#i also kind of wanted his hair to look how it did when he was younger

[pellucid-constellations]

Fable - After

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Your wings were gone. The healing process would teach you much about yourself, but it would teach Azriel, too. Does it matter, in the end?

Word count: 7k

Warnings: Angst, injury, symptoms of depression (including difficulty eating)

a/n: This is part of a mini-series and the other parts can be found in the link below. Sorry this is literally so long lol. Debating on adding another chapter to the end because I obviously have a lot to say! Also, I won't be posting an update for about a week because I'll be traveling, so I hope this long chapter holds you over. Thank you :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

You woke as the sun did. Yellow light made an imprint behind your eyelids and the grogginess that immediately followed let you know that this was not the first time you had been awake. Sleeping through the night had become a luxury not afforded to you. 

You clenched the pillow at your cheek between your fingers and tried to pull at the loose threads of sleep that were escaping you. 

Someone was in your room. 

Someone was always in your room these days, but this morning, you knew it was Azriel. You could feel the whisps of his shadows making barely-there strokes along your back, and his scent was unmistakable. If it was Azriel today, they didn’t expect you to talk. When they wanted you to try and speak, they sent Cassian or Mor or even Feyre on the odd occasion. 

They didn’t expect you to talk when it was Azriel. 

You supposed everyone thought you were mad at him. Truthfully, part of you was mad at him. If he had just opened his eyes once over the last hundreds of years, he would have seen that you were right there—that you were more than a responsibility for him to look after. That you were a woman in love with him and he was a fool for taking so long to notice. 

But another part of you felt that you couldn’t blame him. Azriel had never had much luck in the romance department, and you’d always chalked that up to self-sabotage. He seemed to go after women he knew he couldn’t have and only assumed late-night trysts with those he could, so you couldn’t expect much out of him. And how was he to know that you pined after him? It wasn’t as if you’d ever made any kind of move. 

But Elain had so enamored him and you were so angry at that part. Because you had been there and he had never taken the leaps and bounds he had with her. 

He had left you in that camp, so ready to believe your lie to appease her. 

You were the biggest fool of all. 

In actuality, neither of those parts mattered. There wasn’t some internal strife that fought against your sleep and made you question your feelings. You weren’t mad at Azriel. You weren’t mad at anyone or anything. You felt empty. 

You gave up on sleep, breathing heavily through your nose and squinting your eyes into the sun that peaked through your curtains. Your back ached, and even more, the insurmountable pressure on your chest was amplified by the bandages that wrapped around from behind you. They made it difficult to breathe. 

No infection had set in. It had been two and a half weeks since the incident, and Madja cleared you to begin moving around a few days ago and noted that you were “out of the woods, medically.” Everyone looked relieved as if that news had changed anything. To them, you supposed it did. You would live. That was good. 

Azriel knew you were awake, you were sure of it. You heard his chair groan as if he were leaning forward in it, and his shadows had begun to traipse around your head, weaving in and out of your hair and blocking the light from your eyes. 

He would try to get you to eat, look at you with those pitying eyes, and apologize when you could barely sit up and hold out a plate as if you were going to eat it. You hadn’t met his gaze since you woke up and there was more than just resentment behind that. There was shame—you were so ashamed of what you had become. What you had let happen. 

Maybe that was another reason why you felt so empty. How could Azriel even look at you as anything other than broken? When you were whole—when you had your wings—there was an irrational part of you that considered you had a chance with the Shadowsinger if he would just see you. 

There was nothing to see now. 

“Are you awake?” Azriel asked, keeping his voice low in the quiet room. You nodded against the pillow, face still turned from his view. The chair groaned once again. “Are you hungry?” 

No head shake. It was a frequent question that you hated being asked. 

Azriel’s footsteps were soft against your carpet. He kneeled beside your bed and attempted to catch your fleeting gaze, but you found a spot on the floor and kept it there. 

“Can you try?” he prompted. His textured fingers brushed the hair from your eyes. “Not even at the table. I’ll have the House bring you something here.” 

You pressed your lips together and fought off the burning in your nose. 

“Please, y/n.  I know you’re angry with me—I know. But please, just try to eat something.” 

Angry at him—anger wasn’t even in your repertoire at the moment. But he sounded so desperate, as did every other member of your family, and you didn’t want the let them down more than you already had. You shut your eyes and nodded, resigned. 

You built up the strength to prop yourself up on your arms, but that’s where you stopped. Your center of gravity had been completely ripped from you. Anytime you moved without your wings, it felt like free-falling from a mountain. Madja had offered—several times since physically clearing you—to come and get you back on your feet, but the motivation wasn’t there. 

You couldn’t imagine walking without the weight at your back. 

And you had avoided every reflection known to man; seeing yourself would be too much. 

“I have you,” Azriel encouraged, holding you at your waist as he twisted your body up. “Almost. There we go, angel” —he positioned you between pillows that hadn’t been on your bed before— “How’s that? Is it alright?” 

Humiliation felt like a hot knife. You nodded and found a spot on the bed to focus on. You could feel Azriel’s lingering gaze and he hesitated before placing a bowl of broth on a small platter before you. 

“Is that okay?” 

You nodded again, biting the inside of your lip. Your back ached. 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

You nodded. 

Azriel hesitated once more, rocking back on his heels before clearing his throat and letting the door softly shut behind him. The tears came then, and you were so tired of crying. 

~~

Azriel’s POV

Outside of your room, Azriel’s forehead was pressed against the wood of your door. The intricate carvings imprinted his right palm as he kept it pressed there as well, and Azriel had to breathe through his nose to calm himself. 

He was at a loss. 

He didn’t blame you for not speaking to him, but you wouldn’t speak to anyone. You wouldn’t get out of bed unless it was Mor or Feyre lifting you for a bath and you wouldn’t leave your room at all. They had all expected this—planned for a long healing process—but you were so… lifeless. 

Gods, he was helpless. You wouldn’t even look at him. 

Azriel clenched his jaw and tried to listen for the clink of the spoon against the bowl when a hand on his back startled him. Because that was another thing—he’d been off his game since you got hurt, completely useless as a spy. 

“How is she?” Cassian. Cassian was just as worried as Azriel, but Azriel was pretty sure you were looking him in the eye at least. “Get her to talk?” 

“No,” Azriel breathed through a constricting throat. He turned to meet his brother’s face. He was sure Cassian still held some resentment towards him, but he’d apologized for his outburst when you arrived at the House. Apologized, but not entirely forgiven. 

Cassian sighed and rubbed at his jaw. “Is she at least eating?” 

“She agreed to eat. I left her with some soup. She wanted me to leave.” 

“She say that?” 

“I asked and she nodded.” 

Cassian kissed his teeth and curled his wings in tighter. “Have you… talked to her?” 

Azriel had to fight the urge to scoff, throwing his brother an incredulous look. “Obviously I talk to her, Cassian. I don’t stand in her room and motion at things.” 

In response, Cassian did not fight the urge to roll his eyes. “I mean actually talk to her, Azriel. About what happened. You finding her. Her lying and you not being there. I know it was one of the only missions at the camps she’s been at without you there. That means something, no?” 

“I don’t think she wants to talk to me at all—let alone rehash all of that.” 

“Azriel,” Cassian started, stepping forward to place a hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “Give her a chance to push you away. Let her be the one to do it. If you play into this fear, it might confirm things for her, and you know her mind isn’t in a good place.” 

Azriel winced. “I think you might be better to—” 

“No, Az, you. Let her eat her breakfast, give her an hour or two, and then go back in there and talk to her. I’ve already been talking to her and she won’t say a word to me. I think you’re the only person who’s been too afraid to.” 

Azriel sighed and then leaned his head back until it knocked against your door. In another life, you might’ve called out and asked who was there. But there was only silence. 

Cassian sent Azriel a look with raised brows and patted his brother twice on the shoulder before backing into the hall. He had taken four steps towards the dining room before Azriel called, “What did you mean then, about me being blind?” 

Cassian paused but didn’t turn. Azriel watched his head tilt to the side and a deep sigh escaped him. 

“Shouldn’t have said that,” Cassian muttered. He started walking once more. “Just—think a little more.”

~~

Original POV

Breakfast was fine; you kept it down and that was the goal. 

Following breakfast, you thumbed through the books Nesta had sent to you. The action was lackadaisical and without purpose. You weren’t going to read them. 

You took breaks from staring at the wall to stare out the window instead, but that only sent waves of something heavy through your chest. The skies looked so open today, with only a few clouds and endless rays of sun. Maybe if it were raining, it wouldn’t hurt so much to look out the window. 

You were being left alone far more than usual today. 

Perhaps they had grown tired of being around a stubborn mute who refused to see the bright side of things, the “well, with your injuries it’s a miracle you’re still alive,” talks not entirely working on you. You were sure that was true, but you didn’t particularly care about the marvel it took to put you back together. 

This miracle felt hollow. 

As you were about to shut your eyes and drown the rest of the day in sleep, a small knock and the creak of your door stopped you. You snapped your gaze forward and quickly averted it when you recognized Azriel stepping in, his shadows preceding him and rushing you in circles. 

You expected him to take up his post in the chair beside your bed with a simple greeting—as he had done every visit to your room in the past weeks—so when he stood at the door and spoke, confusion and anxiety filled you. 

“Um, hello,” he began. You watched his hands fumble around each other before he cleared his throat and brought them behind his back. “I realize I haven’t given you a full opportunity to be angry with me. I’ve only offered pleasantries and… well, moved you around. I wanted to speak to you if that’s alright?” 

You fixed your gaze on the wall behind him and twisted your lips to the side in the show of a grimace. 

“You don’t have to say anything back—unless you’d like to. It would just—Can I just sit and talk?” 

You had no idea why he was asking. Everyone else in the House sat in your room and talked your ear off, asking questions they wouldn’t get an answer to and telling you about the happenings in town. Azriel was the only one who stayed silent and, now, was the only one to ask permission to speak. 

Still, you slowly nodded and shifted on the pillows. 

“Does anything hurt?” he began, stepping forward with a hesitant hand reaching towards you. “I could fix—” 

You shook your head. He sat in the chair.

There was a beat of silence—uncomfortable silence, which was odd because Azriel had always been the one you felt most comfortable being quiet around. 

When he spoke, the torture in his voice had you finally whipping around to look at his face, but his gaze was downturned. 

“This is my fault,” he said, strained and cracked as he clasped his hands tightly between his knees. “I know I’ve apologized to you since you woke up, but it’s never really been for that. You have to know how sorry I am, y/n. How much I wish I had just come with you. I always come with you.” 

The muscle in his jaw jumped. “I—I don’t understand why you’d lie about Lucien going with you. Or Cassian, for that matter. I thought it was always obvious that I’d do anything for you—that you were more important to me than a date.” 

Something twisted and pulled inside of you. You were getting the devotion you so desired from him, but it was cast behind a layer of something ugly. You were more important than a date—then why did it hurt as he spoke the words to you?

“I’m sorry that I ever made you feel otherwise. I’m sorry that you felt you had to lie for my benefit. But, y/n, I thought you were dead. I walked into that camp and I heard you scream, and I thought—I thought you were dead when I held you in my arms. There was so much blood and—” 

Azriel’s words choked and stopped in the air. He pressed his hands in prayer over his mouth and when he looked up, he caught you in your stare. You sat paralyzed, wide-eyed, as he looked at you directly. 

“Why did you lie?” he asked weakly. “I would have been there. And I’m sorry I believed you so easily, but we’ve always been honest with each other. You’ve always had me.” 

Your chin trembled. You were tired of crying, but the irony of his words hit you with full force and your wings were gone. Your wings were gone and nothing would ever be the same again. 

Your trembling jaw quickly morphed into the too-quick intake of breath that made your shoulders tremble as well. And then you were heaving in ugly sobs that hurt to let go of. You clutched at the blankets beneath you until your knuckles turned white. 

Why did you lie? 

Why did you—

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” Azriel hushed. He was on the bed now. You hadn’t heard the chair when he got up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. He held you at your shoulders and pressed your face into his chest. This was the most anyone had touched you. Madja only healed with brief skims of her hands and everyone else moved you with panicked touches.

“Angel, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” 

When you spoke—for the first time as this new person—your throat made the words unintelligible. Everything was scratchy and hoarse from misuse, but Azriel heard it. He gently pushed you back and found your eyes once more, his gaze wide and encouraging. 

You tried again, and again, each time more coherent but also filled with the tears the Shadowsinger continued to wipe from your cheeks. 

“I didn’t mean to lie,” finally ripped from your chest. “I only—only—” You hiccuped and Azriel’s face crumpled. “I just wanted you to be happy.” 

Azriel’s eyes were already glassy, but when your voice finally rang in his ears, the tears fell. He pressed your face into his chest once more. This time, you brought your hands up to clench his shirt between your fingers. And, because you were already vulnerable and because this was the first time in weeks you no longer felt numb, you whispered out, “My wings are gone,” and Azriel held you tighter. 

~~

You woke to speaking, a voice seeming to rattle in your head. You couldn’t remember falling asleep, only knowing it must have been a productive sleep because you did not feel weighed down. Your back throbbed, as it typically did after sleep, but there was no heaviness at your chest and you felt rested. 

Another voice in the room sounded off, and you kept your eyes shut as you tried to piece together the words. 

“—to walk. Important for her health—too much time—” 

The voice rumbling your head then said, “She might not be ready. We shouldn’t push her.” 

“She will never be ready, Azriel.” Rhysand, you deduced, the conversation in the room becoming more clear. “But, as Madja has said, if we don’t try to get her at least out of this room, she’ll be stuck in her head. Just try to get her to the balcony. Start with that.” 

“Rhysand—” 

“Don’t Rhysand me. It’s almost been three weeks. Her back is nearly healed. That’s not what we’re worried about now.” 

“And what are we worried about?” Azriel bit back. You were on his chest. Hands were on your waist.

The room lulled into a tense pause, the echo of Azriel’s near growl punctuating the silence. 

The door opened and closed, someone’s footfall departing. 

“You’ve scared off our healer, Azriel,” Rhysand noted with a mock scold. Azriel let out a small scoff. “We are all worried about her, Az. I know it feels… maybe like it’s you against the world, but it’s not. We need to get her up and moving. Her headspace isn’t good.” 

Azriel shifted you in his arms. “Fine.” 

“And Madja needs to come back in to change her dressings.” 

Your hair was moved behind your ear. “Fine.” 

Rhysand let out a tortured sigh. 

~~

Azriel’s POV 

Azriel was going to try today. 

He said that yesterday, but yesterday, you had let him coerce you into sitting by the window instead of in bed, and you had talked to him the entire time, so he forgot to bring it up. 

A large part of Azriel was afraid of pushing you—afraid that you would close up again and refuse to look at him. But he knew Rhys and Madja and everyone else in this House was right. You needed to start making progress. You needed to be able to live some semblance of a normal life without your wings. 

It was strange to see you without them. The pit in his chest grew each time you moved to accommodate them. You would shift in bed or reach around to reposition the fantom limb and realization would come before the dread. Sometimes that was it for the day, you wouldn’t speak anymore. Azriel would read to you when that happened. 

You had started to talk to the rest of the circle, which Azriel was mostly glad for, but the smallest bout of protectiveness had somehow dug its way into his heart. When he would walk into your room to find you chatting with Cassian or listening to Rhys, Azriel would have to pause at the territorial feeling that temporarily consumed him. He figured it was only because you were still hurt. That would fade. 

When he came in today, you were alone, and Azriel felt relieved. For a moment. 

You were already awake and looked well-rested, which was detrimental to his plan of asking you while you were half asleep. You set your book down to stare up at him, and even the fact that you were reading was not lost on him. 

You were making progress. This was part of progress.

“Good morning, y/n,” Azriel greeted, standing at the foot of your bed. 

The action already made you nervous. You eyed the chair beside you and glanced back at him. “Hi, Az.” 

Azriel’s lash fluttered at the sound of your voice, still so fresh after weeks of silence. You were meeker than you once sounded, unsure and small. 

Azriel took in a breath before asking, “How’s today?”

“Today is good,” you replied, words slow. 

Azriel spied the remaining badges peeking out from the top of your shirt. You needed this. “I think we should walk today.” 

Silence consumed the room. Your lips parted as you stared at him, and Azriel immediately wanted to eat his words. Another beat of silence. And then another. He tried desperately not to shift weight between his feet lest he look antsy or unsure. 

You blinked, twice, and then stared down at your fingers as they rested in your lap. 

“I know it will be difficult,” Azriel tried, speaking low. “But I’ll be here. We don’t have to go far. A few steps, that’s all I’m asking.” 

You pressed your thumbnail into your palm, brows furrowed. You hadn’t smiled, Azriel realized, not since before. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips before you spoke. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” Azriel asked, bending down to catch your gaze unsuccessfully. 

You blinked back up at him. “Okay, I’ll try.” And then, in a much lower tone, as Azriel walked to your side, you grumbled, “Not as if I could get any lower than I am now.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” you replied, reaching for his outstretched hands. “Doesn’t mean anything.” 

Azriel decided to revisit that later. He wouldn’t pass up this opening you had provided, even though his heart ached at what you’d insinuated. He held your hands in his own and leaned forward as you shifted yourself to the side, your legs hanging off the edge of the bed. 

Already, the disorientation on your face was difficult to stomach. You swayed backward with a pinched expression and your nostrils flared in frustration, but Azriel only held your hands firm and steady. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he comforted, allowing his thumb to brush your knuckle. “Anything hurt?”

You shook your head, your lips pressed in a tight line. Azriel forced himself into your field of vision and nodded, softly counting to three as your eyes darted quickly between both of his. As your legs straightened and Azriel’s hands held you up, you refused to break the connection. Azriel wouldn’t be the one to break it. 

You were shaky on your feet and completely unbalanced, but you were standing, and that was all Azriel could ask for. He gripped your hands tighter as your breathing deepened, the struggle evident on your face. 

“Feel okay?” Azriel asked. 

“No,” you grimaced. “But keep going,” you breathed out. 

“Okay, okay. Start with your right. I won’t let go of you.” 

And you did as he asked, albeit with a small groan and a look up at the ceiling. You abandoned the frustration in favor of staring directly at your feet and white-knuckling the grip on Azriel’s hands as you swayed and brought your right foot forward. The moment you placed it down you wobbled on it and had to right yourself three times, causing one of Azriel’s hands to come around your waist.��

You gritted your teeth but continued with your left foot with some encouragement from Azriel. He stepped back with each step you took forward, his hands glued to your body to correct the mistakes from your core. You made it six steps and Azriel was elated. He let out a small, breathy laugh. 

“You’re incredible,” he deemed. 

And it was so, so small, but the scoff-like laugh you offered was accompanied by a minuscule half-smile, and Azriel was over the moon. You looked up at him, a sarcastic upturn of your eyes lighting them up, and Azriel was struck then. 

Mate. 

Mate. 

It was so obvious, so clear. There was never anything but this. But you. 

You were meant to be his and he yours. Years of this pull to you, and he always thought it to be one of friendship. He’d always loved you, always, but he’d never humored the possibility of anything more. You’d seen him in his teen years. Gods, you’d seen him in his twenties when he was terribly full of himself without the credentials to be so. 

And he’d seen you through the decades of your life as well. 

But everything was so much clearer now. He’d always been protective of you, always been the first to follow you. That was part of why this had been so devastating—he’d let you down, left you alone. For another woman. 

Azriel felt his stomach lurch and then something rotten was left in his mouth. 

His mate—he’d let this happen to his mate. 

And what had he said in the store that day? When you’d asked him what would happen if he’d found his mate?

He’d said it wouldn’t matter, that Elain was bigger than a mating bond. 

Elain.

“Azriel?” Your worried tone snapped him back to the present. To the way your legs shook and your body swayed before him. He quickly scooped you up at your waist and held you close as he walked you back to the bed. 

“That’s enough for today,” he said, tucking you back into the bed. His hands were shaking. “Does anything hurt?”

“Are you okay?” you asked, and when you looked at him with your wide eyes, he was so angry at himself. 

Nothing made sense, but everything did. 

“I’m alright,” he reassured, placing a hand on the top of your head. “We need to take that slow. Your muscles need to be rebuilt along with your balance.” 

He needed to get out of this room. He needed to—

“I promise I’ll be able to do more tomorrow. You’ll… come back tomorrow, right?” 

Something was screaming at him. His shadows. They twisted and struck his ears before coming down to rest gently at your shoulders. 

“Of course I will.” 

~~

Original POV

Azriel did not come back the following day, or the day after that. 

Mor came on the first day, a smile plastered on her concerned face. She held her hands out as Azriel did and got you to walk ten steps before exhaustion made your legs shake. She sat beside your bed and went on and on about some shop in Velaris and you laid back and listened. 

You loved Mor, but it became hard to swallow when she was the one to walk through your door that morning. 

The next day, it was Cassian. 

He grinned and boasted about being the best person on the job, rounding your bed and heaving you up by your hips until you were pressed against his front. Cassian took a different approach to you relearning how to walk, placing your feet on top of his to move as he did. He was joking at first, laughter fresh in his tone, but he got serious as your brow twisted and your body swayed. 

“You got it,” he assured. He stepped back, his hands now just hovering over your hips as you balanced against him. “You’re doing great.” 

You gripped the sleeves of his shirt. “I should know how to walk,” you said through gritted teeth. “I shouldn’t have stayed in bed so long.” 

“You were healing. Resting. No one expected you to hop up and be fine, y/n.” 

“I moped for too long. This wouldn’t be so hard if I had started earlier.” 

“Hey—” 

Frustration had accumulated, building since realizing that you really were only a fraction of yourself, and that was probably why Azriel hadn’t come back. You clenched your teeth once more and pushed from Cassian’s body, finding the ground beneath your feet and ignoring the protest from the Illyrian before you—the one with his wings so tightly pressed to his back that you almost could forget they were there. Almost. 

But the action was short-lived. Cassian grappled for your waist as your body only allowed you two steps forward before you shot backward, an ache permeating down your spine as it tried to accommodate the movement. 

“Cauldron, y/n, warn a guy,” Cassian scolded, stepping you back to sit on the bed. “Did you do this with everyone or am I just special?” 

Frustration burned behind your eyes. You stayed silent as you scrubbed your hand down your face. You couldn’t even fling yourself back against the bed as you wanted, knowing that pain would radiate down your back if you did. 

You couldn’t do anything. The extra time you’d spent with Azriel had created a false sense of… something you needed to let go of. He was pitying you—that was all. You were a broken creature, and he felt responsible. 

“What was that about, huh?” Cassian asked, kneeling before you and looking up below a raised brow. 

“I’m broken,” you admitted, resolute and small. “That’s why Azriel won’t come back, isn’t it? I can’t walk. I’m not how I was. I let this happen to me. I should know how to walk.” 

Cassian’s tongue clicked as his head tilted to the side. “No, y/n, you’re not broken. You didn’t let anything happen to you. This is all—Gods, this is all a fucking mess. But the one thing you can know is that you aren’t broken. And Azriel—he’s dealing with something right now. He’s not avoiding you because you’re broken.” 

You stared back at him, the empty feeling slowly creeping back into your chest. You bit the inside of your cheek and nodded when Cassian gave you an expectant look. You would act as if you believed him, and the following day, when Azriel stepped through your door, maybe it felt a bit easier to lie. 

“Did you handle what you needed to?” you asked him, your hands cemented against his own as he guided you around your room. The words came out strained as your balance faltered. 

Azriel took a moment before responding, “You could say that.” 

“Was it Elain?” You hadn’t meant to ask the question, and the bitterness in your tone was new to even you, but it came out all the same. You avoided Azriel’s gaze as it snapped to your face. 

“Some of it,” he admitted. His eyes burned into you. You stared at your feet as you stepped. “But only some.” 

“How’s that working out for you?” 

“Y/n.” 

You stepped again. And again. It was easier each day, but that also spelled a more difficult future. The further you walked, the sooner you would have to come to terms with your wings being gone. Staying in bed helped you avoid that truth. 

You ignored Azriel’s call and stepped again. 

“Look at me. Please.” 

You shifted your jaw to the side but glanced up through your lashes and gave in to his request. Azriel’s beseeching expression made you falter. 

“I can never apologize fully for not being there that night. With Elain—“ Azriel paused, wincing. “I’ve been blind to what’s important. You tried to tell me. Everyone tried to tell me. I was so caught up in a chance at happiness. It was never about Elain.” 

You had no reply. Your legs were shaking. 

Azriel seemed to take a different approach. “I meant what I said before—that you’re incredible. You’ve pushed yourself so hard and we’re all proud of you.” 

“Is that why you didn’t come back when you said you would?” you asked. The tinge of bitterness remained. “Because you’re proud of me?” 

“I had to—y/n, there were things—“ 

“Just say you’ve been visiting out of pity, Azriel. That would make this easier.” 

You gripped his hands harder as your wave of frustration made walking more difficult. You grunted slightly and Azriel took that as a sign to shift your weight from your feet, holding you to his body even as you struggled against him, even as you averted your gaze. 

Gods, this was better when you kept your mouth shut. 

“I do not pity you. Y/n—y/n. I don’t, do you hear me?” 

“Why?” you stressed, pushing your hands against his chest in a futile escape attempt. “Why, Azriel? Too busy running after Elain to make room for it?” 

“Don’t say that. I already told you—“

“Just let me go.” 

“No.”

“Oh, so now you listen to me.” 

“Y/n—“ 

“This was already humiliating, Azriel. And then you said you’d be back and you weren’t,” you accused. “You got weird when I finally started walking and I know you only came in here because Cassian told you about yesterday.” 

“Yesterday?” he questioned. 

You rolled your eyes. It was so much easier to be angry than hurt. “When I asked about you. I know he can’t keep a secret.” 

Azriel only shook his head. “He hadn’t told me anything. I needed a few days because I’m the weak one. Me. I needed distance because I’m reminded, every time I see you, that I could have prevented this. Im selfish.

“And Elain,” he trailed off, hazel eyes flicking between yours. “I had to tell her that I’ve been a fool. I won’t be pursuing her anymore.” 

Your brows furrowed. You gave up fighting against Azriel, but he kept both of your hands in a grip at his chest, his other arm locked at your lower back. This felt like a weight lifted from your chest, but it wasn’t that easy. None of this was easy. 

“Why?” 

Azriel paused. 

Something flashed across his face, indecipherable to even you, but he covered it just as quickly.

“It wasn’t supposed to be her. I’ve always known that.” 

More silence blanketed the room. Your earlier anger melted into a white-hot embarrassment that lingered in the pit of your stomach. You’d never been one quick to anger. Azriel hadn’t even blinked an eye. 

“Can I help you back to your bed?”

You pressed your lips together. 

“I want to read with you, if that’s alright?” 

Your head turned down. You nodded. 

~~ 

Azriel’s POV 

Azriel couldn’t tell you. 

He couldn’t. 

It was clear that no bond lit up your chest as his did, and that made sense to Azriel. You’d been through a loss few could ever imagine. You were stuck in your head for most of the day, and then angry or numb for the rest of it. The only time you seemed to find reprieve was during conversation that had nothing to do with anything of meaning. 

Azriel would take what he could get. So he read beside you and helped you walk and he didn’t tell you that a bond connected your souls. 

How could he even broach the subject, anyway? When he had so openly pined after another woman? 

This was not the time. 

You needed to focus on yourself. He would focus on you and you would focus on yourself. 

It had been about a month since you began walking again, and two since your injury. He counted each day. On the second week of the third month, Azriel saw you in the hallway. Feyre walked alongside you as you trailed your fingers on the wall, and while it gave the air of a casual stroll, he could see his High Lady’s hand hover behind you. While he took effortful breaths to calm his excitement, his shadows did not. 

“Azriel, what terrible timing!” Feyre scolded, batting away the shadows as they stormed you. “I finally got her out here and you're going to knock her over with air.”

“I apologize,” he spoke, but he wasn’t sorry in the slightest. Despite your unsteady gait, you lit up as his shadows swirled around you, displacing your hair and clothes as you went. And then you laughed; a small sound, but one that Azriel felt in his chest. 

“Call them back,” you giggled. Azriel’s face warmed along with his chest. “I’m going to collapse into this wall if you don’t.” 

“Azriel,” Feyre called, and Azriel hadn’t noticed he was staring. He blinked and shook his head as if to clear it and tried to call his shadows back. And then tried again. 

They were stuck to you. 

“I really am trying,” he explained, taking a step closer. “They seem attached.” 

“I can’t imagine why,” Feyre groaned. She shot the Shadowsinger a look and wrapped her arm around your shoulder, tugging you into her side. “Idiot bats.” 

As the pair walked past him, his shadows still whispering along your arms, you hooked your chin over your shoulder, casting him a lingering gaze. It was odd to see your face with such clarity, no wings clouding his view. Even more odd was the uncomfortable way you walked; the leaning into Feyre’s side was more necessary than for the show. 

The strangest thing, however, was the tug in his chest that left him breathless. Every time you looked at him, that thread in his chest tugged and yanked and begged him to get closer. 

But this wasn’t the time. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be the time for several decades. 

Not after he let you down in such a way. 

He would spend the rest of his life making up for that, even if you were none the wiser to the bond between you. He would protect you for the rest of your life, as he was meant to do from the beginning. That feeling, the urge, only swelled as you turned forward and continued your walk with your High Lady, Azriel still hearing the remnants of your laugh in the hall as you went. 

A shadow broke away from your figure and lopped around his ear, reminding him that he actually did have a destination before he became so enraptured by you. It whispered to him hurriedly and Azriel had to break his gaze from your retreating back as he made his way to Rhysand’s study. Each step had him increasingly irritated; he should have been with you the day you decided to leave your room. 

He bit back his vexation when he felt the tension in the room. 

“Azriel. Good,” Rhysand greeted. The door swung shut. “Sit. We need to talk.” 

“That doesn’t sound promising,” Azriel remarked, shifting his leathers as he took a wide seat on the chair across Rhysand’s desk. 

From the couch beside him, Cassian let out a humorless chuckle. “I think you’ll find this quite promising, brother.” 

“As long as it’s quick. I have other things to attend to today.” 

Cassian sent a wry grin in Rhysand’s direction. “I told you he’d see her in the hall.” He turned back to Azriel. “Packed schedule today, Az?” 

“You know better, Cassian,” Rhysand chided, the lightness in his tone betraying the scolding nature of his words. 

“Is there an actual point to this discussion?” Azriel deadpanned. 

“Bond feeling a little loose?” 

Azriel threw him a dirty look. It hadn’t taken a genius to recognize the change in Azriel the day the bond snapped, his heightened aggression paired with the scent of you still lingering on his clothes had Cassian immediately clocking the Shadowsinger. He’d looked surprised—gaurded and surprised. Rhysand looked as if he’d been the one waiting for the bond to snap, and Azriel had sent him a myriad of questions. 

Namely: Why the hell wouldn’t he tell him he thought you were his mate? 

“Don’t taunt him, Cass.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

“Are we getting to the point?” Azriel drawled. The desire to get back to you itched beneath his skin. Maybe you’d made it to the kitchen and he’d sit at the table beside you. 

Rhysand sighed. He tapped his finger against a piece of parchment laid on the desk. “I have correspondence from the northeast camp. From the spies you have placed there.” 

Azriel sat up in his chair. “Why wouldn’t they speak to me directly?” 

“I had them turn all communication over to me. You’re too close to this and I wouldn’t have you acting rashly and putting yourself in unnecessary danger.” 

“They are my spies—” 

“I didn’t do it to undermine you, Azriel,” Rhysand interrupted, raising a hand in surrender. “You can’t tell me that if you got word her attackers were found you wouldn’t immediately rush into that camp without a plan or even a weapon.” 

Azriel breathed hard from his nose and clenched the wooden chair arms between scarred fingers. 

In the silence, Rhysand continued. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, brother. But you understand why that was a risk I couldn’t take.” 

“What did the correspondence say?” Azriel gritted out, his mood depleted of the lightness you had brought. 

Rhysand eyed Cassian on the other side of the room before fixing his gaze on his Spymaster. “The escaped attackers have been identified. They aren’t contained, and no one even knows where they are, but we know who they are.” 

Fiery rage met Azriel’s soured mood.

If only he knew of the terrors that would continue to fall. 

[xetlynn]

Arcane Imagines- Violet

Sweet and Sour

Requested by: @m0ranna "vi and a s/o who looks, seems and acts very soft but is actually a beast when fighting."

[arcane] [main page]

Summary: you and vi have been apart for some time, and when she sees you all the feelings come back.

“Hey, someone’s here for you.” Your only employee, Mexi says, you hum in response waving that you’re coming. You feel slightly grateful to stand up from your desk and be done with all the paperwork for just a moment. It’s been slow running Benzo’s old shop. Nobody has really come in, especially now with everything going on between Zaun and Piltover so money’s real tight.

 You walk out into the shop from behind the counter after your employee leads you there. You look up with crossed arms. “What can I do for you?” Asked with a fake interested tone.

“[Name]? You own the place now?” A familiar voice rings in your ears. Your eyes widened to look more clearly at your past friend/crush. “Violet?!” You jump over the counter, pulling her into a tight embrace. You hadn’t seen her since that horrible, idiotic heist that went so wrong. “Hey!” She holds you close to her, before pulling you back to get a better look at you. 

“You still have that sweet innocent look.” She whispers, pulling you into another hug. Taking in your scent as tears fills your eyes. “How did you get out?” You back away this time, holding onto her shoulders to make sure she doesn’t go away. “Uh, see that pilty officer out there.” She points to the dark haired lady standing outside the shop with her hands on her hips seemingly impatient. “Yeah?” 

“Her, I don’t know why but I’m not complaining.” Vi chuckles and you smile at her. “Want to invite her in?” It stuns her when you offer that, even Mexi was taken aback. She gets nervous, walking into the back so she doesn't have to speak to an officer. “Eh, she can experience the undercity a little more.” Vi waves it off, jumping onto the glass counter to sit down. 

“Looks the same in here.” She sadly sighs, browses the place. “Tried not to change it drastically. Benzo did a pretty good job.” You frown, thinking back to the man who was like a father to you. “Is Ekko…” 

“Nah, he’s doing his own thing now. Unfortunately it's the same with your sister.” You groan, reminding yourself of the blue-haired girl's antics with Silco. “Powder? What do you mean unfortunately?” Vi perks up. “She’s not really Powder anymore.” You start, hugging yourself as you think back to when Ekko begged you to fight with the fireflies. 

“Let’s talk about something else.” You pick up a random gadget, fidgeting with it in your left hand. “How’s the free life?” 

“I want to talk about Powder.” Vi gets off the counter, walking towards you. “Vi, no. You’ll find out on your own. I really don’t want to get into this.” You tell her simply, pleading silently with your facial expression. She wants to argue with you, beg for you to say more but she can’t. Not when your eyes are full of fear and sadness. You’ve always been so sweet-looking. So kind to people, giving them the benefit of the doubt. Which is rare in the undercity. It’s also stupid to most. 

“Okay, okay. I- I don’t know, I’ve only been free for a few hours. This was the first place I went to.” She averts eye contact now. “Hm, I’m the first person you wanted to see, huh?” You joke, there wasn’t really any other option sadly. “Of course.” Vi smirks, nudging your arm. 

“I’ve missed you.” You turn to her, pulling her into another hug. “I don’t want to let go of you. It’s like you’re going to disappear at any moment.” You whimper out, trying not to cry. Vi’s face softens, kissing the top of your head. “I promise I’m not leaving again.” Her hands go to your waist just letting you cling onto her. 

“I’ll kill you before you get the chance to leave me.” You say, causing her to scoff out a laugh. The door bells go off and you both let each other go to see that officer standing there. 

“Sorry to interrupt, Officer Caitlyn Kiramman.” She bows down to you before looking at Vi. “We should get going, I have important things to get to.” 

You raise a brow on why Vi needs to go with this lady so badly. Vi sighs. “Give me a moment.” She tells the officer whose face contorts into an annoyed expression. “I’ve given you quite a few moments to reunite with your girlfriend here.” Cait spits out, obviously very antsy to get where she needs to be. The both of you awkwardly glance at one another now with flushed faces.

“Uh, it’s alright. I’ll see you later Vi.” You chuckle, taking her hand in yours. “There’s a fight in that one arena we used to go to behind Vander and Benzo’s back. It’s huge and you should come. Just like old times.” You propose to her, your face full of hope that she agrees to come. 

“You can bring your bodyguard too.” You tease making her playfully roll her eyes. Cait tries to bite back a smile at the joke. “I’ll be there. I promise.” Vi squeezes your hand before letting go. “It’s at the usual time as well, I hope you remember.” You tell her as she leaves with the girl. “Oh I remember!” Vi calls back. 

When the door shuts behind them and the bells still ring in your ears you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Mexi comes out of hiding. “You two are dating?” She asks curiously. You choke on your spit. “Huh?” 

“Well the officer said you were her girlfriend and neither one of you denied it.” She shrugs her shoulders, taking out her box of things to put away. “Oh, I mean we had a small thing as children but I haven’t seen her in 7 years. I’m sure she doesn’t think about me that way.” You ramble, putting the gadget back that forgot you were holding. 

“I don’t know. The way she looked at you says otherwise.” Mexi winks, your face heats up. “Whatever.” You mutter, going back behind the counter and heading into the back to finish the paperwork you had. 

•••

Vi and Caitlyn rummage through the crowd of people, trying to find you. “I don’t know if we’re going to find her before the fight!” Cait shouts over the yelling and the music that blasted. “I’m gonna try!” Violet huffs, shoving past all the people, getting to the front where maybe she could spot you on the other side of the arena. Her eyes traveled through the sea of moving bodies. “C’mon.” She mutters to herself. She didn’t want you to think she didn’t come. She had only made it five minutes before the fight even started because of what Cait and her had to do. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen!!!” The announcer screams into the mic, only making everyone louder with their cheers. As he speaks, Vi only zones everything out, trying her hardest not to panic when attempting to find you. 

“Isn’t that her?” Cait points down into the arena with eyebrows scrunched together. Vi’s eyes shoot down to see you standing there against a large woman. “Shit, what’s she doing!?” Violet urgently asks, gripping onto Caitlyn. “I think she’s about to fight.” 

Vi gives her a dirty look, giving her attention back to the scene in front of her right as the announcer starts the fight. The woman attempts to attack you but you swerve out of the way. You look up to see Vi and Caitlyn. You blow them a kiss before turning to the woman and throwing a punch. 

The lady doesn’t dodge it in time, getting hit right in the eyebrow. She tries to throw hits at you but you maneuver around them, hitting her in the right places to cause her to stumble. Vi leans over the edge, now cheering for you. “Kick her ass!” She shouts. Even Caitlyn was amazed at your fighting skills. She wasn’t expecting that from someone so… cute and sweet looking. 

You swiped the lady's feet out from right under her. Going in for the punches. The larger lady attempts to push you away with no avail. 

But when she sees an opening after multiple hits to the face she shoves you off of her. Getting herself up. You roll away, jumping to your feet, you weren’t paying attention when she gets a hit to the middle of your face. Violet gasps, nails digging into Caitlyn’s arm. The dark blue haired girl doesn’t pay attention though. 

You spit out blood, wiping your mouth before going after the woman with more passion than before. Looking like a beast in the ring. You go right for her head, only taking a few hits for her to be back on the ground. 

Not even five minutes into the fight and you win. Leaving her knocked out. 

The announcer commentates as the crowd goes wild. Violet listens to all the people saying how little miss [Name] out there is undefeated. “Holy shit.” Cait whispers. You pump your fists into the air, jumping around for yourself. You have blood guzzling down your nose but you’re having a blast with the attention. You look up, locking eyes with Vi who has a look of bewilderment. You chuckle then motion with your head to the exit doors. She immediately understands what you’re saying. “Meet me at her shop, I’ll see you later.” Violet places a hand on Caitlyn’s shoulder before pushing through the crowd.

You and Vi used to sneak and see the fighters in the back frequently as children. Not to meet them or anything but just to say you were in the same room as them. Even then it was kept a secret between you both. 

She sneaks through the men guarding the doors and slips into the very first room she can. Hands snake around her from behind. “Hey!” You scare her, making her jump away from you. She turns with her fists up in defense. You roar into laughter, mimicking her stance. She pouts from being made fun off and smacks your arm. “Why didn’t you tell me you were fighting?! I didn’t even know you could do all that!” She exclaims as you grin. 

“I wanted it to be surprising! Wasn’t I so amazing out there?” You lift your arms, flexing your muscles. “Yeah but honestly I did not see that coming from someone so… adorable?” She tilts her head as she tries to find the right word to call you.

 “Awe I’m adorable?” You poke her side, heading over to the full body mirror in the room, taking the wraps off your hands. “I mean, you’ve always been pretty cute. Like y’know sweet looking. I’ve never seen you even hurt someone!” she maundered, speaking with her hands flailing trying to explain what she meant with bright red ears. 

“Desperate times call for desperate measures. I don’t exactly enjoy being some beast fighter but it pays the bills.” You lean against the little table beside the mirror. Staring off into space at Vi’s shoes. “The shop not doing good?” Vi asks. “It’s seen better days. I have enough for everything except paying Mexi but I’m not letting her go. She’s helped way too much for me to do that.” You sigh, thinking about the young worker who you practically took under your wing. 

“So you risk yourself so you don’t have to fire just one person.” She quizzes and you go to defend your actions but she just snickers. “Gosh you really are too sweet for your own good, [Name]. I love you so much.” She holds her stomach as she laughs. Amused by how kind you are. “You love me?” You attempt to tease her but her face drops, realising what she said. “I mean, yeah! I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.” She speaks so nonchalantly it catches you off guard. When she said she loved you, you thought of it as a family thing. Not romantic. You weren’t upset but your mind was spiraling now. 

“I’m sorry if it’s too much. I don’t even know if you have a partner already or something. I’ve been gone for so long I just. I’ve never stopped thinking about you even though we were only 15.” She over-explains, and you go up to her, putting a finger to her lips. “I love you too, Violet. I wasn’t kidding when I said I missed you.” You tell her earnestly, your hand going to her cheek. 

Her shoulders drop, relieved by your words. “Oh thank god, I thought I had just scared you or something. I feel so stupid.” You shush her with a small laugh. “I forgot how much you talk when you’re nervous.” You whisper as she plants her forehead on yours. “I only do it with you.” She shamefully admits. 

“Mm, really?” You ask before locking your lips on hers. She moans into the kiss, deepening it by bringing you closer to her. The kiss was rough, making up for lost time. Wandering hands over one another's bodies. 

When you pull apart you grin, throwing your arms over her shoulders. “We're dating.” You state, not asking but telling her. She shakes her head. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Well you do now.”

 You peck her lips. 

•••

Time passes and Vi comes into the shop whenever she can, you let Mexi watch over so the both of you can go out. Always in cute light colored clothes in such a dark place. 

People never understood how you were so bubbly, giving to others and dancing in the middle of Zaun. 

Violet loved it, watching as a street performer played and you danced to music. Children joining you. Even a few adults. It was these moments the undercity needed. A little distraction from the horrors about to come. 

You’d have these sweet moments everyday and then night comes and you’re in people's nightmares. Fighting to pay the bills you said. Fighting to win and prove you’re more than what others call a weak minded, overly nice girl. And Vi’s there to support her girl through it all. 

Loving every second. 

[yelenasbraid]

the view between villages pt. 3 — joe burrow

mini series summary — it’s been years since you’ve seen your high school & college best friend, joe burrow. you went to high school together, went to ohio state together, but separated when joe transferred. distance wasn’t kind to you, and the total difference in careers stretched you further apart. when you reunite with him unexpectedly, you’re not sure you have an explanation. you’re not sure if he’ll take your explanation. little do you know he’s been ready and he’s been willing.

chapter summary — you and joe catch up, but not without the lovely company of anxiety.

warnings — fem!reader, some angst, fluff, this is LONG sorry!

songs that inspired this part — the edge by sydney ross mitchell, the roads by jonah kagan

note — been a little mia so sorry about that! life has been crazy but i’m hoping with the break coming up i can enjoy some much needed time off. here’s part 3 of the view between villages! hope you enjoy!

YOU’RE PACING, running around your room trying to piece together some semblance of an outfit. yours and joe’s catch-up day was here and you weren’t at all prepared. you spent the better part of the last 24 hours stressing, your anxiety trying to convince you that going would further ruin what you could have with joe. your rapid heartbeat and freak-out over what to wear diminished that.

you settled on something cute, but cozy. something that you were confident in, but also allowed you to breathe whenever you’d eat. your hands shook as you did your hair, your palms sweaty as you tried to steady the curling iron. it slipped, burning part of your finger. you hissed, slamming the iron down on the counter while you ran your finger under cold water.

“he’s probably not stressing about this like i am,” you grumbled as you dried your finger off, rummaging around for a bandage. you didn’t know that joe was feeling a very similar way, that his mind was racing and that he couldn’t wait to see you. his nerves ate him alive, creating a problem when it came to choosing an outfit.

joe rummaged through his closet, trying to find something that he could wear. it was a picnic, so something he didn’t mind getting dirty. which was nothing. he ran a shaky hand through his hair; he hasn’t felt this nervous for something since prom junior year of high school.

flashback

“joey, honey, you look great,” robin patted joe’s chest as he observed himself in the mirror. the suit he had on fit him, hugging his muscles and his stature better than he could have thought. yet, he still felt like he was gonna be sick.

it was the night of prom, and you were his date.

the thought of you, fitted in a beautiful dress, makeup done, and looking dolled up, it made him nervous. it made his hands shake. it made his heart slam against his chest. how did he manage to snag you as his date to prom?

“thanks, mom,” he exhaled, picking at his sleeves and flicking his eyes over his outfit. he didn’t wear suits. he didn’t like them. yet he was in one.

“you should get going, you don’t want to be late,” his mom patted his shoulder, “and don’t be nervous, remember, she’s your best friend,” she reminded him. joe nodded his head, saying the over and over in his mind. you were his best friend. that’s all. nothing more, right?

end of flashback

he settled on jeans and a t-shirt, completing the look with some white sneakers. it was nothing fancy, but it was also put together. he didn’t look like he rolled out of bed. as he fiddled with the final touches in the mirror, his mind drew back to you. you were his constant during school. you were always there, even when he wasn’t a good friend. you picked him up, but one question sat with him: why did you leave? why did you go radio silent? as he stood there, mind wondering down twisting roads, a haunting thought fogged his mind: why didn’t he reach out? why did he go radio silent?

could this be his fault?

he shook his head, attempting to banish the anxiety that spread its fingers over his mind, wrapping its tail around his legs. it was time, that’s what it was. time caused you two to distance yourselves. joe convinced himself of that, but he found himself convincing himself of another statement: he missed you. terribly, achingly so.

“get yourself together, joe,” he muttered to himself, walking out of his home. he stepped into his car, starting his drive to your place. his hands wrung the steering wheel, stressing over the tiniest of things. what were you going to talk about? was it going to be easy? were you going to be ready when he got there? his mind rattled off thoughts and before he knew it, he’d pulled up to your apartment. he parked, got out, and walked to your door. he knocked, stepping back. a few silent, agonizing moments went by before the door opened. his breath caught, and you weren’t wearing anything particularly fancy. you just answered the door.

“i’m almost ready i just have to find my keys…” you trailed off, leaving the door open as you walked back into your apartment. your mind was also scrambled. you’d misplaced your keys, lost your phone twice in your bed, and not to mention the burn on your finger from your stupid godforsaken-

“found em!” you called as you snagged the keys from the counter. your stomach was eating you alive. the nerves were tightly wound up, making your stomach seem to vibrate.

“you pick where we’re eating,” joe told you as you locked your door.

“you know i’m indecisive, joey,” you breathed as you walked with him to his car. oh, he knew. it was why he already had a place picked out.

“there’s this really good place downtown, i think it sells pizza?” he teased, and he watched your face brighten. he was still nervous, his hands sweating from the rapid heartbeat in his chest.

“can we go?”

“uh, yeah,” he answered as he opened your door for you. with a blush on your cheeks, you thanked him as you stepped into the car. it was definitely an upgrade from what he had in high school. well, anything was an upgrade from the car he had in high school.

—

pizza was picked up, as well as some drinks, and you drove to the park by joe’s house. it wasn’t a quiet drive, but not in a bad way.

“no, no that was the winter soldier. i’m telling you they did something to him,” you argued. this conversation started awkwardly by joe asking you if you were still into marvel movies. you said you were, and it turned into you talking about the newly released thunderbolts trailer.

“why would they do that? they spent all that time deconstructing what HYDRA did to him just to say, ‘yeah just scrap all of that let’s do it again!’ i don’t think so,” joe argued back.

“i really hope you’re right because if they do anything to bucky,” you clicked your tongue as you finished your sentence. joe understood, and he chuckled. he missed these conversations. the easy ones, the ones where he could be himself and no one would judge him. he couldn’t be the nerd he was on national television. he couldn’t theorize in depth about aliens on national television. he could with you though.

“we know you’re storming the big man’s house,” he teased, turning into the park. you laughed, and it felt natural. there was one issue that sat between you, and you both knew it. the reason for the years of silence. the fear that he wouldn’t accept your explanation. the fear that you wouldn’t have any sort of reasoning. it settled deep within both of your chests, and nothing would be completely normal until it came out.

joe parked the car, turning it off before stepping out and getting your door for you. you got out, and helped joe bring your supplies to an empty place on the grass. the sun was just beginning to set, casting beautiful hues of purple, orange, and yellow into the sky. you missed how joe was looking at you, seeing the sunset reflected on your face, how your eyes were pools of warmth form the sun. time may have ravaged your soul, but you were still as beautiful as the day you parted ways.

you turned, your eyes meeting his. a blush crept up his neck and reached his cheeks and ears. blushing like school children, you decided to focus on setting up the picnic. you flicked out the blanket, spreading it out on the soft grass below you. joe set down the pizzas, the napkins, and the drinks. you both sat down, opening the pizza boxes, inhaling the comforting aroma of pizza.

“i knew i forgot something,” joe muttered, flicking through the pile of things on your picnic blanket. you watched with curiosity, and then it dawned on you.

“did you forget the plates?” you asked him, a smile creeping up on your face. blushes of embarrassment tinted joe’s ears red. how could he be so stupid? he forgot the very thing to hold the pizza he bought.

“yeah…” he trailed off. he wanted it to be perfect. he didn’t want anything to be out of place or missing. he felt that if he did, it reflected badly on him. it usually did when it came to games. people blamed him for a lot of mistakes, even when he didn’t make them. he carried that weight, and he was used to it.

“it’s not a big deal,” you shrugged, grabbing a napkin, “plates are for losers anyways,” you grab a slice and cradle it in a napkin. you watched as joe’s shoulders sagged, relief flooding his features. you didn’t know all that went on, or the emotions he felt this season, but there was one thing you did know: joe was a perfectionist. he needed everything to be perfect, and he struggled with that in college. you could see him still struggling with it now.

joe grabbed a napkin, placing a slice on it. he appreciated how you read him. that without saying much, or anything at all, you picked up on things. you filled a hole in his chest, your warmth rooting down into the depths of his soul, reminding him of who he was. you were the rock he stood on, the hand who pulled him out of the darkness, the safety net that caught him when he fell. his chest constricted as the realization dawned on him.

he was still madly and utterly in love with you.

—

it was dark before you left the park. you spent hours there, catching up on everything. from his football career to his family, from your graduation to promotion at work. talking to joe filled you with such joy, a feeling you haven’t felt in a long time you’ve realized. you meshed well with him, your ideas and beliefs parallel to one another. he was still the boy you were best friends with, the boy who had a star wars themed bedroom and watched spongebob on the weekends. he was still joey, just with more muscle and a lot taller.

you gathered your things and the remaining pizza slices, climbing back into the car. the car ride back to your apartment was silent, and the urge to grab his hand was overwhelming. your eyes watched as one hand rested on the steering wheel while the other rested on his thigh. you just caught up after 6 years, grabbing his hand didn’t make sense. no matter how badly you wanted to feel his fingers locked with yours.

his fingers drummed against the steering wheel, his eyes lazily scanning the road ahead of him. he glanced over at you, watching as you turned your fingers over in your lap.

“what happened to your finger?” he asked, seeing the angry, red mark after passing under a streetlight.

“i burnt it doing my hair earlier, it’s no big deal,” you shrugged, but the throbbing in said finger was a big deal. it was worse now that you weren’t completely distracted. with a rush of confidence, fueled by adrenaline, he grabbed your hand. his hands were surprisingly soft, but you could feel the hard skin that’s built up over the years. his hands were warm, and it was the distraction you needed from the throbbing in your finger. you smiled to yourself, feeling your cheeks warm as you held joe’s hand. this had to be a movie.

he pulled into your apartment, throwing the car into park.

“take the pizza,” he told you as he helped you out of the car.

“what? no, i can’t do that,”

“yes, i insist,” he shoved the box into your hands with a smile, only making you smile and roll your eyes. he walked with you up to your apartment, watching as you fiddled with your keys. you didn’t want to leave. you wanted to stay with him, keep talking to him and just be with him. you didn’t realize how healing it was to just sit with him.

“i had fun,” you started, smiling up at him.

“i did too,” he agreed, shoving his hands into his pockets, “we need to do this again,”

“we definitely do,” you agreed. silence sat between you, but so did tension. it strengthened with every passing second, but you weren’t going to do anything about it.

“well, i’ve got to get some sleep. got work early in the morning,” you awkwardly sighed, fitting your key into the lock.

“yeah, me too,” he agreed.

“night, joey,” you smiled as you turned the lock. his heart thumped against his chest, his hands shaking in his pockets.

“y/n, wait,” he called, softly grabbing your arm and turning you to face him. you expected him to say something, but he didn’t. instead you were met with his lips on yours. bliss erupted in your stomach, fluttering away as his lips melded against yours. kissing him back was like second nature, but your heart thumped so hard in your chest you thought you were going to be sick.

he pulled away, cheeks rosy and eyes sparkling. he watched you, his stomach churning and his heart aching. what the hell did he just do? he kissed you, but why? he was in love with you.

“i…i’m sorry i don’t know what got into me-”

“it’s ok,” you soothed, trying to calm your fraying nerves, “i um, yeah it’s ok, promise,” you awkwardly stumbled your way through the words, the words that were failing to come to you. you just kissed joe burrow, your best friend who you haven’t spoken to in 6 years prior to this, and you liked it. you wanted him to kiss you again. you wanted him to touch every single inch of your body and it terrified you.

“ok,”

“goodnight, joe,” you smiled, watching as he walked off. he was shaking, his legs like jello as he made his way back to the car. he sat there for a minute, his breath shaking as he turned the car on. he’s always wanted to kiss you, and he did, but should he have? should he have waited? his chest tightened, but he shook it off. no, no you said it was ok, so it was.

you stumbled into your apartment once he was out of sight, and you pressed your back against the door. you panted, thoughts consumed with the taste and feel of joe’s lips on yours. you locked the door and disappeared into your bedroom, shutting your door behind you.

neither of you were getting any sleep that night.

tags: @joeyfranchise @wickedfun9

[lovedrruunk]

'A Fresh Start 𓏲*ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐[part ii]

When the mysterious new girl in town makes a lasting first impression, you make it your goal to befriend and welcome her to the town. [Part i] playlist!!!

self deprecating stalker jinx ill luv u 4eva & eva & eva...

"Hey."

"Hi!"

“. . .”

“. . . ?”

“. . .”

“. . . ???”

You blinked, waiting for her to say literally anything else, but nope. Just “hey.” and now she was standing there, looking like she was on the verge of shitting her pants while you wondered if this was how all her conversations went.

Surprisingly you didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable, more so confused. Looking around, your eyes landed on your old neighbor who’s own eyes were on the girl in front of you. He was giving her this look of judgment. It wasn’t obvious or harsh but it was still there. And then it clicked.

This was her.

The newcomer who moved into that old cottage on the outskirts of town. The one Mrs. Van Dee Kamp couldn’t stop speculating about, the one Mr. Gallagher said “looked like trouble”, and the same one you were so curious about. 

It wasn’t long before your group started to shuffle awkwardly, clearly ready to move on. They glanced at her, the kind of quick, hesitant looks people gave when they didn’t want to seem rude but also didn’t want to linger. One by one, they made their excuses, mumbling something about needing to get back to their stalls. They took a couple of steps away, looking back once they realized you weren’t following.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later!” you called, waving them off.

Turning back, you realized she was already staring at you, her wide pink eyes locked onto yours like you’d just caught her doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

“Hi!” you started... for the second time now.

“Uh… yeah.” she said, her voice flat as if responding to a completely different conversation.

Not exactly the warmest start, but you continued. “You’re new in town right? People have been talking, but you know, nothing bad! They’re just curious.”

Her eyes glanced left then right as you were talking, like she was scanning for an exit. “Yeah. New.”

You tilted your head. “Well, welcome. I’m–”

“Okay.” she cut you off, her tone abrupt.

“...Okay?” you repeated, blinking.

“Yeah. Thanks. Bye.”

Before you could say another word, she spun on her heel and started walking… no, speed-walking, towards the dirt path that lead into the forest.

You stood there, frozen, your brain scrambling to process what had just happened. Did she seriously just… run away? Mid-conversation?

It took you a solid few seconds to realize your jaw was hanging open. Shutting it quickly, you looked around, half expecting someone to jump out with a camera and tell you that you that it was a prank.

But no. The mysterious girl who had everyone talking had just bolted, leaving you standing there like an idiot.

And for some reason, instead of being offended, you couldn’t help but laugh.

Who was she? And what kind of person walked away from a perfectly normal greeting? Mind you, a greeting she had started. You didn’t know why, but suddenly, you were dying to find out.

. . .

This feeling wasn’t technically new.

For weeks, you’d felt it, that weird sensation on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. At first, it had been easy to ignore. You told yourself it was just your brain playing tricks. It was harmless. Whatever.

But now? Not so much.

The feeling wasn’t just there when you stood still like it was before, it followed you now. Around the market, down quiet streets, even when you stopped to chat with neighbors. You’d catch glimpses, a blur of blue hair disappearing behind a corner, the faintest sound of boots on the gravel.

More than once, you were so sure you’d catch them. You’d spin around at the sound of a shuffle or a shadow that felt too close. But by the time you looked? Nothing. Just an empty alley or a completely innocent looking street lamp.

It was driving you nuts.

You didn’t have to guess who it was either. You knew it was her. The girl from the square, Powder, or whatever her name really was. The way she’d bolted last time you tried to talk to her? That had to mean something.

Now it wasn’t just about being watched. It was about her. What was her deal? Why was she sneaking around? Why couldn’t she just talk to you?

You're own feelings about the situation were confusing you. You didn't necessarily... mind it. Unlike the other townsfolk, you didn't see her as a threat. She didn't seem like the type who would go out of her way to harm you. So 'why' was the question, and you were determined to figure it out.

Every time you caught a glimpse of her, something tugged at you. It wasn’t just the mystery of it all, though that was definitely part of it. There was something about her, it's like she didn't want to be seen yet wanted all of your attention.

And you wanted to know why. Why so secluded? Why so interested in your mundane countryside life?

It wasn’t like the townsfolk were any help either. They whispered about her, sure, 'the new girl with the blue hair and the weird vibes' but that’s all they did. Whispers. Speculation. None of them had actually tried to get to know her as far as you could tell.

Which left it to you.

The more you thought about it, the more determined you got. You didn’t want to believe she was some big, bad menace just because she didn’t fit into their little box of what people here were 'supposed' to be like. She was human, and just as deserving of a community as anyone else. So, yeah, you had questions.

And, apparently, she had no intention of giving you any answers.

It was almost funny how good she was at avoiding you. You’d be walking down the street, sure you'd spotted her near the bakery, and then poof. Gone. Like she had been a figment of your imagination. It was starting to feel like a game, except you knew something she didn't. How to cheat.

. . .

“Alright, I know you’re in there!” you yelled, leaning closer to the door as your fist continued to bang on the wood. “You can’t hide forever!”

Silence.

You squinted at the cottage, the place looked... interesting. It was still that run down creepy cottage you remembered always seeing whenever you passed by, but it was strangely... lively. Big scraps of metal and parts outside, colorful flowers (although wilted), and colorful graffiti that seemed to cover every side.

Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, you knocked again harder, this time raising your voice. “I’m not leaving until you open this door!”

Still nothing.

“Powder! Or... whatever your name is!” you shouted, hoping the use of her name might get a reaction.

From inside, you swore you heard a faint creak. A floorboard, maybe? It was hard to tell over the sound of your heart hammering in your ears. You leaned forward, pressing your ear to the door.

“I can hear you in there, you know.” you tried, softening your tone just a bit, stepping back from the door. “I’m not mad or anything. I just want to talk! That’s all.”

The silence that followed felt even more deafening than before. For a second, you wondered if you’d imagined the sound altogether.

And then, just as you were about to knock again, the door creaked open.

Barely.

A narrow space, enough for one pink eye to peek through.

“What do you want?” came a voice.

It wasn’t hostile exactly, but it wasn’t friendly either. Cautious. Suspicious.

You blinked, caught off guard by just how intense her gaze was up close.

“Uh, hi?” you started, scrambling for words that didn’t sound totally ridiculous. “We’ve been running into each other a lot lately- well, okay, more like you’ve been running away- but I just wanted to…” You trailed off, realizing you hadn’t actually planned this far ahead.

Her eye narrowed slightly, not moving to open the door any wider.

“...check in?” you finally finished, wincing at your own words.

The door inched shut a little more.

“Wait, wait!” you said frantically as you held up your hands.

“I mean it! No tricks, no weird town gossip or whatever. I just… I think we got off on the wrong foot. Can we maybe start over? I'd love to be friends.”

Her eye flicked to your hands, then back to your face. For a moment, you thought she was actually gonna let you in.

Instead, she sighed. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Her voice was quieter now, laced with something you couldn’t quite place. Regret? Fear?

“Why not?” you asked gently, lowering your hands.

But she didn’t answer, instead she gave you this long silent look. And just as you were about to speak up again, the door shut and the bolt slid into place.

“Well, okay then.”

. . .

when i talk abt the town pls imagine a Minecraft village or something of the sort ...

this chapter was SOOOO SELF DIVULGENT btw lololol was totally laughing my ass off writing it. I hope the difference in the way i write their povs is noticeable!!! also its 2am rn ill make sure to proof read in the morning... maybe...

part 3 sometime this week probs! it'll go back to being in pows pov ≽^•⩊•^≼˚

notes r appreciated & thx 4 reading as aaalways XOXOXOXO

[Teensy taglist (ˊᗜˋ)]

@cattjull @kenqki @powderbomb-jinxed

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

jason todd with a partner who’s into skincare/haircare

he didn’t know people actually did those 10 step korean skincare routines until he met you

he goes over to your place one day and sees all of the products in your bathroom and is like how could you possibly use all of these

he grew up with a broke mom and then a bunch of men, even billionaire bruce wayne doesn’t really do much besides some fancy hair products maybe

will probably be a bit skeptical like he lowkey thinks it’s a scam because no way do you need that many products just for your face

but if you sit him down and explain everything i think he’ll understand (or at least he understands that it’s important to you. don’t expect him to become a skincare expert overnight)

thinks you’re kinda cute when you’re doing your routine, like with your little headband and how focused you are while you’re doing it

will loiter around in the washroom, spend extra long brushing his teeth so he has an excuse to watch you

he will 100% laugh at how goofy you look when you put on a face mask though

make him wear one and suddenly he isn’t laughing anymore

if you try to make him do a whole skincare routine he’s going to grumbling the whole time but he’ll still do it

still thinks it’s kind of unnecessary (“why are we washing our face to make it dry to slap on wet stuff?”)

he lowkey does enjoy it though

he doesn’t have too many skin problems (i feel like he did have acne as a teenager but he grew out of that) besides maybe like his skin being on the dry side

definitely has ashy elbows and knees too

so at the very least he appreciates the moisturizarion, but he doesn’t really get the other stuff

feel like he’ll stick to just splashing his face with water or going like “i wash my face when i shower” but when you’re doing your routine he’ll steal some of your moisturizer

i think as time goes on, he’ll really like the domesticity of the whole nighttime routine thiugh

like shower, blow dry hair, brush teeth, skincare

luckily he’s not a 2 in 1 type of guy but that’s only because he straight up didn’t understand what conditioner was for

and i feel like he would just buy one of those costco sized bottles of body wash, like a neutral scented one so he doesn’t have to think about restocking (also it’s the most price efficient)

will tease you if you have fancy shampoo and conditioner

but who’s going to steal it after all of that teasing? he is

i think he just does it accidentally but ends up finding the smell really comforting (reminds him of you) and also his hair feels weirdly nice

might use it once in a while

definitely see him enjoying having his hair blow dried and also blow drying your hair

it’s a weirdly intimate act

also i feel like he’s not big on words, so sometimes he does other things to show he cares for you

like just the little things

he knows you take your skincare routine seriously, so if there’s ever a day when you feel too tired to do it, he knows something is up

will probably try to gauge what the situation is, like whether it’s a problem with work or school, if you want to talk about; or if it’s just been a long day

will help you to the washroom and if you’re too tired, will do your skincare for you

he’s watched you enough times to kind of know what he’s doing

personally hc that he has to get used to the change in his body and physical strength after the lazarus pit so he’s careful to be as gentle as possible

handles you like you’re on the verge of breaking

he’ll tie your hair into a loose ponytail (he knows it could be tighter but he’s kinda worried that it’ll hurt if he does another loop), keep the headband stretched as he pulls it over your head so that it doesn’t make contact with your face

makes sure the water isn’t too hot (you have to assure him that if the water is a little hot it won’t kill you and that for the oil cleanser to come off properly he’s going to need to make it hotter) and rubs the softest circles into your face

i think he’s focusing on this too much to be talkative

it’s kinda cute watching him struggle with some of the products

he’s trying to remember the order of the products and where on your face you put each one

you might have to give him pointers from time to time

i think he starts giving you obnoxious kisses all over your face as you’re trying to do your skincare to tease you

but after a few times i don’t think it’s a joke anymore…

will accidentally taste some serum and be traumatized though (please do not try to eat skincare!!)

will stick to your lips

[certaimromance]

ꫂ ၴႅၴ Tall Child.

Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader (platonic)

Summary: No matter how hard you try to impress him, Agent Hotchner never seems to be satisfied with your work. And it all comes crashing down when you decide to confront him.

Words: 2,7k.

TW: mentions of crime. reader was injured (nothing serious). angst WITHOUT happy ending. hotch being a father figure. soo much angst (yes, again). father and rebellious daughter type discussion. temporarily located in the first season. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: He is so ❤️‍🔥daddy❤️‍🔥 but also 💔dad💔 for me, okay?

This was painful to write, so I loved it (I literally wrote it with I Bet On Losing Dogs by Mitski in the background).

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Anyone who knows you knows that your lifelong dream was to help make the world a better place.

And from your day one at the BAU, you felt like your wildest dreams had come true. You were saving lives, reassuring victims, and helping to bring to justice those who tormented them so they could never do it to anyone else again. You were making a real difference in the world, even if you weren't the caped superhero you wanted to be as a kid.

But, as they say, nothing's perfect. And your job had more contradictions for your mental and physical health than there were fingers on your hands to count. The long and unstable schedule, the few hours of sleep, nightmares about the atrocities you saw, no social life outside the team...and of course, the constant disappointment you felt from Aaron Hotchner, your boss.

From day one, you had worked tirelessly to prove yourself. You craved the approval of your superiors, the respect of your colleagues. The job was demanding, yes, but you wanted to show that you could not only handle it but thrive under the pressure. And you had earned the trust and admiration of everyone around you, except for him.

Agent Hotchner was an enigma to you. There was something about him that both intrigued and intimidated you. He was always so calm, without showing much emotion, without so much as a smile for you. He was a wall you couldn't break through no matter how hard you tried. You had tried so hard to impress him, to make sure he saw your dedication, your work ethic, but you always seemed to fall short. His approval, or lack thereof, hurt more than anything else. You had gotten used to it by now, but it didn't make it any easier.

And now, here you were, in his office, watching him scrutinize your medical diagnosis. He had just glanced at the report from the doctor that had followed you back from the Utah case. Your shoulder, a minor injury, but one that could’ve been avoided if you hadn’t thrown yourself headfirst into the danger in the way you did.

Finally, after several moments of awkward silence, you dared to speak. “What do you think? I am practically at my best.”

Deep down, you knew you were lying through your teeth and that you were not well with an injured shoulder, a concussion, and several bruises, but you refused to say so out loud. You were a brave girl, and he should know.

Hotch looked up from the report in his hand and stared at you. It was the kind of look that made your hair stand on end and gave you a feeling that something was wrong.

“No, you're not.” He sighs and closes the folder before walking over to the desk you were sitting behind. He leans against it as he looks at you, arms folded across his chest. “You disobeyed a direct order during the case. You abandoned your partner.”

“I didn’t abandon Reid,” you replied, your voice sounding more defensive than you intended. You straightened in your chair, wincing slightly as your shoulder protested the movement. “I simply suggested he wait behind me. And it worked, didn’t it? He saved the victim, and I stopped the unsub.”

Teamwork, as you liked to call it.

“It paid off this time,” he said, his voice low but firm. “But that doesn’t excuse disregarding protocol. You put yourself and your partner in unnecessary danger. That’s not the kind of decision-making we can afford here.”

Oh no, here comes the usual chatter you didn't want to hear this time. Normally, you would be quiet, listening and nodding at his every word, but this time there was something different. You just longed for congratulations. Was it really so difficult for him to tell you once that you did something right?

You stiffened in your chair, the ache in your shoulder suddenly more pronounced. “With all due respect, I evaluated the situation and made a hard decision. I’m not some rookie who doesn’t know how to handle themselves in the field.”

Even as the words came out, you felt very nervous. You didn't know if it was the drugs they gave you in the hospital to fight the pain or if it was just your shyness leaving your body completely for no reason.

“I’m not questioning your skills,” he replied sharply. “But you’re not operating at one hundred percent, and that affects your judgment. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard for months—longer, maybe. And now you’re injured. You need time to recover and think about this.”

God, no.

“I don’t need time; I need to work,” you shot back, frustration lacing your tone. This job was your lifeline, your purpose. Without it, who were you?

“You know we work as a team. A unit. And when one part of the unit breaks down, there are consequences.” His voice wasn’t just firm; it was unyielding, like a warning. The way he said it almost felt like he was speaking to a child—a reprimand you didn’t want but knew you had earned. “No one is above the team, not even you.”

You didn't know if it was the way he said it or the words he used, but it was like the straw that broke the camel's back, and you were tired of putting up with the situation. This was the first time you had made a decision on your own, the first time you had not discussed your ideas with the team only to have them ignored and then spoken louder by someone else. Finally, you had acted, and even that was wrong.

You were tired, fucking tired of being ignored and judged much more harshly than the rest.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips, barely audible but heavy with frustration. The ache in your shoulder seemed to flare as if your body was responding to the tension in the room. “And what consequences are you thinking of, sir?” you asked, your voice dripping with sarcasm. There was no hiding the venom now. “What’s worse than not being valued even when I do my job?”

His gaze turned hard as if your tone had cut him deeper than any physical injury could. He didn’t take kindly to disrespect, especially from someone who had otherwise followed his orders without question. You saw the shift in him, the quiet fury simmering beneath his usually controlled exterior. If you were anyone else, the conversation would have already escalated. But you weren’t anyone else. You were someone he knew far too well.

“Don’t use that tone with me,” he bit back, his voice low and steady but carrying a weight that made your stomach twist. There was no mistake now—this wasn’t just about the case. This was more personal. “You are suspended. Your gun and badge on the table. Now.”

Oh, oh, oh.

The words hung in the air between you like a guillotine, sudden and final. The room seemed to close in on you, the breath in your chest catching in surprise. You didn’t know if it was the shock or the disbelief, but your mind struggled to grasp the magnitude of his command. Suspended? Your world was spinning.

You opened your mouth to speak, to argue, but the words caught in your throat, leaving you with nothing but a hollow sound of confusion. “What? Why?”

“Agent, you disobeyed a direct order and endangered yourself and your partner,” he said firmly. “I don’t take your actions lightly. Suspension is not a punishment—it’s a consequence. You need time to heal, both physically and mentally.”

The idea of being sidelined was incomprehensible. The thought of doing nothing—being stuck in your apartment, forced to be still—felt suffocating. No. You couldn’t accept it.

“This is ridiculous. I did my job! I stopped the unsub! Reid saved the victim because I made the right choice!”

You saved a life, even if it meant risking a little of your own. You did save it.

“And what happens next time?” Hotch shot back, his voice rising slightly. “What happens if your judgment falters again because you’re running on empty? What if next time, it’s Reid who doesn’t come back?”

Then, silence.

The thought of Spencer getting hurt turned your stomach and made you question your actions. If anything happened to him, you would never forgive yourself…His life did matter, a lot.

“Gun. Badge. Now.” Your boss talks again. He gestured toward the desk.

Your fingers trembled, betraying you as you reached for the gun on your hip. The cool metal felt foreign in your hands, like something that had never truly belonged to you. Your mind screamed for you to stop, to stand your ground, to fight this. But your body, exhausted and broken, refused to cooperate.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your voice cracked before you could get the words out. “I…I didn’t mean…I just…”

Finally, with a shaky breath, you placed your gun on the desk. The thud it made as it landed felt like the sound of everything you had worked for being shattered in front of you. You could feel the sting of unshed tears burning in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Not here. Not in front of him.

It didn’t matter what you said. It never seemed to matter, not with him. You had tried so hard to be the one who did everything right, to be the one he could rely on, and yet all you had earned was this—this cold, final judgment. He wasn’t just your boss in that moment; he was the embodiment of everything you had tried to prove yourself against. A reminder that, no matter what you did, it still wasn’t enough.

The words spilled from your mouth before you could stop them, the bitter taste of them already familiar. “You think I’m weak, don’t you?” The tone you had intended to be defiant came out more like a desperate plea. “You think I can’t handle this, that I’m just some liability?”

He didn’t flinch at your outburst. His gaze softened, but just barely. “No,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle but firm. “I think you’re pushing yourself too hard. You’re not weak. But you’re hurting, and I can see it. You need time to recover.”

The words hit you like a slap, unexpected and unwelcome. You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips as you tried to fight back the burning in your chest. You refused to let the tears well up, to let them gather where he could see them. Not here. Not now. Please, not now.

“I don’t need time,” you said, your voice sharp, biting. But underneath the defiance was something raw and desperate, a quiet plea that you couldn’t fully suppress. “I need to be here. I need to do my job. I need to save lives.”

The last part came out as a whisper, as though saying it too loudly would shatter the fragile conviction you had left. You felt like you were slipping, like the ground beneath you was crumbling, and all you could do was cling to this one thing—the job. The only thing that made you feel like you mattered.

“The only life you need to save now is yours,” he said, his voice quieter but still heavy with authority.

You froze, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a crushing tide. Your stomach churned, and you fought to keep your composure, to keep from lashing out, even though every part of you wanted to scream. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t.

A bitter, trembling laugh bubbled up from your throat, unbidden and full of venom. “If it had been Reid or Morgan, you wouldn’t be doing this,” you snapped, the accusation like a raw wound exposed to the open air.

For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—anger, hurt, or something you couldn’t quite place. His jaw tightened, his posture stiffening, and when he spoke, his voice was sharper than before, each word deliberate and cutting.

“No,” he said, the firmness in his tone slicing through the room like a blade. “Because they would never have done this.”

The silence that followed was deafening. It slammed into you like a tidal wave, drowning out every other sound. His words rang in your ears, echoing in the hollow space left behind by your crumbling defenses.

They would never have done this.

Your chest tightened, a deep ache settling in your ribs, and for a moment, you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The accusation hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. He wasn’t just saying you’d made a mistake—he was saying you were the mistake. That you weren’t good enough. That you never would be.

“Is this because I’m a woman?” you asked, the words coming out sharper than you intended. There was a bitter edge to them, a question that had been gnawing at you for far too long. “Because Elle is too, and even she has more, or is it because of my age? Reid is younger, and you never doubt him.”

“It’s not about any of that,” he said finally, his voice low and tight. But it wasn’t reassuring. It only sounded like an evasion, like he was brushing your concerns aside, and it made your chest ache all over again. “It’s not about your gender or your age.”

“It’s about me,” you said, the words like glass shards scraping at your insides. “It’s about how you don’t trust me.”

For the first time, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something almost like guilt, but it was fleeting, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. He opened his mouth, but the words he spoke next were measured, controlled. Too controlled.

“No,” he said, his voice so steady it almost hurt. “That’s not it.”

You stared at him, heart racing, hands trembling, as the truth wrapped around you tighter than you ever thought possible. His words weren’t just dismissing your feelings—they were rejecting everything you had ever believed about your worth, about why you were here, in this moment, fighting so desperately for something you couldn’t even name.

But this time, it was different. You weren’t going to back down. Not anymore.

“Then what is it?” You whispered, voice breaking, tears finally threatening to spill. “What is it, Hotch? What is it about me that isn’t enough?”

“It’s not about you,” he said, but his voice lacked the certainty it usually held. “It’s not about trusting you…It’s about protecting you.” His gaze softened just enough for you to notice, but it only made the pain worse. “I can’t lose…I can’t let you lose yourself.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You were trembling, your pulse racing in your ears, but now there was only a terrible stillness. You swallowed, trying to push down the bitterness that rose up in your throat.

“You don’t get to make decisions for me,” you snapped, barely holding back the frustration that bubbled to the surface. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You don’t get to act like you’re my father, making me follow some imaginary line, keeping me under your control. If you want to raise someone, you already have a baby at home.”

The moment the words left your lips, you saw it—just the faintest flicker of hurt in his eyes. The barest flinch. But it was enough to make you feel the weight of your accusation like a stone, sinking into your chest. The silence that followed was thick with it, suffocating, and you could feel the air growing heavier between you.

“I’m not your dad,” he said, the words low, the icy calm of his voice unmistakable. There was no anger in it, just a hollow, painful truth. But the sting of it was sharp enough to leave a mark.

You blinked, the sharpness of his response cutting through you like a blade. You wanted to fight back, to lash out with everything you had, but something stopped you. Instead, your voice came out quieter, almost hollow as you whispered, “I know…Do you know that?”

And then, just like that, you turned away, your breath ragged in your chest. You didn’t wait for his answer, didn’t wait for anything. You couldn’t stand the ache that had taken root in your chest, the fear that had begun to take shape in the corners of your mind.

And the door slammed behind you.

[rinawantstosleep]

"I don't like your stupid, white hair." 

"And I don't like your boring, brown hair, buddy."

"W-well... well, I don't like your ugly, doo-doo face!"

"Your mama does." 

The two could go bickering like this for hours on end if you let them. What may seem to be a mutually digressive arrangement is actually an oddly adorable bonding in disguise. Satoru and your son put on a front of being annoyed at the other's presence, but you've never seen them apart for longer than a few minutes at a time. They've grown on each other; much like how moss grows on a statue that's been lingering out in the open. An indispensable cycle of life that's truly inevitable. 

"No, she doesn't! She doesn't! She likes... sof- sofis... sofistogated guys."

"You mean sophisticated?"

"Shut up!" 

You'd been terrified that your little one wouldn't have a father-figure to rely on anymore after you divorced your husband. However, it was something you had to do for his sake. The child deserved to live in an environment that wasn't always reeking of alcohol, where he wasn't subjected to the constant, drunk yelling of a pathetic excuse of a father who couldn't get his shit together and lazed around at home all day while you did all the work. If that meant that you'd have to raise him on his own, then so be it. At least he'd be raised properly. Signing those papers was, by far, the easiest decision you'd ever made. 

"I'm not shutting up because a kid in clothes too big for him is telling me to."

"You... you're the one always wearing tight clothes around the house to impress my mama."

"No, that's because I'm ripped. Gotta show off what I've got. And your mama loves that." 

"Oh, yeah? That means you show off your... your - um... ugly, doo-doo face!"

Would you regard it a miracle that Satoru just so happened to stumble into your life around that very time? Well, relatively. Meeting him wasn't something you'd planned, nor anticipated. The kind stranger who offered to pay for your order at a café a year ago has somehow, thanks to quite a romantic sequence of events, turned into your boyfriend; a rock to lean on for when you need the support. And, also, someone that your little one can look up to (with the fun, bonus benefit of the pair getting into silly, childish quarrels nine times out of ten). What is Satoru if not a three-hundred-and-thirty-six-month-old toddler, too? Puts your five-year-old to utter shame with the way he acts. 

"Enough. Baby, we've been over this before. Behave."

"But, mama, he's being a meanie!" "But, babe, he's acting all pretentious." 

The responses come simultaneously: one is high pitched and whiny, and the other is your son. Sometimes, you have to pause and ask yourself how you haven't gone insane yet. It's the love that keeps you from falling apart. How could you ever harbor any other feeling for these two, except for wanting to cherish them? You just... need to work on a pet name that doesn't apply to the both of them at once.  

"I don't want to hear it. Sweetie, finish your lunch. And, Satoru?" 

"Yes, honey-who-loves-me-and-my-'ugly, doo-doo'-face?" He's smirking, snickering, while saying this, the sly bastard. When will the pair ever relent on trying to one-up the other? 

"Why have you got one of my hair ties on your wris- never mind. Don't forget to change the sheets in our room. I'd do it myself if not for the meeting I need to get to in an hour." 

"Yes, ma'am." 

Cue a tiny gasp. 

"But, mama..." The voice of your little one breaks the peaceful silence at the dining table once again. His legs start kicking back and forth - a sign that he's growing restless - from the chair they're dangling off of. He's got a protest already forming up in that head of his. "Toru said he'd take me to the skate park today. And he promised to get ice cream after."

Toru, huh? That's new. You can't help the smile that paints itself on your lips. The two have been getting along pretty well, it seems, contrary to all the bickering they do. That's always nice to know. It's amusing to see the dynamic they've built. One second, they're riling each other up to no end, the next, they've already formed a secret alliance to go out and have fun together. How cute. "Is that so?"

"Mhm! So that means we need to leave riiight after I finish my lunch. Don't get mad, okay?" 

It's the small things like these that warm your heart. Some sacrifices can be made if it's in regards to this adorable (step, even though you haven't married Satoru yet)father-son moment. The sheets are insignificant right now. "Awwh. Of course I won't get mad, baby. It's good for you to want to spend more time with Satoru. Isn't he a fun guy?"

"... maybe." 

. . . 

"Just make sure he's safe out there. Helmet and gear on at all times, no big ramps. And don't let him eat too much sugar. He'll get hyper. Once the rush dies down, he'll get cranky -"

Satoru's arm wraps around your waist before you can finish your sentence, pulling you overwhelmingly close to his frame. Instinctively, your arms move to wrap around his neck, just the way Satoru likes it. Oh, how he wants to just throw everything else out the window and drag you to the nearest room with a lock in place.

"You -" A quick peck to your lips, followed by a nibble on your bottom lip. "- worry -" Another peck. "- too -" Another. "- much." Then, an unexpected bite on the shell of your right ear. "I'd never allow myself to let that little demon get hurt; or hyper."

Large hands wander across the curve of your back, resting firm on your butt. Satoru doesn't want to expose your son to the way he's squeezing your plush flesh with his long digits, so he shifts to have your back pressed against the wall. A perfect opportunity to kiss you - which the man can't help but seize. What else is a smitten boyfriend to do while waiting for your son to get ready and come down from his room upstairs? Lips against lips until one of you pulls away for air. "He's safe with me, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Atta girl. Now, you go that meeting of yours. And, tonight, after we both get back- oww."

"Groooss! Don't kiss my mama, or you'll make her ugly! Like youuu!"

"Baby, no. Don't kick Satoru's ankles-"

"I'm saving you, mama."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[hhoneylemon]

“𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘴”

summary: you love sam. it hurts.

genre: angst/comfort

word count: 3k

edited

you knew the life. you knew what attachments could do. you’d heard about hunters who fell in love and had their terrible endings, watching their partner die or waiting for them to come back (they never did). yet you couldn’t help yourself.

more often than not, you felt as though you were drowning. the little smiles he would send you, his dimples and the way his eyes would brighten. how his voice sounded so gentle when he spoke to you, how his hands were gentle whenever he gave you little touches. they were all friendly. you knew that. you wished they weren’t.

you always got so worried when he got hurt during hunts. when he was thrown to the ground, or when he was cut or shot. it was funny; dean got hurt just as much as sam, yet you didn’t worry over him as much as his younger brother. you still cared for dean, just… not as much as sam.

the day you accepted your feelings for him, you cried. he had gotten into a fight with dean, prompting the older of the two to go on a walk. sam had sat on his motel bed, researching the lore. you felt bad; you were showering during the fight, didn’t pick up the details. you didn’t know who was right or wrong, but you tried to comfort him nonetheless. 

you had sat at the edge of dean’s bed, frowning at sam. you gave him gentle eyes, wanting him to know you were being friendly.

“what happened?”

he had glanced up at you from the book he was reading. your heart beat a little faster at his puppy eyes. he sighed heavily.

“he’s just… being dean. he makes me so mad, sometimes, y’know?”

you nodded, because you did know. dean was protective of you too, although not to the same extent of sam. it was annoying sometimes. he thought he could control so many aspects of your lives. you also understood that it was just his way of taking care of the two of you, knowing he was scared to be alone.

“yeah, i know. he does that sometimes, hm?”

sam huffs, nodding. his lips fall into a tight line. you frown, crossing your arms and leaning forward a tad. you didn’t like how upset he seemed.

“well, i mean, i kinda understand him too. he’s just trying to protect you.”

he had rolled his eyes, sighing, annoyed.

“yeah, yeah. i know. he just needs to understand i can protect myself.”

you nodded in agreement. he turned his attention back to his book, but you looked at him just a moment longer. the way his hair fell onto his face, the way his eyebrows furrowed as he concentrated. the small bite of his lip as he reads, the way he squints when a sentence is confusing.

he glances back at you after a few minutes.

“do you have more to say? you’re staring.”

you shook your head, standing up from the bed.

“no, sorry. got lost in thought.”

you had wandered back to the bathroom to collect your dirty clothes. you paused in the mirror. you could feel your cheeks were warmer, and you were suddenly aware of your heartbeat. it was faster than normal. you just stared at yourself, lips slightly parted. you had always thought sam was attractive, but that was it. he was your friend. you weren’t even sure if he was over jessica yet. you bit your lip at the thought. was he not over jessica? were you just waiting for him to be so that you knew if you had a chance or not? you didn’t like the thought. if jessica wasn’t completely out of the photo, were you even there period? he might love that woman until the day he died. there was no reason for him to feel for you when he had already found his person. maybe it’s good you had never met her yourself. you’re sure her prettiness and kindness would’ve made you a jealous beast. maybe you would’ve began hating yourself within that time. 

you’re not sure how long you were in the bathroom for, but a hand on your shoulder snapped you out of it. your cheeks were warm and wet with tears. your eyes find him in the mirror. his are soft and comforting.

“i noticed you weren’t out yet. what’s wrong?”

you shake your head, wiping your tears.

“nothing’s wrong.”

“you sure? crying in a bathroom is suspicious.”

“i’m sure, sam.”

you brush him off of you, walking into the main room. you take your spot on the couch, climbing under your blanket. maybe sleep could take you to a better place. to be fair, anywhere would be better than here. you could hear him sink onto his bed, and then you could feel his eyes on your back. you were sure he was trying to assess you, trying to figure out what was wrong and if he could fix it. the answer was no.

after that day, you tried being distant. you would look everywhere but him when speaking to him. you would favor sitting beside him at restaurants so that it was dean who was across from you and in your immediate vision. you stayed polite and tried to have less conversations about everything you normally did, sticking to just hunting and lore and stuff during cases. it felt easier this way.

of course, sam was confused. the person he considered his best friend was growing cold. did he do something? so he wouldn’t go out of his way to have conversations with you, much to your chagrin. he would be extra nice, offering his bed to take the couch (even if his long legs would dangle off of it), he’d let you shower first after a hunt, he would take the burden of researching so you could relax. he was getting frustrated when you didn’t seem to be getting as close as you used to be. why?

you, however, felt as if you were hurting every time you saw him, heard him, even smelled him. he smelled like crappy motel soap most of the time, but there was always a hint of coffee and sweat and dirt. you hated it. it wasn’t that he necessarily smelt good, unless you were posing as agents or reporters where he would spritz his cheap cologne. it was good cheap cologne, you were sure it was from his days at stanford. you were jealous of the people he sat beside in classes everyday who got to experience a good smelling and actually happy sam. you wish you had gotten that.

there was a point where you realized you couldn’t have him. you were sure of this, because you began speaking to him normally. you were sure your eyes betrayed you and looked at him as though he were a lamp and you were but a moth, but he never commented about it. you were happy about this. you didn’t have to embarrass yourself with that conversation. the times you spent speaking were heavenly, the amount of attention he focused on you and the looks and tone he reserved specially for you. that look and that tone were something you kept in a pocket in the background of your mind.

you wish he’d love you.

you started to feel suffocated the longer this went. you know it’s been months, maybe even a year. it was terrible. little comforting touches he gave you after a hunt were everything to you, letting you melt against him and give him a smile.  

you had confided in dean one time he caught you crying, unable to be alone any longer. he had given you a sympathetic look, a small hug. you began sitting side by side, your head on his shoulder. his arm was around your waist, giving you a comforting squeeze as you began calming yourself. he gave you his soft big brother voice when he finally spoke.

“i’m so sorry. i thought you two would’ve been dating way before this.”

you weren’t sure what he had meant. you hadn’t asked him to elaborate, just wanting someone to lean on. you had fallen asleep and he tucked you into his bed, taking the couch. when sam came back from getting dinner for everyone, they just left your portion in the bag. they ate in silence and went to bed, not wanting to rouse you. dean was extra careful about teasing the two of you from then on.

sam wasn’t sure when he had began loving you. he was sure of why, however. in the way you actually listened to him when he spoke, how you were so kind and caring, how you understood him and had shared experiences. he feels a tug at his heartstrings every time he sees you with a fresh injury after a hunt, or every time he can swear he hears you crying in the bathroom. he just wants to wrap you in a big bear hug and keep you from everything in the world. he wanted you to realize how he felt, now. maybe all you needed to cheer you up was a relationship. he was sure the hunting life was driving you crazy, though he’s unsure since you’ve done it for so long. maybe it was a seasonal thing? he could’ve sworn you’ve been so upset for months…

one hunt was your breaking point. you posed as journalists, all wearing nice suits or just a nice outfit in general. sam wore that cheap cologne.

you had been talking to an older lady that had been in the building during the attack, asking the usual questions. 

“what are you aware happened?”

“did you see or hear anything beforehand?”

“any flickering lights? cold spots?”

“did you know this person? what were they like?”

“i’m so sorry you experienced this. those were all of my questions, thank you for answering. have a good day, ma’am.”

you had then gone to a local cafe to purchase a coffee; it was early and you were still tired. maybe it could get your mind jogging the way you needed it to. you had left the shop, finding the brothers speaking in hushed tones where you left them. you got back to them and were quickly caught up in their plan; they would fight the ghost off that night, trying to save tonight’s night shift workers. you would have to find the bones and torch them. simple enough.

the ghost wasn’t appreciative of this. it threw the brothers around, they swung at it with the fire pokers they had brought, it would vanish and then come back. after one of dean’s swings, it didn’t reappear. they stood en guard in case it did, and when it didn’t, they assumed you had finally torched it. they walk back to the impala, laughing about another hunt finished and how they would celebrate. 

they got to the graveyard, expecting you to be waiting for them by the gate. you weren’t. sam climbed out of the passenger side, a feeling of dread settling in his gut. he got his fire poker back from the trunk of the impala and wandered in, feeling uncomfortable not knowing what he would find. why weren’t you waiting for them, smiling and ready to celebrate? 

his question was quickly answered; he spots you standing several yards from where he remembers the grave being. the closer he gets, the more he sees. the bruise on your forehead, the salt circle surrounding you, slightly illuminated by the moonlight. then there was the ghost, angrily growling and hissing, unable to reach you through the salt. she’s staring you down, waiting for you to accidentally nudge the salt or to step out of the circle. you don’t.

the ghost notices sam before you do. in a flash she’s in front of him and scratching with her freakishly long claws. he fights back with the fire poker, yelling for you to ‘torch the bitch!’ and so you run back to where you remember the grave being.

you sprinkle the corpse with salt, then coat it with gasoline. you sigh sadly, giving an apology before throwing in the match. the body catches up in flames, and after a few moments, sam is at your side. he’s panting, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“c’mon.”

he’s saying, voice gentle as he begins directing you to the impala. he’s not sure if you’ve got a head injury or if she just hit you from the look of your forehead. he won’t take any chances, opening the backseat door for you. he sits in the passenger seat, though he keeps glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

you get your shower once you get to the motel. you don’t dry off fully, being quick so that sam can get his turn. he was very urgent that you took pain killers, even giving you his own plastic water bottle to drink from. he gives you a smile, only heading into the bathroom once he’s sure you’ve swallowed. you sit on dean's bed for a moment, fingers digging into your thighs. the walls of the motel are suffocating you; sam’s scent is lingering almost everywhere, specifically in his bed and his bag and the couch. you need out.

you step outside and sit on the curb. your legs bend in front of you and you lean onto them. it’s a cold night and you find yourself regretting not grabbing a jacket. you’re sure dean’s gone to get food for everyone; the impala’s missing. you watch cars drive by the motel, you look at the stars, you occasionally close your eyes to soak in the tranquility and peacefulness of it all. that gets taken from you. for once, you don’t mind.

a jacket is draped over your back and it curls around your shoulders. sam sits beside you, wearing sweatpants and a different jacket. you hug the one he draped over you close to yourself for some warmth. the two of you sit in silence for a while.

“are you okay?”

he finally breaks the silence, although his voice is so close to a whisper that you can barely say that. you know the question is loaded. he’s not asking about after today, or if you’re in pain (he already gave you some pain killers and his plastic water bottle to take them with, so it’s not this), he’s asking in general. it may actually be about these past few months. you’ve been acting different and even you knew it. how do you explain it to him?

“no.”

you finally respond, voice weighted. he huffs softly into the air. he sounded amused.

“no shit. wanna tell me why?”

you look to him. he’s already looking at you. his eyes are soft but imploring, he’s got a gentle smile on his face. his hair is damp and sticks out at weird angles. there’s a bruise forming on his cheek. you don’t think he’s looked better.

“not really.”

he sighs gently in response. you can tell he’s about to gently scold you, tell you he can’t help if he doesn’t know what the problem is. he so badly wants to help.

“however, i’m tired of being alone.”

this confuses sam. it shows on his face, in his eyes. you’ve never been alone. one of the main reasons he was drawn to you in the first place was that you were similarly struggling.

“sam…”

you begin. he knows not to interject. he gives you a comforting smile, imploring you to continue.

“i’ve felt suffocated these past few months. as if i were drowning. i wish i had drowned, it would have saved me from this.”

a flash of something passes in his eyes. you couldn’t read what it was. you pull the jacket closer to yourself, searching for comfort.

“but here i am. so, i’m telling you my biggest secret. i thought i’d die before i voiced this to anyone. this is my second time telling someone, so i was clearly wrong.”

you pause to close your eyes and gather your thoughts. you never thought you’d be able to tell him, of course you hadn’t rehearsed.

“sam, i’m so upset with you. you and your long legs. they’re taking up my whole heart. give me room for other things!”

the look you give him is almost angry. the lights from the motel betray you, however, illuminating the tears in your eyes.

“you can’t love me back. and that sucks. so, i don’t know… reject me or yell at me for being stupid or something.”

sam does not like the look in your eyes. he gulps, reaching out and cupping your face in his big hands. he offers a comforting smile.

“i think that’s an over exaggeration. i do love you, alright? you and your pretty eyes and your big heart.”

he smiled at his own small joke, prompting you to do the same. he loved you? you’re about to ask questions as he leans in and presses his chapped lips to yours. he’s gentle and slow. it’s everything you’d hoped it’d be. you feel tears begin slipping from your eyes; he feels them as they hit his fingers. he smiles fondly at you, pulling away to wipe the tears.

“you didn’t know? i tried making it so obvious. i’m sorry you couldn’t tell.”

he kisses you again. the warmth in your gut turns to a fire that warms your heart. you feel yourself melting into him, your own hands reaching out to hold his forearms. he breaks the kiss, his breath fanning across your face before he leans farther back.

“i can offer you the other side of my bed, and i won’t touch you ‘til you initiate, okay?”

his thumbs gently caress your cheeks, right under your eyes. he’s giving you his puppy eyes, a small smile spread on his face.

“will you have me?”

you find yourself the one to initiate the third kiss, gently cupping the back of his neck to bring him back to you. this one is shorter, more just to feel the warmth of his lips once more. you sigh against him as you pull back, being the one offering a smile this time.

“of course.”

he smiles wide, humming in content. he then pulls all the way away so that he can stand. he offers a hand.

“let’s go inside before dean gets back. also, it’s cold, i don’t like it out here.”

you laugh softly, taking his hand and letting him pull you up. neither of you let go even as sam unlocks the motel room door and you walk back inside, not even as you both sit on his - your - bed and begin talking about whatever. you finally have what you want, what you craved so badly.

he loves you.

thank you for reading <3

masterlist

[joffyworld]

Šamaš -

The Shunned Sun's Son

Nobody remembers...

One...

I remember the sun;

How it burned my retina and touched my skin.

I remember the sand and the desert's strewn hues,

How it stretched so far I could never imagine it's end.

I remember the clacking of the horses hooves;

How they whinnie'd and neigh'd as they trotted afar.

I remember well the hot, harsh sun;

How it sunk it's rays, seeped deep into purple flesh.

I remember the tears;

How the years of servitude and solemn silences had been repaid in kind.

I remember the fall;

How I trod for miles and days, in any which way I could conceive to heave my wounded soul.

I remember the offer;

How they extended their hand and told me of their plans to redeem that which we had both just had stolen.

I remember the son...

Two...

There was nothing to lose by the time I had met him.

No course of action set but to survive without question.

Those were the dark days:

Before we had found our ways, struck down the clouds and figured it all out; How we would arise from these trials and tribulations.

That is to say;

We weren't yet homeward bound into those higher graces. We hadn't yet found our way out of the cave system that we resided in;

Depression.

Yet that is also to say we hadn't yet lost hope. Hadn't found ourselves falling from the ends of our rope. We clung tightly to the middle, ever so tightly to that middle that had the rope ever frayed we might've let ourselves choke.

Depression's a bitch but so were we.

We made our days carefree and aimless. Because who is more dangerous than the nameless and faceless? We moved through the shadows, yes we clung to those shadows, they embraced us when the world didn't. It was all we could know.

I remember the cub...

Three...

He'd never had to run.

There was a fire in his eyes, I remember it well. You could immediately tell there was a chance to excel. You could immediately see, no matter who he'd want to be, he would achieve it without question, time wasn't needed to tell.

He'd never want to run.

The fire in his eyes belied the fire in his heart. The fire was in there it just needed a spark. The spark that was needed was the guidance of our teaching, could we do what was necessary? Was it even enough?

He'd never be able to run.

Fire burns hot, this we know well. Those that burn the brightest burn the fastest, this we could all tell. The fire needed to be tempered, it had to be made embers and if we left it too long it might have burned us as well.

In a way he did run.

He retreated into those books we had banned, but he was fast as a gun. Every book we confiscated was another library raided, had we taken from him the chance to learn and have fun?

Of course we had. That was the plan wasn't it? To take from him the powers of our collective knowledges? To shake and stutter his incorrigible courage? To destroy the foundations of the most powerful puppet? To take from the child, to break this poor child. We thought we were helping, it was all proven wrong.

I remember the spawn...

Four...

They say there is strength in nobility:

A chance to make right your wrongs and face your true enemies, a choice to be made about who you really ought to be. Yet that choice is no choice if it's formed by your destiny. We rail against it as if destiny can be history, then fail to mention that we follow it anyway blissfully -

Unaware.

That's what we were, maybe still are. We thought we had our work cut out for us, that naught was FUBAR. That we could recover and find our place amongst these stars; that form our galaxy, though tragically we forgot to search far.

Then destiny blessed us again.

I remember looking down at the small child that stood there. Dirtied clothes, big eyes and no traces of hair. Built wide, like her smile, nary a sound in the air. Not tall, but built short without a singular flair.

Destiny was a strange patron.

It had given us a family we could never have dreamed of. It gave us small hopes and small comforts that we could never conceive of. It took and then gave and then took again without recourse. But when all seemed hopeless again, it came back with kind re-gards.

Years passed and none changed. Months flew by and yet we all stayed the same. Number four grew stronger, number three grew bolder, number two grew shoulders for them to cry on and complain.

I remember the hatchling...

Five...

He was perhaps the most interesting.

Certainly the most challenging.

We kept things simple,

We tried to keep it all slow.

But there was no stopping him.

Every day was another spent running at the gym.

Every activity a festivity, never a solemn slow hymn.

There was no sort of pace,

That we could ever control.

He completed us as a family,

He reformed our lost souls,

Gave us back what was taken,

So many decades ago -

Humanity.

But fate is a cruel mistress still,

And you reap what you sow;

Tragedy....

"I have received a prophecy...

...I am sorry little ones,"

"We Have No Choice"

[world0fmadness]

LOVE, THROUGH PEN AND PAPER

okay so i really wrote this as kind of a test piece to test the waters on if you guys like this and maybe i will make more about how the reader met others hehe! also i very much wrote this with the idea that the reader is not originally from norway, hopefully that is not an annoyance to anyone!

can you guys tell that bård is my absolute favourite metal man to write for? <3

♡ you and bård met through being pen pals in the early 90s!

୨୧ most likely, you had ordered a copy of his little black metal fanzine after hearing about it through another pen pal you were speaking to and he had almost immediately taken note of the country that was definitely not norway in your address…

♡ now that he looks back on it, it was probably a pretty major breach of privacy and possibly even incriminating but his interest was far too peaked after he saw your name, which he thought was an absolutely beautiful name, and a country he had never been to so he wrote a little letter to go along with the magazine when he posted it off to reach you

୨୧ but the letter only made you as interested in him as he was in you despite the two of you basically being complete strangers! his letter to you was downright adorable, it was filled with cute broken english and misspellings that made a small smile paint your face as you read through it, it was full of general questions about your home county and how exactly you heard about his little fanzine! not to mention the mixed in questions about you too, questions about what bands you like and what your life is like! his letter was obviously filled with curiosity about you and who would you be to not write a letter back to him after he ended his own with the most adorable little thank you for buying his fanzine?

♡ when bård received your very first letter back to him, he was so strangely ecstatic about it! he already had quite a few pen pals but you… you and your letter felt so different to him, it felt so much more special and he could never quite put his finger on why until he began to send more letters to you and receive more letters from you! after just about three short months of talking to each other through pen and paper, after talking to each other about music and so many deeper topics about yourselves, after eventually beginning to send pictures of yourselves to each other, bård finally realised just what about you and your letters felt so special to him…

୨୧ he was totally into you! oh gosh, of course he was! everything made sense when it clicked in his head that he had a more intimate liking towards you, all those times that he would sit around feeling so impatient and almost lost whilst waiting for your next letter to arrive, all of those times he would check his post every single morning for your next letter, all of those times he felt so free and open when writing to you about himself, all of those times he would feel his face heat up whenever he read your compliments towards him and his band! there were just so many things that suddenly made so much sense when it all pieced together in his head that he really liked you, he liked everything about you!

♡ of course this new and sudden realisation scared bård a whole lot because did he really even want to confess his feelings towards you? did he really want to risk losing you as a wonderful friend because you do not feel the same and the waters are made murky after his confession of wanting to be something more? but he does it, he sends you a long letter confessing everything after almost an hour of walking in circles around his small bedroom with his hands grasping at his long brown hair and his mind lost in paranoia before he just decides to sit down and write a letter confessing everything he feels towards you! with shaky hands and a worried mind, the letter turns out slightly messy with chicken scrawl handwriting but he knows you will still understand it all, you always seem to understand him! he actually gets his mother to post this letter to you for him, he knows damn well that he would probably pull out just before posting it and he knows his worry would probably get the best of him so he asks her to post it for him

୨୧ the waiting days after sending the letter to you are downright horrible for bård, he can barely focus on anything as he awaits your letter back to him and not even playing his drums take his mind away from you… he can barely get to sleep at night as he fears the possibility that he will never receive a letter back from you because of his confession! the restless nights and fearful days become evident in his face as his eyes grow tired and his pale face becomes exhausted! but then, after a excruciatingly slow week of waiting and hoping, he receives a letter through the door and immediately runs to snatch it up from the carpet before rushing upstairs to his bedroom to read it in private…

♡ bård almost yells in excitement and pure happiness when he reads through your letter with shaky hands and sees the words about how you feel the exact same towards him, he can just barely even attempt to hold in a relieved scream as his worried mind is finally put to rest by your loving words on the paper! his body is completely overrun with energy and an almost childlike glee as he fully realised that this is it, he has you now! he has all he ever wanted now! you felt so perfect for him, from the first time he ever read your name on that delivery address and felt a strange tingle in his heart to now as he reads through your letter about feeling that very same love for him! he feels so at peace and so content as he reads your confession letter over and over again, savouring your sweet words in his head before putting it aside to excitedly begin writing his next one to you

୨୧ you can hardly believe your eyes when you read his next letter back to you about how fearful he was to admit his feelings for you, your eyes widening in confusion as you read his written words about how terrified he was… how on earth would it have ever been possible for you to have not felt the same for him? he was so sweet, so passionate and so handsome… i would have been impossible for you to have not felt the very same love for him that he felt for you…

♡ eventually, in early january of the next year after the two of you had even began talking for the first time through letters, you decided to fly out to norway as a kind of late christmas gift for him! you did not even ask him to meet you at the airport as the closest one to his home was still quite a bit away but he did anyways, of course he did! how could he not? he wanted, needed to be there the second you stepped foot in the very same country he was in, he needed to be with you the second it was possible and he sure was! literally the minute you were in his sight after exiting the terminal, he was rushing to take you into his arms for the very first time! excitement mixed with nervousness taking over his body as he held you in a tight hug while you laughed quietly into his shoulder about how constricting his skinny arms were around you before settling your hands on his blushing cheeks and leaning up to place a deep kiss to his lips, the first of many! he was so nervous, he had never kissed anyone like you before, none of his prior kisses were real like this one, you felt so real! after that day, it was hard for him to ever let you go at all, every minute of your days in norway were spent being in his arms as the two of you talked about anything and everything you could think of! this first time actually meeting only proved to bård just how perfect you truly were for him and he never wanted you to leave his arms <3

[soombee]

ଳ⋆｡˚𖦹 caught in the current of you — 09 , checkmate !!

warnings ! angst!! decision making!! (LOL)

word count , 1433 / 1.4k words

lf = looking for , i was sooo excited for this chapter to come finally heheehehe… also SORRY IF THIS FEELS FORCED LOLL.. i literally HATE slowburn so much……

9:18 pm — outside a cafe

leehan’s head leaned against the wall near the coffee shop, scrolling through his phone. his last message to you was still unread by you, and his irritation grew with every passing minute

he knew he’d been acting differently lately—sharper, colder—but he couldn’t help it. seeing his ex best friend openly flirt with you on twitter, seeing how much you smiled at his comments, had his jealousy running wild

the bell above the door jingled, and there you were, walking out with taesan by your side, laughing at something he said. he held the door open for you, and leehan’s stomach twisted

“leehan?” your voice broke through his thoughts. you looked surprised to see him, your smile faltering slightly, “what are you doing here?”

“waiting,” he said shortly, shoving his phone into his pocket as he glares at the black haired man beside you

“for who?”

“for you.”

taesan smirked at him, the smugness in his expression barely hidden, not like he wanted to hide it,

“didn’t know you’d be here” taesan said

“i can see that.” leehan’s tone was flat, his eyes flicking between the two of you

“leehan,” you said softly, sensing the tension, “you okay?”

“yeah, fine.” his words were sharp, clipped. too sharp. you frowned

“really? you’ve been acting weird lately..”

“i’m not the one acting weird,” he snapped, his jealousy finally boiling over. “but hey, maybe you and taesan should sort that out since you seem so close these days?”

your jaw dropped, hurt flashing across your face. taesan, to his credit, stayed silent, though his gaze was glued to Leehan with a mixture of anger and disappointment

“are you serious right now?” you asked, your voice trembling. “you’re mad because taesan’s my friend? because he’s kind to me?”

leehan opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. he hated how defensive he sounded, how he was ruining everything just because he couldn’t handle his own feelings, how he couldn’t even express his feelings

“really?” you said, stepping closer to him, “do you SERIOUSLY think this is what I want? to be caught between the two of you? do you think I enjoy this?”

the blond’s silence was deafening, you shook your head

“oh my god leehan, i can’t do this anymore,” you said, your voice becoming firmer by the second, “you’re so worried about what taesan’s doing, you don’t even see me. he does. he makes me feel seen. and right now, that’s what I need.”

the words hit him like a punch to the gut. he watched as you turned to taesan, who gave him one last look—an unspoken “you did this to yourself” written all over his face—before placing a hand on your back and guiding you away

for the first time, leehan realized he wasn’t just losing you to taesan. he had lost you because of himself

9:30 pm — taesan took you to see the stars

the cold evening breeze nipped at your skin as you walked beside taesan, the streets quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves. your sweater wasn’t doing much to shield you from the chill, and you shivered involuntarily—so embarrassing..

“youre freezing,” he murmured, stopping in his tracks. before you could protest, he was already tugging his own hoodie over his head, his white t-shirt riding up slightly to reveal a glimpse of his toned abdomen

“oh my gyatt, lord save me #ovulating..”

“taesan, seriously, i’m fine—”

“just take it,” he insisted, gently draping the hoodie over your shoulders. the warmth was immediate, and so was the lingering scent of him—clean, with a faint hint of cologne, “i’d rather me be sick than you”

as you adjusted it around yourself, his hands lightly brushed yours, lingering for a moment too long. when you looked up, his dark eyes were searching your face, his expression soft but resolute

“yn,” he said quietly, stepping closer. “there’s something I need to tell you”

you swallowed hard, already guessing where this was going…

“i didn’t plan for this,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “but i can’t keep it to myself anymore. i like you. more than a friend should”

the words hung in the air, heavy but not unwelcome. his confession felt genuine, raw, unpolished in a way that made your heart ache, this was real

“i know this is complicated,” he continued, his voice faltering slightly, “‘specially with…everything else. but I needed you to know how I feel, think you’re the only person i’ve ever been comfortable to be me around..”

you were about to respond when your phone buzzed in your pocket. the sound cut through the moment like a blade, and you fumbled to check the notification

it was a text—from your neighbor,

“hello young lady, i think someone outside your house. he’s been sitting there for a while. do you know him? he has blonde hair”

your stomach dropped

“taesan,” you said, your voice tight, “i—i need to go.”

his brows furrowed, concern flickering across his face, “everything okay?”

you nodded quickly, pecking his cheek before stepping back “yeah, i just… i’ll text you later, okay?”

“i—“ he touched his cheek, hesitated but nodded, “okay... b—be safe”

9:48 pm — your house

when you arrived home, your neighbor’s warning made sense immediately. sitting on the steps to your door, with a box and a folded envelope beside him, was leehan. his head was bowed, his hair slightly messy as though he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly

the sight of him knocked the air out of your lungs

“leehan?” you called softly, your voice carrying through the quiet night

he looked up, startled. the instant his eyes met yours, something in his expression shifted—vulnerability, regret, desperation, all tangled together

“you’re home,” he said, standing quickly and brushing off his jeans. “i—i didn’t mean to stay this long. i just… i wasn’t sure how else to do this.. confessing thingy..”

you glanced at his occupied hands, your heart pounding, “what’s this?”

“a mess, probably,” he said with a shaky laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, “i didnt know how to tell you everything i’ve been feeling without stuttering at the sight of you so I wrote it down. and the gifts… they’re just things that made me think of you… stupid, right haha..” gosh he just couldn’t stop babbling

you shook your head, overwhelmed, “donghyun…”

he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours, “i’m sorry, yn. for everything. for being distant, for being jealous, for making you feel like you weren’t enough when you’ve always been too much—in the best way of course”

your throat tightened as he continued, “i don’t deserve you. i know that, but i can’t let you go without even trying”

the weight of his confession pressed against your chest, and you glanced down at the box and letter again, unsure of what to say

“please,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly, “just… read the letter, and if you still don’t want me after that, i’ll leave you alone. i promise.”

10:44 pm — long after the mess..

you sit at your desk, leehan’s playlist softly playing in the background with his letter unfolded in front of you as taesan’s hoodie draped around your shoulders. the warmth of it is a stark contrast to the chill you feel inside

leehan’s words replay in your mind: “i don’t deserve you… but i can’t let you go without trying.”

and then taesan’s quiet confession from earlier: “I like you. more than a friend should”

your chest feels heavy, torn between the two men

leehan—the boy who frustrated you to no end but also knew you better than anyone else, even in his flaws or taesan—the boy who made you feel seen, who offered a warmth that felt effortless and pure

the two paths stretch in front of you, pulling at your heart in opposite directions

* ding !! * ding !!

you jump, glancing at your phone to see two notifications:

#plottingon (leehan) : did you read the letter? it’s everything i’ve been meaning tell you.. well, some of it.. i had to rush it..

majestic shyt (taesan) : i’m sorry if the confession felt forced, i promise you i’ll tell you more whenever you’re ready, please come and talk to me if you ever feel any discomfort

your heart pounds in your ears. this is it. this is your move.

who do you choose?

do you choose to stay with kim leehan?

or..

do you choose to create a new future with han taesan?

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[strawberry-hachi]

Thinking about possessive Chigiri. Anyone would get scarily protective if they lost their dream. He lost his career and his passion over a simple injury. People avoided him because of how closed off he got and he refused to let others get near.

When you saw him again after his injury he didn't look at you once. Only giving you one word answers and nods. You understood how much it destroyed him but it was still hard to see the effects.

But then he started avoiding everybody. Holding himself up in his room and attempting to rot into the earth. Oftentimes his sister would end up calling you in tears because of his refusal to take care of himself.

So it's no wonder you began heading over to their house more to try and help him. It was still Chigiri. The boy that you had found yourself enamored with even before he got crazy good at football.

Albeit, it was not easy taking care of him with his mood swings and injury. Often you and him found yourselves frustrated with each other because of that lack of communication and progress. Regardless, you two worked through it because what was the point of a relationship if you couldn't help each other when you needed each other?

It was around the time he finally started healing, his stitches finally disappearing and finally going from a wheelchair to crutches did you begin seeing that change. How he would follow you everywhere if you were together, always close to you. How he would begin messaging and calling you if you disappeared on him or were talking with someone else (and while this did annoy you, you found it oddly adorable). He even began messaging you at all hours of the day even if he had nothing to say.

You weren't one to reject such affection and took it in stride but you'd be lying if you said it didn't worry you on his sudden switch up. Perhaps it's because he finally has energy to put into his relationship now but that thought only puts a pit in your stomach. Because what if he finds something else? You aren't willing to stay if you were only a replacement for something.

However what you learned right before he went off to Blue Lock was in fact the complete opposite. That only after he got injured did he realize how much he genuinely cared for you. Couldn't stop thinking about you. How he would sit with his phone in his hand wanting to call you even though he could barely move a muscle.

How more often than not he found himself dreaming of you. Wanting you. Waking up in a cold sweat upon realizing you weren't there. How as the days grew longer the more he realized that he needed you next to him always.

His injury most certainly messed him up but it also made him realize many things about himself that he wouldn't give up for the world.

---

"Where are you going?"

You glance back at him, "Groceries, remember? I'm still helping your mom and sister, idiot," You stick your tongue out at him, getting another blanket to put under his leg as he sits on the couch.

His once neutral face turns into a small frown as he sets his head down upon the couch. He sighs, briefly fluttering his eyes and you immediately can tell he's doing it on purpose. Prick.

"Do you need an ice pack?" You chuckle as he crosses his arms and blows a piece of hair out of his face.

He rolls his eyes, "I'm not a baby."

"you're kind of acting like one right now," You raise your eyebrows as he immediately turns to you.

He groans, "You've gotten so much bolder since you've had to take care of me."

You smile, "No, you just never noticed."

He opens his mouth to say something but quickly shuts it again. His brows furrow and his fists tighten.

"Sorry," you smile, "Anyways, do you want an ice pack?"

"No, I want you," He says lowly, almost coming out as a growl.

You blink, "I'm right here, aren't I?"

He extends his arms, "How much clearer do I have to get, idiot?"

You let out a little chortle as you set down the blanket, walking over to him as he quickly goes to knock you down over him.

You squeak as you fall atop of him, his arms going to wrap around you like a vice as his head goes into your neck and nuzzles.

"Are you trying to hurt your knee again," you say incredulously, "Don't knock me over like that," You laugh as you thread your fingers through his hair. It's softer than you last remember.

He hums into your neck as his hold tightens around you. You slowly relax into his hold as you realize he doesn't plan on releasing you anytime soon.

"You okay?" You ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper as your breath brushes against his ear. You feel him shiver against you and it makes your heart swell.

"Yeah," he glances up at you with a heavy expression and your face flushes.

This idiot.

[petriwriting]

You Deserve Better - JJ Maybank X Reader

Requested.

A/N: Not my best work but It was a good writing exercise.

Your boyfriend, Todd, was anything but loving and caring. He had money, so you would get gifts, flowers sometimes, and expensive jewelry. but lately it seemed like you were just an accessory, something to make him look better. someone to bring to family events and parties, although he would pay you no mind once you had been introduced to people. He was also a heavy drinker, and there were rumors that he did drugs when he and his friends went boating together. It started as a decent relationship, he was cute and tall and funny. But lately he had been wrapped up in what you tenderly referred to as "Kook Bullshit." 

You were fortunate, you lived comfortably. you certainly didn't come from millionaires. But because of this you were referred to as a Kook, even if you didn't consider yourself to be like the others. You began going to parties and meeting all kinds of new people, particularly a group of Pogues. almost instantly you took a liking to JJ Maybank. His golden blonde hair and sea blue eyes were enchanting, and despite your relationship it was an irresistible temptation. You kept it quiet, and secretive. 

You were currently waiting on the edge of the beach with your phone. You opened your phone and were met with its bright screen contrasting the darkness of the night. The wind chill tousled your hair. you searched for his contact. Blondie. and sent him a quick text.

Busy rn?

             Nah

pick me up?

              otw

You smiled. It was a guilty pleasure, you enjoyed spending time with JJ, he was sweet and funny and he wasn't abusive, or rude. He paid attention to you and listened to you talk. You sent him your location and waited in the darkness for another few minutes, listening to the chatter and music from the beach party that was not far from where you stood. After a while the twinie came rolling up, JJ was driving and he rolled down the window. "uh, Uber for Y/N?" he joked. you laughed and got into the passenger seat. He must not have been far when you sent your location to him. 

"So no grand plans tonight huh?" he asked as he drove further from the island towards a more secluded area. "Not interested in the party." you explained. It was lame, some kids had stolen a bunch of beer and were all drunk playing beer pong in the sand. "Where's the boyfriend on this lovely evening?" he asked you. you sighed and looked over at him. It was stupid, but the moonlight made his eyes twinkle... "He's staying in charleston with his friends." JJ nodded. He always asked about Todd. It was strange, but deep down he just cared about you, and wanted to make sure you were in a safe situation. Being a victim of physical violence himself, he hated to see it happen to others. "So he's out of town?" he asked quietly. "Yes." you replied. 

JJ pulled up to an abandoned field, mostly dirt and sand. The weather was nice and it was a pretty delicate evening with the moon shining down and the area being quiet, all you could hear were the southern cicada's singing their songs and the subtle sound of waves lapping not far beyond the clearing. You hopped out of the van, and JJ followed suit and helped you on top of the van, where he had just laid out an old beach blanket. He laid on his back and you did the same. looking up you saw how clear and bright the stars were. 

"Thanks for picking me up." you begin. "I've had a lot of stuff going on and I just needed to get away." you admit. JJ looks over at you understandingly. His hand brushes yours, barely touching but not holding hands. "It's alright. I get it," he retorts, running his fingers through his hair with his other hand. "I like to get away sometimes too." he says.

For some reason, the air is thick with tension. You'd been seeing each other and hooking up in the twinkie for 4 months now. It became a routine. After several moments spent in silence JJ spoke finally. "I've been thinkin." he says. His voice is straight to the point. "You should leave Todd." he states flatly. Slightly offended, you turn to look at him. "JJ you know why I can't." you say. "Who cares what he says?" he pleads. "He-" you swallow hard, a gulp. "He might hurt me." you admit, your eyes are glazed over, embarrassed almost. "Rafe told me he saw him doing coke with his buddies. They trashed some expensive yachts, and they were high off their asses playing with a gun they found." 

JJ is silent for a minute. "You know I wouldn't let anything happen to you right?" he says finally. "I know but this whole thing just feels wrong. What if he finds out?" you continue. "He might try and go after you. I don't want that." you state clearly. "Well he can try, but he won't get to touch me." JJ says confidently. you went back and forth at the idea, you wanted out, but not where you could be hurt. you also felt safe with JJ, you knew that the islanders from the cut stuck together no matter what. You were like an honorary pogue. "fine."

You finally say, pulling out your phone and drafting a message to Todd, he always reads your messages almost instantly, but he barely ever replied. "How does this sound?" you said after typing away for a few minutes. 

We're over. I don't want my stuff back. Don't talk to me anymore.

JJ looked over the message, and before you could freak and and be doubtful he hit send. there was a rush of relief followed by panic. "Oh my god." you uttered. "Oh my god!" you said louder. "JJ i'm officially single now." you said. "Yeah, so that means we can get inside the van right now without any guilt?" he smirked, leaning over to you, you had a pit in your stomach but you kissed him anyway. 

[neonmetro]

You made a mistake posting the Achaeans designs /vpos

YOU GUYS ALREADY KNOW I LOVE ACHILLES ( and patroclus, but this isn't about him ). HIS DESIGN IS SO COOL WHAT THE SIGMA...... I LIVE FOR THE GREEN SO MUCHHHH. THE COAT THAT SOMEWHAT GIVES MARCHING BAND VIBES, THE SPINE LOOKING DESIGN ON THE BACK, AND THE JEWELRY THAT GIVES MAJOR PEACOCK VIBESSSS......I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

Chat......can we congratulate my boy Diomedes for that glow up.....bro is GORGEOUS. THE RED COAT WITH THE FUR, I MIGHT AS WELL JUST PASS AWAY/silly AND THE HAIRRRRRR I LIVE FOR HIS HAIR ITS REALLY JUST SO AWESOME DUDE

And as much as I love all of them, I would like to give a special shout out to uly and Nestor.....Uly because, well, it's uly and Nestor because HOLY SHITTT THAT DESIGN MIGHT JUST BE PEAK........

I would love to write about all of them, but i don't want to make this ask super long, or else it'll just be my yapping. But in turn, give me all you got of these guys 🔥🔥🗣🗣

The Achaeans are just the butch lesbian assembly tbh...../j

-paris anon

HELP WHEN I FIRST READ THIS I THOUGHT I MADE A ACTUAL MISTAKE WHILE POSTING/DESIGNING THE ACHAEANS 😭😭😭😭

anyhoo sorry for the late response i haven't been able to sit down and ramble in a bit.... hope this is still worth the wait :')

ACHILLES HAD THE MOSTTTT AMOUNT OF THOUGHT INTO HIS REDESIGN (as in literal time. i still thought about the achaeans but achilles i had a literal mood board up dedicated to just Him)

his colors + jewelry were so fun to come up with. he only deserves the best color palette... pretty pretty princess of pthia

i saw this outfit/dress on lolitawardrobe and it screamed achilles to me 😭😭😭 i really wanted to incorporate the skeleton and marine animal together as a way to signify what's to come and his mother's origins (OH. AND HIS ANIMAL IS HECTOR'S DOLPHIN. HOPE THIS HELPS.)

THANK YOU SO MUCH. HE TRULY DID GLOW UP I HAVE NO IDEA HOW BUT I WOKE UP ONE DAY AND BLASTED HIM WITH THE YASSIFICATION JUICE. i really wanted to focus on the red eyes i put in his og design for better color balance...

also his fuck ass bangs 😭 i still like the full head kind of bangs but I'll prob keep it for just when he's going batshit insane

he did already have his braid but since i was already doing the bigger profiles for more details i wanted to emphasize it more...

RAGHDHDGEJWKE THANK YOU SO MUCH....

NESTOR HAS NO RIGHT TO BE THAT PRETTY. AND YET HE IS. #GIRLBOSS?

definitely upgraded that hairstyle + how i stylized his facial hair like girl... og nestor was kinda . let's say lacking .

nestor was kind of. color hell for me i'm ngl? for some reason i couldn't make up my damn mind on which colors go where? plus his grey hair... was kinda fucking me up... please old man... stop making me cry... (looking back my vocalization wasn't so bad it was mostly in my head but STILL)

for uly i really wanted him to have a diff silhouette but still vaguely look like outis lcb... i chose the trench coat bc omg kinda like penelope and also its just like pathos to mathos frfr but he would never really wear smth like that and it ended up way too similar to menelaus. then i thought FUCK OUTIS LCB SINNER CROPPED JACKET. WE WIN

though the 2nd image is kinda just a vague pass of the silhouette, i just needed him to be a lil more diff...

GRBRHRNRNVHN THANK YOU SO MUCH THOUGH!!! my beautiful butch assembly... its just business..........

[memorabxlia]

Fighting for Love ━ 이한

genre: fluff, angst summary: req by @minkilicious warnings: language, toxicity, switches pov, very angsty, mentions food pairing: idol!leehan x fem!reader wc: 1.6k a/n: reposted from my old blog and personally a favorite of mine nets: @blossomnet

You never expected to meet someone like Leehan, he was your perfect match in every way. You met through a mutual friend's get-together, you were instantly drawn to his kind and caring nature, while he was drawn to your drive and ambition. You quickly became inseparable, often alternating hanging out at each other's places. 

However, as your relationship progressed, you noticed that Leehan could be quite possessive and controlling at times. You brushed it off as his way of showing love and didn't want to cause any conflict between you. You also noticed that he would often become distant and moody, but you attributed it to his stressful job as an idol.

The sunlight peeked through the curtains and landed on your face, gently waking you up from your slumber. As you slowly opened your eyes, you couldn't help but smile at the familiar surroundings of Leehan's room.

You stretched your arms above your head, feeling the warmth of the soft sheets against your skin. Leehan was still sound asleep next to you, his unruly hair sticking out in all directions. You couldn't resist running your fingers through it, making him shift and mumble in his sleep.

You took a moment to wake up and you couldn't shake the feeling like something was off. You tried to brush off the feeling and just enjoy your day together. After all, you had planned a romantic picnic in the park. However, as you got ready and headed out, You couldn't shake the strange sensation that had been lingering since you woke up.

As you drove to the park, You noticed Leehan's hands gripping the steering wheel a little tighter than usual. He seemed more tense and lost in thought, not his usual cheerful self. But when you asked him if anything was bothering him, he just smiled and said he was fine.

You decided to let it go and enjoy your picnic. Yet, throughout the day, You couldn't help but notice more and more changes in Leehan's behavior. He was quieter than usual, and his smile seemed forced. He didn't seem interested in the things you used to love doing together, like taking walks or having deep conversations.

As the sun began to set, you made your way back home. Leehan insisted on cooking dinner, something he rarely did. But even as you sat down to eat, he barely touched his food and kept glancing at his phone. You could feel that something was bothering him, and you couldn't stay silent any longer.

'Hey, Leehan. Can we talk for a minute?' you said, making him look up from his phone.

'What now?' he sighs.

'I just wanted to check in and see if everything is okay. You've been easily irritated all day.' you said trying to figure out your boyfriend.

'Oh my god, you're so nosy. He snaps at you. 

You snap back at him, eyebrows furrowing. 'I'm just trying to understand what's bothering you.'

'It's none of your damn business, that's what's bothering me! Can't you just leave me alone?' he sighs again, getting irritated at your prying.

'But I care about you and I want to help if something is bothering you. you say voice cracking slightly.

'You wouldn't understand,' he says.

'How can I know if you don't tell me?' you try to reason with him. 

'Just drop it, okay? I don't need you constantly breathing down my neck.' he said. you take a deep breath trying to keep the tears at bay.

'I'm not trying to be nosy, I just want to make sure everything is okay between us.'

'Everything is fine, okay? Can we just drop it and move on?'

'Leehan, please tell me what's wrong. I won't judge you.' you say wholeheartedly.

'You want to know the truth? I'm fucking sick of you always trying to fix everything. Can't you just let me be in a bad mood without fucking interrogating me every damn time? he says suddenly raising his voice. you jump back in surprise, not used to him raising his voice at you.

"How am I to know you were in a "bad mood" if you don't fucking tell me, I thought we were on the same page when it came to communicating how we feel but apparently not.'

Rolling his eyes he says. 'I can't deal with this right now.'

'You can't deal with this? You? We wouldn't be having this conversation if you knew how to fucking communicate better! you snapped, thoroughly getting tired of his bullshit. 

He yells back. 'We wouldn't be having this conversation if you would just let me be!' 

He huffs. 'I'm leaving-' you cut him off.

'No, I'm leaving, I need some space. I don't know what crawled up your ass this morning but before you call or text me your attitude might want to change and if not you can kiss this relationship goodbye. You grab your bag and keys leaving to your place, tears streaming down your face trying to process everything that just went on. You didn't want to cause an argument, but maybe you had pushed him too far. You just hoped that he would come back and talk to you, so you could figure things out. 

*Leehan's POV*

As I sat alone in my room, staring at the blank walls, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of regret wash over me. It had been a week since Y/n and I had that huge fight, and she had stormed out of my apartment in tears. I had been so caught up in my own problems and stress that I didn't even notice how much I had been neglecting her.

Y/n had been my girlfriend for 5 months now, and I had always taken her for granted. I never truly appreciated her or showed her how much she meant to me. But now, as I sat here alone, I realized how much I had hurt her with my careless words and actions.

I remembered all the times she had been there for me, through my highs and lows, and how I had never truly reciprocated that love and support. I had been too selfish to see what mattered, and now I was paying the price.

I picked up my keys and drove to her house, hoping she would be there. After a few knocks, almost giving up, she finally opened the door, her voice sounding distant and cold. 'What are you doing here?'

'Y/n, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I know I've been a terrible boyfriend, and I regret every hurtful thing I said to you. I promise to make it up to you and show you how much you mean to me.'

She folds her arms and says 'It's not just about what you said, Leehan. It's about how you've been acting towards me. I thought you were my boyfriend not one of your friends.'

'I am your boyfriend, y/n. I've just been going through some personal stuff and I took it out on you. I know that's not an excuse, but I hope you can forgive me.

Her face softens. I do forgive you, but I need to know that you'll communicate with me whenever you have a bad day or just need to rant about something.

'I promise I will. You mean a lot to me, Y/N, and I don't want to lose you over something stupid like that.' I said, holding her close.

As we stood there, in each other's arms. I knew that I had been given a second chance, a chance to make things right and to show Y/N how much she meant to me. 

Over the next few weeks, I put in effort to show Y/n how much she meant to me. I planned romantic dates, surprised her with small gifts, and most importantly, I listened to her. I listened to her fears, her dreams, and her thoughts, and I realized how much I had been missing out on.

Slowly but surely, Y/n began to open up to me again. We talked about our fight, and I apologized once more, promising to never take her for granted again.

As I sit here now, with Y/n by my side, I can't help but feel grateful for the fight that brought us closer. It made me realize how much she truly meant to me and how lucky I am to have her in my life.

From that day on, I made a promise to always cherish and appreciate Y/n, and I knew that I would never let her go again.

[galaxygermdraws]

In the simulation you drew, the bros don’t have scars…. Makes me wonder what luigi thinks of his current appearance.. (since it’s Luigi’s design for a perfect world)

GOOD CATCH. This isn't actually the first time I have done this!! If you take any look at my art for Dream Team, Dreamy Luigi is also lacking in scars. I think Luigi has mostly accepted everything that happened back during SPM, but there is probably some small nagging voice in the back of his head that blames himself for all that stuff. Why did he wish for some kind of kerblooey? Why did he have to jump into the Chaos Heart? Why did he have to challenge Dimentio by himself? Why why why???

It's like when you think about something you did a few years ago and it makes you feel terrible even though you've accepted that you have done it and you're okay with it...I think the thing he dislikes the most is his hair just. Turning white when he's near something powerful. (cause when he was part of Super Dimentio, the mustache was white. So it just makes him think about that. Doesn't help Dimentio had light hair too, so it makes the association worse).

Notice they don't have their grey hair either, in the simulation. I think the bros were def sus the entire simulation, but honestly I do not think it was their appearances that threw them off, they hadn't even realized they looked different til I think everything started glitching, including their own appearances. Cause the idea of their scars glitching and them both noticing is kind of terrifying.

I'm still tryna figure out how I think the simulations work, I definitely think it's some twisted funhouse mirror version of the dreams of the simulated. So like, Luigi probably just wants like. Peace. for once. With how much he literally cannot relax (any vacation they have gets ruined, they go on adventures non-stop, it's very tiring, ya know?)...of course he would want peace. He knows it won't happen but he can dream. But like, even he knows if they DID get peace between the two kingdoms, Bowser would never act like that. They've teamed up with him before, they know how he acts when they're on the same team.

So I don't even know if it's specifically Luigi that wanted the scars removed. It could be part of the twisted funhouse mirror stuff. Of course the bros would want to look ""normal"" again. This is a perfect world where everybody is happy. They shouldn't have any proof of anything else.

OK that got away from me I did not mean to go that long talking about the simulation but I literally haven't stopped thinking about it. I have thought about what would happen if u were to pull the petals of the flower up, how the simulation even works, etc...