#unspoken feelings

[aventurineswife]

In the quiet, galactic space of the Astral Express’s observation room, you find Dan Heng standing alone, his form ethereal and strong, back turned to you. In his Vidyadhara form, he appears almost otherworldly—a being of dragon heritage with sharp features, midnight-black hair that fades to teal, and curled horns casting shadows on the walls. His clothes, a blend of warrior regalia and quiet elegance, reflect both his heritage and his inner conflict.

You hesitate at the doorway, admiring the serene yet guarded figure before you. He knows you’re there—Dan Heng is never unaware—but he says nothing, his gaze fixed on the stars beyond the glass. In the silence, the space between you feels almost sacred, as if speaking would shatter it.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward, daring to approach him. “Dan Heng?” you say softly.

He glances at you, eyes a striking, vivid green that glow faintly in the dim light. For a moment, his gaze flickers with emotion—something raw, buried deep within. But he holds it back, as he always does, his face returning to the composed expression you know so well. “You should be resting.” he murmurs, though there’s no admonishment in his tone.

You can’t help but give a small smile. “I couldn’t sleep. And… it seemed like you could use the company.”

For a moment, he says nothing, but his silence is answer enough. Slowly, he nods, turning his face back to the galaxy. Encouraged, you come closer, standing beside him as the two of you gaze out into the void. His presence is calming, yet electric; you can feel the restrained power within him, the weight of his lineage and the memories he hides.

“You don’t talk about it much.” you say quietly, unsure if he’ll answer.

He tenses slightly, but doesn’t move away. “There isn’t much to tell.” he replies, though you sense the reluctance in his words.

“Even if it’s just with me?” you ask, heart pounding as you reach out to him, your fingers brushing against his hand.

For a moment, he remains still, as if deciding whether to let you closer. But then, slowly, he turns to face you fully, his hand slipping into yours. His eyes are intense, searching your face for something, perhaps reassurance or understanding. It’s as though he’s teetering on the edge of something—vulnerability, maybe, or trust.

“Being here, with you…” he murmurs, voice low and filled with an emotion he can’t quite conceal, “makes me wonder if there’s a part of myself that I could share, that isn’t… tainted by the past.”

His words stir something deep inside you, a mixture of empathy and a need to bridge the chasm he keeps between himself and everyone else. You reach up, your fingers lightly tracing his cheek, his skin warm beneath your touch. “You’re not defined by what’s happened. You’re allowed to want more. To want someone.”

Dan Heng’s eyes search yours, his breathing shallow as he lets your words sink in. Then, his hand lifts, his fingers ghosting over yours as he draws you closer. His forehead rests against yours, a sigh slipping past his lips, as if he’s finally allowing himself to let down his guard.

The moment stretches, filled with a quiet tension. Then, his lips meet yours, soft at first, cautious. But as you press closer, a new urgency fills the air, the kiss deepening as he lets go of his restraint, just for you. His hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck, his fingers gentle yet firm, drawing you in as his lips part, inviting you further.

It’s then that you feel it—a faint, unfamiliar sensation against your tongue. You realize it’s his split Vidyadhara tongue, a delicate, serpent-like touch that’s both unfamiliar and thrilling. A shiver races down your spine as he explores, his breaths growing unsteady. The unique feel of his split tongue intertwining with yours is mesmerizing, an intimate act that seems to bare the quiet vulnerability he keeps hidden from everyone.

Dan Heng’s hands settle at your waist, his hold tightening as he pulls you flush against him. Each movement is tender, filled with a longing he rarely lets himself indulge. His lips trace yours, slow and deliberate, as though memorizing the shape, the feel of you. His breath mingles with yours, each exhale carrying the unspoken desire he’s kept buried.

For a moment, he breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours once more. His vivid green eyes meet yours, softened by an emotion that words can’t quite capture.

“You make me feel…” he murmurs, voice barely audible. He trails off, as though he can’t bring himself to finish, but his expression says enough. In his gaze, you see it all—years of solitude, of battles fought and regrets carried, all melting into the gentle warmth he shares with you now.

His lips find yours again, this time with a sense of urgency, an unspoken promise. His split tongue brushes against yours once more, sending a thrill through your senses as he pulls you closer, his hands sliding down your back, grounding you against him.

In that moment, the walls he’s built around himself crumble just a little more. Dan Heng, the stoic guardian, allows himself to be vulnerable, to be human, if only with you. And as he holds you, lost in the quiet intimacy of the moment, you realize just how deeply he feels for you, even if he may never find the words to say it.

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Shattered Heart

Summary: 

Y/N reaches her breaking point, overwhelmed by bottled-up emotions and unspoken love. As she cries in her room, Azriel stands outside, torn by a decision that could change everything. Cassian's advice hangs in the air, but Azriel's fear drives him away, leaving hearts broken and futures uncertain.

Word Count: 1693

Warnings: Heartbreak x 1000%

Y/N:

Y/N stood alone in her room at the House of Wind, the walls closing in around her as the weight of her emotions became too much to bear. She sank to the floor, her body trembling with the force of her sobs. For decades, she had kept her feelings hidden, locked away in the deepest recesses of her heart. She had watched Azriel from afar, loving him in silence, hoping against hope that one day he might see her.

But that day never came. Instead, she watched as Azriel’s gaze lingered on Elain, his shadows curling around her protectively. She saw the way he looked at her, with a softness and warmth that Y/N had always yearned for. The realization that he was falling for Elain had been like a dagger to her heart, twisting deeper with every stolen glance, every gentle touch.

The pain had been bearable at first, a dull ache that she could manage. But as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the ache had grown into a searing agony. She had tried to push it down, to keep it hidden beneath a veneer of strength and indifference. But now, alone in the sanctuary of her room, she could no longer keep the facade intact.

She thought back to the moments they had shared—moments that she had cherished and replayed in her mind a thousand times. The training sessions, the quiet conversations late at night, the way his eyes would soften ever so slightly when he looked at her. She had convinced herself that those moments meant something, that they were signs of a deeper connection. But now, she saw them for what they were: fragments of a shattered dream.

Her sobs grew louder, echoing off the walls. She hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth as the tears continued to flow. Each sob was a release, a cathartic expulsion of the pain that had been suffocating her.

Guilt washed over her, guilt for not being strong enough to move on, for not being able to let go of a love that had never been hers to hold. Regret followed close behind, regret for all the years she had wasted pining after someone who could never return her feelings.

Fear gripped her heart, fear that she would never find happiness, that she would always be alone, watching from the shadows as the people she loved found joy and fulfillment without her.

And then came the anger. Anger at herself for being so foolish, for allowing herself to fall so deeply in love with someone who saw her as nothing more than a friend. Anger at Azriel for being so blind to her feelings, for not seeing the pain he was causing her.

She cried until she had no more tears left to shed, her body exhausted and her heart shattered. The room was silent now, save for the soft sound of her ragged breathing. She felt hollow, emptied of all the emotions that had consumed her for so long.

In the quiet aftermath, a sense of resignation settled over her. She knew she couldn’t continue like this, trapped in a cycle of unrequited love and heartache. She needed to find a way to move on, to heal the wounds that had been torn open.

But for now, all she could do was sit in the darkness, letting the remnants of her shattered heart fall around her like ashes.

She would pick up the pieces tomorrow. But tonight, she would allow herself to grieve for the love she had lost, the dreams that would never come true, and the future that had slipped through her fingers like sand.

And as she sat there, wrapped in the cocoon of her pain, she made a silent vow to herself: she would find a way to heal, to rebuild her heart piece by piece. It would be a long and difficult journey, but she would face it with the strength and resilience that had carried her through so many trials before.

She would survive this heartbreak, and she would emerge stronger on the other side. But for now, she would allow herself to feel everything, to mourn the love that had never been hers, and to find solace in the knowledge that even in the depths of her sorrow, she was still standing.

She would find her way back to the light, one step at a time.

Azriel: 

Azriel stood in the hallway outside Y/N’s room, his heart breaking at the sound of her sobs. Each cry, each ragged breath was a dagger to his soul. He knew he should turn away, give her privacy, but he couldn’t force himself to leave. The shadows around him whispered of her pain, amplifying his own guilt and sorrow.

For years, he had watched Y/N from a distance, admiring her strength, her resilience, and the quiet kindness she showed to everyone. He had trained with her, fought alongside her, and in every moment, he had felt his heart tighten with unspoken feelings. He loved her—loved her more than he had ever allowed himself to admit.

But he stayed away. He stayed away because he believed that she deserved better. She deserved someone who wasn’t haunted by a past filled with pain and darkness, someone who could give her the happiness and light she brought to everyone around her. He couldn’t be that person for her, no matter how much he wished he could.

Elain had been a distraction, a way to convince himself that he could feel something for someone else. But his feelings for Elain had always been platonic, a gentle warmth compared to the burning fire he felt for Y/N. Yet, he saw the way Y/N looked at him when he was with Elain, the pain she tried so hard to hide. It tore him apart, but he couldn’t bring himself to change his course.

The door to Y/N’s room remained closed, but the sounds of her crying seeped through, wrapping around him like chains. He leaned against the wall, his head bowed, his shadows restless.

“You’re torturing yourself, you know.”

Azriel looked up to see Cassian approaching, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. Cassian had always been perceptive, and Azriel knew he couldn’t hide anything from him.

“Cassian,” Azriel said quietly, straightening. “What are you doing here?”

Cassian crossed his arms, leaning against the opposite wall. “I could ask you the same thing. But I think we both know the answer.”

Azriel sighed, his gaze drifting back to Y/N’s door. “I can’t help it. Hearing her like this... it’s killing me.”

Cassian’s eyes softened. “Then do something about it, Az. You’re both suffering, and for what? Some misguided belief that you’re not good enough for her?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his shadows flickering with agitation. “She deserves better, Cassian. She deserves someone who isn’t... broken.”

Cassian stepped closer, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re not broken, Azriel. You’ve been through hell, but you’re one of the strongest people I know. And Y/N? She loves you. Anyone can see that.”

Azriel shook his head, his heart aching. “She deserves happiness. I’m not sure I can give that to her.”

Cassian placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “You don’t have to be perfect to love someone, Az. And Y/N doesn’t need perfect. She needs you. Just as you are.”

Azriel’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, his throat tight with emotion. “I’m afraid, Cass. Afraid of hurting her, of not being enough.”

Cassian’s grip tightened. “Love is a risk, Az. But it’s a risk worth taking. Don’t let fear keep you from the one person who can make you truly happy.”

Azriel looked back at Y/N’s door, the sound of her crying still echoing in his ears. He knew Cassian was right, but the fear and self-doubt were overwhelming.

“I don’t know if I can,” Azriel whispered, his voice breaking.

Cassian pulled him into a brief, fierce hug. “You can. And you will. Because you love her, and she loves you. Don’t let anything else matter.”

As Cassian stepped back, Azriel nodded slowly, his resolve hardening. But as he turned back to Y/N’s door, his courage faltered. The weight of his past, the fear of not being enough, pressed down on him like a physical force.

He took a step forward, then another, his hand reaching out toward the door. But as he heard another heartbreaking sob from within, his hand dropped to his side. The shadows around him seemed to tighten, mirroring his inner turmoil.

“I can’t,” he murmured, more to himself than to Cassian. “I can’t do this to her.”

Before Cassian could respond, Azriel turned and walked away, his heart shattering with each step. He forced himself to keep moving, even as every instinct screamed at him to go back, to hold Y/N and tell her everything.

Cassian watched him go, a look of profound sadness in his eyes. “Az,” he called softly, but Azriel didn’t stop.

As Azriel walked away, the sound of Y/N’s sobs grew fainter, replaced by the deafening silence of his own despair. He had made his choice, and it was one he would have to live with. But the thought of Y/N, alone and hurting, was a pain unlike any other.

And in her room, Y/N cried herself to sleep, the ache in her heart a mirror of the one Azriel carried with him. They were both left in a state of despair, separated by walls and the unspoken words that hung between them like a barrier they couldn’t cross.

Azriel’s shadows whispered around him, their murmurs filled with sorrow. He knew he had made a mistake, but for now, he couldn’t see a way to fix it. All he could do was keep moving forward, even as his heart begged him to turn back.

Because sometimes, the greatest battles weren’t fought on the battlefield, but within the heart. And this was a battle Azriel wasn’t sure he could win.

[diskydiz]

Lowkey obsessed with Vox’s design- Also included a radiostatic week prompt✌️

[jennaispunk]

Every Time You Go Away

Summary: You have very few vices and the biggest one is Javi. It can never be serious but tell that to your heart.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f! Reader

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.8k

Tags/Warnings: fluff, angst, allusions to smut, fingering (f! receiving), unprotected PIV (wrap it up, peeps), idiots in love, unspoken feelings, longing, two people who want what they think they can’t have, smoking, reader understands Spanish but does not speak Spanish in this story, reader is shorter than Javi, has hair that can be tucked behind her ear, and can be picked up by him but no other physical description is given, reader has an occupation (she's a teacher). Reader has a nickname (cariño, and one other that I won't spoil here). If i missed anything, please let me know.

A/N: This fic was written for @yopossum mootboard challenge. I love this moodboard so much and I love how much it inspired me. Thanks to @fallingforthearch for being my #1 fan and to @fhatbhabiee for looking this over for me. This is the first thing I’ve written that’s anywhere close to being angsty and it killed me to not give these two a HEA (maybe I will someday)

divider and banner by @saradika-graphics

Most people would be out on the town on a Friday night, enjoying the bars and nightlife Bogotá has to offer, but not you. You sit at home on your couch, waiting. He’s going to knock on your door any moment now, he always does at this time of night. You sip your glass of wine and stare at the stack of ungraded papers spread over the coffee table. You had assigned your fifth-grade class an essay and now came the laborious task of reading them.

Why you do this to yourself, you’ll never know. Javi doesn’t love you and he probably never will. You are an outlet for him, a place where he can unload his stress and drown his worries inside you. You’re no better than a whore, but at least whores get paid. You let him use you for free. You let him use you and leave and you never ask for anything in return. You’re always there with a soft smile and a willing body. Damn, you wish you could turn him away, tell him that this isn’t working for you anymore, but you can’t. You’re in love with him, you have been since the moment you met at that boring Embassy party. The thought of him not being in your life hurts worse than being his fuck toy; at least you get to touch him, kiss him, give him some sort of comfort.

“Hey, cariño.”

He props himself against the doorframe, his lean body drawn to its full height. His leather jacket creaks as he moves his arm, and heat slowly spreads through your chest.

You silently make way for him to enter your apartment and softly close the door behind him. He moves across your apartment with feline grace, like he owns the place. You suppose he does, in a way. No other man has spent so much time in your apartment since you moved to Columbia.

He prowls over to the small bar near the kitchen and pours himself some whiskey. A soft chuckle fills the air as he realizes it’s his favorite brand. There’s only one store in Bogotà that sells this brand and it’s not that close to the school or your apartment. His heart squeezes in his chest, you really are too sweet for him.

He lands heavily on the couch, the familiar mixture of cigarette smoke, aftershave and whiskey invades your nostrils. The scent fills you with a myriad of emotion and your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth.

He lights a cigarette and takes a long drag as you settle onto the couch next to him. He’s the only one you would ever let smoke in your apartment. You sit close enough to touch him, but you don’t. Javi likes to be in control, and you wait for him to make the first move.

He shouldn’t do this to you. You should be with someone who could give you everything you need….someone who wasn’t him. He wasn’t any good for you, he knew that, yet he showed up at your door like he always does, and you let him in.

He knocks back his whiskey in one fluid gulp, his Adam’s apple bouncing as he swallows. You look so goddamn sexy in those silky lavender sleep shorts. His left hand clenches and unclenches trying not to jump you right then and there.

“What’s all this?”

He jerks his head toward the chaos in front of you. Leaning forward, he sets his empty class on the table and picks up the top sheet of paper.

The corner of your mouth tugs upward as he studies the paper with intensity. You could almost make yourself believe this is what it would be like if the two of you were actually a couple, the two of you sharing a quiet moment after a long day.

“My students had to write an essay on their dream job. I was trying to get a head start on grading them.”

His signature smirk played on his lips as he read.

“The Ambassador’s son wants to be a DEA agent, huh? Bet she loves that.”

Your soft laughter lifts over the quiet music you had playing in the background. The Ambassador had no love for the DEA agents working in Columbia, especially Javi and his partner Steve.

“Maybe I should have you come in and talk to the class.”

You were only half joking but the thought of the tough and stoic Javier Peña standing up in front of a group of ten year olds makes you smirk.

He drops the paper and loud sigh escapes his lips as he pinches the bridge of his nose. You know exactly what that means.

“Tough day?” you ask quietly.

He tells you about his day while you listen silently. He leaves out the worst parts, of course. He can’t bear to tell you the whole truth, not wanting to subject you to the worst parts of his job. You don’t need that.

His large, warm hand rests on your bare thigh. As he talked, his hand caresses your skin, his fingers kneading your soft flesh. The need to feel you, to possess you is almost overwhelming and he grits his teeth. Those lavender silk pajama shorts are killing him, so much of your creamy flesh is exposed to him. His hand snakes further up your thigh as he takes a deep breath.

You watch his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed, the heat burning between your thighs. You shouldn’t want this; you know exactly what this is, but you can’t help yourself. You need to hang onto him, even if what you have isn’t real. This is enough. Oh, the lies you tell yourself.

“Want a refill?”

You already know the answer. He never gets drunk with you. He never has more than one drink when he’s with you, but you always ask. You’re just buying time, trying to stretch out the time spent together as long as possible.

He shakes his head slowly. His shoulders sag like he’s carrying the weight of the world. He knows he shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t do this, he should have just went to see Vanessa or one of the other girls. He hadn’t done that in weeks. You’re the only one who can give him what he needs.

“Come here, cariño.”

He pulls you into his lap and wraps his hands around your waist, keeping you settled securely in his lap, right over the bulge in his grey jeans. The heat from his body soaks into yours and desire pools at your core.

He couldn’t look you directly in the eyes for more than a few moments at a time. He knew exactly what he’d see there. He’d see the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, and he knew that he was ruining you. He knew that you would never ask for more than he gave you and that broke his heart.

His lips crash against yours, his soft tongue plunging deep into your mouth. The wine on your tongue mixed with the whisky on his and he gripped your hips tighter. He wanted to lose himself in you, let you calm his raging soul, if only for a brief time.

Javi’s thick fingers snake up your back and into your hair. His grip is firm, but not painful. He doesn’t want to hurt you, even though that’s exactly what he’s doing. The pain may not be physical, but he was causing you pain, nonetheless.

He tilts your head back, his lips trailing down your neck. Vanilla and cherry fill his nose, a scent that’s uniquely you, driving his need for you even higher.

His teeth lightly graze your skin, and you moan softly. He knows just how to touch you, which parts of you are the most sensitive and he played your body perfectly.

He wraps your legs around his waist as he stands. His mouth is on yours again and he kisses you deeply as he takes the familiar walk toward your bedroom. It’s a trip he’s taken enough times that he doesn’t need his eyes to know where he’s going.

Your body looks so beautiful spread out for him on your soft sheets. You’re always so willing to let him have you anyway he wants. You give yourself to him so freely. How could someone so pure want someone like him? He’s not a good man and he doesn’t pretend to be. He did horrible things, told himself it was for the greater good but was it really? Are the things that he was doing worth it?

Javi slowly unbuttoned his shirt as he stood between your parted legs. He knows you like to watch him undress and he is more than happy to give you a show.

His smooth, tan chest is exposed to you little by little, making you throb harder with every pop of the buttons. The belt came next, unlatching it one handed as his other hand strokes your thigh.

You squirm as he unbuttoned his pants, giving you a peek at the small curve of his belly and the strip hair that led to the thing you wanted most.

He gently jerks you to a siting position. Practiced hands pull your tank top over your head, exposing you to him. He kneels before you, his soft lips brushing your neck. You’re so sensitive to him and it only serves to make him even harder.

Teeth gently nip at your exposed skin as he makes his way down your body. You are soft and so much of his world was rough. You soothe him, you make him feel whole.

“Javi…”

Just like always, you’re putty in his hands. You let him mold you in his image, desperate to have any piece of him that you could. You’d take anything he gave you. Despite what he might think, he’s a good man. You’ve seen how much he cares about his work and the people closest to him.

“Shhh, cariño….I’ve got you.”

His lips and tongue tease at your nipple, and your fingers tangle in his hair. He chuckles lightly into your skin as he plays your body like an instrument.

He pushes you back onto the bed and pulls off your shorts. His pupils are blown with lust as he marvels at the sight before him.

In a perfect world, he would take his time with you, he would treat you as gently as you deserve but he couldn’t. If he did, he’d only drag you down with him and he couldn’t live with that on his conscience. It was better to keep you at arms length, keep you safe.

His fingers drag through your wet folds and dip inside. He can’t hold back a strangled groan as your heat surrounds him. He works you slowly, opening you up for him until the tingle in your lower abdomen tells you it won’t be long before you came undone for him.

Your body clenches around his digits, your moans filling the room. Stars blind you as your orgasm ripped through your body with a vengeance. Javi’s hushed voice works you through it until you whimper his name.

You didn’t give you much time to recover before he was pulling off his jeans and his body covered yours, settling between your thighs. His weight on you feels good, comforting even but it shouldn’t. For now, you pretend this was more than it was. You pretend that this meant something and not just a way for him to release his tension.

He intertwines your fingers with his, pinning your hands to the bed. Holding your hands like this is the only bit of intimacy he allows himself.

He pushed himself inside you, holding back a moan. All his worries vanished as your warmth surrounded him. He’s lost in the feel of you, the way you grip him so tightly. He’s convinced this is the closest he’ll ever come to heaven.

His pace steadily increased as you moaned for him, making those sounds that he loved to hear. You sang so beautifully for him.

You mewled as he hit the spot that only he could reach, and you knew you were close to coming for him once again.

You cried out his name and your walls squeezed around him.

“That’s it, cariño…don’t fight it.”

You tried to hold back. You wanted this to last as long as possible because you know as soon as it was over the spell would be broken. You’d have to face the reality that you loved a man that didn’t love you back.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

You obey his command, and your walls fluttered around him as your second orgasm hit you. It felt like an electric shock through your entire body. Every nerve in your body fired all at once.

You whimper softly as the aftershocks ripple through you. Javi never stopped, working your through your orgasm once again as you whine and cry for him.

He picked up his pace and his hips slap against you as he chased his own release. His hips stutter as he buries his face into your neck and spilled himself inside you, painting you with his seed.

He laid on top of you for a minute, breathing you in and taking advantage of the last few moments he had you like this. He couldn’t let himself linger too long and he rolled off you, reaching down for his jeans to grab his pack of cigarettes.

Your mind was still hazy as you roll onto your side, watching him rest against the headboard and light his smoke. This was yet another thing you only did for him, you would never let any other man smoke in your bed.

He smirked at you as the cloud of smoke obscured his face. It was his way of telling you he was satisfied. He couldn’t say it out loud, that would be too much.

He crushes the butt into the ashtray on the nightstand and laid back down. He smooths the hair from your face, tucking the strands behind your ear. It’s the only bit of comfort he can offer you. It’s not nearly enough, he knows that, but he can’t let himself give you more.

“Get some sleep, rana (frog).”

A giggle bubbles up from the depths as you hear that stupid nickname he gave you. Not long after you first met, he told you that you reminded him of Sally Field’s character in “Smokey and the Bandit”, his favorite movie. You thought he was crazy, but somehow the nickname just stuck.

You didn’t want to sleep because you knew what came next. You knew he would leave once you were out. He would leave the way he always does, like a thief in the night. Did he know that he was also leaving with your heart? Did he even care?

Sleep finally took you. You never could stay awake long after being with him but maybe that was for the best. If you were awake when he left, would you be able to resist the aching need to ask him to stay? You didn’t think you were that strong.

He watched you for awhile as you slept. You looked so peaceful in that state, like an angel. Maybe you were…. maybe you were here to save him even though he didn’t deserve it.

He quietly disentangles himself from the sheets and looked back at your sleeping form one last time. You look so beautiful with your messy hair and your soft body wrapped up in the sheets. His heart ached to tell you how he felt, how he longed for you, but he could never do that. You’re too good for him; he’d only ruin you with his roughness. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you. You belong with someone better than him: a doctor or a lawyer, someone who would treat you the way you deserved. You’d drown his darkness; it would swallow you up and change the very essence of who you were. Still, he came back, time after time, taking everything you gave him without so much as a complaint. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t let you go. He loved you…you were the one thing that kept him sane. Maybe one day he could be the man you needed but today was not that day.

The sun streaming through your bedroom window woke you. Just like always, you woke up alone. The bed cold and empty next to you, but his scent still lingered. You roll over and bury your face in the pillow allowing yourself to breathe him in the way you never dare let yourself when he’s here. Admitting your feelings is not an option but that’s all you want to do. Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to look him in the eye and tell him you want more. You can handle his darkness; you’ve been doing it for months even if he doesn’t realize it. Maybe next time you won’t just fall asleep…. you’ll ask him to stay.

[lovejunkie97]

[eribeen]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･UNSPOKEN FEELINGS °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

A/N: hi! This is Eribin. I am not a real writer, doing this as my past time. English is not my first language so bear with my English. There’s a lot of grammatical and typographical errors. This is just a fiction from my delusions 😆

NOTES: ITALIZED MEANS FLASHBACKS

Warning: drinking, angst

Words: 1800+

CAST:

Ryuta Hidaka BBZ as himself

Miku Fukahori BBZ as himself

Y/N

Ryuta's POV

Y/N was a mess when she arrived at my apartment, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t say a word as soon as I opened the door; she just threw herself into my arms, crying. I had no idea what had happened, but she soon began to tell me how she had caught Miku, her boyfriend, kissing another girl. She couldn’t stop sobbing as she described the scene. From the way she described the girl, I suspected it might be Kaede, Miku’s ex—tall, fair-skinned, with short hair. Kaede had left Miku to chase her dreams of becoming a model, and from what I knew, she had become one of the most successful models out there. I hated the thought of Miku still being stuck on her, but I never thought it would lead to something like this.

I felt guilty. I’m friends with both Y/N and Miku, though they’ve never met. I always thought they’d make the perfect couple. I’ve known Miku the longest, and he’s always been a stand-up guy—loyal, caring, funny, and ambitious. I thought he was exactly what Y/N needed. As for Y/N, we met through my work at LDH, where we collaborated on music projects. She has great taste in pop music, and we worked together a lot. I thought they’d be a great match, so I pushed them to meet. At first, Y/N wasn’t interested, but eventually, I convinced her. They hit it off, and before I knew it, they were officially together. I was happy for them, really, but deep down, I regretted setting them up. I wished I were the one she’d chosen, but I didn’t have the courage to tell her how I really felt.

"You know what, I have a friend. He's single. You want me to introduce you to him?" I asked her, trying to distract her from her while working on a project.

She paused for a second, then smiled weakly.

"Nahh.. I'm too busy. No time for that!" she said, brushing off my suggestion.

But I didn’t give up. I kept pushing until she agreed, and when they met, it was like they’d known each other forever. They clicked. They started dating. And just like that, I felt a pang of jealousy, though I kept it to myself. I was glad for them, but at the same time, I couldn’t help wishing things were different. I was too much of a coward to confess my feelings. I couldn’t tell her that I had wanted to be the one by her side.

"Tell me, Ryuta, what's wrong with me? I know that I am pretty. Have a decent job that pays me well, I am kind, I am lovable, I am--"

I interrupted before she could continue because I knew what she was going to say. There was nothing wrong with her. She was everything anyone could want.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Y/N. You know what, rest. And tomorrow you two talk."

But she wasn’t listening. She poured herself another drink, her voice shaky as she continued, "He didn't pick up my calls. He really abandoned me and our relationship."

I knew she was getting drunk, and I needed to keep an eye on her, but I didn’t know how to make her feel better. It killed me to see her in so much pain.

"I am sorry, Y/N. This is my fault. I should've seen what was happening with Miku. If only I--"

She cut me off by pressing her finger to my lips.

"Shhhhh... it’s not your fault, Ryuta. If there's anyone to blame here, it's me. Probably I was not a good girlfriend at all. I am not the one he's looking for." She said, and her tears started to fall again. It broke my heart. How could Miku do this to her? Y/N was everything good and kind, and she deserved so much better.

As the night dragged on, Y/N’s tears slowly stopped, and the silence between us grew. I watched her as she stared blankly at her empty glass, her red-rimmed eyes hollow with sadness. I sat beside her, my heart aching, unsure of what to say or do.

"You know what, Ryuta," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "If you were probably the one I dated, I wouldn't be hurting like this."

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Was she serious? Or was it just the alcohol talking? I turned to look at her, but she was staring down at the glass in her hands, too drunk to meet my gaze.

"Y/N..." I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I know I can't change what happened, Ryuta," she continued, her voice fragile, "But I'm grateful for your friendship. You've always been there for me."

I nodded, my throat tight. "I'm always here for you, Y/N. No matter what." I wanted to say more, but the words caught in my chest. I wanted to tell her I cared for her, that I had always cared for her, but I couldn’t. I was scared. Scared that maybe she didn’t feel the same. That maybe I wasn’t enough.

The silence between us stretched, heavy with the things I couldn’t say. Y/N’s words echoed in my mind: "If you were probably the one I dated, I wouldn't be hurting like this." I wondered if she meant it, or if it was just something she said out of frustration and pain. But maybe, just maybe, she did.

"I don't deserve this pain," she said after a long pause, her voice trembling, "I don’t deserve someone who would make me feel this way, you know? I gave him everything. I thought he was different. I thought he was the one."

I took her hand without thinking, my fingers brushing hers. Her hand was cold, and I could feel her trembling, but she didn’t pull away. She didn’t say anything either, but we both understood what the silence meant.

"Y/N," I began softly, squeezing her hand, "You deserve someone who sees you for everything you are. Someone who never doubts you, someone who never makes you feel less than amazing." I paused, my heart pounding. "And I promise you, I will always see you that way."

"You're such a good friend, Ryuta," she said, her voice still soft but full of gratitude. "But... I don’t know if I can trust anyone anymore. I don’t know if I can even trust myself."

"I’m not asking you to trust anyone right now," I said, my heart aching. "I just need you to know that I’m here for you. Always. Whether it’s to listen, or to just sit here with you in silence. You don’t have to face this alone."

The weight of my unspoken feelings was suffocating, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her how I felt. She wasn’t ready for that.

She looked up at me, her eyes softening, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw something in her eyes—something that made my heart race. She leaned in, almost as if she were going to say something, but she stopped herself.

"Maybe... maybe you’re right. Maybe I do deserve better." She met my eyes, her gaze searching mine, looking for something I wasn’t sure how to give.

I didn’t pull away, but I didn’t say anything more. I just smiled at her, offering the support she needed. It wasn’t much, but it was all I could give for now.

"Get some sleep, Y/N," I said gently, guiding her back onto the couch. "Tomorrow will be better. You’ll feel better."

She nodded, closing her eyes as she drifted into sleep. I stayed beside her, my mind racing with everything I hadn’t said.

But for tonight, it wasn’t the right time. Not yet.

(Ryuta and Miku, AAAAACCCCKKKK!! ❤️❤️❤️)

The end~ THANK YOU SM FOR READING MY STORY 😘

[unspokenfeelings6]

"just because you love the ocean,

It doesn't mean you drown in it"

Btw it was not about the ocean !!!

[sendrickbecs]

UNSPOKEN FEELINGS (8/9)

Story Summary : Beca and Chloe have had this thing - this unspoken connection - since they met at the activities fair two years ago. Since then they've become fast friends, but over the years, their friendship grew into something much more. Both seniors are afraid to admit their feelings for each other so it's a continuous loop of pining and heartache.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝚂𝙸𝚇𝚃𝙴𝙴𝙽: Christmas Socks w/ Daryl Dixon

a/n: okay, i am behind on this challenge again BUT i think it's a good thing that i'm able to post them separately and leisurely. thank you all for your support, it means so very much to me and i had a lot of fun writing for this one!!

masterlist | ficmas masterlist | AO3

When it comes to the apocalypse, you couldn't be picky with relatively anything; that went for clothes, food, shelter, companions, etc.

So, when you stumbled across some Christmas socks, you didn't even hesitate to snatch a pack or two off the shelf, stuffing them in your bag as you caught up with the rest of your family.

It was winter once again, and it's been hard trying to keep people's spirits alive, especially after the farm had burned down. You knew how stressed everyone was, especially Rick as Lori grew larger and larger everyday. The food was scarce by the time you guys had finally found somewhere to settle, the chill of the air was merciless as it nipped at the exposed skin that the clothes they were wearing couldn't cover.

"Hey guys, are any of your feet cold?" You piped up."I know mine are," You heard Lori say, "How about you, baby?" She was obviously addressing Carl as he agreed. "I managed to snag a few packs of socks. The Christmas ones were the only ones that I could find, but they're pretty cute." You saw the smile on Beth's face as you went around the group, handing the piece of clothing out. When you were done, you only had one pair left.

Yes, your feet were cold. Yes, your shoes were pieces of shit, but there was one person that hadn't taken you up on your offer, and it was the brooding archer keeping watch from outside.

You walked outside, standing next to him as you stretched out your arm, lightly tapping the pair on his chest. You didn't look at him as he took it in his hands.

"The hell's this?" You snorted. "What do you think it is? They're socks." You finally turned to look at him. "I ain't wearin' no socks with a.. the hell's that?" You couldn't help the grin that broke out on your face.

"It's Santa! You know, the big fat jolly red man that comes down the chimney and leaves you presents?" He blew out an exaggerated raspberry, turning the socks in his hands. He didn't say anything or complain anymore, instead, he sat down, untying his laces and kicking his boots off. Next came his own pair of socks, the material littered with all kinds of holes. You bit back a laugh as he slid Santa on his feet.

"They look good." Your voice was laced with humor.

"'Definitely feel warmer."

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood

[random-xpressions]

Someone to write letters to (you can never send)...

Random Xpressions

[youre-a-miracle-of-the-universe]

to be loved is to be known

i know your usual order by heart (i love you) here's a thing about the tv show you mentioned you liked recently (i love you) i got you hair clips 'cause last time we met you said you needed some (i love you) i know you're staying up late playing that game, please go to bed soon (i love you) i baked you your favorite cookies for your birthday (i love you) i saw this thing and thought you would like this so i bought this for you (i love you) i appreciate you opening up and telling me about your worries, i know it's hard for you (i love you) oh isn't this your favorite childhood cartoon? (i love you) i got you a keychain with your favorite character from that anime (i love you) i know you prefer walking on the right side so i change sides for you (i love you) i know you struggle with talking to people so i do the talking when it's possible, even tho i struggle too (i love you) im running a little late for our meeting but i know you will be too so it's fine (i love you) i know you wake up earlier than i do so i woke up especially early today to spend more time with you (i love you) i know this thing means a lot to you so i will fight for it (i love you) you seem a little upset so i got you to talking about your beloved pet cause i know it will cheer you up (i love you) i know you love my dad's bread so since he baked some bread rolls i brought one for you (i love you) i know you lack physical contact but are too proud and shy to ask for it so i make excuses so you can get some of it (i love you) when you show me your drawing i put a lot of attention to the details bc i know you like to make even the smallest things meaningful i know you'll be happy i noticed some things (i love you) i was craving some sweet drinks so i got the one you like too so we can share (i love you) i know you like tangerines but hate peeling them so i peeled one for you without asking (i love you) i bring up and old inside joke that always makes you laugh when you get sad (i love you) i could name your recent hyperfixations in order (i love you) i know you love to talk but are insecure if anyone wants to hear you out so i reassure you every once in a while (i love you)

[stardustonstage515]

“How I’d Love To Be Your Hero”

It’s strange for me. I’ve never felt like this before; just so content. Lying in the bed of my pickup truck, looking up at the stars and at the tattoos on your skin, squatting away mosquitos and listening to the frogs croaking in the distance. The radio’s playing some indie alternative song I’ve never heard before but already like—I hope I remember the words later when I relive this moment with you again in my mind. 

You smile at me and I smile back. I can’t remember the last time I smiled, or the last time saw such an endearing smile aimed my way. I can’t remember the last time I saw so many freckles on somebody’s cheeks or even the last time I saw such a big, goofy, bucktoothed grin like the one on your face. You look like you’re keeping a secret and you want me to guess what it is. Well, just know, I’d gladly guess if that means you’d laugh at my feeble attempts to figure out whatever is going on inside your head. I’ve never known someone like you. You’re different from all the others. You’re special. You’re… 

You’re making me change the way I think about myself. It’s confusing and it’s sudden and it’s scary, but it’s worth it for nights like these, for nights spent lying beside you in the bed of my scratched-up green Chevy, in some secluded little clearing in the woods, away from prying eyes and unwanted judgements, with my letterman jacket thrown over you to keep you warm while you point out constellations in the sky and we laugh about how some Greek astronomer once thought they looked like heroes. But if you look a little harder, I guess you can see whatever you want. Like how I can look into your eyes and see galaxies. Or I can just gaze back at my own reflection. I could even see a future for us if I really try. 

You kiss me, and I think to myself, “God, how I’d love to be your hero.” I think about how I’d love to kiss you back, how I’d love to be in love with you, how I act so macho because I’m too much of a coward to tell you how I really feel.

You put your hand on my chest and I know you feel the exact same way. The only difference is that you’re not ashamed of that. You’re not second-guessing yourself. You’re not embarrassed about how you feel. You don’t cry from pent-up frustration at the unknown or scream at yourself in the mirror, trying to make yourself believe the lies you’ve been told since you were a child, since before it ever occurred to you to doubt them; before it ever occurred to you that you might not be society’s ideal. Oh, how I’d love to be like that. How I’d love to be like you. 

You don’t care what people think of you. You’re proud of who you are. You don’t even realize you’re being brave—you’re just being yourself. And I admire that, really I do, but it’s just one of the many things I admire about you. I adore you. And I don’t want to admit it, but you’re my hero.

You start to fall asleep with your head leaning on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around you and whisper quietly, “God, I love you.” And it’s true. I do love you. I love your vast taste in music and the way you can get me to sing along to any song with you unapologetically. I love the way your hair sweeps across your forehead and I love your dark sense of humor. I love hearing stories about your childhood in the city and I love how easily-impressed you are by my athletic skills. I’d love to make love to you. 

And though I myself am no hero or knight in shining armor or handsome prince from some faraway land, what I am is wholeheartedly in love with you and that terrifies me. But at least I have a hero. Maybe I need one more than I think. Maybe we all do. Maybe we all need someone by our sides, cheering us on; someone who gives us the inspiration to figure out who we want to be and the courage to become them. Maybe there’s a hero inside all of us, but we just need someone like you to remind of us of that. Maybe…

Well, maybe it doesn’t even matter. What matters is this moment, what matters is you. I shouldn’t overthink things. But we all have our issues, don’t we? You wish you had a hero, someone to have protected you back then, from the gangs and the drugs and the dangers of being out that you dealt with every day before you moved here, before I ever knew you. But then you wouldn’t have fled here. And I feel somewhat guilty, and yet somewhat thankful that it all worked out, because look at us now, under those same stars you used to wish on.

And I won’t let anyone else hurt you. I’ll do whatever heroic things you want me to. Or at least I’ll try. There are so many things I want to try now. I think I’ll try to be more open to myself, open to you. Open to these new feelings. I think I finally know why I’ve never felt like this before. But it’s still strange to admit it. I’m still too afraid to do that. But I feel much less afraid knowing I have you. You to lean on, you to hold, you to kiss, you to love. 

Written by me, October 25, 2021. From the perspective of a straight-passing, masculine jock.

[small-z24]

One-Shot: Secrets in the Night

Summary:

Azriel and the bat boys visit a night market where Azriel is captivated by Y/N, a kind-hearted vendor who impresses Rhysand with her handmade jewelry. Despite his shyness, Azriel later surprises Y/N with a thoughtful gift during Winter Solstice, revealing their mutual admiration and hinting at a blossoming romance.

Word Count: 1743

Warnings: None

The night market in Velaris was alive with color and sound. Lanterns hung from every stall, casting a warm glow over the bustling crowd. The scent of spiced cider and freshly baked pastries filled the air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of the shoppers.

Azriel walked alongside Rhysand and Cassian, his eyes scanning the stalls. They were on a mission to find the perfect gifts for the women of the Night Court. Azriel’s mind was only half on the task at hand; the other half was consumed by thoughts of Y/N. He had first seen her at a café in Velaris, drawn to her kindness and the warmth of her smile. Since then, he had found himself inexplicably captivated by her.

As they walked, Azriel’s shadows whispered around him, alerting him to a familiar presence nearby. He turned his head and saw Y/N standing behind a booth, her hands deftly arranging a display of intricate jewelry. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, but he quickly averted his gaze, hoping to avoid drawing attention.

“Az, you seem distracted,” Rhysand remarked, a knowing look in his eyes. “Something on your mind?”

Azriel shook his head, forcing a casual tone. “Just looking for the right gift.”

Cassian grinned, clapping Azriel on the back. “You always were the thoughtful one. What are you looking for, exactly?”

Azriel hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. “Something special.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Something special, huh? For someone special, perhaps?”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he kept his expression neutral. “Just a friend.”

Cassian and Rhysand exchanged a glance, their curiosity piqued. “Well, let’s see if we can help you find this special something,” Cassian said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

As they moved through the market, Azriel couldn’t help but steal glances at Y/N. She was beautiful, her face illuminated by the warm light of the lanterns. He wanted to go to her, to talk to her, but he knew now wasn’t the right time.

They approached Y/N’s booth, and Rhysand’s eyes immediately caught sight of a striking black and gold necklace. “This would be perfect for Feyre,” he murmured, picking it up to examine it more closely.

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Rhysand’s with a friendly smile. “That piece is one of my favorites. I made it with the High Lady in mind.”

Rhysand’s smile widened, clearly impressed. “You have excellent taste. I’ll take it.”

As Y/N wrapped the necklace, Cassian and Azriel browsed the other items on display. Azriel’s heart pounded as he stood so close to her, the scent of her perfume mixing with the spices of the market.

“You make all of these yourself?” Cassian asked, genuinely impressed.

Y/N nodded, her hands working quickly. “Yes, I do. It’s my passion.”

Azriel picked up a delicate silver bracelet, admiring the craftsmanship. “This is beautiful,” he said softly, unable to keep the admiration from his voice.

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting his for the first time. There was a moment of silence, and Azriel felt as if the world had stopped. “Thank you,” she replied, her voice gentle. “I’m glad you like it.”

Rhysand, ever the observer, noticed the exchange and couldn’t help but smirk. “Azriel, you should get it. It would make a wonderful gift.”

Azriel’s heart raced, and he quickly placed the bracelet back on the table. “Perhaps,” he said, trying to sound casual.

Cassian chuckled, clearly enjoying Azriel’s discomfort. “Don’t be shy, Az. If you like it, you should get it.”

Azriel shot Cassian a warning look but managed a small smile. “I’ll think about it.”

As Rhysand completed his purchase, Y/N handed him the wrapped necklace. “I hope she likes it,” she said with a warm smile.

Rhysand nodded, his eyes twinkling. “I’m sure she will. Thank you, Y/N.”

As they walked away from the booth, Rhysand leaned closer to Azriel, his voice low. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?”

Azriel glanced back at Y/N, who was already attending to another customer. “Yes, she is.”

Cassian clapped Azriel on the back again. “You should ask her out. It’s obvious you’re into her.”

Azriel clenched his fists, struggling to maintain his composure. “I told you, it’s not like that.”

Rhysand laughed softly, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, Az. But maybe it’s time to stop admiring from afar.”

Azriel knew they were right, but the fear of rejection and the desire to keep his feelings hidden weighed heavily on him. As they continued through the market, he resolved to find a way to speak to Y/N again—soon. For now, he would hold onto the hope that there was a chance for something more.

Winter Solstice had arrived, and the House of Wind was filled with festive cheer. The Night Court gathered to celebrate, exchanging gifts and sharing stories around a roaring fire. Azriel, however, had only one thing on his mind: finding a way to see Y/N.

The night was lively, with laughter and merriment echoing through the halls. Feyre and Rhysand were at the center of it all, their joy infectious. Cassian and Nesta were engaged in a playful argument over who had given the better gift, while Elain moved gracefully through the crowd, her presence a calming influence.

Azriel stood on the periphery, his eyes flickering to the clock. He had managed to find the rare book Y/N had wanted, wrapped it carefully, and planned to slip away to surprise her. But every time he moved to leave, someone called him back.

“Az, come join us!” Cassian shouted, waving him over to where he and Nesta were sitting. “We’re about to start the gift exchange.”

Azriel sighed inwardly but forced a smile as he approached them. He handed out his gifts, his mind only half on the festivities. His eyes kept darting to the door, hoping for an opportunity to slip away unnoticed.

“Azriel, you’ve been awfully quiet tonight,” Rhysand said, appearing at his side with a knowing look. “Something on your mind?”

Azriel shook his head, masking his impatience. “Just enjoying the evening.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. “Well, don’t be a stranger. It’s a night to celebrate.”

As the night wore on, Azriel felt the frustration building. Every time he tried to make his exit, someone else drew him back into the festivities. Feyre called him over to admire a painting, Elain asked for his help with a particularly tricky gift wrap, and even Amren engaged him in a conversation about strategy for their next mission.

Finally, as the clock struck midnight and the celebrations began to wind down, Azriel saw his chance. Most of the guests were starting to leave, and the attention had shifted away from him. He slipped the wrapped book into his coat pocket and quietly made his way to the door.

“Azriel,” Cassian called from across the room, “where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Azriel turned, trying to keep his tone light. “Just need some fresh air.”

Cassian’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Fresh air, huh? Sure you’re not sneaking off to meet someone special?”

Azriel’s heart skipped a beat, but he forced a casual smile. “Just needed a moment to myself.”

Rhysand, who had been watching the exchange, gave Azriel a long, appraising look. “Don’t stay out too long. It’s cold out there.”

Azriel nodded and quickly stepped out into the crisp night air, his breath visible in the chill. He walked briskly through the quiet streets of Velaris, his thoughts focused on Y/N. He hoped she hadn’t given up on seeing him tonight.

When he finally reached her shop, he saw a soft light glowing from inside. Relief washed over him as he knocked gently on the door. It opened almost immediately, and Y/N stood there, her eyes lighting up with joy and surprise.

“Azriel,” she breathed, stepping aside to let him in. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”

He smiled, pulling the wrapped book from his coat and handing it to her. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Y/N took the gift, her fingers brushing against his. “Thank you. Come in, it’s freezing out there.”

He stepped inside, the warmth of her shop enveloping him. She led him to a cozy corner where a small fire crackled in the hearth. They sat together, close but not touching, the intimacy of the moment palpable.

Y/N unwrapped the book, her eyes widening with delight. “Azriel, this is perfect. Thank you.”

He smiled, watching her as she carefully turned the pages. “I’m glad you like it.”

She looked up, her eyes filled with emotion. “I got you something too.”

She reached behind her and brought out a small, intricately wrapped box. Azriel took it, his heart swelling with anticipation. Inside, he found a finely crafted leather bracelet, adorned with subtle engravings that seemed to shimmer in the firelight.

“It’s beautiful,” he said softly, slipping it onto his wrist. “Thank you, Y/N.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the warmth of the fire and the soft glow of the lanterns creating a cocoon of peace around them. Azriel felt a sense of contentment he hadn’t known in a long time, simply being in her presence.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Y/N, I… I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”

She looked at him, her expression open and encouraging. “What is it, Azriel?”

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “I’ve admired you from afar for a long time. Your kindness, your smile… they drew me in. I’ve found myself thinking about you more than I care to admit.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, and she reached out to take his hand. “I’ve felt the same way, Azriel. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

Relief and joy surged through him as he squeezed her hand gently. “I do. And I want to get to know you better, if you’ll let me.”

She smiled, her eyes shining with happiness. “I’d like that very much.”

As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Azriel and Y/N sat together, their hearts beating in unison. The journey ahead was uncertain, but in that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the comfort of each other’s presence, they felt a glimmer of hope—a promise of something beautiful yet to come.

[arcanes-things]

THING I LEFT UNSAID-IV

21.09.2024

The day spent busy, but when the night rolls around, when I am alone with my lone company. I often wonder about him. The possibilities just a "Yes" could unlock...

Against my very intention, I end up dreaming. What I could do for him, and everything, I would overcome just because he said so... but I lay on my bed lonely in my dorms with nothing but my imagination. Keeping me company.

Snuggling into my fluffy blanket, as I feel guilty, it would be rather unfair to him than it is to me. Because I fell for him alone. And that I am too cowardly to reach out.

but one day, I would reach out. I would confess everything I have felt for him. Then brace myself to be left lonesome again. Because I find ways to forget it than to face it. It's peaceful enough to enjoy but lonely enough to regret my past decisions.

[kaidynsarell]

🍁🪻Sanguinis et Omnium Fractorum🪻🍁

Chapter 1- Of Stubborn and Impatience

🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻🍁🪻

Pairings- Sebastian Sallow x Female OC

Rating- This story is rated overall 🔞 (Ch 1 is SFW)

Tags- Fluff, Angst, Irritation, Unread letters, and MC (Clara) just being all around Sullen.

The full chapter can be found below the cut (2.7k words)

Ongoing Fic.

Chapters 1-5 are available on AO3 and Wattpad

Thursday, 1st September, 1892

The tea had long since cooled in the time it had sat, untouched on the little table near her four-poster bed. Clara Elmore had not moved since the clink of porcelain against the wood had snapped her unfocused gaze up to the round-faced blonde who’d set it there. Grace’s soft eyebrows had been pulled together in an expression she’d worn far too often around Clara over the past year. Worry. It made Clara’s bones itch. Worry lived too close to pity, and she hated pity.

She’d seen pity too often since the events in the Repository, and each time tasted more bitter against her tongue.

So, she’d hardly acknowledged her roommate's presence as the blonde had carefully set the tea down, and muttered something Clara hadn’t been paying attention to. Probably something about being around to talk if needed. Grace was kind and Clara was being rude. She couldn’t find it in herself to do more than chew on the inside of her lip and Grace had gone without another word.

Still, she sat there, staring across the emerald bed hangings of the two other four poster beds and stubbornly refusing to move from the spot on her mattress; until one particularly uproarious cheer from the common room below reminded her the others would eventually be coming back to the dorm, and she desperately wanted to be in bed before then.

Her being ‘asleep’ meant no one asked how she was doing, and that was preferable to giving some vague well-rehearsed lie, or worse, attempting to coalesce the cacophony of rambling anxieties into something that resembled sentence structure.

The latches of her secondhand trunk clicked noisily, though, not as loudly as the creak of the hinges which were well in need of oil. Morning would bring the official start of Seventh-year classes, and sleep meant finally unpacking and tidying the trunk she’d been neglecting. Uniforms came first. Second hand, like her trunk. But repaired, washed, and pressed by the warm wrinkled hands of her grandmother; who had insisted on caring for Clara’s uniforms when she couldn’t afford the cost of new robes. If love could be stitched, Clara would swear she could find it woven into each of the places her grandmother had repaired the holes and worn edges.

The soft feel of cashmere met her fingers next, and almost without thinking, she brought the deep burgundy scarf up to her face and brushed it over her cheek. It had been an unexpected Christmas present from Ominis in 5th year and was one of the only items she possessed that hadn't been loaned or purchased secondhand.

Being blind, the blond had not known what ‘burgundy’ meant when the shop-keep had told him the color. Instead, as he told her, he’d selected it because he thought it felt nice and believed she might enjoy it.

“Besides-” He’d clipped, in that biting tone only Ominis could achieve. “-I can hardly think these days with the excessive chattering of your teeth. Perhaps this will make them stop.”

His sarcastic irritation painted only a thin layer over the kindness of the gesture. A shield against the brief vulnerability the gift had shown her.

So, despite it being almost Gryffindorian by nature, she’d worn the scarf nearly every day that winter; much to Imelda’s chagrin and Sebastian's amusement.

Below the carefully folded uniforms and scarf, the remaining disorganization of the trunk could have convinced her she’d spent far more than two years surrounded by the walls of the castle. Her grandmother would have been disappointed. Clara dug on. Pulling out heavy books, jars of dittany and mallowsweet, spare wiggenwelds, broken quills, scraps parchment, and a pouch of seeds Poppy had insisted were a favorite of jobberknolls before her fingernails scraped the threadbare material at the bottom and settled on a worn leather journal.

Clara opened it, almost without thinking. Allowing the pages to fall open to a sprig of baby’s breath, pressed between pages speckled with ink; as though the journal itself had known the ghost of the boy who’d given it to her.

The ghost of a boy who’d loved so sweetly he’d stop to pick flowers for a girl, even amid the storm that had raged around them.

The boy who’d loved fiercely and unrelentingly, until the force of it tore him apart and bloodied green over their walls. Three Sallow’s had become two, and they all waited and feared the day two would become one.

In some ways, it already had.

Sebastian had disappeared without a trace; save for a single letter and a sprig of bluebells he’d left on the same table where the cold tea now took up residence. Clara had long since given up trying to figure out how he’d managed to access the girls' dormitories. ‘Impossible’ had only ever been a word to ignite his stubborn determination and Sebastian had a curious knack for finding his way into places he shouldn’t be.

Almost of their own accord, her fingers fumbled the rough edges of the pages. Leafed through them, past the little jotted notes and inked sketches. Past the pages pressed with heather and hyacinth to where that single bluebell pressed its pigment against the parchment and the violet painted over cream.

Gratitude and everlasting love.

Her fingers brushed the places the pigments bled against the parchment, and not for the first time, Clara wondered if Sebastian had known the language of flowers.

Had it been a coincidence the first had been baby’s breath?

Hope, new beginnings, and innocent love.

An image of messy brown curls and sun-kissed freckles tipped the edges of her memory. Tiny white flowers offered with a roguish smirk that had done little to distract from the way his gaze had darted too quickly between her eyes and the flowers held with trembling fingers.

Had it been a mere chance he’d offered heather before each of the brutal trials the Keepers had demanded of her?

Luck, protection, and admiration.

Could it have been happenstance he’d offered a hyacinth when she’d stubbornly refused to speak to him after his anger had exploded over her involvement with Lodgok?

Sorrow, regret, and forgiveness.

Somehow she didn’t think so. Sebastian may have been a lot of things. Playful, charming, and confident? Yes. Wildly chaotic and infuriatingly stubborn? Definitely. Insatiably curious and much too intelligent for his own good? Absolutely. But naïve? Naïve, was never a trait she’d been able to attribute to the Slytherin.

Perhaps that was the reason she’d never read his letter.

It had been discarded in a fit of anger, to be lost to the bottom of her trunk, and conveniently covered by a scattering of miscellaneous items. Out of sight, and pushed to the edges of her mind where she’d refused to acknowledge the places where the corners of it dug into her thoughts.

Neither of them had ever fully acknowledged whatever had been between them. Sewn with intricate strands of sugar-spun glass, and left unspoken. As though to touch it would have been enough to shatter the delicate balance in which they’d found themselves. Instead, it had been said in the furtive glances during long hours in the library. In the leaning closer until their shoulders touched, and in the uneven crashing of her heart when neither of them moved away. It had been found tucked beneath their palms in the moments they’d spent seated amongst fields of heather; his fingers curled around hers and brushing absentmindedly along the back of her hand as she’d used the other to connect the freckles across his cheeks.

In a single stolen kiss, under starlight by the lake. The softest brush of his lips over hers, and the stars had found their home, scattered across her skin.

Perhaps things would have been different had the brunt of stopping Ranrock's rebellion not fallen on her shoulders. Or if Anne had not been dying.

But it had. And she was. So they weren’t.

Clara’s fingers traced the outline of the delicate violet-blue flowers once again. Why she’d not tossed the flower away with the letter was a mystery, even to her.

Or maybe it wasn’t.

Gratitude and everlasting love.

She’d always walked a line between stubborn and impatient. In many instances, the two virtues fell on opposite sides of her problems and she often found herself in a battle of which would be the stronger. The letter had been no different, and her stubborn had won.

She’d refused to open it. To acknowledge whatever ‘goodbye’ he’d scrawled across the parchment. Refused the idea he’d said he loved her with violet petals and disappeared. That he might have written the same across the page and abandoned her. Stubborn had thrown the envelope into the corner of her trunk and denied its existence. Meanwhile, her heart had wrapped threads to the edges of her fingers and carefully pressed the bluebell between crisp pages where the violet may as well have been imprinted onto her skin.

She’d never said it to him. Flower or otherwise. Then again, she’d not left him either.

Stubborn could hide the letter and let her lose it amongst her belongings. Stubborn could hold her hand while she refused to acknowledge the possibility that he may never come back.

The crisp rectangle rested against the bottom. Beige framed by faded indigo. Still, she refused to touch it and her fingers scraped the bottom for any remaining items. A few gold coins, a crumpled potions essay she’d only half finished, the odd sock, and half a dozen hairpins until nothing else remained; save for the single four-sided polygon.

Stubborn may have masked her over the past year while the letter was hidden and out of sight, but impatience’ eager fingers flitted against the place her stubborn lived and curled under its edges. Worked it away like peeling wallpaper, until shaking fingers finally grasped the beige and left the indigo unadorned.

Another series of shouts from the Slytherin common room startled against her ears and Clara flicked her wand to her bed hangings. They closed around her in an instant. Cocooned her away between walls of emerald.

The seal of the envelope broke far easier than she’d anticipated and trembling fingers pulled out two pieces of parchment. One, which was blank and impatiently discarded somewhere behind her. And another, spiderwebbed with the splattered ink of his usual messy scrawl.

Sebastian's handwriting could have been classified as its own method of code. Atrocious. Which she had always found amusing, given Anne’s impeccable talent with calligraphy. It had been a point of pride when she’d finally learned to read it. Now, there could have been an N.E.W.T taught on the subject of deciphering Sebastian Sallow’s handwriting and she’d have achieved an Outstanding without question.

Something was comforting in the familiarity of it, and trying to ignore the wavering of the page below her trembling fingers; Clara finally lowered her eyes to the letter she’d allowed to be lost to the bottom of her trunk and refused to read for over a year.

Ara,

I know you’re angry. It’s okay. I would be angry at me too, and while I hope in time you can forgive me, I’ll understand if you can’t. I know leaving like this was selfish, but I couldn’t stay here, and I knew if I saw you I wouldn’t have the strength to go. Perhaps that makes me a coward too—another reason I’m not a Gryffindor.

The truth is, I need time. Time away from everything. Away from Scotland and Hogwarts. Time to gather my thoughts or maybe make sense of everything or……I don’t know……

Just time, I guess.

Besides, a whole world exists, and Anne still needs a cure. I can’t say if she’ll ever forgive me. I don’t even know if I deserve her forgiveness, or yours, but Anne deserves to live and I can’t afford to limit my search to Britain or Hogwarts. There are at least seven other wizarding schools I’ve not even touched. Can you imagine what could be found in the mountains of Uagadou or at Mahoutokoro? Even the ancient Egyptian wizards had vast libraries and I’ve not ruled out muggle means of healing either.

There has to be something, somewhere.

She could almost hear his voice through the page. The exuberance with which it bubbled up in those moments his thoughts ran faster than his lips could form the words and the syllables tripped over one another in a furious bid for freedom.

I know you’d have wanted to come, and I’d be lying if I said I won't miss you terribly. But this is my burden to carry. The world has already asked too much of you Ara, and I’ve asked more than most.

It’s time you get a chance to truly enjoy Hogwarts without threats looming over your head.

As you are likely already aware, I’ve established enchantments to render myself untraceable-

She was. She’d not sent the owls, but Ominis had. They had all returned days later, having been unable to locate the recipient, and Sebastian's whereabouts had remained unknown. Clara had never told the blond about the letter stubbornly tossed to the bottom of her trunk. And just as impatience had lost to stubborn, so had guilt, and the letter had remained locked away.

-but I’ve cast an alteration of the Protean charm on the blank page included with this letter.

( If I know you, you’ve immediately tossed that page away somewhere, and quite frankly, I’m very much counting on you not immediately setting fire to this whole letter as soon as you see it.)

If you write on that parchment, I’ll see the message on the matching copy I’ve got with me, and I’ll be able to write back to you.

As I’ve said, I need some time, but If you do choose to write, I promise I will write back to you, Ara.

I leave the rest in your hands, Love.

Yours, Always

- S

The letter dropped into Clara’s lap with a little flutter, caught on the air, and wavered a moment before settling against the plush emerald of her bedspread. In another instant, she snatched the blank parchment from the spot it had settled in the corner and studied it furiously. As though she might find the workings of the magic woven within the fibers.

Though her stubborn desperately wanted to toss the letter away and refuse to respond, impatience’s claws dug deep. Before she could stop to think of the ridiculousness of it, she’d found a quill and a bottle of ink and scooted the cold tea cup from the small table to make space for the blank page.

The tip of her quill hovered a long time over the parchment. Long enough drips of onyx slid down to contrast the beige. A steady drip, drip, drip as her mind vacillated between the myriad of things she’d wanted to say to him. Thoughts that had crowded her mind when she’d been too restless to sleep and she’d replayed all the things she’d have told him if he’d stayed.

If they’d had more time.

She settled for one word.

--Bastian?--

The ink hovered on the page. Glistened in the low candlelight and absorbed the muted tones of green that melted in through the window from the lake above.

The space below his name remained frustratingly blank.

Clara sighed and pressed her fingers into her eyes. He’d not said how long it would take him to respond and she resisted the urge to write. ‘This is stupid. I’m writing to a blank parchment and expecting it to write back.’

She settled for muttering it under her breath, as though the paper might have ears.

Though, she thought. He should be grateful she had written his name and not some version of ‘What the fuck were you thinking, Sallow?’

She decided she’d write that later.

Still, she stared at the blank space and drummed her fingers against the edge of the table. Caught in a stalemate, as stubborn and impatient battled furiously between scribbling another message, and locking the parchment back into her trunk for another year.

She almost didn’t notice when the page shimmered. It wasn’t much. Just a slight ripple of distorted light and in the place her ink had formed his name, new letters began to appear.

One by one.

In the familiar messy scrawl that embodied all of the chaos of its writer.

 …

…

…

.::Hello Sweetheart::.

[neptunecookies]

Poem/song

I love you, my dearest friend / In a way that's pure and true / But the feelings aren't returned / And I'm left feeling blue

I know it's not your fault / You can't help how you feel / But it still breaks my heart / To know our love isn't real

And you don't even know / The depth of my affection / So I keep it to myself / In silent resignation

I cherish our friendship / And I'm grateful for what we have / But a part of me will always wonder / What could have been, if I had

Your smile lights up my word / your laughter puts colour in it / but inside I am colourless / I don’t get the privilege of knowing you

Don’t you see? / that I just want to be me / as long as I’m with you / I’ll be okay

But deep down inside / I’m so blue / because you don’t have a clue / how much I love you

Am I in love? / or is it just platonic? / I feel so lonely / this pain in chronic