with emotion as you absorbed the quiet weight of this moment--

His quiet surrender, his trust, his raw vulnerability laid bare.

"I'm scared," he finally admitted softly, voice barely above a whisper.

You closed your eyes briefly, fingers threading softly through his hair, grounding yourself as much as him in the intimacy of this moment. "Then let me be brave enough for both of us," you whispered firmly, gently brushing your thumb across his temple.

You felt the faint tremble ripple through him, the quiet surrender as his walls slowly cracked further open. He drew in a shaky breath, nodding subtly against your forehead, quietly allowing himself--perhaps for the first time--to rely entirely on someone else.

And as you sat quietly beside him, holding tightly onto the man who'd always seemed unshakably strong, you silently vowed you'd help him rebuild what he'd lost. 

Piece by piece. 

No matter how long it took.

The doctor's office was pristine and starkly clinical-- 

A sharp contrast to the warmth and comfort of your home. 

You sat beside Hotch, gently leaning your shoulder against his as you waited. He had tried earlier to insist that you didn't need to come--had tried to spare you the burden--but you'd met his protests with a quiet, unwavering smile.

"I'm going with you, Aaron. End of discussion."

He hadn't argued further. 

He knew better. 

Now, sitting quietly beside you in the bright room, Hotch’s knee bounced anxiously, the steady rhythm betraying the nervousness he carefully concealed. 

You reached over quietly, fingers finding his, weaving together in quiet reassurance. His grip tightened immediately, as though your touch alone kept him grounded.

The door opened with a quiet click, and Dr. Bennett, an older man with gentle eyes and a warm presence, entered, nodding warmly as he settled onto the small rolling stool in front of you both.

"Good to see you, Aaron," Dr. Bennett greeted him kindly, glancing briefly toward you with an understanding nod. "And I see you've brought moral support."

Hotch's lips twitched slightly, a small, strained attempt at a smile. "She insisted."

You squeezed his hand gently, smiling softly back. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Dr. Bennett nodded knowingly, looking down at his chart, “It seems like you haven’t had your eat treated since,” He flipped through the pages, “2008.” The doctor looked to Hotch, who just kept a blank face,” turning his attention back to the chart before placing it on the counter,  "Let's take a look."

The room fell into careful quiet as the doctor gently tilted Hotch’s head, using a slim otoscope to peer carefully into his injured ear. 

Hotch remained perfectly still, tension lining every muscle. You watched closely, noting the slight furrow of his brow and the quiet tightening of his jaw.

After a moment, Dr. Bennett leaned back slightly, setting down the instrument and meeting Hotch’s gaze seriously. "There’s significant scar tissue buildup, Aaron. The original injury must have been extensive. Combine that with years of exposure to gunfire, constant travel on planes, and frankly, the passage of time...it's no wonder you're experiencing these symptoms now."

Hotch's expression hardened subtly, a brief flicker of unease shadowing his dark eyes. "So, what does that mean?"

Dr. Bennett exhaled softly, folding his hands carefully. "Realistically? You’d greatly benefit from a hearing aid. It won't restore what's been lost, but it can significantly improve your quality of life. Ease the discomfort, lessen the ringing and strain."

Hotch visibly flinched at the suggestion, discomfort and distaste clear in his tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping quickly to the floor. Your heart tightened in response, understanding immediately the quiet shame and embarrassment threatening to overwhelm him.

"A hearing aid," Hotch repeated quietly, the words thick with distaste, as if saying it aloud made it more rea--

More painful.

You rubbed your thumb gently over the back of his hand, speaking softly. "It could really help, Aaron."

He glanced at you sharply, a faint flush coloring his cheeks, his embarrassment raw and unshielded. His voice was quiet, barely masking his frustration. "It feels...like admitting defeat."

You leaned closer, voice gentle but firm, meeting his eyes directly. "It's not defeat. It's choosing yourself--choosing your health and your life. You deserve that, Aaron. You don't have to carry this alone."

His gaze held yours for a moment, quietly searching, vulnerability shimmering behind the carefully constructed barriers. He swallowed tightly, exhaling softly as his shoulders slowly relaxed. You saw the shift--

The quiet surrender.

And the reluctant, tentative acceptance.

Dr. Bennett smiled softly, recognizing the delicate tension between you both, sensing Hotch’s internal struggle. "Why don't you take some time to think it over? It's a significant decision, but an empowering one."

Hotch exhaled slowly, nodding once, his voice quiet and rough with emotion. "I appreciate it."

The doctor quietly excused himself, leaving the two of you alone in the gentle quiet of the room. Hotch's hand trembled faintly in yours, and your heart ached softly, recognizing how difficult this moment was for him--this man who had always been the protector, the authority figure, so quietly proud, now having to acknowledge something he couldn't control or conquer on his own.

"You don't have to decide right now," you whispered softly, lifting your free hand to tenderly brush through his hair, gently soothing the tension in his neck. "But I'm proud of you for taking this step."

Hotch swallowed again, eyes briefly drifting shut, leaning subtly into your comforting touch. His voice was quiet, nearly breaking. "It's hard."

Your chest tightened painfully at the raw vulnerability in his admission. "I know," you murmured, voice barely audible, aching with fierce affection. "But you won't do this alone, Aaron. Ever."

He finally turned toward you fully, his eyes softening, guarded walls slowly falling away. His free hand rose, fingers gently cupping your cheek, thumb softly brushing your skin in quiet gratitude.

"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, the words thick with emotion. "For being here."

You turned slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his palm, letting your lips linger gently. "Always."

Rain pattered lightly against the windshield, gentle but persistent. The rhythmic sweep of the wipers matched the quiet rhythm of your heart as you watched Hotch from the passenger seat, his expression shadowed, his hands gripping the wheel just a bit tighter than usual. 

The streetlights blurred through the rain-streaked windows, painting muted streaks of amber and white across the dark interior of the car.

"You know," he began suddenly, breaking the heavy silence, voice edged with quiet frustration, "I’m not even fifty yet. People in their forties shouldn't need hearing aids."

You suppressed a soft smile, knowing exactly where this was headed, and instead settled comfortably back against the seat, turning your head to face him fully. "Aaron, hearing loss isn't an age thing. You know that."

He made a soft noise, somewhere between a grunt and a sigh, shaking his head stubbornly. "Still, a hearing aid. It's something older people need. It's--" He hesitated, clearly struggling with embarrassment. "I don't want you to look at me differently."

Your heart twisted softly, tenderness swelling beneath your ribs. "I won’t," you murmured reassuringly, your voice gentle. "I couldn't."

He shook his head again, lips pressed tightly together. "You're already younger than me. You already look--"

"Aaron," you interrupted gently, placing a comforting hand on his thigh. "I've never cared about the age gap. Why would a hearing aid suddenly change that?"

He exhaled slowly, eyes fixed stubbornly on the road ahead, jaw tight. "Because you'll be standing next to a man who can't hear without help. It just feels...like weakness. I don’t want to be someone you feel you have to take care of."

You softened even further, thumb brushing soothingly across his thigh. "Letting someone care for you isn't weakness. You've been strong alone for so long--you don’t always have to be."

He fell quiet again, the silence filled only by the soft hum of the tires on wet pavement, the steady rhythm of raindrops tapping gently overhead. 

You watched him closely, allowing him the space to process his thoughts, knowing his stubbornness and pride needed room to fade into acceptance.

After several long, tense moments, he spoke again, his voice quieter now, vulnerability beginning to edge into the firm lines of his expression. "I just don't want it to change how you see me."

You squeezed his thigh softly. "I fell in love with you exactly as you are--nothing could change that."

He was quiet again, fingers flexing slightly on the steering wheel. Then he exhaled sharply, voice rougher, lower, weighed down with self-awareness. "I can't keep missing things," he admitted slowly, reluctantly. "On cases...with Jack..." His voice softened even more, cracking faintly, "And with you."

Your heart clenched gently, breath catching softly in your throat at his quiet admission. 

He swallowed tightly, glancing quickly toward you before returning his gaze to the road, embarrassment evident beneath his careful composure.

"I'm tired of being exhausted," he whispered roughly, almost to himself. "Tired of the ringing. Tired of missing Jack's life. And--" His voice tightened further, vulnerability clear, "--tired of being so exhausted from not sleeping that I can't even make love to you."

His words pierced deeply, the raw honesty stealing your breath and filling your heart with tenderness and quiet ache. You leaned closer, silently offering comfort, your hand tightening softly on his thigh.

 "Aaron," you whispered gently, reassuringly, "it's okay. I'm right here."

His shoulders relaxed subtly, tension beginning to slowly drain away. "I know you are," he admitted quietly, finally meeting your eyes briefly at a red light. "That's why I know I can't let this get worse."

"I suppose a hearing aid wouldn’t be the worst thing," he finally conceded quietly, eyes fixed ahead but voice lighter now--almost resigned. "If it means I can stop missing out on the things that matter most."

You smiled warmly, affection surging gently through your chest. "Exactly."

Hotch’s lips finally curled upward, the faintest, tentative hint of a genuine smile. He lifted one hand from the wheel, gently grasping your hand on his thigh, intertwining your fingers carefully.

"And if it means I can properly hear all those sweet things you whisper to me," he murmured, humor and warmth finally beginning to edge back into his voice, "then maybe it’ll be worth it."

You laughed softly, relief flooding your chest at seeing him finally relax. You squeezed his fingers gently, heart swelling with quiet joy. "I promise to speak clearly."

He lifted your intertwined hands, pressing a tender kiss against your knuckles, gaze lingering warmly on yours at the next red light. "I’ll hold you to that."

And in the quiet warmth of that moment, beneath the gentle rhythm of rain, you felt the weight of his worries begin to lift, replaced by something hopefu--

Something stronger than fear.

Or embarrassment,

Or stubborn pride.

Something you knew, with absolute certainty, would carry you both forward.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @sweethotchlogy

[mapis-putellas]

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

Alexia was sprawled across the couch, her head resting comfortably on your lap, her legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. The TV was on, but neither of you was paying much attention to it. You had one hand absently stroking her hair while the other lightly traced shapes on her back beneath her hoodie.

It had been a long day for her with both training and media duties, but now she looked perfectly at peace, her eyes half-closed, her breathing steady, almost as though she was only second away to succumbing to sleep. You smiled to yourself as you shifted your fingers just slightly, drawing the shape of a heart between her shoulder blades.

"Guess," you murmured softly, your voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Alexia's brow furrowed, her lips curving into a faint smile as she tilted her head to look up at you. "Mmm... un círculo?"

You snorted, shaking your head. "No, it was a heart, silly. Pay attention."

Her smile widened, but she didn't open her eyes. "Lo siento," she mumbled lazily, pressing a kiss to your thigh. "Try again?"

You rolled your eyes fondly and began to trace another shape. This time, you drew a star, your fingers gliding lightly over the warm skin of her back.

"Guess," you prompted again, glancing down at her.

Alexia stayed silent for a moment, then hummed. "Hmm... una flor?"

"Alexia," you groaned playfully, flicking the back of her head lightly. "You're not even trying!"

She chuckled, her voice low and a little raspy. "I like it when you do this. Why guess?"

"Because it's a game," you countered, drawing an imaginary line down her spine and watching her shiver beneath your touch. "And you're supposed to play along."

She turned her head slightly, peeking up at you with a small pout. "But I like when you tickle my back."

You laughed softly. "Okay, how about this? If you guess properly, I promise I'll keep tickling your back afterwards. Deal?"

She seemed to consider this, her lips pursing slightly before she nodded. "Vale," she agreed, settling her head back down on your lap.

"Good," you said, your fingers moving again. This time, you wrote the word "love" in English, carefully tracing each letter.

Alexia shifted a little beneath your touch, clearly paying attention now. When you finished, she was silent for a moment before turning her head to look up at you.

"'Love'?" she guessed.

You beamed at her, brushing a strand of blonde hair away from her face. "Yes! See? That wasn't so hard."

Her lips twitched in a satisfied smile as she nestled her head against your lap again. "Okay, otra vez."

You obliged, this time drawing a simple smiley face on her back.

She laughed softly. "Easy. Una cara feliz."

"Correct," you said, grinning as your fingers started another pattern. You kept the game going, drawing hearts, stars, and even letters from both Spanish and English. Alexia guessed most of them right, and when she didn't, it was because she was deliberately trying to prolong the moment.

After a while, you leaned forward slightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "You're cute, you know that?"

Alexia tilted her head back to look at you, eyes warm and full of affection. "Tú más," she said simply, her English slipping into Spanish as it often did when she was this relaxed.

You laughed softly, tracing one last word on her back: "forever."

"Para siempre," she murmured without hesitation, her voice quiet but certain.

Your heart swelled as she turned her body slightly, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. You slip an arm beneath her neck and shoulders, hoisting her up a little so more or her torso was resting in your lap and her head was resting against your chest.

Just like you promised, you slip your hand back beneath her hoodie and begin grazing your fingers up and down her back. You feel her exhale of content through the material of your shirt, and you knew she'd be asleep in just a matter of moments.

**

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @wileys-russo @mead-iocre @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[robo-writing]

I’m so naughty for this 😻😻 literally nobody can match my freak rn

What if… fluff fanfic of Logan and Reader where he is sleeping at normal times to fall asleep, and he wakes up to cocoa to warm him and Reader up in the cold near winter fall. Huddled up in a blanket together, giggling like teenagers over dumb puns.

literally the freakiest I can be rn 🐺⁉️⁉️

Anon this is OBSCENE, LEWD EVEN…..I like your style 👀

The smell of hot cocoa is what arouses him from his sleep—the familiar smell of chocolate and marshmallows wafting from the kitchen. Warm vanilla and rich cocoa moving through the air.

What makes him get out of bed however, is the distinct lack of you. He knows from the lack of your perfume that you're not at his side, but he still reaches a hand out to feel your empty spot—still warm. It doesn't take long for him to put two and two together, bare feet padding against the floor to find you in the kitchen. Hair messy, clothes tossled with the dredges of sleep still faintly visible in your eyes when you look up at him from the stove. "Mmm, mornin' baby," you whisper, voice deep with sleep. "I didn't wake you, did I?" "You expect me to stay in bed when my girl ain't there with me?" He says, coming behind to rest his face against your neck. A pleased hum escapes you, exposing more of your neck as he inhales your scent, lets his head fall further into you while he embraces you. The scruff of his beard tickles, and you make a mental note to ask him to trim it in the morning, but for now this is good enough. His voice is low when he speaks. "Smells good, what're you makin'?" "Hot chocolate," you answer, eyes darting towards the counter. "Saved you a mug." The bright red cup draws his attention, but not enough to pull him away from you right now. He leaves a small kiss against your exposed skin as gratitude, nuzzling up and down your face like a dog does to it's favorite human. "God, I love you. Have I told you that before?" You love it when he's like this, at peace. Too long he's forced to be someone he's not, and it makes your heart swell to know that you're the only one that can turn this beast of a man into a puppy. "You might have mentioned it once or twice." you laugh. "Would you love me more if I told you there's a blanket in the living room with our names on it?" His groan makes your spine tingle, large palms squeezing at your sides. "Marry me." "We're already married Logan," you smile, only to be interrupted with another groan. "Marry me again honey—I'll buy you two rings this time."

[jesswritesthat]

Kuroo Tetsurō: Crushed It

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~1.2k, fluff

• Graduation comes and goes, and you were hoping your crush went with it but you aren’t so lucky.

Warnings: None

A/N: Inspired by drawing below.

>>>>——————————>

Everyone knew that once you graduated, you were gone for good. Basically dead to the school from then on, bound to never return from the clutches of adulthood.

"Are you watching Senpai?" — Hah not from anywhere nearby they're not!

Kuroo Tetsurō and his fellow classmates had fallen victim to this most recently, most of whom successful graduates from Nekoma who'd go on to further their futures.

Now you were in third year and extremely excited for a year free of your stupid crush on that annoying rooster head friend of yours. No more heart palpations, no more choking on your words, and no more teasing!

It was shaping up to be the most relieving, and peaceful year you’d ever had in Nekoma as continuing manager of the VBC. At least, it was until you heard that unmistakable hyena laughter echoing from the gymnasium. A haunting vibration that had you freezing in your tracks and quietly peering around the corner to find the originator laughing with his former teammates.

He's back?! What the hell?!

Now he wasn’t held back, he was too smart for that, and you hadn’t seen him once this year so he’d obviously came on a friendly visit. Unless he was a new apprentice coach?! No surely not. Still, going through the possibilities stalled you enough to avoid him, waiting until he left through the opposing gym doors before making your presence known.

"Who were you talking to?" You’d asked Kenma and Lev, the pair looking to you with curious expressions.

Yeah like you didn't already know that voice by heart.

"Kuroo came by." Kenma replied calmly, leaving you to falsify a hint of surprise.

"Oh really? No way, I thought he'd be studying."

"He asked where you were y'know." Lev smugly added, smirk sent your way whilst you acted oblivious.

"Well I hope you told him I'm keeping up with my manager duties."

"No need, I said I wouldn’t leave until I saw everyone and that includes you (Y/n)." Lo and behold the conniving middle blocker returned, holding fresh waters no less - you should’ve known.

"What are you doing here?! Shouldn't you be doing university stuff or something?"

"I can't check in on my friends? I graduated, I didn't die." Kuroo shrugged haphazardly responding with his usual mirth, to which you muttered under your breath.

"Neither did the bedhead."

"Hey shut your mouth smartass!" You received a gentle shove before he spoke again. "Anyway, I'm glad to see you're all doing just fine. Not as good as if I was still around but you're doing your best."

"So modest~ We hope you’re doing well too, thanks for visiting us." It started sarcastically but was soon replaced with sincerity.

"Yeah yeah, keep up the effort and have fun. I'll be seeing you."

———

Naturally, Kuroo didn't visit often. In fact it was quite rare considering he was as dedicated as ever to his goals. However, you suspected Kenma saw him most outside of Nekoma High School.

When he did stop by though - aside from offering advice to the team and catching up with his former teammates - he made time to personally talk and work with you on strategies (equipped with a snack). It meant that dumb crush of yours hadn't the opportunity to rest in peace like you'd hoped, but it also demonstrated that your friendship had remained strong.

It was during a training match with Karasuno that you saw him again, yourself catching up with second years Hinata and Kageyama beside Kenma.

Of course, Nishinoya and Tanaka were determined to greet you as they usually did to any manager they found attractive.

“Nekomas’ manager!!!”

“Like a shining light blessing us from heaven!”

“Hey guys.”

You felt hands rest on your shoulders, but they sent far less tingles through your body compared to the wicked aura radiating off the person behind you.

"Oya? Glad to see you two country bumpkins haven't changed, but paws off our manager, got it?"

"You haven't either, still so vigilant with (L/n)." Nishinoya sighed hopelessly, folding his arms with a cute pout but Tanakas’ justification was more prominent.

"They’re not your manager anymore city boy!"

"Ah that's true, but I still have the privilege of seeing (Y/n) so I guess I'm the lucky one."

Of course you facepalmed, it was all in good fun but saying such things weren’t helping this harboured crush of yours.

———

When hanging out at Kenmas’ household, you would occasionally see him then too. On the off chance you’d all spend time together like you used to, and this evening was one of those days. As usual you went to leave first considering you weren’t a neighbour, but were surprised when Kuroo prepared himself too.

“Aren’t you staying?” You peered behind him to an observing Kenma, the half blonde merely smirking like he was in on whatever suspicious activity was occurring under your nose.

“I was going to walk you home, if that’s alright with you?”

Oh. Oh.

“Sure, but it’s a bit out of your way.”

“(Y/n) I know where you live, I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.” Kuroo gave a deadpan expression at you, explaining like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

“Alright, alright. If I die, Kenma you know who did it.” You issued a pleased grin to Kozume, who muttered under his breath.

“…couldn’t bring himself to… both crushes… oblivious idiots…”

Yourself and Kuroo snapped to him with varying degrees of offence and scrutiny, to which the gamer rolled his eyes and shut the door on you both leaving you to the thralls of the outside world.

“Tetsurō thanks for taking time out of your schedule to help the team and see us. We really appreciate it.” You’d casually spoke whilst walking, Kuroo with his hands buried in the pockets of his black hoodie.

“I still like volleyball, and our friends. It’d be weird not to see you all I guess.”

“Yeah but you didn’t have to walk me home, or bring me a snack.”

“That’s different.” He’d said it with a lingering of further explanation, but you wittily replied nonetheless with a hand over your heart.

“Ah yes, bribing me to be a good manager for Nekoma. I will keep up my end of the bargain.”

“You better, I get you top quality snacks smartass.” Tetsurō playfully nudged you then, laughing a little before taking a more serious note. “But that’s not it. I just want to walk beside you for as long you’ll let me.”

There was a comforting silence, one that Kuroo only hoped conveyed the true meaning of that sentimental statement to you. One that he’d have no idea how to articulate more straightforwardly.

“Tetsurō are you saying…” You didn’t need to finish, he answered it for you.

“Yeah.”

“Then I hope you can keep up loser!” With that you stopped in front of him, palm held out with a challenging smile upon your features.

At least your stupid crush had a companion now.

———

Bonus:

Of course, Kuroo made sure to visit during the Fukurōdani Academy Training Camp along with Bokuto. The two of them more than grateful to volunteer their volleyball expertise to fellow players.

When the third years of Karasunos’ team approached you this time, they were not expecting such a turn of events.

"(L/n)!! Have you considered transferring to Karasuno yet? We'd treat you like royalty, promise." Nishinoya solemnly swore, hand on his heart with Tanaka following suit.

"You know I appreciate you but Nekoma is my home. I love my team." You politely dismissed, and your endearment only made their eyes sparkle brighter.

Until a pair of hands once more made purchase upon your shoulders with the taunting voice of Tetsurō following after.

"Our manager isn't going to abandon us no matter how many times you ask."

"Again, not your manager city boy!" Tanaka bit back, however it was immediate that they’d already lost by the scheming smirk upon Kuroos lips.

"Well saying my partner sounded a bit insensitive considering your single status." This time you received a kiss to your head, and you could feel the menace he sent their way without even looking at him. Crushes, who’d want them?

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

Does Black Raisin ever try to confront Healer about Plain Yogurt’s odd behavior? Since she doesn’t trust him and he doesn’t like her and both of them are keeping the peace only for Healer’s sake.

"Healer, can I speak with you for a moment?"

Healer turns his head towards the sound of Black Raisin's voice with a smile, his footsteps coming to a stop. He opens his mouth to reply as he hears Plain Yogurt's footsteps stop beside him, only to be cut off when Black Raisin's firmly adds, "Alone."

There's a shuffle of dirt from where Plain Yogurt stands, but Healer takes this request in stride, his gentle smile unwavering. "Of course." He turns his head to where he assumes Plain Yogurt to be. "I'll be right back. You can go ahead, if you want."

Plain Yogurt lets out a flat hum of acknowledgement and makes no audible move. Healer decides not to dwell on that, focusing on the guiding caw of Black Raisin's raisin crow and her retreating footsteps as he steadily follows her inside one of the other tents for privacy.

Healer hears the flap slip close behind him as Black Raisin exhales heavily, the swish of her cloak telling him she was turning to face him. Despite her reluctance, she gets right to the point. "Are you sure you can't reconsider letting him stay here?"

Healer's smile fades slightly as he adjusts his grip on his staff, and there is the smallest hint of exasperation in his tone when he replies, "You're bringing this up again?"

"Yes, because I still have my concerns." Black Raisin presses. "Why is he still here in the first place? We already have enough mouths to feed, and he must have somewhere to go back to."

"Well, I'm sure he does," Healer says mildly, "but if he wants to stay, why should we shun him? It may be another mouth to feed, but it's also another pair of hands to help."

Black Raisin sighs heavily. "Don't you find it suspicious?" She asks, somewhat pleading. "What could an outlander have to gain from staying with us? We have nothing to offer him!"

"Nothing but companionship, perhaps." Healer suggests, allowing himself another small smile. "Sometimes, that is enough for a Cookie."

"That's what worries me." Black Raisin mumbles, more to herself than Healer, but he hears it anyway. She pauses, then groans, raising her voice again. "You can't see the way he looks at things sometimes, Healer! At me. At you. He grins like he's won the prize draw, all smug and cunning."

"Which may be aggravating, but is not inherently malicious." Healer reasons lightly, inclining his head towards Black Raisin. "I must admit, you can be very fun to tease sometimes. I'm sure he doesn't mean any harm by it."

"You don't get it!" Black Raisin's voice grows harsher with frustration, gaining a desperate edge, and Healer's attempt at playfulness evaporates. Her voice plummets to something low, hushed. "He looks like a monster sometimes, Healer, I swear it. I keep seeing fangs, or claws, or eyes where they shouldn't be, for just a split second. And he insists on spending so much time with you - you're valuable to the village, you know? More than that, we- I care about you. Of course his presence worries me."

Healer sucks in a slow, sluggish breath, then sighs. He taps his way towards her, reaching his free hand out to rest gently on her shoulder, adjusting his grip to be more firm once he's found it.

"I appreciate the concern, Black Raisin, but I... think it may be misplaced. Plain Yogurt has been staying with us for quite a while now, hasn't he? And there hasn't been a single incident!" Healer reassures, using his own voice as a soothing balm. "You are a reliable protector, but you shouldn't allow your cautiousness to morph into paranoia. Closing your heart will do you very little good."

Black Raisin is silent for a moment.

"You trust me, don't you?" Healer continues, a little firmer in the hopes to bridge this gap. "I understand you don't trust him, but at least trust my judgement. Please."

Black Raisin is silent for a moment longer. Then she lets out a shuddering exhale, and Healer feels her shoulder slump under his hand. "...I'll do my best."

[woso-dreamzzz]

Kidnapped IV

Fridolina Rolfö x Teen!Reader

Summary: You visit your older sister, Frido

Frido grins as you step into arrivals.

You've gotten a bit taller in the months that she's not seen you, sprouting up like a weed until you're the long and lanky person that stands before her now.

"Hey, you," She says fondly, tugging on a stray lock of your hair.

"Hey, Frido," You say in response, tugging your suitcase behind you just as your sister sweeps you into a hug.

"How is school?" She asks," And the family? And what about your friends? Are they all good? Oh! And how is your handball going because-"

You laugh, knocking your shoulder against Frido's with a grin.

"I can't answer your questions if you keep asking them one after another."

Frido glances down at you.

You're barely sixteen but still nearly reaching her height, nothing like the tiny little baby she'd once held in her arms all those years ago. You're yet to fully grow into your lanky limbs but Frido can still see the faint outline of the small muscles underneath the baggy clothes you've worn for the plane journey.

She can't imagine that they'll remain that small for long, if what your parents have told her about your handball training has been true and your attempt to get onto the Swedish Olympic Youth Team is successful.

"What?" You ask," Why are you looking at me like that?"

Frido laughs, ruffling your hair fondly before grabbing your suitcase. "No reason," She says," I can't just look at my little sister?"

"You're being weird."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

Frido pokes you in the shoulder. "Is that anyway to talk to the person that's buying you dinner tonight?"

You grin, more of a half smirk than anything else. "It depends."

"On?"

"On if I'm choosing dinner or you're choosing."

"Be nice to me on the way home and I'll let you choose."

Your room is as you left it the last time you came to visit Frido with a stack of books up on the shelf, a blanket thrown over the little reading nook in the corner and one of your handball trophies on the bedside table.

"I changed the sheets and stuff," Frido tells you as she unpacks your clothes into the wardrobe," And I put some new snacks in your drawers. I know you like to snack in the middle of the night. Your old ones went out of date."

"Thanks. You didn't have to."

"But I wanted to."

Frido draws you closer to her. Almost six months ago, she could rest her chin on the top of your head but now it's more of an awkward angle because of your growth spurt.

"I'm just trying to make you comfortable," She teases," Because our parents sent me your gym routine. The life of a student athlete. You don't get a break even when you're on holiday."

You grin. "I'm just making sure I'm a better athlete than you."

"You can't compare football to handball. They're completely different sports."

You grin. "And yet I'm still outdoing you."

"For now," Frido says," We'll get to the gym and I'll show you that I've still got it."

"Yeah, right, old woman," You laugh," I can run rings around you."

"We'll see."

Frido, for her own peace of mind and so no one else sees, bans you from posting your triumph on the running machine on your social media later that day.

"You should have seen me in my prime," Frido says that evening as she eats dinner out of a box and pokes you in the leg with her toe.

You're on the other side of the sofa with your own box of food, grinning over at your sister as she pokes at you again.

"You wouldn't have been able to keep up," Frido continues," You'll see. Watch any of my highlight reels."

"I don't need to," You say with a grin," Why don't you watch some of mine?"

Frido flicks a piece of food at you and you smugly catch it in your mouth.

"Is it still the plan to quit?" She asks," When you're older?"

You groan, throwing your head back to look up at the light. "Did Mama and Papa put you up to this?"

"Don't deflect," Frido says," You can go far in handball, you know. You've got the talent."

"I don't know," You say after a long stretch of silence," I...I just don't want handball to be my everything, you know? I just...I don't know how feasible it is to have two jobs at once if I'm being an athlete."

"You're too smart for me," Frido says simply," So I don't know either but I know that if you're really set on it then you'll find a way to make it work."

"Really?"

Frido laughs. "Of course. You're smarter than people give you credit for. I mean, you managed to track down that guy that tried to steal Mapi and Ingrid's cats and you weren't even in the country for a week. You'll work it out."

"You think so."

Frido reaches forward to ruffle your hair. "I know so. Now, how about you grab that menu over there and we'll have a look about ordering dessert too?"

[daenysx]

3:23am sirius? With reader waking up from a nightmare? Mayhaps mayhaps ...

3.23 AM I SIRIUS BLACK

you can almost feel the hand on your shoulder that connects you to reality.

it's like slipping from unconsciousness, you're being pulled back, you're desperate to lift your body from bed. there's something wrong but you can't focus on it, trapped in your sleep.

"it's okay." someone says. you feel too warm. "you're okay, baby, wake up."

the slightly scratchy voice tickles your ears deliciously, you open your eyes. it's not like you flinch or anything, but the first thing you see is sirius's worried eyes. his thumb draws circles on your shoulder, does he even know he's been doing that?

"what-" you try to lift yourself on your elbows. the words get stuck.

"i think you were having a nightmare, lovely girl." sirius murmurs with a kiss on your head. "you looked so uncomfortable, i was worried."

"i don't remember." you tell him, and it's true. the feeling of discomfort is remaining, but you don't know what you dreamed of. your face aches from frowning.

"that's okay, and we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." he says. "do you need me to turn on the lights?"

it's the middle of the night, and he's losing sleep because of you. you know sirius doesn't care about that, but still you want to take your time with processing the negative emotions you felt unconsciously, you don't even know what you saw.

"no, thank you." you say softly, and settle down in bed again. "um- did i make any sound?"

sirius fixes his hair briefly before bringing his hand to your cheek. "only a few of them. you didn't say anything, but you were feeling nervous, i think."

"maybe i'll remember later." you say.

it's mostly okay, sirius hugs you the way he was doing before he woke up. you put your head on his shoulder, safe in his embrace.

"will you be able to fall asleep again?" he asks silently. he'd stay awake with you until the morning if you can't.

"i feel exhausted." you confess. "i want to sleep, i hope i can."

sleep doesn't come easy. sirius spends the next thirty minutes by rubbing your back with slow circles, kissing your head many times, and speaking in soft encouragements to your ear. you feel like a mush in his arms, desperate for some good rest and unable to find it.

he doesn't let this become insufferable, though. you know he's there with you, you won't sit alone in bed in the middle of the night if you can't find sleep.

sirius pushes his luck a bit harder by adjusting your positions under the covers. he helps you put your head on his heart, you don't protest. it beats steadily, and so beautiful in a way that makes you want to listen to it forever. a nice rhythm in the dark, you follow it. you don't even know when your mind gives up, but at some point it does, leaves you into sleep again.

sirius is proud of himself, and happy with the way you take easier breaths. the night turns into a peaceful one, now that he knows you're feeling better and getting some sleep. you squeeze his fingers. a pretty smile forms on your lips, he can see it this close. he hopes you're having a nice dream this time. he hopes you dream of him.

[starglitterz]

♡ NIGHT DANCER.

❝ nothing changed, please don't change… let's blend together, one more time. ❞ / after spending the night with you, how do the genshin men treat you in the morning after?

✧ feat ; albedo, cyno, kaedehara kazuha, scaramouche, shikanoin heizou, xiao x gn!reader ✧ warning(s) ; suggestive (esp scara and heizou) ✧ a/n ; HIII everybody make some noise for quill’s shocking once a year post!!! hope you guys like this and if it doesn’t show up in tags i will delete my account (/nsrs) anyways idk why i’ve been so obsessed w the idea of waking up next to someone (can you tell i’m critically lonely? 💀) and so this piece was born. pretend u don't notice how scara & xiao’s might seem kinda similar it’s bc i view them thru the same lens LOL ok hope you enjoy! (also ignore the scara favouritism im kinda obsessed w this idea for him KJASKJD)

please reblog + leave comments ! it helps a lot w motivation <3

✦ ALBEDO. [ kreideprinz ]

you’re awoken by the feeling of a cold breeze caressing your skin, and as you grasp for his familiar figure, you realise albedo’s not beside you anymore. but before you can freak out, his soft voice calls to you from behind you, “good morning, dove. don’t move, i’m almost finished.” “finished with what?” you query, deciding to obey him and stay still. he doesn’t answer at first, but you can hear a faint scratching sound which almost sounds like charcoal against parchment. “and… done.” you shift in the bed, turning around to face him. albedo looks almost ethereal in the early morning light, especially when he smiles at you like you hung the stars in the sky. “i do hope you don’t find this peculiar, but i wanted to draw you while you were asleep. you looked so peaceful, and i wanted to immortalise this moment.” he hands you the paper, strands of wheat-coloured hair spilling over his shoulders, let loose from his usual half ponytail. you’re the only one who gets to see him like this, messy and imperfect instead of the flawless scientist he portrays to the rest of mondstadt. you gaze at the drawing, absorbing every detail as you try not to faint from what a sweet gesture this is, “albedo, this is amazing! you made me look so pretty.” he tilts his head quizzically, raising an eyebrow, “what do you mean? i just drew you exactly how i see you – you’re always beautiful to me.”

✦ CYNO. [ judicator of secrets ]

cyno's skin looks almost golden in the sunlight filtering through the translucent curtains. you're lying on your side, gazing at him and just admiring his features when his red eyes flutter open and he murmurs, “i might have to charge you for looking so much.” his voice is rougher than normal, deepened by sleep and it makes heat rush to your cheeks. “morning, babe-ah!” you can barely get out your greeting before he's pulling you back into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around you as he nuzzles into your neck. “cyno!” you laugh, turning around to face him, “stop it, i'm hungry! i wanna go get breakfast-” “hi hungry, i'm cyno,” your boyfriend looks at you with the most deadpan expression, and you're momentarily stunned. then you groan and throw a pillow at his head, “you're so lame!” “i'm not so lame, i just told you i'm cyno- okay, okay, i'll stop!” you collapse into a fit of giggles right as you're about to pummel his chest, “lamest ever.” “mmm,” cyno mumbles, eyes already fluttering shut again as he feels your plush warmth against him, “i'll make you breakfast, i swear, but can we just stay like this for a little longer?”

✦ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. [ scarlet leaves pursue wild waves ]

the first thing you see when you wake up are kazuha's crimson irises laser-focused on you. the way his eyes scan your features, it’s almost like he’s tracing every detail to commit to memory, as if every morning that he wakes up next to you could be his last. “kazu? what's-” you're interrupted by a yawn, and your boyfriend's gaze softens as he looks at you. as you brush his red-streaked hair out of his face, he leans into your touch, almost cat-like in the motion, “what is it, 'zuha?” “i was just thinking... you make me glad to be a poet,” a gentle smile graces his features. “what? why?” despite the fact that kazuha is always letting praise fall from his lips like jewels, you didn't even remotely expect his answer. “because it means i'm lucky enough to be able to properly convey how you make me feel, and how gorgeous you are,” kazuha presses a sweet kiss on your forehead, then his brow furrows slightly, “but i don't think there's enough words in the world for me to speak about what you mean to me.”

✦ SCARAMOUCHE. [ kunikuzushi ]

when scaramouche wakes up, his first thought is; why does my entire body hurt? eyes still half-lidded and drowsy, he looks down and he's met with the sight of your back pressed against his torso, his arm thrown carelessly over your waist. he scrambles backwards, eyes widening with shock, and his sudden frantic movement wakes you up too. “what are you doing in my bed?!” “what the hell, scara?” you mumble, rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, “it’s too early for you to be this loud.” scaramouche’s heart is beating a million times a minute, and it’s only exacerbated by how cute you look when you’re this sleepy, not that he’d admit it to you for the world. but as you yawn and sit up, he thinks that he’s going to go into cardiac arrest. “you didn’t answer my question!” you give him a weird look, “we slept together. again. duh.” the blanket wrapped around your figure slides off a little as you reply, revealing your bare shoulder and giving him the faintest glimpse of your chest, and scaramouche’s face turns so red you genuinely think he might explode. “c-cover yourself up!” he scolds, clambering closer to drape the fabric over you again as his mind works through the haze of sleep, letting the memories of last night flood back.

realising how flustered he is, you take this as the perfect opportunity to tease him, “it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” “shut up.” he replies curtly, but he hesitates as his fingers skim over the bite mark on your collarbone. his eyes darken slightly as he recalls last night, the messy kisses that were more tongue than anything else, his teeth nipping at your neck and finally sinking into your skin, all to mark you as his. you’ve both never officially decided what the two of you are, but you both know that he’s yours and you’re his, and scaramouche doesn’t like sharing. a playful smirk curves your lips, “remember giving this to me?” “don’t test me,” he mumbles, eyes roving over your exposed skin. his gaze dips to the still slipping blanket, hands ceasing their rapid motion to try and rescue your modesty, “i might give you more.” your arms loop around his neck, pulling him back down to the bed as you smile teasingly, “so do it.” “you’re a bad influence,” scaramouche groans, hands already moving to grip your hips, and you laugh, “that’s why you love me~”

✦ SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. [ analytical harmony ]

“good morning~” heizou's lilting voice is the first thing you hear when you wake up, and his trademark smile is already on his idiotically kissable lips as the two of you lie next to each other in his bed. “you do this with all the criminals you catch?” you drawl, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat as you see the way his green eyes twinkle in the light. “just the ones i think look best in a different type of handcuffs,” he replies smoothly without missing a beat, smirk deepening as he notices he's left you speechless. “plus,” his hand trails across your cheek, thumb stroking your skin for a split second before his smile turns devilish, “it'd be pretty hard for me to get them to the police station if i left them all unable to walk.” “ugh, heizou!” you swat his shoulder, and bury your face in the pillow as he bursts into laughter. “but seriously,” heizou taps your shoulder gently, almost hesitantly, and you peek up from the pillow to look at him. a soft pink blush dusts his cheeks, and his eyes flicker away from yours in a manner that seems almost shy, “you're the only person i'd do this with, criminal or not.”

✦ XIAO. [ vigilant yaksha ]

waking up next to you is like a little slice of heaven for xiao. he can barely believe that he, the corrupted conqueror of demons, is able to share a bed with a mortal who borders on angelic. you shift in xiao's embrace, tucking your head under his chin almost instinctively as your eyes open slowly, “good morning, xiao. did you sleep well?” he still gets embarrassed by your proximity, so his voice is a little curt as he responds with a pink blush darkening his cheeks, “adepti do not require sleep.” “ah…” you roll your eyes, but pounce on the opportunity to fluster him, “guess that's why you always want to go all night, hm?” “i-!” xiao's face turns an almost delightful shade of crimson and he looks away, “no respect for the adepti.” “not true!” you gasp with mock offense. cuddling up against him, you stick your tongue out, “i respect alllll the adepti. but my boyfriend? maybe not so much.” “you'll be the death of me,” xiao sighs, pulling you impossibly closer. “then i hope you'll die a happy man,” you giggle, threading your fingers through his jade hair. xiao's eyes slide shut from the feeling of you playing with his hair, and he murmurs a response that leaves you speechless, “after a life with you? certainly.”

i love them this is so soft when is it my turn // general masterlist

© starglitterz 2023. do not repost or modify in any way - reblog and leave comments if you enjoyed !

[you-call-it-a-dude]

Call It What You Want Pt. 4

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.5 Pt.6

Summary: You accidentally tell Regina that you love her

Pairings: Regina George x Gender Neutral/Fem Reader

Warnings: swearing, emotions, underage drinking, very slight smut warning

Notes: Hi! Okay, so about this chapter. I think it's best described as a filler chapter than anything. It's cute, it's playful, a little sexy, also has some like arguing and what not BUT I needed this chapter to happen so I can like get this story to where I want it. Hopefully you still enjoy the chapter.

Also, potentially thinking of writing for Leighton Murray and also have been toying with the notion of taking requests? I've never done the requests thing and I kinda want to? So idk if you have any Regina or Leighton requests send them my way and I'll give it a go??? And hopefully it like works out lol

Sorry for the long A/N. Thank you all for reading the story and for any feedback that's been given. I'm just really glad folks are enjoying it

///

"What time do you need to start getting ready?" You traced your fingertips up and down the side of her body. She hummed at the feeling of your fingers dancing across her naked skin, pushing her butt into your pelvis. "What?" You laughed quietly through your nose, your hand resting on her bare hip now to pull her into you.

"You know what." She grabbed your hand and pulled it lower, your fingers finding her wetness that had been building up over the last hour.

"I thought you said you were done?" You pushed yourself closer to her, pulling one of her legs over yours. You pressed soft kisses to her shoulder while your fingertip teased her clit.

She moaned, her head leaning back and her hair falling into your face. Her hips were moving, doing their best to seek out more contact.

"I was, but now I'm not." She reached back and her hand tangled in your hair, giving it a slight tug. It was the only thing she can mange right now to pull you closer. She turned her head and her lips found yours.

This kiss was messy and sloppy, but everything about the way Regina was pulling your hair and moaning your name into your mouth was absolutely doing it for you. She moved her hips in frantic circles, doing her best attempt to chase her orgasm. You sped your movements up, rubbing tight circles against her clit and when her thighs started to shake you knew she was close again.

You kissed her sweat soaked skin and talked her through it. Telling her how beautiful she looked like this, how much you enjoyed hearing her moan, how good she was for you. Your wrist was starting to hurt and she was about to rip a clump of hair out of your head, but you could not give a single fuck.

Her legs snapped shut within two seconds of finishing her orgasm and when her hand came flying down to pull you away, you knew she was officially done done this time.

You removed your hand and rested it on her hip. She was breathing heavily, doing her best to catch her breath. Her hand in your hair was rubbing your scalp softly now.

You kissed her shoulder, the hand on her hip drawing soothing patterns with your fingertips.

It was a mixture of things, honestly, that made you say it. How peaceful this moment was, the smell of her sweat and natural scent, the way her body fit with yours so perfectly and how she wanted to just be as close to you as you wanted to be to her.

This wasn't your first time sleeping together by any means, but something about this time just felt overwhelming. The words flew out of your mouth before you could stop it. It was mixed in with a slew of other compliments you were giving her while you pressed kisses against her. That she was so perfect, so beautiful, and so mesmerizing.

"I love you." You whispered against her skin and she froze. She fucking froze. You all but slammed your forehead into her shoulder blade. You gave her a time to say something, anything really, but it never came. Your breathing quickened with every silent second that went by. "Did I fuck up?" You asked her with your head still pressed against her shoulder blade.

"I don't know." She said in slight disbelief. "I don't fucking know." She mumbled quietly under her breath. She sat up, holding her blanket to her chest. "I-um, I need to clean up and get ready for my game." She was staring straight ahead. You couldn't read her tone of voice or the look on her face. You couldn't tell if you fucked up and how badly you did it.

"Right, yeah, of course." You slid out of bed and put your clothes back on, picking your phone and keys up off the floor where they fell earlier. You made your way to her door and opened it, lingering in her doorway for a second before turning to face her. "We can just forget I said it. I didn't mean it." You said on the verge of sounding desperate.

She nodded, still not making direct eye contact with you. You closed the door behind you and rushed into your room, praying that Ren was home.

"Heyyyy, roomie." They said from their bed where they were watching TV from. "I would ask you if you had fun, but it sounded like you did." They teased, then turned serious when they saw your face. "What happened, Y/N?" They sat up straight in their bed.

"I, uh, I told Regina I loved her." You nodded, sounding a little dazed.

"That's great! I've seen how she looks at you. I think you two are cute together an-"

"She didn't say it back." You interrupted. "But I don't know, I know she like struggles with being out and stuff. I should've just kept my fucking mouth shut! Three months was not enough time for me to be saying that shit. I was just in the moment. I told her to forget it, but she didn't say anything. Fuck! So fucking stupid!" You were rambling at this point and Ren was gracious enough to just let you.

"Do you feel better? Now that that's out of your system?"

"A little, yeah."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Maybe just give her space for now? She has a game in a little bit and I don't really want to fuck that up for her. Then she has some team bonding event after. So I probably won't hear from her until tomorrow. If she even talks to me again."

"Oof, okay. That's rough."

You just shrugged, emptying your pockets. You changed into sweatpants and into the grey long sleeve Regina had lent you the night you slept over at her house that she so kindly let you keep in exchange for one of your tattoo convention t-shirts.

"I'm gonna do what any logical person would do in this situation and hopefully sleep through it." You washed your hands at your sink and grabbed a snack from your snack cabinet. You took your phone from your desk and crawled into your bed, facing the wall.

"Is the volume okay?" They asked, pressing play on the TV.

"All good." You held a thumbs up for them and shut your eyes.

---

"Ren," You called out when you opened your eyes. "how long has it been?" You were too scared to check your phone. You didn't know if seeing something or seeing nothing would be worse.

"Just two hours."

"Damnit." You mumbled into your pillow. Her game probably just started about twenty minutes ago.

You bit the bullet and checked your phone. No text messages, but you did have a Snapchat notification from her from an hour ago. She also posted on her story though so you weren't holding your breath. You checked her story first and it was just a photo of the field.

You clicked on her thread next, seeing what she sent you. The first photo was the same photo of the field. You clicked past it in annoyance only to find out she sent you another photo.

It was just a selfie of her. You could tell she was on the field, either waiting for the game to start or to be put in because you could see the collar of her jersey in her photo. Her hair was still down so that definitely made you think the game hadn't started yet when she sent the photo. She had the sun in her eyes and judging by the attitude on her face she was unhappy about something.

Most likely unhappy with you, but that didn't stop you from taking a screenshot of the photo. You took a photo of whatever your front camera opened to, which was just your wall, part of your bed, and a little bit of your arm. You wished her luck on her game today and sent it.

She opened it within seconds and she started typing. You waited for the notification to come through and as soon as it did you clicked it open.

'Cute shirt.'

You shook your head and smiled. She would comment on that little sliver of her shirt that was showing. You were in the middle of typing a flirty message when another message from her came through.

'Kinda miss it tbh.'

You bit your top lip and nodded. Because now she was being an asshole and she was doing it on purpose. You deleted your cute, flirty text immediately and typed out a new one.

'Got it. I'll fucking mail it to you.'

You sent it without overthinking it. You knew if you let it linger too long you would regret it.

She opened it, going back and forth between typing and not. After a few minutes, it was very apparent you've been left on read.

Did you cry a little? Possibly, yeah. The thought of having ruined things with Regina was sitting at the forefront of your brain right now and you couldn't think of anything else.

She was also being petty with that stupid shirt comment and it pissed you the fuck off. Like pissed you off enough to the point where you got up and changed out of the fucking thing.

It's very possible you are just as dramatic and petty as she is.

Ren was very sweet and made you Ramen noodles for dinner. They always add extra stuff to it to somehow make it taste even better and those noodles were probably the only good thing to happen to you today.

You ate your dinner and monitored the twitter account of the girls' soccer team. They were winning and Regina had even scored them a point. So you were glad to see the events from earlier in the day hadn't affected her too much.

You finished your dinner and went to the bathroom before crawling back into your bed. It was pretty early, only like 9pm now, but you debated heavily on taking your meds early and just going to sleep.

That almost seemed too easy so why the fuck would you want that??

Instead, you stayed awake to see Regina be very much active on her instagram while she was out with her team after the game. Sharing photos and videos of the shenanigans they were all getting up to at the arcade place they went to that had a bar, bowling alley, karaoke rooms, and a bunch of other shit that seemed like a drunk person's paradise.

The progression of her vibe change throughout the night was becoming very visible as it got closer to midnight. She started off strong, smiling and flipping off the camera. Then came a string of photos of her posing with different alcohols, wearing different silly hats, holding a karaoke mic, posing with her teammates and laughing. Then there was a cluster of photos that were mirror selfies taken in the bathroom. She had someone's sunglasses on and her smile was just absolutely gone, middle fingers very much still making an appearance. The last photo she posted about fifteen minutes ago was her holding a quesadilla and she had tears in her eyes and it looked like if she wasn't already crying, then she was about to start.

So clearly, the night was starting to wind down.

---

There was a loud knock at your door around 3am that startled both you and Ren awake.

"Y/N, open the fucking door!"

"Sounds like she's had enough space." Ren remarked, throwing themself back into their sleeping position.

You got out of bed and stumbled your way to the door in the dark. You opened the door to see Regina standing there in her pajamas. Her eyes were blood shot and her cheeks were red and raw, both most likely from crying.

"You took off my shirt." Her bottom lip started to quiver and whatever attitude she was attempting to come in here with was dissipating quickly. You just shrugged, not really sure how to acknowledge that. "Can we talk?"

"Fine. I'll be right over." You turned around and grabbed your things. You locked your door and slipped into Regina's room and closed her door behind you. "What?"

"You didn't fuck up. You didn't fuck anything up." She sat at the edge of her bed and started swiping away her tears. "I'm just fucked up."

You kneeled down in front of her, taking her hands in yours.

"I promise you you're not." You kissed her hands. "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm so sorry."

"No, shut up." She shoved your head away lightly and both of you laughed. "I just freaked out." She sniffled and then rubbed her nose.

"I didn't mean to freak you out. I won't say it again. It's also totally okay if you don't feel the same way." You reassured.

"I think I freaked out because I do."

"Oh?"

"Mhmm." She nodded. Her index finger hooked under your chin and she tilted your head up so you were looking at her. "Say it again." She whispered, her eyes bouncing between your eyes and your lips.

"Well, now I'm put on the spot." You teased, leaning in slightly. If you were being honest, you were just hesitant to say it first again because what if it still made her freak out?

"God fucking forbid I put you on the spot." She joked, grabbing your face with her hands. "I love you, Y/N. I really fucking do."

She looked and sounded very serious. You still searched her face for any sign of deception though, but there wasn't a single trace of it. You pulled her hands from your face and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

"I love you, too." You nudged your nose against hers and kissed her lips one more time.

"Fuck you though with that 'I'll fucking mail it to you' bullshit." She crossed her arms, leaning away from you slightly. You laughed, standing up and cracking your back.

"I didn't even get a response, I left you so speechless with it." You teased, nudging her shoulders teasingly and egging her on.

"It pissed me the fuck off." She caught your hands, lacing her your fingers together.

"Well, don't say shit you don't mean and piss me off first. Then I won't have to say anything back." You got out of her grip, giving her the middle finger and sticking your tongue out. You yelped, swatting away her playful slaps that now had you both laughing.

"Ugh, you get on my nerves." She rolled her eyes, but you could see her biting the inside of cheek so she wouldn't smile.

"Yeah, but apparently you loooooove me."

[driedposies]

"My little Nepenthe," {CHAPTER SIX: You're Lost At Sea, Then I'll Command Your Boat To Me}

Chapter summary: The High Lord of the Autumn Court calls for a family dinner. Eris learns the art of vulnerability.

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual content in other chapters (18+ only!), violence, bodily injury, torture, character death.

Chapter lyric: "Mariners Apartment Complex" by Lana Del Rey

Word count: 4k

As another week ends, a routine starts to settle into your life. You’d rise with the morning sun, your ladies’ maids appearing within the hour with hot breakfast and current gossip chirping between them—an unmarried Lady hiding a bump, a maid caught with a kitchen hand, someone forgetting the High Lord’s bitter tea. Your ladies will press and paint you to be presentable to the court before your escort leads you to whatever entertainment has been planned for you. Between public appearances, you devoured Autumn novelas and abbreviated histories.

Eris was your only constant. Letters in the middle of the night when nightmares crippled your mind, guiding you through forests with his pack of hounds in an attempt to control your gifts, dancing you until blisters formed at nightly revels. 

At week's end, you’ll be left in a drawing room with Azriel, with the raven perched in waiting. He’d tell you of your sisters and how Nyx is already starting to teeth. You’d tell him of promenades and revels, finding startling ease in expressing genuine happiness with your current position—ignoring the silent looks Azriel gave you. 

You wondered if he could see through you—how you’ve come alive in the place you’ve been taught to despise. 

As the third week closes, Eris finally divulges how your scheme is to play out. 

‘My Father expects a proposal by Summer Solstice to have a wedding by the Autumn equinox.’

The note came as you reached the twenty-third chapter of Autumn’s anecdotes—a war on the seasons. 

‘Summer Solstice is in four weeks.’

Your heart lurches, anxious now that a clock has been forced on this plot, especially since no solid plan is in the works. Azriel’s shadows have yet to breach Beron’s study, let alone smuggle incriminating documents to prove the need for his execution. 

‘Which means we’ll need a new plan.’

‘I’m assuming you already have one in mind.’

‘I do. But it involves more involvement from you. Something that may put you in a precarious situation.’

‘Am I not already in a precarious situation?’

Eris’s implication stoked curiosity rather than fear for whatever he had in mind. By all accounts, you have little worry about foul play regarding Eris. And if he truly was this good at masking ill intent, he ought to prepare for the Night Court’s wrath.

‘I mean to suggest goading my Father into threatening your life. Something that would consequently force my hand.’

‘I trust you, Eris.’

You meant all four words. They so easily slipped from your quill that you hardly had the time to process the implications. The betrayal they implied. That the foreign lands you harboured in now no longer felt so terrifying—that you began to accept them as your own. That you began to accept Eris; both his comforts and his monstrous sides. 

Resting your palm over the ashen rune, you surprise yourself at the peace you feel at this new revelation.  

Staring at the rune, you await Eris’s reply. Perhaps something affirming or maybe playfully sarcastic, knowing him. A minute turns into two and then into ten. You couldn’t help but start reassessing yourself—had you made a mistake or crossed a boundary? Surely asserting trust, a thing Eris was vying for, was not all it took to push him away again. 

When a note reappears, you jump forward. 

‘My Father has requested our audience for this evening's supper. Be prepared before sundown.’

All relief leaves your system, replaced by ice cold dread. Picking up your indiscretions, you drop them in your hearth, watching as the evidence turns to ash.

Your ladies' maids worked silently and diligently for the first time since your arrival into Autumn. It hardly eased your heart that threatened to burst through your ribs, the itch beneath your skin returning with a ferocity, responding negatively to your anxiety. You knew that this was inevitable—meeting with Beron without anyone but Eris as a shield—but knowing hardly made it easier. 

The three pixies dressed you in the common conservative Autumn cuts and colours meant to mute and draw the least attention. Long chiffon sleeves, high collar, skirts below the ankle. It was all purposeful the way you’re being dressed, that you’re meant to be a mere accessory, silent and pretty to behold.

“Our Lord is waiting for you in the hall,” Merryweather whispers into your ear, and you give a small nod of understanding.

With a final look over and a faint spritz of lavender oil, you were sent out of your chambers to meet Eris—your dinner escort. A dinner that felt more like an interrogation or death sentence, by the way Eris stood wound tight—ready to snap like a taught string. 

Sliding your arm into Eris’s started to feel second nature, and at this moment, you suppose this was the first time you garnered comfort in his hold. 

Eris begins to guide you in the opposite direction you’re usually led towards, and something in your chest collapses as instincts start to send adrenaline through your bloodstream. 

“Breathe, dear,” Eris murmurs as you turn down another corridor, the shadows on the walls starting to look like deformed monsters. “I can hear your heart. Don’t give my Father the satisfaction of seeing your fear.”

You let out a short exhale. “How delightful,” you sarcastically retort, begrudgingly taking Eris’s advice—focus on regulating your breathing and heart rate. 

Eris was at your side, and he will not let you burn. Not when you both were so close. 

By the guards that posed at statues by a closed doorway, you knew you had arrived at the High Lord of Autumn’s dining room. Before the doors yawn open, you share a final look with Eris. Through the little cracks in his mask, you could almost see his fear. 

“Ah, so nice the lovely couple could join us this evening.”

Beron’s drawl was the first thing to greet you; an ice cold claw that dragged down your spine. 

Taking a swift examination of the room—you’re surprised at how disarmingly intimate it all was. Just Beron and the Lady Autumn, Aurelia, sat at the table full of roasted meats and vegetables. 

“Please,” Beron beckons with a deft hand, not even rising from his seat to formally welcome you both. “It has been… a while since we’ve had a small family meal.”

Eris directs you to the seat on his left, purposefully putting himself between you and his Father at the head of the table. You share a quick and fleeting smile with Aurelia before she starts staring at her lap. 

“Now,” Beron drawls, dismissing any waiting maids that lingered in the room, only continuing when the door clicked shut with a foreboding snap. “Tell me about yourself, Lady Archeron,” he states, hardly a question—a command. 

“Oh,” you sigh, letting out a slightly nervous laugh that cut through the clink of cutlery. Beron was the only one eating; your stomach was full of nervous spiders, and by Aurelia’s fidgeting and Eris’s stiff posture, you could safely assume they were suffering your same afflictions. 

“There’s not much to say,” you finally stammer out, your eyes occasionally looking to Eris for answers. Unfortunately, you could not read minds like Rhys. “Before I was Made, there wasn’t much to my life. After my Mother’s passing, my family—um—weren’t doing so well. My Father couldn’t handle the grief.”

Your nails dig into your palms, that familiar itch crawling up your skin with a warning flare. Eris lays a hand on your thigh and you swallow thickly. 

Beron relaxes back in his chair, an amused simper pulling across his lips. “I’ve heard the tales of your sister before she went beyond the Wall,” he muses, lifting his cup of wine. “How she was forced to be the one to provide for your family.”

Your back involuntarily straightens out, the seed of shame growing with each taunt. “I tried to help with the hunting a few times,” you admit softly. “Wasn’t very good at aiming. Nor at the… killing.”

“Not a killer, are you?” Beron repeats before his attention deviates to his eldest son. “I only ever imagined my son to be drawn to someone like himself.”

A tense silence follows, something heavy in the air as Beron and Eris stare at each other. After a few more beats, Beron was grinning again, taking a long sip of wine. 

“And what of your… gifts,” Beron motions to you, the unease around the dining table reaching a peak. 

Eris’s hand tightens just a fraction, and you knew it was a silent warning—this is what you were called here for. Beron had lost out on having Morrigan under his thumb, and now, it was time to assess his potential for more power. He would already have enough purely through your familial bonds, but Beron’s eyes were green with greed.

“That’s a work in progress,” Eris speaks for you, and something in your chest settles. 

Beron raises an accusing brow. “A work in progress?” He questions, tone patronising and belittling. 

Eris squares his shoulders and meets his Father’s fire with his own. “Just a small matter of control. But, rest assured, I wouldn’t choose a weak female to continue the Autumn Court legacy.”

It was dehumanising and insulting, just as it was moving the pressure off of you. You could only give a soft smile, a perfected mask of neutral adoration. 

Beron hums and sets his cup down. “I can help with that,” he offers, his lips curling into something sordid. “Seeing how well I shaped you, Eris.”

“No,” Eris’s voice came out sharp and assertive—too assertive. 

Beron cocks his head to the side, his expression falling into something grave. “No?” He repeats back. 

You find Eris’s hand and fold it into yours, forcing his tremoring hand steady. 

“You don’t need to trouble yourself with such matters,” Eris adds in an attempt to placate Beron’s ignited rage. 

Beron only stares in response, having no need to say another word. The damage was done.

Aurelia’s expression was close to something mournful. 

You didn’t sleep that night. Even on your worst evenings, your nightmares still managed to claw into your mind and pull you under. 

But tonight, something tormented you, keeping you on a precept of adrenaline. Not even the flames in the bedside hearth could calm your rapid heart, nor the lulling sound of rain beating the earth. 

The shadows on the walls came alive—shapes of trees yawning wide into gnarled beasts. You felt paralysed under the duvets and sheets, attempting to wade through the smog of pure fear. 

You reach a trembling hand to your chest, and the life beneath squirmed and writhed to attention. It was something familiar yet utterly terrifying borne somewhere deep in your soul. And it was in pain, and you didn’t know how to resolve it. 

Your thoughts tilt towards your desk across the room, and you’re reminded of Eris. 

You didn’t get to talk to him after the dinner, as Karl returned you to your chambers while he remained with his Father. Not even leaving a note for you to find. 

You’re told you don’t have anything to attend to on your schedule in the morning. For some reason, you imagined that meant your day would be with Eris—taking you to his cottage to continue the search for your powers. 

When you’re brought your afternoon tea, you resign yourself to the fact that Eris wasn’t coming to fetch you. You’d tell yourself you didn’t mind spending your day reading and taking your meals alone.

As the silence stretched to two—and then three days—passiveness turned into unfounded worry. There was a space in your chest that began to grow, fissures filling with invisible sadness. It was almost distressing, the constant waves that ebbed and flowed, like fragments of something you weren’t meant to bear slipping through. 

On the fourth day, you had enough. You wouldn’t debase yourself again by writing another letter to Eris—he clearly was in no mood to respond. A first for the arrogant male, as he was always so full of words. 

After being dressed and powdered by your ladies’ maids, you ask for your personal guard’s audience. The moment Karl slips into your chambers, you’re turning on him with a hard look. 

“Karl,” you greet the male, noting his drawn expression. “How has your morning been?” You ask, starting with needless pleasantries. 

Karl raises a suspicious brow. “Well, my Lady,” he replies, slow and questioning. 

You nod as you stride towards him. “I wish to be taken to Eris. It’s been close to a week since we’ve last properly spoken,” you request, watching Karl’s posture tense and brace. “Is he well?” You then decide to try, careful with your accusing tone. 

Karl hides a forming grimace. “My Lord is… well,” he attempts, hardly sounding convincing. “He is just busy with emissary duties.”

You level Karl with a sarcastic hum of understanding before responding with a sharp, “Too busy to respond to my letters of concern?” You inquire, much to your guard’s evident apprehension. “Has Eris changed his mind about me?”

“No,” Karl quickly cuts in, and you respond with an awaiting look. Your guard lets out a defeated sigh, shaking his head—as if submitting to the fact he’ll be punished for what he’s to admit next. “Eris… he likes to be left alone after a meeting with his Father.”

You grow confused. “Did something over dinner upset him?” You try, wanting to broach the truth of this matter. 

Karl’s expression turns grim. “Not the dinner,” he replies. “The High Lord requested a… meeting after that supper.”

“A meeting?” You repeat, the word something like a presage. It was clear more was being hidden from you—but with your life being left on the line, you weren’t about to take kindly to being left in the dark. With a huff, you pick your skirts up and start towards the door. “I wish to see him,” you affirm. 

“No, my Lady, that won’t be a good idea,” Karl tries, striding after you. 

“And why not?” You ask, turning back on the guard. “What aren't you telling me?”

Karl lets out a frustrated sound. “The Lord doesn’t want to see you,” he states, firm and cutting. 

You don’t allow the words to hurt you; instead, you continue into the hall. “If you won’t direct me, I shall find someone who will,” you call back, taking a random direction down the left hall. 

You hear Karl flounder and curse behind you before starting a quick pace to catch up. “You are too stubborn,” he grumbles, something close to a begrudging compliment. “Fine, I shall take you,” Karl finally acquiesces, pausing you in your tracks. “But do not expect him to let you in. Not even his most trusted staff are allowed in.” 

The walk was brisk as it was silent. The few maids and guards you pass by give feline glances, the curious wonder that makes your skin prickle uncomfortably. As you exit the guest wing, the walls visibly age and wither, some of the mosaics charred and burnt—left without mending. 

“Here,” Karl mutters under his breath, gesturing to a door at the end of the hallway. “I’m not permitted past this point without explicit concession.”

Turning to look up at Karl, you give a wavered smile. “Thank you, Karl,” you affirm before returning your sights to the door leading to Eris’s chambers. 

Each step closer to that doorway burned something deep within your chest, attempting to twist away before it could be truly discovered. It felt colder here, somehow, your instincts adamantly rejecting further passage. The lingering smoke invaded your senses before the scent of something burning caught in your throat—something you’ve only smelt once, and that was near the battle against Hybern; charred flesh and cooking blood.  

Something was wrong. With renewed haste, you reach Eris’s door, knocking against the wood with three sharp raps. 

“Eris,” you call out, almost unsure, but the inexplicable urge to tear down the door to see if Eris is alive was ripping through you. 

No one answers you, and you release a long exhale. A shadow moves beneath the gap of the door. Resolve squares your shoulders, and you knock again, this time with more insistence.  

“Eris,” you urge again, watching as the shadow pauses. “I know you’re there. Don’t continue to make me look like a fool, talking to a door. It wouldn’t look proper to any passing maid.”

The door rips from you, and out appears Eris. You startle for a moment, lurching at the sight in front of you. 

Eris stood gaunt and drawn, his life fire smothered into mere whispered embers. His usually perfected hair was close to matted, loose curls clinging to sweat against his brow, clothes a similar rumpled mess—the same clothes from dinner four nights ago. And—oh, by the Mother—dried blood and blister fluid were a tacked thick around slow-healing burns down his front. 

Words were stolen from you, leaving you breathless as trembling hands returned to your sides. “Eris,” you mutter again, mollified into a state of shock. 

“What?” Eris’s voice was a raw snap, hackles raised like an injured fox cornered. “What do you want now, hm?”

You meet Eris’s eyes, and you find terrified anger. You weren’t meant to see this—weren’t meant to come this close to this part of him. But he was the one to open the door. 

“What did he do to you?” You ask, the horror plain in your features, and it made Eris all the more disarmed. 

Eris scoffs and then winces. “You’re not allowed here,” he states, looking over your head to find the cause of this transgression, gaze blazing when he likely finds Karl at the start of the hall. 

“You wouldn’t respond to my letters,” you say, pulling Eris’s attention back to you. “I got—worried,” you tried. 

Eris's lips curl into a scowl. “Happy to know my reason for my absence?” He asks, purposeful in his condescension, enough to draw guilt to your surface. “Now, give me some fucking peace.”

Before Eris could shove you out, you stopped the door with a hand. “Don’t,” you start, meeting his fire with your own. “Let me—let me help you, Eris. Please,” you plead, trying to make Eris see reason.

“And would you be able to help me?” Eris drawls back, baring his fangs the moment you got too close.

You force your back to straighten before raising your free hand—gesturing your head to the healing wounds mottling your skin. “I know enough,” you affirm, catching the way Eris softens a mere fraction. “Please, just let me help you,” you continue, worming your way through his persistent walls. “I trust you—you can do the same in me.” 

Something in Eris collapses, allowing his pain to show through the fractures of his mask of anger and malevolence. He pulls from the doorway like a phantom, a silent admission to enter. 

You follow after him, taking a moment to scan the inside of his chambers. It was similar to your own, just larger and more lived in. Bloodied towels were discarded by the wash basin, bed sheets unmade and stained, and trays of half-eaten food were left discarded by the door. 

Lavender scented candles burned away the stench of burnt flesh. 

Eris collapses on the lounge by the fireplace, shrugging off the tarnished chemise with visible effort. 

“Here,” you try, moving over to him to help in shedding the caught piece of clothing. You’re met with a cold glare, pausing you in your tracks. 

With a heavy sigh, you instead turn your focus onto Eris’s bathside cabinets, finding a washbowl full of clean water—likely left for Eris to wash his face in the morning. With an armful of cotton pieces, you return to Eris’s side. Placing the washbowl on the small side table atop a discarded bunch of letters, you take a hesitant seat on the edge of the lounge, hip pressing into his thigh.

You meet Eris’s watchful gaze before letting your eyes fall on the gruesome planes of his chest. The skin was raised a swollen red in disfigured shapes of hands, pieces glossy from healing blisters. You swallow thickly—feeling the upset within you grow at a frightening rate. 

“Are you going to help, or will you just stare?” Eris’s voice cuts through your delirium, shame washing over you.

“Sorry,” you grimace as you reach for a cotton pad, soaking it in the water. 

Raising back up, you lift the piece of cotton towards Eris’s collar, where dried blood and puss sat over mended flesh. You hovered, finding Eris’s eyes again—searching for permission to begin. 

Eris gives a resolute nod, lips pressed into a grim line. With a soft sigh, you start with gentle swipes, careful to avoid any boils to not further aggravate the wounds—not wishing to inflict any more agony Eris was still suffering from. You worked downward, from his collarbones to the slope of his abdomen, tossing used pads into the fire to eat away. 

“This was because me, isn’t it?” You murmur after a long blanket of silence, brows drawn in concerntration—and guilt. 

Eris’s chest dips with a long exhale before laying a purposeful hand against your thigh to give a familiar squeeze. “It was no one’s fault but my own,” Eris rasps, much to your adamant disproval.

“This isn’t your fault, Eris,” you state, voice wavered yet certain. “This is your Father’s hand,” you continue, shaking your head, “Beron. That—he is no Father.”

You could feel your face burn when Eris released a shaken chuckle, loose and dispassionate. “He is mine,” Eris bitterly affirms, much to your bemusement. 

“I do not understand you,” you mutter, watching as a droplet of water connects freckles into a constellation. “How you’ve managed to stay… strong, for so long.”

Eris quietens for a moment as you toss another cotton pad into the hearth. “I suppose the monster deep inside wishes to survive,” he replies, his tone low with an undercurrent of self-deprecation.

You pause your ministrations to find Eris’s eyes on you. “You’re not a monster, Eris,” you aver, placing a hand over his before he could argue. “I know that because of all of this—risking your life to remove your Father for the greater good of Prythian. Not once, not even an implication, was all of this towards you getting power. A monster would be killing his Father for a throne. A… a better person would be risking himself to get rid of someone who threatens thousands of innocents,” you pause your outpouring to squeeze his hand. “You may not see it, Eris, but I do. I see you.”

Eris’s expression was agape, battling the contradictions of fear and comfort of your words. Breaking the growing tension from his burning stare, you return your gaze to your work. 

“I suppose,” Eris begins, grasping for words to fill the void, “occasionally, I believe I am what I posture to be,” he admits, audibly swallowing, as if the words were vacuumed from his throat. Tilting back, Eris thumps his head against the cushioned armrest. “I fear the day disgust shifts to pleasure.”

“You’re not your Father,” you say, knowing where Eris’s mind was leading.

Eris lets out a humourless laugh before sighing, running a hand down his face. “I need to get out of this Court—I’m starting to lose my head,” he groans, angling his head in your direction as a thought comes. “Suppose Summer Court. Beautiful as it nears its Solstice,” Eris claims, tone an obvious proposition. 

“What are you planning now?” You ask, almost amused at Eris’s attempts at goading. 

“Summer is known for their operettas,” Eris adds, and you begin to understand, pulling a smile across your features. 

A laugh is lured out of you. “Eris,” you start, giving him a long look, “would we even be allowed to leave Autumn together?”

Eris merely rolls his head before pressing a finger to his mouth. 

“It can be our little secret.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Taglist

@rcarbo1 @kk191327 @huffleruffplant @seassttar @butterfly101sworld @elisabethch82 @imma-too-many-fandoms @lreadsstuff @mrsmrx @1455fun

[nebelihood]

Hey Arnold College Era; Are we friends? pt03

Fun fact: They are using Jason's car cause he lent it to them. ANYWAYS this conversations happens before the holy grail comic and the haircut. This conversation is the beginning of their last downfall,,, (sorry about all the drama but we know they end up together) THE THING IS- Arnold is now the one who has to deal with some issues. He has to take in this new Helga, accept the past and make peace with it. IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN AAAH OK LET ME FIX MY THOUGHTS BUT I'LL TRY TO SHOW THIS WITH DRAWINGS LATER ON,,,,

I'VE ALWAYS HAD ARNOLD ON A PEDESTAL but speaking with a friend we played with the idea of Arnold now being the one who "is in the wrong"""" and has things to deal with. HELGA WAS HORRIBLE- SHE WAS AND PAYED FOR IT a lot of her life. She truly loved Arnold and made him the meaning of her life (which saved her in a way but it's also quite toxic in others) Helga is finally in a place where she STILL loves Arnold. But she'd love him if he was with her or not. I'd still hurt but she's finally in a place where SHE's the one on the center of her life. She takes care of herself and wants the best for herself without damaging others.

Arnold is meeting this new Helga. Arnold since they dated even if everything ended up so chaotically. He still has her on a very special place in his heart. But after moving out he really lost a lot of contact with her and the rest of his friends. So Arnold is quite "disoriented" meeting these "new people" he once knew. That's the first thing. Then, them having things to do- and it's not like Arnold can't make friends or move on- it's just a bit of a weird feel to feel left behind,,,,idk noof. Also to this point, we don't know if Arnold has accepted Helga bullied him or has talked about it with anyone in a serious way? Like? AA IDK ABOUT THAT WILL COME BACK TO THAT THOUGHT BUT MY HADCANON RIGHT NOW IS... THAT ARNOLD (HOW TO EXPLAIN???) HE'S NOT A TOXIC GUY, HE'S STILL OUR AWESOME ARNOLD BUT- I do think that something happens to him when he deals with Helgaa?? like he's completely fine, natural and kind with everyone. But when he deals again with Helga there's something that happens with his brain?? Like he get's more jealous? and sort of wonders why their relationship has changed? When it's actually a good change? Because Helga is avoiding bothering Arnold cause she doesn't want to repeat the same mistakes? Like she still banters with him but refrains a lot from it now, and is more playful with her current friends which Makes Arnold jealous and wonder why not him anymore??

IDK BOTTOM LINE IS... THIS CONVERSATION WILL OPEN THE DOOR FOR ARNOLD to be... to probably feel more entitled to be the one who will most likely have a relationship with Helga- which makes him a little more jealous?? idk not official, just some thoughts I'll see...

NEXT CONNECTED PART: Soggy chips

[1tsstargaze59]

College AU Chapter 4 DROP 🧡💜

Sorry I didn't write for this AU in a while ^^" I got writers block TvT Then it was exam period in college and then the holidays- *oof* BUT IM BACK NOW, AND 2 CHAPTERS AWAY FROM THE END!!!

Actually, this chapter was inspired by @eechytooru 's artwork, same as the rest of the AU lol, but I mean specifically the doodle where they're playing chess in this post

(Do you guys have any idea how far I had to scroll to get this link??? XD) Anyway, you'll see why JSUT READ QISBWKSO-

Chapter 4 : Checkmates

Anne and Saddie, arms linked, walked up to the chess club doorstep one peaceful Monday afternoon. Anna had figured fewer people stay past class hours on Mondays, so there would be a lot less pressure. Having prepared herself for this, she felt a surge of energy throughout her body, and she had a smile from ear to ear.

"Thank you again, Saddie. You know, you really didn't need to accompany me, though."

"I'll be honest and say it was more for my nerves than your own," she admitted.

Anna-lee chuckled, "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow morning!" She waved goodbye to her senior and opened the door. The bright light of the room pouring into the hall.

Sitting at the front desk of the club was a smiling woman. She wore a knee-length blue dress with a subtle star pattern over a white t-shirt and a pair of blue ballerinas. The outfit was accessorized with a cute beaded necklace. Her blonde roots stood in harsh contrast to her bright blue pixie cut. Her style was so distinctive that Anne had no problem recognizing her. Her smile spread across her face just a little bit more.

Once the woman laid eyes on her, she sprang out of her seat and grabbed her hand to shake it excitedly, "Hello!!! Oh my gosh, I've heard so many good things about you! It's so nice to finally meet you!"

"You have?," she asked, her voice shaking, "That's great, but hm- what was your name again?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! I can get ahead of myself sometimes; I'm Jocelyn, Jocelyn Meyer, but you can just call me Joy."

"It's nice to meet you too, Joy! Great name, by the way," Anna-lee pointed out.

"Thanks," she humbly accepted the compliment, "I'm assuming you came to check out the club! Would you like a tour, or are you good exploring on your own?" She offered.

"Well– " Anna leaned to her right side, checking out the room behind Joy.

On the left, there were students having coffee and playing card games, comfortably sitting on an assortment of sofas. To her right, a row of tables had more serious students playing a variety of board games, including chess. The entrance's bright yellow light dimmed into a redish hue that gave the rest of the room the air of a casino night. At the very back, Frederick sat at a desk, cabinets, full of board games and other knick-knacks standing tall behind him. He was bent over a ton of paperwork, his eyes darting between two copies, marking notes from time to time in red ink.

"I wouldn't mind an explanation as to why the chess club has much more games than I would have anticipated?" questioned Anna.

"Great question!" The two walked into the club, on their way to the back of the room, "A few years back, we really were just 'the chess club' up until the previous director took her maternity leave. You must know her since she's in your department : Saddie?"

"Yes! She guided me here, actually. I mean, aside from Fred, who's mentioned it in passing," she chuckled nervously.

Jocelyn’s eyebrows frowned and her lips perked.

"What?" Anne asked, her voice shaky, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just still surprised he didn't mention it more considering taking Saddie's place was no small feat. The humble bastard," she elaborated.

Before she could explain further, they had reached Fred’s director’s desk. Anne had a perplexed look on her face. She lifted a finger up to her lip. 

“Fred, could you shed some light on that for me?” asked Joy, but the question flew right past him as he continued his correction work. The girls shared a confused look before Joy hit the desk lightly with both her hands, “Fred?” she repeated, raising her voice ever so slightly.

The man jolted back before looking up. In an instant, his face flushed, his shoulders tensed, and he jumped out of his office chair, hitting his knees on the desk. The yell he stuffed down came out as a squeal. He fell back into his chair, holding his knees as it rolled back, breathing in through his teeth. Anna-lee hid her agape mouth behind her hands, and Joy scrunched her teeth.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologized, “Are you ok?”

“Yup! Give me a moment,” he took a deep breath before standing up straight and waving 'hello' with an embarrassed look on his face, “Hi Anna-lee.”

Anna smiled nervously, returning his little wave. Joy side-eyed her and smirked, “Fred, why haven't you explained to Miss Tyson how you got this position?”

“I... I don't really like to brag,” he responded honestly, returning swiftly to his work.

"Aw, it's not a brag! It's like, like... history! Of the chess club! Come on, tell her!" Joy poked his arm.

Anna-Lee's face lit up, "I like history!"

Fred sighed before explaining without looking away from his paperwork, "When a director leaves their post, the members of the chess club play a chess tournament in which the winner gets to become the new director-"

"He won the last tournament and hasn't lost a single match since!" Joy cheerfully finished his tale, clapping her hands together, proud of him.

Frederick's face flushed red, his eyes rolled in annoyance, and he smiled. Anna-lee looked at him in awe. Then, her brow frowned nefariously, "How offended would you be if I said I didn't believe you?"

He looked up at her again, this time with a serious look on his face, “... Is that a challenge?”

The next thing they knew, they were sitting face to face at a table in the center of the room, the chess board printed onto its surface, patiently awaiting the war of pawns. Jocelyn and a few club members as their audience. The tension in the room was slightly off. Everyone could foresee the outcome of the match, yet Anna-Lee's pure excitement and general brash attitude still had the small audience shaking with anticipation. Joy was referee; she flipped a coin to determine who goes first. Fred guessed his head, Anna guessed tails. The coin landed on tails, so she moved her pawn first. He did the same on his turn. The back and forth went on for five very silent, very focused turns, at least for Anne, who knew who she was up against and tried to do her best. Fred calmly swirled the coffee in his mug after every move, taking a sip from time to time, a smile plastered on his face.

“Checkmate,” he whispered after his fifth turn, having moved the black rook diagonally to the white king.

“Huh? But- Huh,” she scratched her forehead and threw her hands in the air, “I lost.”

Everyone sighed knowingly and casually went back to their own games, “Well, Joy did try to warn you. Hopefully, this didn’t upset you... and you still want to hang out in the club?” asked Fred, nervously hiding his face behind his mug. 

Anne reached over the table and grabbed his left hand, holding it with both of hers, “Let’s play again,” she said dryly, a fire burning in her eyes. 

He looked over at Joy, hoping she’d have something comforting to say or do, but she simply shrugged and went back to the front desk, leaving the two alone, more or less. He smiled at Anna, his eyebrows shaking nervously. 

They played for so long; they had lost track of time. At first, he counted the games he’d won, but he stopped counting after 12; determining that she wouldn’t stop playing until she’d defeated him... He tried giving her tips, but she wouldn’t listen to any of them, saying she preferred to figure it out on her own. Fred couldn’t help but feel bad, not only because playing against a novice this many times made him feel pity, but also because he was genuinely enjoying seeing her plan her moves and get excited over even the slightest bit of progress only to fail anyway and get frustrated. Every time Anna failed, however, it just fueled her passion more. She was frowning almost the entire time, but he thought she looked adorable regardless. Fred silently smiled to himself. Her king piece fell over and over until the club room was left completely empty.

“I don’t mean to interrupt, um, whatever is going on here-” Joy walked up to them, waving her hands at the situation.

“It’s war,” clarified Anna-lee, a straight look on her face.

Joy giggled, “Sure! But um, it’s getting late, and I’d like to head home now.”

“Oh my gosh!" Anna yelled, looking down at her watch, "6PM?? I’m so sorry! I’ll leave now!” She jumped out of her chair and grabbed Jocelyn’s arms, hugging her as thanks, then swiftly running straight out the door. Before she left, however, she peeked her head through the door to say one last thing : "BUT! Don’t think this is over, Frederick! I will defeat you! MARK MY WORDS!” And she slammed the door shut.

The math teachers were left speechless. Fred swirled his mug one last time.

“Hey~ looks like someone's made a rival,” Jocelyn teased him, hitting his left arm with her elbow.

Fred tried to take a sip of his cup, but his tongue was left dry, “I think I’m gonna need more coffee.”

—————

For the next few days, Anna-lee showed up at the chess club after class, asking Fred for at least one match, to which he’d concede. She became an official member after her third day. Their games got progressively longer. She’d smile at him every time he realized she'd made unexpected progress, but no matter what technique she tried, Anne would always lose. Despite this, Anna-lee loved playing against him. Something about the competition, the goal she’d set for herself, made her feel alive. She had researched the history of chess and various chess strategies on her own time; spending hours sitting in her bed, curled up over her computer screen, reading. If she was to play against anyone else, she would most likely win, or at least she likes to believe that she could, but ultimately, she didn’t want to beat anyone else. She wanted to defeat Fred. Anna hasn’t had this much fun in a while. Now, when she enters the club, she feels right at home. Where she belongs. The red velvet walls give her a warm, comforting embrace. 

She sat at the chess table in front of Fred once more, holding out a coin.

“I’m ready when you are,” he said.

Anna flipped the coin, guessing heads. It landed on tails.

“Darn!” she cursed under her breath, which made Fred laugh.

The black and white checkered pattern of the board matched his sweater vest. Oftentimes, as silly as it sounded, Anna wondered if it gave him some sort of advantage. It almost seemed like every piece on the board was on his side, like she was playing against the game itself. Perhaps it was just an impression she got from not looking at him- enough? Her eyes darted up at him, and she was reminded why she so rarely does so. His dark eyes seemed to have no end. It was as if looking straight up at a clear night sky, the endless sea of stars glistening with hope. She swallowed and looked back down at the game; shaken by how much she had to live up to. In a sharp move, she shoved her bishop across the board; seeking some kind of struggle from him. Instead, he smiled and moved his rook, taking her bishop. Anne scoffed, face flushed.

“Sorry Madam. I will say, you’ve gotten much more confident with your moves,” he shrugged his shoulders ironically.

“That’s not fair. You distracted me!” she playfully pointed at him, her yelling grabbing the club members’ attention.

“How?” he chuckled.

“Huh-" shit-, "with your wits! I guess-”

"...True, I am a scientific calculator; you’re more like a novel,” he boldly stated.

“Huh?” Anna-lee muttered.

The room fell silent.

“I, wait, I mean-”

He scrambled with his words, trying his best to piece together an apology, but it was too late. As seconds passed, the silence in the room rang louder and louder in Anna's ears until she was deaf with anger, “No, you’re right! And you know what? You can have your win! We both know how this ends anyway, right?! Screw the rules, screw your stupid club rules : I FORFEIT!” 

Anna-lee grabbed her things and stormed out the door faster than anyone could process what had just happened. Fred cowarded in his seat, frozen by fear and shame. A dark, misty cloud closed in around him, causing him to shiver.

“Hey,” Joy said, placing her hand on his shoulder.

He looked up at her, speechless.

“I know you didn’t mean what you said, but then... why?”

All he could do was shake his head.

—————

It's been a few days since the two have spoken, and Fred still feels awful about it. Anna-lee had been avoiding him, missing their usual meet-up times on tuesdays and ignoring him in the halls. The only moments she even acknowledged his presence were at the chess club. She came in every other day to challenge him to a match, but only under the condition they did not speak during the game. He had no idea why he kept accepting this. He needed to talk to her about this, but if he did, it would break her trust, and she'd probably stop going to the club at all. He'd never see her again... over a game of chess? No. This was his fault. He had to fix this. He had a plan, but he had a strong suspicion that she was not going to like it.

Tuesday, after his class, he stayed in the classroom for as long as necessary. Just as he thought, Anna-lee showed up 15 minutes before her class began, way past their usual meeting time. When she entered the room, her eyes widened at the sight of him, and as she spun around to leave, her face frowned.

"Wait! Anna-lee, can we talk?" Fred rushed to meet up with her in the hall.

"What is there to talk about, Fred?!" She turned around to face him, "I thought I was finally getting closer to you, being curious about an interest of yours, but clearly, I was wrong to think we could even be- compatible, since you've shown you don't actually respect my discipline!"

"I didn't mean any of that!"

"I don't care! All I want is an apology!"

"But you yelled at me and ran out without letting me apologize! And you're doing it again! How am I supposed to make it up to you if you won't even TALK to me!?"

Anna was taken aback. She was speechless.

"... Will you please listen to me?"

"OK- go on."

"I didn't mean to insult your discipline. If you know me at ALL, you know how much I respect youand I'd never insult you intentionally. I was trying to come up with a... a 'roast'? You know, playful banter, like we usually have, but I said the first thing that came to mind, and I didn't think about what I was saying until... well until I had said it," his voice got weaker and shaky as he explained, his body folding in on itself.

Anna's face softened, and she stepped closer to him.

"I'm sorry. It was never my intention to insult you or your intelligence..." With his next thought, he gained some of his spirit back, "Actually, you're one of the smartest people I know."

She looked a little surprised at first, but then she smiled.

"You're smart and funny," he complimented her, slowly holding out his hands to grab hers and gently guiding her closer to him, "And if we ever were to get lost in a crowd of people, I know I'd always be able to pick you out amongst them, because you are radiant."

Anna-lee giggled, her laugh causing her to lean onto him, "Oh Fred, never change," she gave him a hug and sighed before pulling away to look at him, "You're right, I'm sorry I didn't speak to you sooner. I let my feelings get in the way of problem solving, and it just left both of us in an uncomfortable situation. I was acting childish - c-could you forgive me?" Her voice cracked, and her eyes shined. She clung into his sleeves nervously.

"Of course! So long as you forgive me," he raised his left eyebrow, tilted his head, and smirked.

Anna-lee chuckled, "Don't waste my time! I have a class to give!" She pulled away from him and walked up to the door.

"But you do forgive me, right?"

"Yes, Fred, I do."

"Great! I'll see you... after class? At the chess club?"

"Yes sir! And you better be prepared for the match of a lifetime!" She threatened him playfully.

Fred smiled, a sappy, enamored smile, as he walked away, wishing 3 hours could pass by as quickly as 3 seconds would.

—————

"Prepare yourself, Fred, 'cause I'm about to rock. Your. World!" warned Anna-lee, sitting across her opponent at the chess table.

"Should I be scared or intrigued?" asked Frederick with a shaky voice, making sure he was in the right mindset before the game.

"Preferably : both."

"OK, good. Then consider me prepared!"

(Author's note: GET A ROOM!!!!!)

Every member of the chess club was present for the match, impatiently leaning in to watch the show. Joy was very excited for this particular match, as her friends had finally gotten back to their usual banter. She refereed once more, flipped a coin and determined Anna would go first.

With each turn, the tension in the air strung itself just a little tighter. Fred was smiling like a dork at first, happy to be playing with her like normal again, until he realized that she was taking quite a few more of his pieces then he'd like. Did his feelings get in the way of his strategizing? They haven't gotten in the way before; what gives? Everytime he made a move, Anne swiftly countered it. Eventually, he understood : Anna-lee was using his own technique against him. His face melted into a frightened shock, his mouth agape. When she saw this, she smiled devilishly. He looked up at her, his hands starting to shake nervously, then back down at the board. He swallowed. The tables had turned. A drop of sweat trailed down his jawline. The back and forth went on for five more very silent, very focused turns, at least for Fred, who knew what he was up against and had no idea how he could win. Anna-lee calmly moved her pieces, a smile plastered on her face.

"Checkmate!" She shouted and jumped out of her seat once her queen had finally, finally cornered his king. The whole room burst into cheers and hugs; she had accomplished what they'd all thought to be impossible!

"YA!!! I have been waiting to use these for so long!" Jocelyn jumped at Anna, throwing a cape around her shoulders and placing a handmade paper crown on her head, which filled her heart with joy. With all the club members surrounding her and congratulating her, Anna's cheeks started to hurt from how hard she was smiling, a tear almost forming in her eye.

Fred was still sitting down; leaning over the board in disbelief. He lay his head in his left hand and picked up his king piece; sliding it over next to her queen piece, "Congrats," he said, in awe of her. Soft. Humble.

Anna-lee blinked twice and froze; her breath was cut short. For just a moment, everything else ceased to be. For just a moment, she looked into his eyes and got lost in them again.

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6

—————

The chapters only get longer from here, sorry gang XD

Redraw reward of my doodle from the last chapter as a thx for reading uvu🧡💜

[lovebvni]

intuitive messages pac !!

THIS IS FROM 2023!! BE FOREWARNED

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│ᵒᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉ...

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[ 🖊 ] created ⋮ 7.31.23

[  ] published ⋮  7.31.23

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ ꒰ ⌨ ✰ Arsyn   ⋆  ⁱˢ ᵗʸᵖⁱⁿᵍ··· ꒱ | ೃ࿔₊•

┊       ⋆     welcome to my blog !

┊     °

hello earthlings, its been a while since i've done a pac, mainly because of MANY personal issues - but thats not important. i thought for a while and went back to my old pac's and i found an older one i made and i remembered, my intuition is just as powerful as ever - so why do i need tarot cards now?

today i'm just going to have 10 messages/sentences the universe wants you to hear. they can be specific or general.  remember, take everything can be taken with a grain of salt, and your future can be changed. you are in control.

now please, find your inner peace, connect to your soul.

understand these messages were meant to find you, and see what is left for you.

inhale, exhale, and pick a pile

Pile 1 - Watching

confirmation :

procrastinating, pushing things off, turning the other cheek, tumblr, the colour purple (show or the actual colour), spacing out, spirits, double meaning, two faced, gemini, hidden meanings/words, red eyes (tired, puffy), burnt out, music, 'good night, sleep tight, don't let the demons fight.', the letter s, sharks, 'the grass is greener'.

side note : the month of august (summer in general) be significant for your shifting/spiritual journey.

Your messages

1. Why would you wait when you could just grab at it? It's right there. Don't let it rot.

2. "Hello? Are you there, listening? Listen to me. I'm here to help. I promise." (this could be an inner voice or a spirit guide)

3. Be your own boss. Keep going.

4. Pass on to the next step (Death to life)

5. You know what's there, talk to it. "I wont hurt you."

6. Listen, don't speak.

7. Let it go. Be like Elsa, don't let it bother you anymore.

8. Mind, Body and Soul. You're in harmony. Use it to your advantage.

9. Advise and criticize. And use the same techniques on yourself.

10. Peace and love. You deserve it. You know you do. And you will find it, soon.

Pile 2 - Renew

conformation :

saiki k, giving up, letting go, leaving things behind, mental overload, 'Jesus fucking Christ', jealous, letting go of that person, shadow work, yellow, outlook, aries, the moon, big lips, 333, the number 3.

Your messages

1. Bite down. Let it flow into your veins, your soul, your spirit. Its part of you now.

2. Is it a real worry, or just something from your past you don't want to let go of?

3. Jail. Time to rest. Now.

4. Eat and care for your physical body. You can't idolize shifting. You're not getting anywhere doing that.

5. Look in the mirror - no. Not at the past. At who you are now. Who you've become.

6. You have the balls. Go fucking do it.

7. Don't accept the truth from other people, find and make your own. That's what they see, not what you know.

8. Her claws. Her teeth. She's manipulating you. Let her go. Rip away from her. She's wasting your time, energy and draining your soul.

9. "I  DO love you. That doesn't mean I'll let you hurt yourself."

10. I am watching. Always. In your good times and bad. I'm here for you. Just ask for help.

Pile 3 - Love

confirmation :

wrist and elbow, jumpscares/ being scared, saturn, planets, fnaf, cycles, broken cycles, love watch, soulmate reuniting, mha (lmao bro idek at this point), drawing, heartache, feeling lonely, barbie, hip dips, trios.

1. Wake up from that dream and make it a reality, you know what you have to do, so go do it.

2. "Beg for my mercy." - This had a VERY sexual undertone... Obviously from a dominant partner or something

3. 'Hello again, my friend! What do you have to tell me now?"

4. You know that thing you asked for? Yeah. It's coming. Keep your eyes pealed (for some I heard it's even coming tomorrow!)

5. Sit in silence, you know what it is. You hear the voices.

6. Pack your bags and go.

7. Grab on, I'll lead you to where you need to be.

8. Don't chase what you're attracting, that will only lead to disaster. (A manifestation you wanted is coming, this is basically saying don't overwork and beat yourself up over it. It's coming and nothing will stop it.)

9. Nature is your friend. Go out and ground yourself. Lay in the grass, smell the rain.

10. If you want to learn, you need the knowledge. Search for what you want to find. You can see it. Ask around. You'll find it. Look, look, look, search, look look, search, find.

I hope this pac resonated for everyone! remember, this will find you when you need it, take what relates, leave what doesnt. remember you are in charge of your future.

i love you. new things are coming.

dont give up.

1111

[asha-mage]

Apprehension; Elaida

[Send me a fandom, character, or pairing and a one word prompt and I'll write a quick drabble for you!]

When the last of the fit subsided and Elaida’s vision cleared, she found her mother’s face gazing down at her. 

Her mother had not been born a beautiful woman. Beauty was not a gift of anyone in the House of Roihan, and Elaida at fifteen knew that the best anyone would ever say of her was that she was handsome, and mean it as a softening of severe. But Donielia do Aclris a’Roihan did not even have that. Maybe it had been different once, but time and worry had carved early wrinkles into her face, and left her with more grey in her hair then dark brown. 

Worry had been her constant companion for so long, Elaida did not think her mother had ever a known day free of it for the entity of Elaida’s life.

A hand, soft and gentle, stroked through Elaida’s hair. Not her mother’s. Her mother’s hand would have shaken.

“It’s alright dearest.” A soft lilting voice said. “It’s alright.”

Elaida turned her head- ignoring the ache and the pain in her neck to gaze up at her step father. She realized her head was resting in his lap, and he was gently combing his fingers through her hair, working out the tangles that had formed during Elaida’s fit.

Elaida had never known her birth father. He had died before she had ever taken her first breath. Carinis Avriny had raised her though, and when she had turned fifteen earlier this year, it had been him that had presented her to the gathred nobles during her deschorye’pizanzi, and it was his surname- Avriny- announced when she came down the stairs as part of her honors. If her birth father had a surname, it was not one worth knowing or honoring.

“What-” Elaida began then cut off. The words came out in a dry croak that hurt her throat. She had screamed herself raw again.

Without needing Elaida to ask, her mother stood and retrieved a pitcher of water which was lifted carefully to her lips. Elaida drank greedily, needing Carinis murmured reminders to pause for breath. But the water felt to good on her dry throat not to gulp it down. She had drained the pitcher in a handful of minutes and her mother set it aside.

“What-” Elaida tried again. Still painful and dry, but less so. Bearable enough to go on. “What did I say this time?”

Her mother and stepfather exchanged looks. For a moment she thought they wouldn’t tell her But finally her step father spoke. He recited the words like he might have his poetry, though Elaida knew it would not have sounded that nice when she had said it.

“The end draws near. The end comes on the winds of the of the broken east and the shattered promises of water. Peace is carved down the by axes of men, and burning leaves shall rain across the mountains and blanket the land in spears and blood. The land weeps. Spears pierce the flesh of men and the earth drinks it’s fill of blood. The land weeps. All this to anoint his coming. All this to mark a day twice blessed. Twice damned. All this to make fertile the land on which the final battle shall one day be fought. All this to clear the path for the last war. The first war. The only war.” He hesitated then, and Elaida forced herself to sit up, pushing sweaty tangled locks out of her eyes.

“What else?” She asked, her voice tight.

Her mother rested a hand on her father’s shoulder. He nodded.

“If their is hope, it is to be the found in the Blood of Ishara. The Ancient Blood.” Her stepfather whispered. “In the maiden of the golden flower and in the ender of feuds. In the one who walks barefoot under the sun and the one who wages war for the Tree of Life. In the one who leaves all she has known to become something new, and the one who walks away from all that is for sorrows found only in snow. In the Lion’s Heir, and the Iron Mountain’s leader. Born of the Lion’s Heir and the Iron Mountain. The Lion’s heir and the Iron Mountain. That is the hope of the world.”

Elaida sucked in a breath, letting it rush in over her teeth. Then she staggered to her feet and walked over to the window.

“The last thing I remember was being out in the field with Joni. We were approaching the river and then…” And then the fit had come on, and the world had turned liquid and strange and she had been surrounded by rushing filaments of light and horrifying things she could not comprehend. She had felt as if her whole body were going to crack open. It was like being struck by lightning.

Her little sister had wanted to see the butterflies. Elaida had known it might be a risk going so far from the house. But she had wanted to take it. To try at least. She was so so sick of the nurses and the attendants sworn to secrecy and every fungus peddling wise woman who could do nothing but give her a belly ache. 

She had just wanted to see the butterflies with her little sister. She deserved that. That and everything else these fits kept from her.

“She was very brave.” Carinis said gently. “She brought you back to us all by herself- and we brought you to rooms to…”

Wait it out. The only thing that could be done.

No one spoke for a bit. Elaida gazed out the window and thought of all the things that should be, that would never be. The House and land she would never rule- a small house and small land, but still what should have been her’s. The lovers she would never take. The joys she would never know. Her whole life would never be lived farther away from this room then she could be carried.

Was this how her father had felt she wondered? Was this why he had done it? Despite the wife who had risked everything to wed a commoner and a daughter on the way. If it was…she cursed the man for being so weak. For not staying away from her mother, despite their passion for each other. For being so thoughtless that he passed on whatever…disease or defect or curse this was to his child. And for abandoning her to deal with it alone.

She had never hated anyone as much as she hated him. She wished, savagely and wickedly, that the poison had not taken him gently- that he gone in wretched violence and agony. It would be to unjust for him to have anything else.

Elaida took a deep breath and turned to face her parents. “Am I…” She licked her lips. “...Am I going to die?”

Would it better if I died was the real question. And they knew it. The horrified looks on their faces said it all. But they didn’t understand. They couldn’t.

Every time one of the fits hit her, she was sure she was dead already.

“Elaida.” Her mother said sharply. “You must not-”

“I don’t want to live as a mad woman!” Elaida snapped, cutting her off. Something hot and angry was trickling down her cheeks, and she didn’t care. “Nothing’s working and it’s getting worse and-! And it’s not- it’s not fair!” She wanted to hurl something against the wall, but all the things that might have been broken by accident  during her fits had been removed long ago. “I don’t want to die! but this- this isn’t living! Father knew it and-” She cut of. She was sinking to her knees. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair!

“I don’t want to live as a mad woman.” She repeated, staring down at her hands. “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t ask to be born to a lunatic. I don’t deserve this and it wont stop, not ever and-” She let out a choked sob. "I don't want to live as a mad woman.”

A choking silence fell on the room. It always did in moment’s like this. Like a blanket smothering a fire. Elaida felt cold and empty.

“Your father.” Carinis said softly. “Was not mad. And neither are you.”

“Carinis!” Elaida’s mother snapped furiously spinning to face him. Elaida blinked in shock. She had never seen her mother so angry or afraid before. Not just worried. Terrified. “We agreed-!”

Carinis shook his head. He had a muley look about him. Stubborn. “They're the only ones who can help my love. We’ve tried everything else. We have to accept-”

“No! Never!” Elaida’s mother spat.

“Help?” Something treacherous and wicked bloomed in Elaida’s chest. Hope. And yet she seized on it with all she was. It was all she knew how to do. “What help?”

For a moment, her mother and step father just stared at each other, and then her mother stood and turned to go. Her step fathered look so pained and anguished but he did not move to follow.

He turned to face her taking a deep breath. “Your father was not mad. Not yet. Not when he died. He…He was just trying to protect your mother. And you. He is to blame for your…fits. But not in the way you think.”

“Why?” Elaida demanded. “What was he if he wasn’t mad?”

But suddenly she knew. Maybe she had always known.

“He could channel Elaida.” Carinis said quietly. “And he took his own life before he could found by the Red Ajah. He did it to protect you, in case…”

“In case I was born a boy.” She let out a shuddering, terrible breath. She shook her head. “No. No. These fits- I don’t do anything. I just…I just rave. I’m not Aes Sedai just…just a stupid lunatic girl you’re trying to make feel better and it won’t-”

“You are not raving.” Carinis said firmly rising to take Elaida’s hands in his. “He could do it too. A talent he called it. Foretelling the future.”

Elaida felt true apprehension for the first time. Not fatalistic anger or fear. Dread of something distant and yet drawing closer.

“What did he Foretell about me?” She asked quietly.

Her step father inhaled. “Clever girl.” He muttered.

“I have a right-” She began drawing herself up.

“That you would cage kings. That you would stand atop the world and it would know your fury. That your name would never be forgotten- in this age or the next.” His voice had taken on a very sad cast, but Elaida could only feel painful hope growing more wild in her chest. “That you would lead the world through chaos and tribulation- and that would be your glory, and one day, your downfall.”

Elaida exhaled. Dread. Fear. Apprehension. And thorny wicked hope. Not a short nasty life of pain. But glory that would endure eons.

The last war. The first war. The only war.

“The Last Battle. It is coming.” She whispered.

And Elaida do Avriny a’Roihan would be at the forefront.

“Yes.” He agreed quietly. And she understood suddenly, why her mother didn’t want her to know. 

It will be your downfall.

But Elaida would rather fall one day, then never rise. Her mother knew that. Her step father knew that. And they had kept this from her in the hopes of sparing her from fate.

Dread threaded her every bone. But she would not give into it. Not ever. She would blaze brightly and never be forgotten. It wasn’t just senseless pain this….this- not a curse. This gift- it served a purpose. She served a purpose. She had been chosen by the Wheel for a task. Chosen to shape history.

“I have to go to the White Tower.” She said equal parts hope and apprehension. “I have to save the world.”

[sunnycanvas]

Hello^^ I have been following your blog for a while and like that you want to explore different concepts with Baldwin IV👑🩵

If you don’t mind, would you like to write either a short drabble or Hcs of Baldwin comforting his wife after a really difficult birth? Like, it all turned out okay, the wife is alive, albeit very exhausted, the Baby came out to be strong and healthy, etc. but it was a very risky and long labor, and the physicians weren’t sure if she and the child were going to make it yk? After all, giving birth was highly risky back then, with a much higher mortality rate.

Anyway, I hope you are having a great day and keep up the good work🥳🌈✨

Yelp! It went longer that I expected. Hopefully it lives upto mark. Thank you for your support and happy reading

It felt so peaceful. So dark. I was exhausted and felt solace in darkness. However in my deep slumber I heard a sound of weeping. Someone calling my name. Begging me to come back. "Your grace the queen is fine but really exhausted" "Please let her sleep" "She needs rest to regain strength" . I think I heard some shouts and I don't remember much after that except the fact that I tried opening my eyes but I felt so tired. When I was finally able to open my eyes. I felt my mouth open and chest sweaty huffing desperate to get fresh air. "When did this happen" I thought. It almost felt like a dream .My head was spinning. My throat felt dry. I tried moving a bit when I could feel sticky wet substance below my waist I tried moving my legs again but realised that I was too exhausted to do so . "What's happening" I thought again worried.

"My wife is finally awake, quickly get some water"

My husband took the glass of water from widwife. Baldwin IV made me sit upright as he quickly fed me water. Baldwin IV didn't realise in state of panic how fast he was being in feeding me water. I started coughing as result

"Easy love". He gently rubbed my back as he handed back glass of water to midwife. My husband started kissing me all over my face and then hugged me tightly.

"Darling, you made it" "I am really happy" "When I saw you laying down like that l" "I was so scared, I thought I will never see you again" I could feel my shoulder getting wet from his tears as Baldwin IV kissed my hair while speaking to me. I remembered that when I was going through difficult labour. Although the baby came out alive and strong they weren't sure I would make it. After hearing this I lost consciousness

Remembering about the baby I asked where is the baby right now. Baldwin IV replied that our child was fine and is currently with the midwife who was taking care of baby

"Moment I heard one of the midwife saying that perhaps you might not survive I grew anxious and prayed to God on my knees for some miracle"

I got really scared remembering the pain I had to bear while screaming in agony. I got really nervous realising how close I was knocking at death's door. My husband the king, Baldwin IV was able to comprehend my emotional state. Without hesitation he took off his white cloak and covered me in it. He hugged me again and started drawing circles on arm while singing a lullaby. It worked and I felt myself getting calmer. "My love I am here" "I'll be there to protect you, even if it's my own battle". Hearing this I immediately voiced my thoughts "It had been a tough experience" ."We will have more children I swear it, it would be better for everyone"

"Was that the reason why you decided to have a baby"

"......."

Baldwin IV understood the meaning behind my silence. Baldwin IV sat on the bed and said "Yes, it's true that I always wanted to have a family of my own but long before I accepted my fate as leper and decided to live my life in chasity" "I am willing to go back to same life" "I thank God every day that you came in my life perhaps God gave you difficult labour because I was being greedy"

"No, love". "The kingdom needs a heir" "And I will give birth to as many children as possible" Baldwin IV understood the pressure I felt as queen replied "I know my (Y/N)" "And if you feel you don't want to go through it again" "I would have no problem with that, I will happily except our child as first and last". Baldwin IV called one of his ministers and said "Tell the council that I will be taking rest, Raymond of Tripoli could rule in my place for the time being". I was about to protest but Baldwin IV put a finger against my lips shushing me. "You were left alone during your labour, but I won't be leaving you alone after I almost lost you" "Come now love, let's sleep together" "After that we will be taking a bath together and enjoy all the activities you prefer" "You need rest" "I will ensure you won't be going out of my sight for the time being". Baldwin IV got next to me and pulled me closer. "I can't sleep" I complained

"In that case I shall tell you stories of brave knights and kings". I smiled remembering Baldwin IV loved history and foundly I watched him and he excitedly recalled the history stories he learned.