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oepionie · 1 year ago

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— "HE'S THE OTHER MAN!" . the corpse groom

SYNOPSIS: A ghost groom has claimed MC as his unwilling bride. Unfortunately for him, she's already got a lover

⊹ [ c.w ] — violence, possessive behavior, malleus blows a fucking green laser down ramshackle, mentions of blood, yuu is poor but we alrdy knew that, papa crewel crumbs

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.6k opening post with malleus! if this gets enough attention, I might do more :P

"You what?" Crewel seethed, eyes wide as an unsettling smile stretched across the red of his cheeks.

"Repeat that."

"I…I accidentally released that ghost from the spellbook," Grim sobbed, his glossy eyes reflecting both fear and guilt as he looked up at the imposing figure of the professor. "And he's taken my henchhuman as his bride!"

Oh, Great Sevens. Not again.

Crewel groaned, his hands reaching up to frantically rub at his burning eyes. The flickering candlelight cast erratic shadows across his face.

"Please, do tell. How in Wonderland did someone with your lackluster skills manage to—" The professor was abruptly cut off by a loud, almost obnoxious cry that echoed from the doorway. Turning sharply, Crewel saw Crowley hunched against the entrance frame, hysterically sobbing into his palms. Fat tears dripped beneath his ornate mask, glistening in the low light. "They grow up so fast! My dear child is already getting married!"

Crewel's eye twitched as he took in the scene: Grim shaking like a leaf, and Crowley, dramatically weeping, pathetically looking to him for a solution.

"Fools," Crewel snarled, striding out of the room as he fished his phone from his coat pocket. "If you two won't be of use, then I'll have to enlist the help of those mutts instead."

The day had started like any other in Ramshackle, but you certainly didn't expect it to end with a wedding. Surrounded by the ghostly residents of the dorm, you stood dressed in all white, a bouquet clutched in your hand. Curling in yourself, you sighed and rested your head in your hands, avoiding everyone's gazes which felt like icy needles on your skin.

Ramshackle's old lounge, with its worn-out floorboards and faded wallpaper, was the chosen venue for your ceremony. Whispers rustled through the gathering, carried on a faint breeze that stirred the dust motes in the dim light. Somewhere in the background, the somber notes of an organ piano echoed. You didn't even know you had a piano…

"Dear?"

Jumping with a shriek, you whipped your head around. A ghostly visage, bathed in a deathly pale blue glow, hovered inches from your face, an unnaturally wide grin stretched across their blue lips. Bony fingers gently traced up your cheeks, sending tingles down your spine.

With sunken eyes and high, sharp cheekbones, Elizan—a "visiting" friend of one of Ramshackle's ghosts—was truly a sight to behold. His complexion had a pallor that matched the moonlight filtering through the decrepit windows of the form. Wisps of long, flowing indigo hair framed his face, swept back as if caught in a breeze that only he could feel.

"You look wonderful," he cooed, pressing a featherlight kiss to your forehead, leaving your cheeks burning.

"Ah. Thank you," you stammered, averting your gaze and gently pulling away. You could hardly focus on the words being spoken to you, your mind spinning with the surrealness of it all.

"You look... Good as well," you forced out with a cough, tugging at your hair nervously. "But... Listen... I—"

Before you could finish, the door to the entrance slammed open, nearly breaking off the hinges with a sound that could wake the dead, sending cracks spider-webbing through the already dilapidated walls.

On the inside, you screamed louder than the hinges.

You had painstakingly patched up the door after Grim's recent screw-up—a feat that had tested your patience and carpentry skills to their limit. Unless you wanted to survive on a diet of stale canned food and cafeteria leftovers for another year, you couldn't afford any more repairs.

While you were busy mourning the loss of having decent meals, heaving and leaning against the door for support, your friends called out your name in a panic, their bleary and furious gazes zeroing in on your figure. Clad in white, you stood there, the perfect picture of a pretty blushing bride.

The uninvited guests didn't go unnoticed by your "groom," and in seconds, you were pulled into a suffocating grip. Elizan's usually serene demeanor shattered like fragile glass. His deathly pale features contorted into a snarl, veins pulsing ominously beneath translucent skin. His typically gentle eyes blazed with an unsettling fire, icy whites now narrowed and piercing.

"Mutt!" Crewel seethed, his foot slamming into the floor and shattering the newly installed tiles. Your soul nearly left your body as you screamed inside again. There go a thousand thaumarks…

"What in the Sevens is this!?" Crewel shrieked, running a gloved hand through his tousled hair. With sharp movements, he pointed a finger at Elizan. "I'll have you know I can have you arrested for trespassing, unlawful detention, and violating the sanctity of this academy!"

"How... How dare you? Barging into this sacred ceremony—Who even are you?!" Elizan snapped back, his arms coiling tightly around your torso. The crowd erupted in a haze of shouts and muddled answers. Unable to understand anything, Elizan's intense gaze shifted and bore into yours, demanding answers. You gulped nervously, suddenly feeling small and vulnerable in his grasp.

"Who is he?! Who are they?!" he barked like a dog, flashing his sharp fangs at you.

"Uh… That's my professor—uh, Crewel," you stammered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "And those are… They're my… friends?" Your gaze flickered to the group of men who had entered, their expressions ranging from confusion to anger.

Elizan's wide eyes now filled with shock, white orbs glossed over with luminescent blue tears. He pushed you away as if you had burnt him, recoiling from your touch as though it pained him physically.

"You know other men?!" the ghost cried out, his hands clenching into fists, his midnight blue hair cascading wildly around his face like a tempestuous sea. The tortured cries of the groom echoed through the room, sending a shiver down your spine as you awkwardly shifted on your feet, feeling like a character caught in an soap drama.

"…Yes?" you replied, unsure.

"How could you do this to me?!" He sobbed, a dark shadow covering his face. "Running off on an affair the DAY of our marriage?!"

"Well, that's a rather dramatic accusation—" you started, but Elizan shook his head in anguish.

"Answer me! Do you have another man?!" His voice shook the room, and you took a few cautious steps back.

"Elizan, please," you uttered gently, your eyes darting nervously toward one of the men in the room.

Your lover didn't meet your gaze; instead, his eyes were locked onto the ghost, a storm of emotions brewing beneath his features. As you jumped down from the makeshift podium, you shot an apologetic frown at the ghost, hoping to diffuse the escalating situation. "Don't you understand? You're the other man."

"No! You're married to me!" Elizan shrieked, lunging forward in a frenzy, his nails clawing at the air as if trying to grasp something intangible. "Whoever he is—He's the other man!"

MALLEUS DRACONIA

"Whoever he is—He's the other man!"

Lilia raised an eyebrow with a chuckle, his form reclined against a fogged-up window of the room. The weather was gloomy and stormy, the skies tinted green outside, casting an eerie glow over the scene. The window pane, streaked with raindrops and mist, blurred the view of the turbulent skies beyond. Lilia hummed a tune under his breath, a calm figure amidst the brewing storm.

With a sidelong glance, his eyes locked onto Malleus, whose entire figure shook with a barely contained wrath that threatened to engulf the very air around him. The young prince's chest heaved in violent, choked breaths as smoke wisped from his mouth and nose—tendrils of flames flickering amidst the swirling dust and ash.

A deafening crack tore through the air as a vivid surge of green emerald lightning erupted from the heavens, descending upon the roof of the venue with explosive force. The blast of energy painted the sky with a blinding flash of green as it crashed into the building, sending broken glass and wood raining down upon the venue.

Cursing, Elizan moved you both aside, a large chunk of debris hurtling past, narrowly missing your startled form. As more debris crashed down, he shielded you with an outstretched arm, a shimmering barrier briefly forming to deflect a particularly large piece of wood.

"Spectral pest," Malleus seethed, his eyes aglow with an eerie green hue as his nails elongated into sharp claws. With a click of his tongue, he raised his hands, summoning thorns that spiraled towards Elizan, ensnaring the ghost in their sharp embrace. Simultaneously, from the floorboards below, vines emerged like serpents, their tendrils gently but firmly pulling you away from Elizan's protective embrace and guiding you into the safety of Malleus's arms.

"How—?! Ngh!" Elizan writhed against the thorny vines. The prickly tendrils twisted around him like serpents, their sharp points digging into his ghostly flesh.

Malleus paid no mind to the struggling spirit, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he checked for any signs of harm. His expression softened with relief upon finding you unscathed, albeit a bit dusty.

"Beloved," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm amidst the lingering chaos. His gloved hand moved delicately, sweeping away the clinging dust from your shoulders and arms. Pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingered there briefly, conveying a warmth that contrasted starkly with the raw power he had displayed moments ago.

"Are you alright?"

Blinking up at him with wide eyes and frazzled hair shooting up in every direction, you nodded dumbly. Turning away from him, you nearly gasped aloud to see the room in shambles, debris scattered everywhere, and the eerie green glow of energy still lingering in the air. The ghostly residents were in a state of panic, their translucent forms flickering as they moved frantically.

"My dorm," you whimpered, your mind racing as you calculated the cost of the damage.

With a chuckle, Malleus adjusted his grip on you, his muscles flexing as he gently set you down. Your legs felt shaky as you tried to steady yourself.

"I will handle the cost of repair, my dearest," Malleus assured you, bending down to your height, his voice dropping to a whisper. Green eyes bore into yours, strands of his midnight hair falling over his face. "You will not need to worry about such things once we are formally betrothed."

You froze, your face suddenly warming and burning.

"What?!"

Malleus reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek, claws dragging across your supple cheeks. "Yes, my dear," he murmured, chest rumbling as his lips curved into a sharp smile. "You heard me correctly."

"I… I don't know what to say," you whispered, feeling dizzy with emotion.

"Will you consider it?" he asked softly, a faint hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Please?"

Caught in the depth of his gaze, you felt your resolve melting away. "I-I guess?" you breathed, your voice trembling. "I'll… consider it."

A smug smile spread across his face, and he tenderly pressed his lips against yours. "That's all I ask, my dearest."

After ensuring you were alright one last time, Malleus redirected his focus to Elizan. With a flick of his wrist, the thorns under his control tightened around the ghost. Elizan shrieked and thrashed about, his translucent form writhing in pain as the thorns dug deeper.

"Do try to exercise some restraint, my boy," Lilia drawled, tapping his sharp fingers idly against his crossed arms. "We do not want Ramshackle to be bathed in blood. It would be very unsanitary."

not too sure if i am continuing but feel free to suggest some peepl bookies

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader

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elysixns · 3 months ago

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Chrysos Heirs w/ clumsy reader !

Content: GN!Reader, fluff, mentions of light injuries + sprains, yandere behavior on Anaxa's part (?)

🌹 Note: Shout out to the mfs that get cuts and bruises just by standing still. Me too.

INTRO

The Sky Titan must absolutely despise you for you to trip over air as often as you do.. How you haven't gotten a broken bone is baffling, and yet here you are. For all of your clumsiness, you do manage to get out of almost any situation with only minor scrapes and bruises (most of the time). You're not allowed outside of Okhema for any reason, though, not even to help bring in refugees. The last time you were allowed outside the city, you sprained your ankle so badly that you were bedridden for about a month.. But do not fret!!! There are still plenty of ways to entertain (injure) yourself in the holy city, much to your partner's distress.

– Dear, if you keep falling over your own feet every 20 minutes, she's going to think you like when she catches you in her golden thread

Aglaea

– ^ (You do. She knows you do, so you can't deny it when she teases you for it, yes?)

– If you somehow sprain any of your limbs, she WILL pamper you for the entire time you're injured. This is probably one of the ONLY times she’ll baby you when you're hurt, so try to take advantage of it as much as you can

– One of the few who isn't overly concerned with your penchant for getting injured simply by existing

– Unless you are quite literally impaled by a spear, Aglaea assumes that you can handle yourself and she won't fuss over you too much

– She does get a bit antsy if you end up getting an open wound, though

– You're much too precious to bleed, Dear. What happened? Does she need to kill someone to avenge you?

– ^ She says she's only joking if you get worried/upset. (She is not joking)

– Aglaea may tease you often about your clumsiness, but that's only because she thinks it's endearing

Phainon

– “Who did this? Are you okay? What happened? Who do I need to fight?–”

– He'd try to fight the air if you asked him to. Phai will do anything to defend your honor!! Anything.

– He worries about how often you fall over and drop things– Anytime you're carrying a heavy object, he about has a heart attack before quickly taking it away from you

– “Your hero’s got it covered. Just tell me where I need to put this!”

– Whenever you get a sprain, he'll insist on carrying you everywhere that you want to go for as long as you're healing up

– Doesn't matter if you're bigger than him or not. Phai can lift you with ease and is eager to show off how dependable he can be!!!

– He genuinely spoils you so much when you're hurt. It is as sweet as it is silly

– Please remind him that it's just a sprain or else he'll keep treating you like you're dying 😭

– After you're healed up, he usually spends at least the next few days kissing any and all scars/bruises left behind from your injuries

– It's almost like he's apologizing for not being there to prevent them in the first place 🩵

– ^ (In a way, he is. Even if he has nothing to apologize for, Phai will always feel guilty for not protecting you from yourself)

Castorice

– Ohh you cause her so much stress, she thinks she might have a heart attack one of these days

– Cas genuinely doesn't know what to do!!! She can't just tell you to sit still and do nothing, she's tried that!

– ^ (Somehow, you ended up falling off of your chaise lounge and spraining your elbow..)

– Her only other solution is to spend as much time with you as possible, making sure you don't fall down a flight of stairs or get stomped on by a Dromas D:

– You've got an overprotective angel of death hovering around you nearly 24/7.. It's almost comical, but also a bit unsettling!

– If there's one thing she hates the most, though, it's that she can't patch you up on her own

– Seeing you injured tugs at her heartstrings so much, but all she can do is put a first aid kit in front of you or go find someone else to help you

– You also hate not being able to touch her, but you always reassure Cas that her just being beside you is more than enough

– It may take her a while until she's able to believe you (if ever she does), but she likes hearing it nonetheless because she knows you're being sincere when you say it <3

Mydeimos

– (Affectionately) calls you an idiot whenever you fall or drop things in front of him

– He doesn't usually help you when you stumble because he knows you'll be fine on your own, and he doesn't want to treat you like a child

– That being said… If you've fallen one too many times that day, Mydei will simply pick you up bridal style (all the while grumbling complaints) so that he can carry you around wherever you need/want to go

– He says it's because you're slowing him down, but in reality, it's because he caught a glimpse of the scars and bruises on your legs from previous accidents

– Mydei will never admit this to anyone, especially not to you, but seeing bruises on your skin hurts him more than any physical blow ever could

– He is once again reminded of how fragile the average person is. he is reminded of how fragile you are in particular

– ^ (Just another reason to break this damned curse. What's the point of being indestructible if you're not allowed to share in this “blessing” with him?)

– Mydei can't keep you safe from everything, least of all from your own gracelessness, but he can be there to patch you up and (reluctantly) wait on you hand and foot until you feel better

Anaxagoras

– Oh, you must be studied; he just can't believe you're naturally this clumsy. Are you sure you haven't been cursed?

– Anaxa finds your inelegance as adorable as he does irritating; it's quite a confusing mix of emotions for him

– You are very precious, truly! But if you fall on the way down the steps of your own home one more time, Anaxa will have to resort to drastic measures to keep you from harm

– ^ (“Drastic measures” being forbidding you from using any stairs by yourself, and keeping you by his side for the rest of your life)

– Overkill? Not at all. Maybe. But he loves you, so he'll never admit that he's being overprotective

– You trust him, don't you? So you'll let him do what's best for you without any complaints, right?

– You're simply too much of an airhead to keep yourself safe and uninjured… Those bruises and scars on your legs are proof of that, wouldn't you agree?

– Anaxa knows what's best, of course he does. If you can't trust in yourself, then just trust in him

– He won't outright force you to go along with what he wants, but he will try to “subtly” encourage you to stay indoors. Or even better, move in with him!! Just so that he can take care of you more efficiently, of course :)

Cipher

– You are very cute. Extremely cute, really.. But if she keeps having to run to your rescue (for free!), she will get a perpetual migraine

– It also ruins her image of being independent and selfish when she’s clearly always close enough to hear you stumble or drop something

– Cipher can not be tied down! She is untamed!!! She waits for NO ONE! … Unless it's you, and you're injured. Then she’ll wait for a minute or two

– She does steal things from you as well, but she always says she's only taking them away because they pose a danger to you

– “Oh? Your brush? The handle was real high-quality wood, uh-huh… It was way too heavy for the likes of you, though, so I decided to take it off your hands and sell it! Ah, but don't worry; I'll find an even better one for you, okay?”

– Cipher worries a lot about leaving you alone for too long without supervision (you didn't hear that from me, though)

– You're so unsteady on your feet that she doubts you could survive a day without her

– She may or may not pay Aglaea to check in on you from time to time

– Such a shame you'll never have proof of this :3 can't tease her about it if it's not definitively true!

#hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #aglaea x reader #phainon x reader #castorice x reader #mydeimos x reader #mydei x reader #cipher x reader #hsr cipher x reader

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wisherbysharlight · 6 months ago

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It took me nearly 15 years to get my endometriosis diagnosis and comprehensive treatment, but I recognize I’m super privileged in being able to access care where I live from one of the top doctors in endometriosis research(specifically endometriosis in adolescents, but his research spans all age groups). I want to share some of the things I learned, along with study sources he linked me to, so others can advocate to their providers for the care they need. So without further ado:

✨ What I Wish I Knew About Endometriosis 15 Years Ago ✨

No amount of pain is “normal”

Don’t get gaslit into thinking “everyone” who has periods goes through pain. Seek treatment - you deserve better.

Diagnosis/treatment is kinda a pain, even with a doc who takes you seriously

The general course of action for diagnosis/treatment will be attempt treatment through OTC painkillers (Tylenol, Midol, etc), attempt at least 1-2 forms of hormonal birth control(typically oral contraceptive/birth control pill or the ring/patch/shot), then decide with your doctor whether to pursue either further hormone treatments, such as GnRH(which suppress estrogen/can help stop progression of endo) or an IUD, and/or surgical intervention where they go in and find/remove the existing lesions.

Surgery for me took a couple hours, and I had an IUD placed during the operation(at recommendation of my doc). Full recovery was around 2 weeks. Its worth noting right now you can technically only be diagnosed through surgery.

You may have to mix-and-match to find the right solution.

Only 33% of people with endometriosis in a recent controlled study saw significant improvement by IUD alone, as compared to IUD with supplementary hormonal treatment(like oral birth control or hormone inhibitors). Source: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S1083318812002379

Some options may actually make it worse. Keep an eye on your symptoms.

Studies show that estrogen based treatments can potentially exacerbate endometriosis and promote endometrial growth, so treatments without estrogen or with specific types of estrogen are more recommended. Source: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5683134/

Its Got Hella Comorbidities

Fibromyalgia, scoliosis, arthritis, thyroid disease, migraines, chronic fatigue, and bowel disease(IBS, crohn’s, celiac, etc), and more are all potential associations/comorbitities. It’s also worth noting that having any of these in your family history may also put you at higher risk for endo. As my doc said - you’re not guaranteed to get all, or even any, of these, but they’re things to keep an eye out for. Sources:

IBS: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9357916/

IBD/Crohns: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/32629225/

Celiac: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24992792/

Thyroid: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10234359/

Migraine: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/38436302/

Painful Bladder Syndrome: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3015716/

EDS: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0002937824001637

Arthritis: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/35258592/

Scoliosis: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/9238674/

TMJ: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC10144081/

Kidney Stones: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC9108729/

POTS: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC3413773/

Fibromyalgia: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/30682223/

Chronic Fatigue: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC6537603/

Sjogren’s Syndrome: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/39083399/

Bonus Advice

No published studies exist showing any increase/decrease of symptoms between usage of different menstrual products. Do whatever makes you most comfortable!

For OTC pain management, Tylenol or Aleve may be your best bets over Advil, based on their anti-inflammatory nature.

He also recommended probiotics pretty heavily, since digestive issues(ie bad period poops) are super common. Any with >10Bn active cultures are good!

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, just someone that learned a lot and wants to share)

#endometriosis #health #healthcare #periods #period pain #medicine #reference #gynecology #sex education

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itsswritten · 9 months ago

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feels like home

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: The start of fairy readers journey and how she ended up in the Night Court. Essentially the start of the love story we all now love <3

Wings Universe - More from this world.

Autumn

Now you weren’t the arrogant kind — Fairies were always known to be humble. It’s why for the most part, your kind kept to your meadows, didn’t construct social hierarchy like Fae, and kept those mesmerising wings hidden.

However you were proud of your skills as a fairy. You were dutiful, talented, and worked incredibly hard. The youngest fairy to ever be enrolled on the fairy council. So the fact you were failing now, was quite a humbling awakening.

You blinked again, Elodie’s panicked voice blurring into the autumn breeze.

Your first stop on your travels was the Autumn Court. Visiting your cousin, who had offered refuge after your reluctant departure from Spring. Although you missed your home terribly, you were really trying to embrace this opportunity— the chance to explore a new court, spend quality time with family, and further your studies on the other seasons. Turning the dire situation you had to abandon into something positive.

However things were not going how you had expected. Apparently Autumn didn’t agree with you as well as Spring always had.

“Y/N, there are snowdrops…in Autumn,” Elodie's concerned tone broke through. Your gaze hadn’t left the scene in front of you. Dewy snowdrops glistening under the cool autumn sun.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “I’m aware.”

The snowdrops were your flowers. Beautiful but wrong. Your magic had manifested a spring flower in an Autumn court. Something that should never happen.

It had been two months. Two months of no problems, and although the autumn shades didn’t necessarily suit you and the breeze didn’t sing as sweet as home, you had managed to settle in.

You learnt how to get by. However the mess in front of you told you otherwise.

“What are you going to do?” Elodie pressed, her nervousness emitting beside you. You never got things wrong, you were always the one everyone else relied on– Mistakes were a rarity for you.

“Trying to figure that out,” your hands fisted the fabric of your dress at your sides. Your mind whirring as you tried to figure out a plan. The intricacies of your ability had always come so naturally to you in Spring, but grappling with a new season left you fumbling for a solution.

“What. Are. Those?!” Your cousin's voice hitched in a tight tone, her voice hushing towards the end so as to not draw attention. She stalked over, her autumn-hued dress billowing behind her, hands were flailing towards you as she stormed in your direction.

With a spin you turned to her, stepping in front of the patch of snowdrops that had sprouted— as if she hadn’t already seen the little blooms that seemed to sway in the wind in mockery.

“I don’t understand…you were doing so well. I asked you to help bring the harvest along. You know, pumpkins, squash, apples. Not flowers!” Your cousin’s brows were drawn in tight, confusion and dismay in her tone. You could practically see her mind reeling as she took in the scene before her.

Instinctively your hands came up towards her, creating space, trying to calm the situation.

“I know. It’s just a small hiccup, I can reverse it. It’s fine,” you reassured quickly, not even allowing yourself to fester in the worry.

You were the youngest fairy on the council you reminded yourself— a mentor to many of your friends and colleagues. This would not phase you.

Rolling your shoulders back, you looked at the taunting flowers straight on. Flexing your fingers as a drop of magic glowing like a little firefly, sunk slowly from your fingertips to the ground. Seeping into the deep earth that was covered in a blanket of burnt coloured leaves.

A beat passed as the three of you held your breath. The forest seemed to hold it’s breath too, it’s mild wind coming to a silence.

Then, one of the buds quivered slightly, vibrating before it began to shrink and swirl back into the ground it had birthed from. A heavy sigh left your lips, shoulders dropping as Elodie gave you a slight smile. Chewing the inside of your cheek you gave her a knowing wink.

But that moment of relief quickly dissipated. Before your eyes more and more flowers began to spring before you. As though your magic had the opposite effect you had intended.

Relishing in your victory too early served you your humiliation. Your cheeks turning hot as you watched the disaster unfold in front of you. It was rare for you to fluster, but you could feel the simmering of your pride burn deep within your gut at the sight of your mistake. Eyes wide as the white petals spread further beneath your feet.

This had never happened before.

Your fingers twitched beside your sides. Magic at your fingertips itching to resolve the mess, but your confidence had been knocked. You didn’t fully trust yourself or your ability, and that was a hard acknowledgment to make.

“Okay, you need to leave now.” With a light push, your cousin ushered you away from the disaster you had created.

“What? Wait! Just give me a moment to think. To fix this” You pressed back, your ego not allowing you to submit to this defeat.

“I don’t have time y/n. That Vanserra princling’s on his way, and if he’s anything like his father he will have your head. So leave. I will fix this."

Your expression must have spoken a thousand words, words of vulnerability and insecurity, because your cousin's expression softened for a moment. Bringing you to a quick embrace.

“Your time in Autumn is up. Mistakes happen, and that’s okay. But it’s time to go.”

“But—“

She cut you off. “No but’s. You’ve both done amazing, but let’s not pretend. This isn’t the place for you, don’t think I hadn’t noticed.” Her expression was warm and understanding, as welcoming as the shades of fall. But despite how welcoming this season had been, it didn’t feel like home.

“Go explore the land, go find somewhere that feels right y/n,”

“What if…—”

What if nowhere felt like home? What if you didn’t fit in anywhere else?

Elodie grabbed your hand with a tug then, someone had winnowed to the outskirts of the field. A figure with fiery hair and a tempered presence.

There was no time for what if’s. So you left. Left your cousin to face the flame, and left to find a new home…if that place even existed.

Winter

“Why are the bears awake?!” There was a scream across the forest that ran through the barren trees. You recognised the tone, one of your Winter mentors no doubt. The shriek so sharp that any remaining creature that slept must have surely been awoken.

“Oh no..” Elodie almost cried, her feet slipping in the snow beside you. You could almost hear her heart pounding in sync with yours.

The bear—the bear you had accidentally woken—groaned and yawned, its massive paws stirring the snow as it pawed at the air, confused and sluggish. Its hibernation had been broken, and it was far too early for it to be awake.

You had been at the Winter Court for only a short time, and already, things were falling apart. The sharp, biting cold of the court was one thing, but the coldness of its people? That had been harder to handle. Their bluntness, their stoic ways, had left you feeling like you were constantly on the edge of doing something wrong. And now… you had.

It seems Autumn was not the only season that didn’t agree with you.

You blinked back your own tears, swallowing hard as you almost lost your own footing.

“Elodie, help me,” you commanded, snapping into action as you pushed against the bear’s thick fur, trying to guide it back to its den. The beast groaned again, but refused to budge, blinking its sleepy eyes at you.

The entirety of your weight was pushing against the giant bear that groaned against you, your heels digging in deep to act as an anchor in the cold white snow.

No matter how hard you tried, against your advice, the bear wanted to wake.

“Go back to sleeeeeepp little beearrrr- hicc- pretty pleaseeee” Elodie sang desperately, her voice wobbling with panic.

“Elodie that is not the lullaby,” you hissed, your own frustration bubbling up.

“I know, I’m panicking. I’ve forgotten it, y/n. What is it?” She replied beside you, face squashed against the bear’s fur as she tried with all her might to push the bear back to its bed.

You blinked. You couldn’t remember the song either.

You pressed harder, trying to remember the words yourself. Your breath was coming in ragged puffs, visible in the freezing air. Your wings, though hidden by magic, felt stiff from the cold, and your fingers ached from pushing against the giant furry animal.

By some stroke of luck after several attempts from Elodie to lull the bear back to sleep, the words of the forest lullaby found your tongue. Your magic flowed with the song, wrapping around the bear in a gentle embrace, lulling it back to sleep. Slowly, so slowly, it began to plod back toward its cave, its massive body sinking into it’s cosy bed deep within the cave.

“We did it,” Elodie breathed, her face as flushed and exhausted as you both slumped into the cold snow beneath you. The bears snoring filling the frosty air. “Maybe we got away with–” before Elodie could even finish her sentence, a shadow cast across you under the winter sun.

Your winter mentor, whose expression was as harsh as the court’s wind. Her cold, judging eyes swept over the scene, her lips pressed into a thin line as her long slender finger pointed towards the border.

Summer

It was everywhere.

Sand that is.

There was sand in your clothes, shoes, hair and even your pretty wings you always kept hidden— but that didn’t matter because that sticky Summer Court breeze would somehow ensure you were absolutely covered in it.

Blinking away yet again another gust of sand in your eye, you sat slouched under the shade of a canopy.

You were on shell duty today, meaning you had been out in that blistering sun all day. You’d always enjoyed the heat you thought, but perhaps now you realised you enjoyed it in much smaller doses.

That beacon in the sky felt especially relentless today. Your skin was burning to the touch, head heavy, dry throat and eyes stinging.

With a huff you watched as Elodie came and slumped down beside you. She went to nudge you gently with her shoulder, but you both gagged as your skin stuck and peeled away from one another with sweat.

“I heard the Day court borders are open…” she muttered, glancing towards you, anticipating your reaction.

You didn’t like giving up. Call it Spring stubbornness, but it wasn’t in your nature.

After a moment you murmured back, “Is there sand in Day?”. You swallowed hard, eyes set ahead on the expansive blue ocean before you, the line where the water met the sky blurring in a haze.

“Not nearly as much as Summer,” Elodie replied in a beat.

You didn’t like giving up. But clearly Summer didn’t agree with you either.

“Let’s go.”

Day

Perhaps it was your series of bad luck that had now left you with an attitude of indifference but as you crouched behind the freshly preened hedge you wondered how quickly your impeccable reputation had crumbled on your travels.

You were now about to commit a crime.

Perhaps crime was a bit dramatic. But trespassing was still trespassing. Trespassing on the High Lords home too.

You had been here over a month now. The Day Court wasn’t unpleasant—far from it. The libraries were vast, the streets safe, and the people, though indulgent, were kind. Yet something within you stirred restlessly, a quiet unease that had only grown with time. You had given it weeks, trying to settle in, hoping the feeling of displacement would fade. But it hadn’t. Every corner of this sunlit paradise felt like it belonged to someone else.

It didn’t feel like home.

So your papers were arranged. Tomorrow, you'd travel to Dawn, hoping to find something there that felt more like yours.

But before you left, there was one thing you had to see. One thing that had tugged at your curiosity since the moment you'd arrived: the Pegasuses. Said to be the pride of the Day Court, magnificent creatures kept under Helion’s personal protection, far from the eyes of the public.

That was why you were here now, slipping through the shadows of Helion’s estate, your heart racing in your chest. The Pegasuses weren’t just for show, or figments of stories; they were alive, breathing, and you wanted—no, needed—to see them yourself. Call it that fairy instinct, but you weren’t leaving till you saw them with your own eyes.

Your path led you through twisting gardens, till you found yourself at the heart of Helion’s estate. You crouched quietly behind the foliage, praying to the mother you’d catch a glimpse of what you’d been searching for.

Your breath caught in your throat.

There they were.

An entire herd of them, grazing peacefully. The sunlight gleaming on their coats. A shimmering silver that resembled the glow of your own wings. The sight of them took your breath away. They were even more magnificent than you’d imagined.

So magnificent that just looking wasn’t enough.

With a swift quietness and feather light steps you moved from your hiding place towards the herd.

If Elodie could see you now, you’d be sure to be scolded. You’d left her with the cute librarian in the city, told her to enjoy her last day. That you still had papers to sort– she didn’t need to be an accomplice in what you were committing. She didn’t need to know.

The Pegasuses flicked their ears, one of them lifting their head to look at you. You froze for a moment, the hairs on your arms rising, anticipating their reaction but as it blew a breath there was an ease that settled over you.

They didn’t shy away, as if they’d always known you were there. As if they had been waiting for you to pluck up the courage to meet them.

Marvellous creatures.

One of them stepped towards you, meeting your hand as it grazed across the plain on its face. Your gaze ran down its back to its wings that stretched out and then flanked back in.

“Well aren’t you beautiful..” You sighed with a smile, your fingers scratching the sweet spot behind its ear, its hoof tapping against the earth as if in agreement.

You’re not sure how time had passed, but it was distant laughter that blew in on a breeze that reminded you just how precarious your situation was.

“Come Rhys, come see my pride and joy…” A voice chimed across the garden.

You didn’t need to stick around to guess whose voice that belonged to, so with a gentle kiss against the velvety nose of the Pegasus you bid your farewell. Quick as a sprite, you slipped back into the shadows.

Just as you reached the edge of the estate, you glanced back over your shoulder. Offering a sweet smile to the Pegasuses you had met, hoping that despite Day not feeling like home your paths would cross with the magnificent creatures again.

It was Azriel who stood by the golden archway in the garden. Watching as Helion presented the treasures he boasted so often about– the beautiful Pegasuses that were now grazing in front of them.

“I would like one..for Feyre,” Azriel heard Rhys try to negotiate with Helion, their voices blending over the soft breeze and rustles from the animals. That he hadn’t even noticed his gaze had fallen elsewhere, all the way to the border of the estate he noticed a rustle in the leaves, a flicker of light perhaps, but there was a faintest scent of something on the wind—a hint of honey and peonies.

He paused, tilting his head as if attuned to something that beckoned him, though he couldn’t quite place it, but maybe with time he would.

Dawn

Imbuing the sky sounded easy. Fun even– But as you glanced up at the Dawn sky that resembled something more like dusk you swallowed hard.

The golden hues of the Dawn Court greeted you with a warmth that felt almost too soft. Here, everything shimmered with the glow of early morning—pastel skies, the gentle rustling of trees in the breeze, and the constant hum of quiet tranquillity. It should have felt peaceful. It should have felt right.

But instead, it felt fragile. Like a dream you couldn’t quite hold onto.

You had tried. When you first arrived, you thought maybe this would be the place. The Dawn Court was steeped in a quiet sort of magic—delicate, but powerful. It suited you in theory: a blend of intellect and beauty, the balance of light and creation. You had forced yourself to adapt, to fit into the patterns they laid before you, hoping this time, this Court, would finally feel like home.

But when tasked with the simple task of imbuing the sky, it had stirred something deeper, something darker, and the sky had responded.

You opened your eyes, gasping in horror as you watched the colours bleed across the horizon—not the pale blush of dawn, but the rich, burning tones of dusk. Deep oranges, purples, and indigos streaked across the sky like a wildfire, swallowing the soft morning light with every passing second.

The magic swirled around you like a storm, the sky thick with colour, draping over your skin like an ink-stained canvas. You tried to stop it, to pull it back, but it wouldn’t listen. The darker hues clung to you, soaking into your skin, wrapping around you like tendrils of shadow.

From dawn to dusk and then to twilight..

It was beautiful in a way—if only it wasn’t so terribly wrong.

“Don’t.” You bit out through gritted teeth, stopping Elodie from saying anything. The deep purple hue of sky covered you. The shimmer iridescent resembled something of a paint, but it was almost too beautiful to even be compared to that.

You didn’t even wait for your Dawn mentors to scold you. Simply went to pack your things and leave.

Lip quivering at another failed court, another failed attempt at finding home.

Night

The Night Court was the only place left. The last court you hadn’t yet tried, the last hope you had of finding where you truly belonged.

Which at this point you felt as though living amongst the thorns of Spring was a better option. You should never have left. Perhaps this was your punishment for abandoning your court, despite having no other option.

Your fingers tried to brush away the sky that was still infused to your skin, you looked ridiculous. As if you’d painted yourself in the night court's colours out of admiration. You were grateful the midnight hues concealed how embarrassed you looked.

The Night Court was a stark contrast to the sunlit lands you had just fled. Shadows danced among the trees, and a cool breeze whispered amongst the glistening stars.

It truly was beautiful.

But there was a looming weight with that realisation. Every court you'd experienced was beautiful– in its own unique way. So why would Night be any different? Why should you believe this would be the court where you truly belonged?

“Papers please,” A soft voice broke through, a female was reading through your documentation. Dorned in a dark robe, Illyarin soldiers flanking her sides.

She quirked a brow as she took in your appearance.

“It’s just sky…” Elodie butted in as if it was a normal occurrence– normal for one to be covered in the celestial shimmers of the sky. You swore you heard the High Fae mutter something under her breath, a small bite about meadow fairies that had the males beside her snicker. However after a quick assessment, she waved you both through.

You had assumed this admission would feel like every other court, plain, dull, but the moment your feet stepped across the border there was a simmering in your chest. It was as if the Night Court itself was welcoming you, the ancient forest shifting its branches above to clear a path for the stars to twinkle down upon you. The gentle breeze carried the distant melodies of the city, wrapping around you like a soft embrace.

You dared to speak of what you were feeling, but one quick glance at your friend and you could see she felt it too. A twinkle sparkled in her eyes as she shared a smile with you, a silent exchange that spoke of hope and dreams. For the first time in what felt like ages, laughter bubbled between you, light and carefree. You clasped each other’s hands, giggling at the energy and magic you were feeling.

There was something about this place, something that felt so familiar–

So enamoured by your senses you hadn’t even been paying attention when you bumped into something solid.

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” you sputtered quickly, a breathless laugh escaping your lips before Elodie gasped, pulling you back into the crowd of newcomers.

“You just bumped into an Illyrian!” she whispered urgently, her wide eyes darting over her shoulder.

Your gaze followed, landing on the broad backs of two towering Illyrian males. One had long, dark hair, loosely tied back, his wings flexing slightly in the night breeze. The other, taller with shadows whispering around him, his presence somehow more commanding– more intriguing. Your eyes lingered on him the longest, an odd tug pulling at your chest.

“Oops…” you shrugged, voice bright with laughter as Elodie tugged you further into the crowd, your chuckles mingling with the hum of the night.

You hadn’t felt this carefree in so long, hadn’t felt this light. As the lights of Velaris approached and the noise of music filled your ears you had a feeling that perhaps this was all going to work out okay.

That perhaps you had found somewhere you belonged after all.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel felt the brush of something against his side and turned slightly, pulling him from his conversation with cassian. They had both been sent to do border control, and had watched an array of individuals enter the court. It was his job as Spymaster after all, whether it be from the shadows or to stand in example at the borders he would vet the newcomers.

The night had been slow, no disturbances, no conflicts– uneventful. Just how he liked it. Only people seeking a fresh start had crossed into Night. He took pride in knowing so many chose his home for that new beginning. He was listening to Cassian as he gushed something about Nesta, when a light nudge to his side had pulled him from conversation.

They stood in the centre of the track that ran from the forest to the city, the two males, a stoic divide, as people flowed around them like a river parting. Except one– you.

You hadn’t moved around him.

Lightly, as though your thoughts had been tangled with the stars above, you had brushed against Azriel. His shadows hadn’t even warned him of your approach, and for a brief second, his breath caught at the softness of your touch. He turned, drawn to the quiet apology that lingered in the air, following the sound with his eyes.

And there you were.

You shimmered, wrapped in twilight, your skin glistening in the soft hues of the night sky as though the heavens themselves had adorned you. It was hard to distinguish where the night ended and you began, your form almost blending with the dark expanse around you.

But before he could speak, before he could even process what he was feeling, you disappeared into the crowd. A fleeting figure, gone in an instant, leaving him staring after you.

Azriel’s shadows hummed beside him, them too grappling with a need to know more.

He hadn’t caught your name, hadn’t had the chance to see your face clearly, but something about you had gripped him, held him in place. The faint scent of honey and peonies lingered in the air where you'd passed, stirring something deep within him.

Instead of words or answers, Azriel was left with a feeling—a pull. One he couldn't quite explain, but one he hoped to find an answer for.

a/n: Thank you for the wait...but here is the beginning of our favourite fairy and Azriel. I actually started writing this when I was visiting @writingcroissant in Edinburgh and we were sat in a little cafe till 10pm writing our little fics! It was so fun <3 (I'm still awaiting Crush...no pressure ;) ) I'm so glad it's finally finished. It was so hard to keep the stories this short, I feel like I could have easily explored more of fairy's travels in the courts (It wasn't all bad experiences I promise) lots of good memories too, so perhaps I will explore another time. But I hope you enjoyed the little connections to Azriel even though they still don't know each other yet tee hee

This is also dedicated to @searchingforbucky I'm pretty sure you said you were excited to read this/I said I would write something for you (If i have got it wrong, correct me) so here you are my lovely! Thank you for constant support.

Sorry to everyone that there isn't much Azriel and romance in this, Wings really has become a world of it's own at this point but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Please please please let me know what you want from these two next <3 - lottie xxx

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

Wings tags: @minaethrym

#wings universe #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar series #angst #azriel shadowsinger #fairy x azriel #fairy reader x azriel #fairy reader #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n

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ultimate-marysue · 4 months ago

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One of those "Jason decides to leave vigilantism after coming back and just lives his normal life" AU. He doesn't tell his family, he doesn't become Red Hood. Instead, Talia pays for his college and he becomes an English teacher. He fundamentally disagrees with Bruce's methods, but instead of taking it into his own hands to teach him a lesson he decides that's not his problem anymore. New life, new me.

He lives in a normal apartment, gets a couple of rescues to keep him company, makes civilian friends and just leads a completely normal and happy life away from rogues and vigilante drama. And then one year he starts doing the roll call and stares at the name like oh. Oh no.

Lian Harper is in his class.

Cue to Roy romancing his daughter's hot teacher while Jason tries to keep his identity a secret. Roy doesn't recognize him -obviously- he's much older and they weren't that close back when Jason was Robin, but he's one step removed from Dick who would absolutely make the connection. Roy is just really tired trying to keep a job and parent a preteen on top of his nightly activities, and Mrs Peterson is such a breath of fresh air into his very chaotic and intense life.

Lian is torn between wanting his dad to be happy, liking Mr. Peterson because he's a really cool guy and not wanting to be known as "the teacher's daughter". It's a conundrum for her.

Roy is also being tormented because this man is perfect on paper but he doesn't think he deserves normal, let alone perfect. He can't bring himself to trap this upstanding man in the chaos that is his life. Meanwhile Jason is split between his long forgotten crush who seems to be the solution for his miserable romantic life and trying to keep his secret from him.

They flirt, then regret it, then get flustered by the other, then flirt again in a cyclic back and forth that feels safe but doesn't get them anywhere. They keep getting so close to an actual date, but Jason keeps chickening out at the last possible second. The other teachers are desperate for them to resolve their weird tension because sir, this is a place of learning.

Then some villain holds the school hostage while Roy is out of town, and while he gets there Lian and Jason have to keep the rest of the school safe. When Roy arrives Jason knows his cover is blown and he'll probably have to move cities but he's also relieved for the back up. They end up at the Harper's later to patch up and Lian is so excited about the whole thing because her cool teacher is even cooler now, right dad?

Meanwhile Roy, who may not have known the second Robin much but is not stupid, is connecting the dots. These two men are staring into each other's eyes with the intensity of the sun like "don't you dare". They manage to stay civil until Lian retires to shower and from then on it's madness.

Finally Roy understands why "Mr. Peterson" has been rejecting his advances all this time. Jason begs him not to tell his family, he doesn't want to go back after how everything went down and how they seem to have forgotten him. Roy tries to defend Dick but in the end decides to pick his battles and agrees not to tell as long as Jason will finally give him that date they've been talking about. If that's why he said no all those times, of course, if he's not interested then that's fine...but Jason accepts.

When Lian comes back she announces her approval and demands a raise to her grades for her instrumental role in getting them together. She gets a fresh batch of cookies instead, which isn't the same, but will suffice.

#jayroy #long post #got carried away sorry this was going to be shorter fjksmsmsem #lian harper #royjay

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youcancallmeelle · 11 months ago

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Are we on the same side?

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI!!!)

Word count: 8K

Pairing: Separated husband!Joel Miller x wife!reader

Summary: Joel and you are trialling temporary separation due to repeated arguments with one another after nearly twenty years of marriage.

He returns to the marital home to do you a favour, flirting ensues and the sexual tension gets out of hand because of course it does.

You may need some clarification on what you are…

AO3

You put up the hearts, and I'll put up both my aces Not very far apart Still on different pages

Before having kids, you used to take every moment of your life for granted.

You were just a kid yourself back then, when you had two babies with a boy who shared your class and you were so in love you couldn’t fathom a life without him. For years you were Mama, the person who fed them and changed them, bathed them and rocked them to sleep. You worked night shifts while the love of your life worked in the day, all so food could be put on the table and an apartment could be kept to keep you all warm and safe. It wasn’t until a few years ago when your kids gained their own independence that you slowly started to regain your own life back, now you were nearly forty and working a job that gave you more freedom even if the stress levels have gotten to you more than once and your marriage… well that’s a separate issue on its own.

You’d spent the morning doing things you wanted to, thanking whoever that your kids were teenagers who could do their own breakfast and helped with chores without coaxing. You’ve been to pilates and the salon and had your infills done, your nails a glossy shade of pillar box red in an almond shape and your toes the same colour. You’d even managed to grab a Starbucks and sipped it languidly as you people watched from the safety of your car, enjoying your chosen playlist on Spotify without the bluetooth getting hijacked. The icing on the cake though? The fact you got to shower at home without someone barging in to ask for foundation or to borrow your strapless bra or your new Adidas Superstars.

It’s mid way through Saturday afternoon that your relaxation comes skidding to a halt in the form of your jaded lover knocking heavily against the pane of glass on your front door, the irritating noise makes you scowl and you drag your feet to answer it.

You crack it open, familiar brown eyes stare at you and yours narrow back.

“What are you doing here?” You ask flatly, the male on the other side picks up on your terse mood and his shoulders rise defensively. If it wasn’t for the little disagreement you’d had a few days prior on the phone over something as mundane as renewing car insurance, you’d have probably been more excited to see him but the way he can sometimes undermine you really grates on your nerves, you hate that he gets so swept up in work that he comes home and talks to you like he’s your foreman.

The minute he’d started questioning your choice like a fucking know it all, you’d merely hung up in irritation, refusing to answer when he’d called you back twice to apparently try and patch it over. You’d read the I’m sorry and I love you more than you’ll ever know text he sent after over and over, trying to figure out how things had come to this.

Nearly two decades together, married, with children and a house. You and Joel Miller have been torn apart by too many petty arguments that end with you sobbing and him walking away, you’d had to call it and come up with a possible solution with the marriage counsellor before it was too late.

He huffs and lifts his hand, showing you the toolbox you’ve seen many times with its contents strewn about somewhere in your house.

“A little birdie told me that you’re in need of a repair.” Joel’s lip twists at the side when your mood seems to perk just a fraction, there’s multiple things that need a little TLC right now but he can certainly worm his way back into your good books with a good old fashioned repair. You can only assume the little birdie was Sarah or Ellie.

You open the door fully and step backwards so all six foot something of him can meander through your front door, he wipes his feet on the welcome mat and toes his sneakers off, nudging them into the neat space where a tattered pair of Vans have been kicked off hard enough to scuff the wall and a pair of spotless ankle boots have been nicely placed beside your shoes.

“Where’s the babies?” He frowns, looking around and noticing the lack of noise.

You smile as you shut the door behind him as he refers to the girls as his babies, despite Sarah being eighteen and Ellie just turned fourteen.

With them both being girls, he’s soft anyway but Sarah is his first born who made him a father and Ellie’s still his tiny baby who he’s soaked up every second of when she was a newborn because you both knew you weren’t having any more children.

“At the movies together watching Twisters, Garret backed out on Sarah so Ellie went instead.” You inform him, sneaking an appreciative glance from the corner of your eye.

Joel makes a noise at the mention of Sarah’s boyfriend, never having liked him for whatever reason, you think it’s because they’re eerily alike so therefore clash.

“Little prick will be back hangin’ around here next week.” He grumbles, placing his toolbox on the bottom step.

“She’s just going through the universal thing of falling for a country boy.” You tease.

“Well as long as he don’t get her pregnant before graduation then we won’t have a problem.”

“She’s smarter than us.” You say.

“I know.” Joel agrees, you sneak one more glance at the country boy who got you pregnant before graduation.

He’s wearing slim fitting black sweatpants with a worn grey t-shirt with a faded motif on, the chain of his St Christopher barely noticeable beneath it and his thick rimmed glasses are perched on his nose.

You miss the hungry look he shoots you when you turn away, chestnut coloured eyes drifting low to the denim shorts you wear that he’s sure you’ve had since you were in your twenties. They fit snug and are contoured perfectly to the shape of your ass, your cheeks barely peeking out. What really makes his dick hard is the fact you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts, an old Dallas Cowboys one that you’ve always been particularly fond of.

“Nice flowers. Who got ya those?” He nods with a smirk towards the vase on the side table that’s filled with blooming peonies and baby’s breath.

The beautiful arrangement of flowers had arrived the morning after your petty argument with Joel, a gift from the universe if you will when you needed something bright and blooming to drag you out of the despair you were frantically becoming encased in.

“Oh.” You hum and feign ignorance, reaching out to gently touch the edge of a baby pink peony. “Just a friend.” You smile vaguely, Joel rolls his eyes. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“A guy sent them?” He presses, shifting his weight, your grin turns devious.

“Mmm.” You coo, feeling thrilled when that lick of annoyance flickers across your husband’s face at your flippant tone.

“Who?” He grins back.

“I’m not telling you.”

“Come on, I just wanna talk to him, I wanna know why he thinks it’s okay to send my wife flowers.”

“Ex wife.” You snort, Joel glares at you.

“We’re separated, not divorced. Y’know what, we’re barely even separated.” He disagrees, you bite the inside of your cheek in amusement.

“Apparently you’re here to fix my shelves and you’re doing a whole lot of yapping, very unprofessional of you.” You goad, stepping backwards when he begins to saunter towards you with a certain look in his eyes.

“I’ll fix your shelves, I’ll fix anythin’ you want.” Joel mumbles, stalking you.

“Big promises.” You taunt, lifting your chin defiantly. His hands grasp your waist, pulling you to him and you let him, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck.

You love this, the playful behaviour and flirting since you decided to live apart for a while. It feels new and exciting, a rush that you felt when you first got together as youngsters just before your world flipped and you were pregnant before your frontal lobe had developed.

He smells delectable, you can’t stop yourself from nosing at his bearded jaw where his cologne is the strongest. Joel’s throat bobs, his fingers drift upwards under your borrowed sweatshirt to feel the bare skin between your shorts and bra.

As his structured jaw slides across yours and his nose just barely brushes your own, you feel his breath hit your lips and you know he really wants to kiss you but is waiting for you to make the first move.

You want to, you really do but you’re scared of falling into a false sense of security when you haven’t even scratched the surface of your underlying problems that the marriage counsellor suggested needed to be covered before you could get back on track.

Joel enjoys the way your head fits against his collarbone, loves the sweet smell of your hair and skin.

“Fix my shelf.” You huff into his skin as you retreat, he sighs deeply but picks up his toolbox and begins to follow you up the stairs with his eyes glued to your backside.

It almost feels strange for Joel to be back in your shared bedroom after three weeks away, he hasn’t been back for any extra clothes or personal items. If he’s come over to see the kids, then he’s stayed downstairs or in the garden with them.

Everything looks the same which is a strange observation given that really you’ve barely been apart for any time at all but it’s comforting to be back.

The bed is made in its usual dress up of plain white sheets with useless throw pillows stacked neatly, there’s a pile of clean laundry resting on your vanity chair but also clothes tossed on the floor where you’ve been indecisive.

Joel whistles when he sees the closet door open and the fallen shelf leaning against the door, there’s a scrape on the inside wall where it’s collided and taken the paint off. It looks like a fairly simple job, the wall plugs have probably come loose over time and needed replacing, it’s not as if IKEA is known for making indestructible furniture.

“You want the step ladder?” You question as he surveys the situation, rubbing the wall with his fingertips to see if the scrape will alleviate some.

“I think so.” He replies. “They in the garage?”

“No, Ellie’s room, she was trying to hang some fairy lights earlier but only got halfway before she threw a fit about the command hooks.” You chuckle, wandering off to go retrieve them for him, already certain he’s made a note to finish the job for her before he leaves.

When you get back, he’s got some tools ready, his drill in hand already. He steps onto the bottom rung of the step ladder, groaning as he stretches.

You observe for a moment, knowing it irks him, he hates being watched on a job.

“Jesus, it’s fuckin’ dusty up here. You’re a terrible housewife, neglectin’ your duties.” Joel pokes, knowing you won’t take a blind bit of notice.

“You wanna know why we really separated? Because you neglected your duties as a husband to satisfy your wife.” You reply easily, Joel chuckles and looks down at you.

“Oh spare me the dramatics, you’ve never been unsatisfied by me in your whole entire life.” He sings, infuriatingly he isn’t wrong.

“I’m telling the kids you were being sexist to me.” You threaten, chewing on a sinister smile. “Ellie will beat you up.”

“She won’t.” Joel grins, you mumble out a complaint. “She’s a daddy’s girl, maybe try your luck with Sarah, I’m sure she’d give me a lecture.” Not that you think he needs one, he’s the biggest supporter of you and his girls.

“They’re both Daddy’s girls, the little traitors. Nine whole months carrying them and giving birth after what felt like days and days with no fucking pain relief and this is the thanks I get? Not to mention my nipples being sucked raw.” You grumble to yourself, kicking some laundry into a pile at the side of the wall, Joel makes you jump when he groans suddenly.

“Just sayin’ but your tits were amazin’ when you were breastfeedin’ - shit, they’re still fucking phenomenal.” He sighs dreamily, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you were so hot carryin’ my babies, I’d have kept you pregnant if I had my way.”

You bite your cheeks to hide the satisfaction that your husband still wants you.

“You can’t say stuff like that to me anymore.”

“Why? We separated or somethin’?” Your husband frowns comically. “Show me your tits.”

“No.”

“Come on, just one.” He grins boyishly. “The right one is my favourite.” You stick your middle finger up at him.

“Asshole.” You sniff, walking back to lay on the end of your bed.

You pick up your phone, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook posts made by the PTA at the girls school while Joel complains about wall fixings or something equally as dull.

In the end, you get bored and toss it away, instead opting to enjoy the eye candy in the form of a senior (essentially) gentleman on a stepladder cussing about how IKEA can suck his balls.

“Piece of fuckin’ shit!” He complains when the shelf slips again in your closet, he takes a calming breath and contains his frustration, you snicker at him. “How did this even break, sweetheart?” Joel huffs, changing out for a larger wall plug.

“Dunno, it just did.” You answer vaguely, looking at your ceiling.

“Bullshit.” He quips. “Did you put too much shit on it?”

“No.” You hum, shaking your head.

“You’re a liar.” He states plainly, equally unamused. “What did you put on here that was so heavy it collapsed?”

“Nothing, maybe it was just your shoddy workmanship to begin with.” You quip, not looking at him though you desperately want to because you can imagine the outrage on his face but you won’t be able to not laugh.

“It wasn’t me that put it up.” He glares.

“Sure, whatever you say.” You smile sweetly at him. It’s quiet for a minute, then Joel speaks again.

“You put filled shoeboxes up here, didn’t you? After I told you nothin’ heavier than a few sweaters? ” He asks knowingly.

Silence and then…

“Yeah.” You nod, he sighs loudly and turns back to drill in a screw now that he seems happy with the stability.

You watch him as he works, angling himself to see better and be able to use his drill at the correct angle.

The muscles in his back move and his shoulders look unbelievably broad beneath his t-shirt, it hugs his biceps and rides up when he shifts to show a slither of his boxers and bare back.

Your mouth almost waters and you press your thighs together but it obscures your view so you part them again to peek at him through the gap in your knees.

It’s well known that your husband is an attractive man, he always has been. You’ve watched him grow from the gangly teenager with a backwards baseball cap practically glued to his head you were first besotted with to the almost middle aged and greying man that now works before you.

Most nights when it’s dark, quiet and the house is still, you pleasure yourself beneath the duvet thinking of him, hips moving frantically against the whir of your vibrator. It can be any scenario of the long time you’ve been together, two decades holds enough memories to fill books upon books with pictures and anecdotes, some that you keep stored away just for you.

Sometimes you dream about the three day honeymoon in Nashville you had when your parents forced you to get married before Sarah was born, back when you first lived in Arlington in a shitty apartment you could barely afford with you both working instead of attending college. Then there was that night just under four years later with sex so explosive that you’d had the fleeting thought you’d immediately gotten pregnant again, only to actually find out you’d been right two weeks later when you’d presented Joel with yet another positive pregnancy test before twenty five.

You chew your lip, lashes fluttering and you’re sure he notices you ogling him in the mirror that puts your reflection in his eye line by the smirk you see.

God, he pisses you off so much sometimes. He makes your cunt wet and your teeth grind all at once, you never knew that was possible.

Rolling off the bed and onto your feet, you casually turn so that your back is to him on the ladder but you’re in the perfect position in the reflection of the mirror in front of him. He doesn’t notice at first over the sound of the drilling but when it stops and he goes to test the stability of the shelf, he freezes and the arm holding his drill drops limply to his side.

He sees you begin to strip down in the mirror, shimmying your shorts down and then yanking off your oversized sweater. Joel freezes, gulping when you turn away to unclip your bra, the expanse of your back is smooth and if he thought your backside looked good in those shorts, the high cut panties you’re wearing hit on a whole other level.

“What are you doin’?” He asks when your fingers hook into the sides of your panties, they flex within the material and you peer over your shoulder at him, big doe eyes the opposite of fucking innocence.

“Just taking a shower, I’m filthy.” You titter, holding his piercing gaze through the mirror.

“Funny, you’ve done nothin’ but sit on your pretty little ass and watch me inhale dust that’s been here for the last fifteen years.”

“Well, you could always join me.” You shrug, finally slipping your underwear down your thighs, Joel’s mouth goes dry. “Only if you want to, of course.” You beam at him and then sashay away into the en suite, Joel’s resolve breaks very quickly (immediately actually) and he’s yanking off his glasses and tossing them onto the dresser and plucking his t-shirt over his head in an instant.

Maybe the solution is to fuck it out and he’ll gladly go as many times as needed, you always did need to be fucked hard when your attitude started to test him.

The shower has been switched on and you’re naked under the stream as he finishes yanking both his socks, sweatpants and boxers off. He admires you through the glass, kicking his clothes into a messy pile before climbing in there with you, the air tight and hot.

His big hands enrobe you from behind, long dexterous fingers gripping at your waist and pawing at all the exposed skin it’s been weeks since he’s seen.

You tilt your head back from the water, resting it against his shoulder and pushing back into him, holding onto his forearms and digging your nails into his flesh.

“Look who couldn’t resist, you bad boy. Whatever will the therapist say?” You mock, pouting those pretty lips.

“You’re a goddamn tease, you know that?” He growls, nipping at your jaw and earlobe, holding the weight of your breasts in his hands.

“If you say so.” You breathe sexily, dragging him by the back of his neck to meet your lips in a hungry kiss.

His cock is trapped between his soft stomach and your lower back, smearing a pearlescent gleam as he anchors himself to you.

You moan into his mouth when he teases your nipples into tight peaks, plucking them and roughly cupping your tits.

“I want to lick your pretty little pussy until you cum on my face.” He admits into your mouth, barely letting you breathe past the fierce kisses. Your clit throbs at his confession and you grab hold of his hand, guiding it down your body to between your legs where he teases your lips.

Your back arches prettily into him, the free hand holding your breast now grips your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back.

“Ah.” You whine when the roughened pads of his fingers stroke your clit. “Mmm, there.” You hum, pushing into his fingers. He entertains you, dipping his fingertips to your honey slick hole and back up again, dragging the gooey wetness to smother on your clit until it’s hardened and desperate to be sucked on like candy.

“Bet you could cum like this.” He says gruffly, beard scratching at your shoulders and neck, wherever he greedily kisses your dewy wet skin.

“Wanna cum on you, Joel.” You whine, reaching behind you to grasp his thickness. He ruts into your hand, smearing more stickiness that you want to lick away from his tip.

You absorb him similarly to a plant and the sun, the bulk of his form plastered against your back so big and strong, skin sun kissed and warm. He’s safety to you, every single thing about him, everything familiar that you know.

“Needy little slut.” He whispers, your core becomes aflame at the debauchery, you nod in confirmation. “Oh, you agree? You just need a cock to sit on and your shitty attitude will be right as rain?”

“Only your cock.” You whine, flicking your thumb against the underside of him, tracing out a vein you’re very familiar with.

“Yeah, baby. Only mine, I know, I know.” His sweet breath is hot against your cheek as he pants, fingers strumming your clit faster. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Show me how good you can be?” You hum and nod, knees almost buckling, this is the fastest you’ve approached orgasm since being separated.

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You say huskily, hips bucking into his hand until it’s only been two seconds since your revelation and you’re cumming - wet and sticky - into the palm of his hand. His mouth is on yours, you’re moaning and moving erratically, Joel’s cock is dribbling a steady stream of pre cum into your hand where you’re gripping his shaft.

“Sexy little thing.” Joel husks into your ear, biting the lob as you heave for air, slowly undulating your hips as you ride the last wave of your peak against his hand. “Good girl.” He praises, taking his hand away when you weakly push at his wrist. He lifts it in front of you, fingers webbed with your cum, runny and clear. You catch his hand, slipping his index and middle finger into your mouth, sucking them clean as he groans and ruts into the hand still around him, the cool palladium of his wedding ring bumps against your cupids bow as you suckle.

You slip his fingers out of your mouth, letting them drag down your chin and back to your tits. “Fuck me.” You demand haughtily, eyeing him.

“I’ll fuck you, baby.” He confirms, softer than you were expecting, he meets you for a kiss and you suck on the plumpness of his bottom lip before turning away. Joel slicks his hair back under the spray and then begins to trace out the curve of your waist and the fullness of your ass, you feel his hand bump you knuckle first where he fists himself to complete mast and then he runs the length of himself through your pussy, hissing at the wet heat that awaits him but he pauses, retracting back unsure.

“You want me to wear a condom?” And you freeze, looking over your shoulder in distress.

“Have you been with other people?” You frown, your heart suddenly sinking into your stomach, making your guts twist with nausea. Joel frowns down at you, blinking away the water clinging to his lashes.

“Course not.” He answers, you relax. “��Have you?” Joel presses.

“Absolutely not.” You state firmly. “So get inside me.” You demand, turning away to place your hands on the tiles. You feel him press kisses to your shoulders as the tip of his cock brushes your ass again, you sigh and push back into him. “Please, baby.” You beg, feeling him smile into your skin.

“I think you’re tryin’ to baby trap me.” Joel says playfully, pulling your hips against him so that your back arches just so.

“You had a vasectomy after Ellie, idiot.” Your hips press insistently against him and you reach back to tug at his length, your fingers barely wrapping around the girth. “Now get your dick inside me, Joel.” You demand.

“Yes, ma’am.” He leans down a fraction and slicks himself up, the entire length of him slipping against your pussy lips once more and nudging your clit. “Fuuuuck.” Joel groans when he does it again and the head of him catches on your hole, slipping inside just a fraction.

“Oh my god.” You pant, your forehead dropping to rest against the cool tiled as he fills you completely. It’s a tight fit, after over three weeks of no sex with him your body is near to combustion.

You wonder if the lack of sex has attributed to the arguments, both working long hours at your respective jobs and not having the time for the normal intimacy you usually share.

This is exactly what you’ve been wanting in the weeks you’ve been apart; a carnal desire to have your husband close.

His grunt in your ear sets something off in you, the relief he feels directly felt by you.

You whimper at the first thrust after he’s settled within your velvet lined canal, body pressed between him and the wall.

It won’t ever be like this with anyone else, you think to yourself - the way Joel fits within you, around you and alongside you.

“Like that.” You pant, pressing back. He grunts into your ear in such a manly way that you reach back to yank on his hair, he growls into your neck and fucks into you harder.

He’s so strong it makes your head spin, this gorgeous man with a heart of gold that loved you when you were young, married you and gave you two babies, helped you create a comfortable life for your family.

It’s overwhelming; that sensation of being full and enveloped within the heat of his radius.

You’ve missed everything about him; his smell, his voice, the way he tastes. You’ve ached for the things you’ve harmlessly bickered about before, such as underwear outside of the hamper, smudges of toothpaste on the bathroom mirror after a deep clean, crumbs on the island.

You don’t mean to let your emotions get the best of you but your eyes well and your throat tightens, your chest constricts something fierce.

The sob that erupts out of your chest can’t be disguised by the noise of the water hitting the floor at your feet or the soft groans of Joel, not the breathless whines from yourself either.

It’s a raw noise, jagged at the edges so much that it hurts leaving your throat.

“Honey?” Immediately Joel has stopped moving and withdrawn, spinning you around to cup your cheeks. “Why are you cryin’?” He presses insistently, thumbs trying to swipe away your tears. Your cheeks are aflame, embarrassed to have spoilt such an intimate moment after so long.

“I just - I just missed you.” You whimper, tucking your nose into his bicep. He cradles you to him softly beneath the spray, hushing you gently. This makes you cry more, thinking about how he’s held your babies like this; tenderly like they’re the most fragile beings made entirely of glass. “Everything feels wrong! And… and…” You sniffle wetly. “And I can’t sleep properly without you and your dumb old man snoring!”

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles into your hair.

“I don’t like the whole limited contact stuff either.” You mumble.

“Neither do I but it’s what was suggested and I think we need to try it, if we don’t like it then that’s a good sign.” He tries to pick your mood up, you pout and nod, leaning into his touch.

“I’m scared we won’t fix this and I’ll have to watch you start dating someone else.”

“I’m not gonna date anyone else, lady. I only want you, I’ve only ever wanted you.” He tells you.

“That’s not true.” You hiccup. “Brandi Neil wanted you and you were going to go to Homecoming with her.”

“Fuckin’ - that was literally over twenty somethin’ years ago and I went with you in the end!” He huffs indignantly. “Come on, let’s get dry and we can talk some more.” Joel guides you out of the shower with a gentle hand, turning off the water and handing you a towel. He leans over on more than one occasion to peck your lips, he smooths his thumbs beneath your eyes to wipe away the mascara that’s ran in the shower from the steam.

Once you’re both relatively dry, there’s an awkward shift in the air as you’re both naked still and Joel looks very much aroused, half hard cock swaying as he moves.

You saunter back to the bed, peering over your shoulder to see that you’ve captured his attention intently and he gulps as you climb onto the mattress, briefly resting on all fours for a split second, wet pussy drooling and exposed before turning onto your back.

You stretch out against the sheets not dissimilar to a renaissance painting, skin dewy with a look on your face that Joel wants to savour.

He climbs atop the mattress with you, pushing your thighs apart to settle between them. His warm mouth finds your nipples, sucking them and biting gently, you stretch and arch into him like a puppet on strings, the weight of your breasts fitting in each of his roughened palms. You feel the brush of his cock sway against your inner thigh and you buck against it, trying to encourage him closer, you huff when he ignores you in favour of worshiping your breasts.

“Calm down.” He murmurs. “We’ll get there.” He promises in that deep baritone which makes your purr. Joel shimmies down your body, palm dragging along your sternum and settling on your stomach where your fingers find his in a desperate squeeze.

The broadness of him fits between your thighs, one tossed over his shoulder to open you up. It’s erotic how he looks with his mouth on you, silver streaked hair visible and it’s not long before you’re clutching at it, writhing and moaning something pretty.

He parts your labia and licks slowly, using only the tip of his tongue, flicking over your clit and coaxing it from beneath the hood, sucking it between his lips and running his tongue repeatedly over it as you gasp and pull his hair, he suckles and there’s a lewd slurp thrown in there.

You purr like a kitten when his fingers enter you, moving steadily and brushing your G spot with such expertise that your eyes water. He knows what you like, having learnt your body and its responses for the better part of twenty years. A gush of slick aids the smooth movement of his ring and middle finger, stroking you from the inside until it proves too much to feel so far from him.

“Up, Joel.” You whine, tugging his tresses with more force than necessary which causes him to bite your inner thigh in retaliation but he allows himself to be malleable at the hands of you, kneeling between your legs and wiping the slick of you from his moustache and beard.

Rocking back onto his haunches, he fists his cock at the sight of you looking wrecked, that deep possessive part of him that’s smug because it’s him that makes you look like that; flushed and desperate.

“I won’t last long, honey.” He warns as he gets into position, wrapping both legs around his waist.

“Don’t care.” You state, reaching down to grab hold of him and guiding the blunt head of him through your lips, teasing yourself before you notch him just right. He eases himself in gentler than before in the shower, savouring that slow stretch as he feeds you himself until the wiry coarse hairs at the base are dampened by your wetness.

He drops onto his forearms beside your head, caging you in as he begins to move, the pendant from his St Christopher bumps your chin. You make pretty noises, clawing at his back in a way that leaves diagonal lines in various shades of pink and red. Chests pressed together, heart to heart, a rhythmic beat perfectly in sync.

“Tell me you love me.” You gasp.

Sitting up, Joel guides your leg over his shoulder, kissing your ankle bone, toying with the dainty gold anklet there that was an anniversary present some years ago. Your back arches against the sheets and you whimper sweetly at the new sensation of his hips fitting snuggly between your thighs and the weeping head of him nudging against the sponged wall of your cervix.

“I love you.” He groans, hands grappling your hip bones, forcing you closer like he can’t get enough, he looms over you. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

“I love you.” You pant back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” His nose nudges yours, lips hungrily searching to slot against yours, puffy and wet. “You remember night one of our honeymoon?” You press, exhaling hot and tone wanting.

“Fuck yeah I do, fuck - “ His hips snap harder and you keen. “Pretty as a fuckin picture, still in your weddin’ dress on the floor.”

“Fuck.” You sigh, fisting at his biceps with slippery fingers. “Barely made it through the motel door.”

“You looked so fuckin good, honey. Havin’ my baby and ridin’ me on the floor.” His mouth slackens and his eyes slip closed, clearly deep in thought.

“I wanna do it again, Joel.” You gasp, fingers shakily circling your clit, hard and slippery.

“Yeah, baby. We’ll have another honeymoon, renew our vows first and everythin’.” He grunts.

“Baby.” You whimper in his ear. “I’m cumming, fuck me harder.” You say it breathlessly and all his carnal instincts take over, he fucks you that hard the headboard slams into the wall and takes a layer of sage green paint off. You’re loud through your climax, hips jumping and blood rushing through every vein like accelerant and fire.

“Jesus, I’m gonna cum. Fuck!” He groans, fingers moulding into the mattress, orgasm hitting so hard it makes the edges of his vision blacken. “Fuckin’ Christ.” You kiss his throat from your place beneath him, licking his jugular like the fucking minx you are, biting a tendon.

The white of his teeth is blinding as his lip curls into a near snarl, the pulse of warmth as he orgasms spreads within you and you pant, flushed from head to toe.

You kiss him as he grunts to completion, teeth clashing.

“You’re so good - so good.” You murmur into his mouth, frantically pushing his hair from his damp forehead. “You’re perfect.” You hum, enraptured.

“That’s you.” He smiles, lip curving against yours. “My pretty little wife.”

He strokes your hair and traces your features, eyes searching yours for something; hope maybe and you smile gently at him, pulling him down beside you once he’s withdrawn from the warmth of your body.

You rest against him, cheek to his chest to listen to the thrum below. You count his freckles and you trace his knuckles, you kiss his exposed skin over and over, you absorb as much of him as you can, feeling fulfilled for the first time in weeks.

Joel quietly observes you, you lean up on your elbow, dragging your manicured nails down the centre of his chest, he watches you with his arm behind his head. You pause and lean down to rest your chin on his sternum, blinking with those fluttery lashes that cast a shadow high on your cheekbones.

“Thank you for my flowers.” You say, he smiles softly and reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re welcome.” He whispers. “Wanted to do somethin’ nice for you, Ellie messaged me and said you’d had a tough week at work before that dumb fucking argument we had.” His long fingers comb through your hair, you rest easily on his stomach now, letting your eyes slip shut. “Wanna talk about it, baby?”

“Not really.” You huff. “I don’t want to unload my problems on you.” Joel sighs in exasperation at your vague answer.

“You can tell me anythin’, you know that.”

“We’re supposed to be taking time apart to stop the fighting, me unloading everything onto you isn’t going to help that.” You tell him.

“I think communication is exactly what we need.” He disagrees.

“You’re starting an argument now.” You chuckle with an eye roll, resting your cheek against his warm skin. He rolls his eyes back but doesn’t reply, continuing to stroke your hair, twirling some around his finger. “Joel?” You ask quietly.

“Hmm?”

“What if we can’t fix this?”

“We can.” He replies determinedly. “Nearly twenty years together and two kids later, I’m still so in love with you, whether we’re fighting or not.”

“I love you.” You murmur.

“I love you more.” He replies. “And I love our girls.” Joel adds.

“Me too.” You shift and snuggle into him, resting your head beneath his chin.

He holds you quietly, his touch a major comfort. You think back over the almost month it’s been since the marriage counsellor had suggested Joel move out of the martial house for awhile and stay with his brother, just so you could see if distance would be beneficial after the amalgamation of late working nights, the stress of parenting two teenage girls and life itself along with naturally getting older, you already dancing that line of perimenopause.

The space had made you realise you didn’t want to be without him and you’d both seemed to realise that you didn’t want to split up, you just needed to figure out a way to make things work.

“I think we should trial the time apart for another week and keep seeing the counsellor for a few more months.” You begin. “I’m gonna figure something out at work and reduce my hours, no more bringing it home with me.”

“That sounds good.” Joel murmurs, twisting a piece of your hair. “I’m goin’ to cut my days down to four, I think the finances will be fine and I want to be around here more for you and the girls.” He tells you, you nod slowly and blink away the tears that have suddenly come at the softness of his voice.

“I don’t care if we have to give up any extra luxuries, I just need you and our kids here happy.” You emphasise.

“That’s what I want too, baby. No more arguments over stupid shit, I’m sorry for bein’ so fuckin’ horrible lately.”

“I was horrible too, Joel.” You say. “We just need to keep working on things and if we feel an argument brewing then we should take a step back and reassess what’s caused it and find a solution just like the therapist says.” You advise. “Also we should make time for a date night every week.”

“Sounds good to me, baby.” Joel agrees, tugging you forward. “Kiss me, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He murmurs sweetly and you go easily, moulding yourself over him to meet him for a deep kiss that speaks a thousand words and apologies.

“Hey.” You say suddenly, eyes flitting over to the vanity where multiple photo frames sit. “You remember that trip we took to Seattle when the kids were little?” Joel follows your line of sight where they’re focused on one of the smaller frames holding two polaroids, one of Sarah and Ellie when they were eight and four, then another you’d taken of Joel on the pier with the wheel behind him you’d taken.

“Yeah.” He says fondly. “That was a great trip, the kids loved it.”

“What was that girl called that Ellie made friends with at the aquarium?” You smile as you think of a rambunctious Ellie, stomping around holding her Daddy’s hand in her tiny overalls, pointing at every fish she saw swimming ahead in the glass tunnels.

“Oh er… fuck. What was it? Little blonde girl with a braid.” He recites, thinking back almost a decade. “Abby!” He suddenly exclaims and you hum, nodding.

“That was it, they were so cute together watching the sea lion show, remember how jealous Sarah was that she thought all Ellie’s love was being stolen away.” You giggle, nuzzling his shoulder. “We should go again now they’re grown up.”

There’s a comfortable silence as you bask in the evening sun coming through the window behind the bed, coating you in warmth while you lazily make out with your husband like you used to as teenagers in his beat up truck.

You moan into his mouth when a hand sneakily skims your back and moulds to the fleshiest part of your backside. Sitting back to take a breath, you begin to kiss at his stubbled jaw, focusing intently on the grey patches and working yourself down his throat, to his clavicle and down his chest where he has yours, Sarah’s and Ellie’s name tattooed over his heart.

He props himself up in interest on his elbows when you make it to his sternum, nipping near his navel and dragging your nails through the smattering of hair below it until you reach his groin.

“You think you can go again?” You smirk at him, nipping his hip, sucking a small bruise into the skin above his pubic area.

“Keep doin’ that and I’ll be rarin’ to go.” He huffs, cradling the back of your head when you lick above his pubic area.

You move lower and his cock begins to swell against his thigh, his thighs tense when your hot breath drifts over his length.

Just as you’re about to drag your tongue over the flushed head of him, you hear a car skim across the gravel driveway and you both freeze.

“Shit, that’s the kids.” You panic, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed to gather up something to wear. “Quick!” You urge Joel who looks equally as panicked as he yanks up his boxers. You find a long floral dress to throw on from the corner and manage to yank up the panties you were wearing earlier, the crotch becomes sodden with the semen but you ignore the uncomfortable wet feeling and try to fan away the flush on your cheeks as you watch your husband get dressed.

You’re both barrelling down the stairs just as the front door opens and you bump into Joel as you skid on foyer tiles, he steadies you as your kids stare back.

You and Joel try to act casual despite the feral things you’ve just done.

“You’re back early.” You squeak, very aware of your damp hair and smudged makeup.

It’s a mere second before your daughter’s come barrelling full force towards the apple of their eyes, pregnancy and labour be damned.

“Dad!” The girls squeal in unison, rushing to hug him. He wraps an arm around each of them, eyes slipping shut with contentment.

“Hi, my girls.” He sighs happily, nosing Ellie’s hairline and then Sarah’s.

“Missed you.” You hear Ellie tell him.

“Hi, mom.” You mock unseriously, crossing your arms.

“Hey, mom.” Ellie mocks devilishly, tilting her head back with the same teasing look her father possesses more often than not. She’s her father’s daughter, a carbon copy of him whereas Sarah is more like you.

“You have a good afternoon?” You ask when Sarah meanders her way into your orbit, wrapping her arms around your waist. She nods against you and you tuck some hair out of her face, she nuzzles into you.

“The movie was packed so we got frozen yoghurt and walked around Target instead, we got you some candy.” She says sweetly, rubbing her cheek into your collar whilst Ellie is resting her chin against Joel’s chest with her arms wound around his waist, whispering something that makes him chuckle and sway her from side to side tenderly.

She stares up at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon just for you, you’re certain she’d crawl into his rib cage and stay there if she could and you don’t blame her.

“Thank you, sweet girls.” You beam. “Hey, are you both in for dinner tonight?” You suddenly wonder.

“Yes, sir.” Ellie replies.

“I’ve got no plans.” Sarah shrugs.

“How about we Doordash something? Could eat it on the patio?” You suggest and Ellie cheers, Joel chuckles into her hair.

“Even Dad?” Sarah hesitates as she asks, looking at you hopefully. Your heart breaks, Joel staying away had some serious effects in the first week even though they knew you weren’t going through a divorce and trying to fix things. Ellie acted out at school and Sarah shut herself away, both missing their father’s presence at home even though they saw him most days after school and on weekends if they weren’t out with friends.

You’d never stopped them seeing him and wouldn’t dare to even if things were irreparable between you.

“Of course.” You answer Sarah, Ellie looks between you and Joel curiously, her eyes narrow when she sees him smiling softly at you and clocks you blushing.

“Whatcha both been doing?” Ellie asks slyly.

“Hanging out, your Dad fixed the shelf for me.” You tell her nonchalantly over Sarah’s head. “So uh.. which one of you ratted on me for breaking it?”

“Dunno what you’re talking about, man.” Ellie sniffs, you tug the end of her ponytail.

“Mmm.” You murmur, unconvinced. “Go get changed into something comfy and have a think about what you fancy for dinner.” You order, nodding towards the stairs.

“Race ya!” Ellie bellows suddenly, pushing Sarah into you to get a head start.

“Hey!” Her older sister shouts, barrelling after her while you sigh and head towards the kitchen, the peace and quiet officially gone.

Joel gives you a flirtatious look and your heart jumps, your chest warms as do your cheeks.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You demand, pushing his face away in the opposite direction. He chuckles and grabs your wrist, using it as leverage to pull you to him.

“What? Like I want to eat you?” He murmurs lowly, you hum affirmatively. “Maybe I do.”

“That could be arranged.” You whisper, he takes you back into his arms, walking with you until you hit the edge of the kitchen island. You pull him into a kiss, dragging your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck.

He growls lowly and hoists you up onto the surface, stepping between your legs, running his hands up and down your parted thighs.

“The kids are listenin’ to us.” Joel whispers into your ear when he pulls away, nodding outside of the kitchen entryway where you realise you didn’t hear them run all the way to the top of the stairs.

“No, we’re not!” Sarah has the audacity to yell with offence, you giggle into Joel’s t-shirt.

“Get changed before I make your Dad cook his famous spaghetti surprise dinner tonight instead of getting take out!” You holler back.

“That was one time.” Joel complains under his breath.

“Make us a sister.” Ellie shouts from halfway upstairs.

“No chance! Dad got snipped after you anyway, he said you were more than enough trouble and you were barely out the womb!” You shout back, cackling when you hear both her and Sarah gag fiercely.

“It’s true!” Joel adds. “I had frozen peas on my crotch for days!”

“Gross!” They both exclaim.

That night, you sit on the patio furniture, with your husband and children, your feet cradled in his lap with glasses of wine and takeout with quiet music playing from Alexa, giggling and telling them stories of your teenage years and some of a time they’re too young to remember, planning a trip to Seattle they’re ecstatic over.

You’re certain that everything will be okay.

#the last of us #joel miller x reader #the last of us fic #ellie & sarah #ellie & joel #joel miller fic #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller

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laurelsofhighever · 2 years ago

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A list of potential cures for the Calling, that we know about, that BioWare has apparently forgotten

Andraste's grace: it's not specified whether the flower the kennelmaster has you pick in the Korcari Wilds is Andraste's grace or if the game just needed a one-off asset and decided to reuse one they already had. However, in the dark future in DAI, Leliana is found to have unusual tolerance for the taint, and in DAO she talks about her mother pressing her laundry with dried Andraste's grace flowers, so it makes you wonder. Anyway, the flower stops Barkspawn becoming a ghoul and seems to make them immune to the taint from that point on.

Maric's longsword: he finds it in the Deep Roads and is suprised it isn't covered in the same Blight-rot as everything else - until, that is, he touches the sword to a patch of it and sees it wither away. Whether it's the dragonbone the sword is made of or the runes on the blade is difficult to say, though if it was just the dragonbone then it would make sense for that to be a more well-known property of the material (and would have been an interesting reason for why dragons were hunted to extinction). If Alistair carries it with him, doesit slow the progession of the taint through his body? Does he know its effects, and give it to the HoF to help keep them safer on their journey to find a permanent cure?

That obsidian dagger Duncan finds in The Calling: the dagger belonged to First Enchanter Remille - who also gave the expedition members brooches that accelerated the spread of the taint. iirc the both the dagger and the brooches are made by the Architect with Blight magic, which means the darkspawn magisters have more knowledge of how the Blight works than the Chantry attributes to them.

Whatever the fuck is going on with Avernus: he hasn't managed to cure himself yet, but he's managed to make it to 200 and the Warden can let him continue his experiments if they don't kill him - and he'd be a really useful resource if the Warden later wanted to send him other potential cures for testing.

Dragons: they have an ability to isolate the Blight in their bodies by forming crystaline cysts around the initial infection to stop it spreading. Useful if it can be more widely applied. Also, it's implied that Maric's reaver blood, which Calenhad gained by mixing his blood with a dragon's, is what somehow cured Fiona of the taint, kinda like a reverse STI, BUT in the Deep Roads they went through an area where the walls were coated in a pale, chalky substance suspiciously devoid of Blight-rot and she touched it, so I'm a bit suspicious of that.

Blood magic: makes sense since the taint is a problem that starts with infected blood. There are two major instances in DA canon where blood magic has been used to purge the taint from an object or being (both by elves btw). The first is Isseya using it to draw the taint out of a clutch of unhatched griffon eggs, which she says is only possible because the taint hasn't yet taken over the hatchlings' bodies to the same extent that it had with the adult griffons. The second instance is Merrill purging the Blighted eluvian in DA2. It's insane that Anders - who is a reluctant Warden and who possibly knows the HoF seeks a cure - isn't more excited about this. She literally removed the Blight from a fully tainted object. Since Isseya proved the same can be done with living tissue, it's probably the closest we've come to an actual cure, but since it also took years there's no telling if it could be a practicaly solution for all Wardens

#dragon age #dragon age meta #da meta #i know HOF is looking for a cure 'deep in the west' but really #we all know that was just to get them out of the way so DAI's problems weren't solved in the first five minutes #grey wardens #hero of ferelden

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bohemianblasphemy · 7 months ago

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Please.

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Contains: Friends to lovers, a lil angsty?, Getting injured on a case, him bandaging your wound and being upset (but only cuz he’s In love with u), subbish(?) Reid, smutty smut smut, fluffy ending

“It was a stupid decision, Y/N. You could’ve been seriously injured.”

Spencer muttered as he gently cleaned your wound with antiseptic solution, hearing you wince at the sting on your gash on your collarbone- your button up, blood stained shirt hanging off your shoulders.

“Spencer I’m okay, I swear…” you gritted your teeth as he swiped the cloth over your injury.

The job was always going to be risky- going after prolific serial killers always came with it, and tonight was no exception.

Garcia had managed to locate the unsub, pinging his last known location to an abandoned farm house where he had his latest victim held captive.

You had snuck in around the back of the farm house to sneak upon the unsub, as Hotch and Emily had their aim on him as they attempted to get him to back down, to put down the hunting knife and surrender.

You had the opportunity to disarm him from behind, but the unsub had clocked that he was surrounded, his senses causing him to swing his knife behind him and slice across your collar causing you to cry out in pain, falling to the ground to avoid any further injury- Morgan taking the opportunity to disarm and take him down.

Spencer had run in- having heard your cry and immediately kneeled to your side. You looked okay, but your shirt had a wet stain of red splashed across it.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you.” He said softly, his face neutral as he pulled your shirt gently to the side to look at your skin, looking at the result of the unsubs actions. His face turned into a frustrated expression, which was unusual for him- especially when it came to you.

“Wound is bleeding but it’s not that deep- I’ll help you with it.” His tone was different this time - he was pissed. Before you could get a word in he helped you up, taking you out of the farm house.

You wanted to protest, but he was having none of it as he excused you both from the scene.

Now you were both in the bathroom of his apartment, you sat upon the counter as the smell of the cleaning solution invaded your senses.

“You should’ve stay back further from him.” He was blunt as he repeated his frustration. “This could have been a lot worse. Y-you- you could’ve-“

“Spencer, again- I’m okay. I’ve had worse injuries on the scene you know this.” You couldn’t keep repeating yourself- trying to reassure and somewhat comfort him, but his stubbornness was not budging.

Spencer shook his head, muttering something about staying behind as he carefully pressed a bandage to your wound, smoothing it out so it sat neatly on you.

His fingers grazed against your skin, sending light shocks through your spine.

“I can handle it, Spencer - I’m more than capable of taking these people down…” you told him quietly, his eyes flicking down to yours as he stood tall in front of you from patching you up.

“I know you can.” He was firm in his words. “But- dammit if anything ever were to happen to you I wouldn’t know what to do-“ he continued to ramble, his words becoming somewhat scrambled as he spoke, which was unusual for him as he was always articulate.

“I care about you- so much.” He whispered, his long fingers tracing your biceps so delicately.

“Spence, I care about you too.” You copied his volume, his touch once again making you tremble.

“No- no I mean… more than I should. More than just… friends.” Spencer closed his eyes, preparing himself for the possibility of rejection.

He couldn’t help it- the feelings he had tried so desperately to keep shoved deep down in his heart, convincing himself that you could never feel that way about him; that he didn’t deserve to have someone like you love him had bubbled to the surface.

His words ran through you like a train; trying to process his confession. You had always felt something for him- god it was hard not to with those gorgeous hazel eyes and curls, his shy personality and his intellect- he was just the pinnacle of perfection.

“I didn’t know you felt that way…” your fingers traced his jaw, seeing his eyes flicker open with a hitch of his breath. “But god I feel it for you too.”

Spencer let out a jagged sigh, full of relief as you shared the same infatuation.

“I-I tried to keep it professional… b-but you make it so. Damn. Hard.” Spencer breathed out, pressing his forehead against yours- he was drawn to you like a magnet.

“I can’t hold it back anymore…”

“Then let’s stop pretending.” You whispered, your lips ghosting over his, resulting in Spencer letting out an almost whiney sound.

Spencer didn’t miss a beat as he pressed his lips on yours, soft and gentle.

Your hands went to his cheeks, rubbing your thumbs along his sculpted face in your passionate embrace, pulling him closer so he stood between your legs as you still sat on the counter.

The heat between you both was palpable, your kiss growing stronger and heated. Spencer’s hands gently caressed your bare sides, creating a strangle whine at how soft you felt under his finger tips.

He pulled away, his breathing laboured as he gazed at you with glassy eyes.

“Please…” he whispered, the need in his voice clear as day. “Tell me what you want baby…” you muttered, your fingers tracing the sides of his throat.

“I-I wanna touch you… please let me love you.” His lips were parted, soft pants falling from them.

You nodded slowly, moving your hips down off the counter to plant your feet to the ground. “Cmon…” you whispered, taking his hand to lead him toward his bedroom.

You lead him to the edge of his bed letting him sit on the edge as you slowly removed your shirt off your shoulders, throwing it to the side. Spencer kept his eyes on you as you removed your bra, seeing you wince a little as the sting of your injury hit you as you moved your arms but soon move your fingers to the fastening of your trousers.

Spencer was borderline breathless, seeing more and more of your skin being exposed to him like a present.

He slowly unbuttoned his own shirt, fiddling with the fastening and pulling it off his torso before moving to his briefs and pants, lifting his hips to have his garments fall to the ground.

He watched as you pulled your underwear down your thighs, letting out a small moan at your bare figure.

“So beautiful…” he whispered, reaching out to pull you closer by your hips- his finger delicately moving along your skin.

You observed him, slowly moving to plant your knees on either side of him and straddling his lap.

His arousal was clear, his hardened cock pressed against your core. “Already so hard for me… and we haven’t even started.” You teased him, pressing a soft kiss under his ear, softly moving your hips against him.

Spencer let out a whiney gasp, his need for you overpowering his being. His hands touched your chest and stomach, trailing up around your back and down your hips and ass.

His hands then fell down to your thighs, squeezing your flesh before tracing to your soaked cunt, feeling along your silken folds. You let out a shuddered sigh, feeling his digits trace circles around your clit. Your mouth fell open, gasping his name as you buried your face in his neck.

“I can’t- I need to feel you, please...” he was desperate, not wanting to waste anymore time of not having you.

Pulling back, you looked at his pleading eyes- the need mirrored in your expression. “Lay back for me…” you whispered as you sat up slightly, watching as he obeyed your words and scooted up the bed and lay on his back for you.

You crawled over him, straddling his hips once again as you observed him below you - his flushed cheeks and blown pupils full of want for you.

Your hand snaked down to his cock, holding it gently in your hand as you dragged it along your slit. “God Spence…” you breathed, before sinking down on him.

It was as if he was made for you; filling your pussy up deliciously as he twitched slightly inside you.

“F-fuck…” he threw his head back, his hips bucking up into yours slightly.

“Spence…” you groaned, slowly swiveling your hips along his. His length hit your spot every time, causing you both to let out pleasured moans that echoed off the walls.

He whined as you bounced on his cock, one hand gripping your hip and the other rubbing your throbbing nub, your orgasm rising within you.

“O-oh Spence- I’m gonna cum, fuck…” you threw your head back, calling his name again. He watched In awe of you as you came all over him, the feeling of your cunt clenching around him sent him over the edge as he let himself go deep within you.

He was panting, moaning softly as he came down from his high- pulling you down to press a bruising kiss to your lips.

“Y-you are… ethereal.” He praised as he pulled away slightly, looking at your hazy eyes- your cheeks blushing further as you pushed his curls away from his forehead. “As are you…” you replied, still breathless.

“I don’t want this to be… it.” He whispered. “I want to give you everything and anything, if you would be mine…” he proclaimed, making your heart flutter.

“I wanna be yours, Spencer- and I want you to be mine.” The words were so damn cheesy, but that’s all that you could say- it was all you both needed in that moment.

Being each others person, it just all felt… right.

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds smut

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kamaluhkhan · 1 year ago

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TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!!

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you.

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock.

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs.

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap.

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side.

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.”

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word.

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo.

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?”

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure.

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts:

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you.

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend.

friend.

if you could still call him that.

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.”

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air.

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling.

“me too, kid.”

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze.

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood.

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left.

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him.

“perce! hey!”

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.”

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood.

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack.

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium.

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways.

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed.

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees.

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing.

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure.

but, there were other things, too.

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes.

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving.

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection.

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of.

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.”

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed.

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him.

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then.

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge.

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house.

something in luke softens, then. he sighs.

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on.

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke.

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially.

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too.

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.”

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.”

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up.

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.”

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles.

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this.

about you.

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were.

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?”

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy.

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though.

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you.

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand.

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own.

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos.

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways).

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here.

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean.

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply.

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you.

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you.

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant.

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.”

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo x reader #pjo fanfic #pjo series #luke castellan angst #tsitp #the summer i turned pretty

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mingoner · 24 days ago

Text

calling cards ⋆˙⟡ p. seonghwa

you have been able to make a name for yourself in creating garden landscapes for wealthy London elites, semi-successfully getting your parents off your back about marrying well. when a mutual friend connects you with a new client - a lonely bachelor named seonghwa - feelings wither before they grow fonder, but how will they end? notes: this story is written with fem!reader (she/her pronouns, talks of gender roles, etc.) jsyk! another addition from my series "reveal the banns!" thank you for waiting :) wc: 5.7k

the sun shines on a garden landscape in the middle of london, the home of a young man made beautiful by degrees of nature.

with a final patch of tulips planted you stand on your feet, admiring the pieces of the sprawling garden design you have so carefully created and constructed.

you turn your head towards the main house to see a servant walking towards you, offering a glass of water while the owner of the estate looks out from the back door.

"please, come inside when you have finished," he yells towards you. "and after you are made clean," he adds as an afterthought, looking up and down at your dirtied dress.

once you are deemed clean enough to enter the residence you do so, seeking your friend hongjoong in one of his many drawing rooms. you descend from a privileged and rich London family, which is both how you are connected to hongjoong and how you are able to work what is basically a full time job at a time when women were expected to do all but lift a finger in labor.

“please, sit,” he instructs, but you both know he needn’t bother saying so. you have long since felt comfortable settling into the chairs in his home, your long talks stretching back over so many years.

"how has business been?" he asks, knowing fully well you barely had enough time to visit today in order to plant an unnecessary-to-others addition to the garden you have so laboriously planted and maintained for many years. he felt as though there was something missing and you knew exactly what to supplement with: always tulips.

"steady," you reply, not feeling the need to go into much detail. "the clifton's landscaping is taking longer than i first imagined. mrs. clifton has a specific picture to achieve and she keeps adding small and large additions. we should be finished next week, and if we are not then i will decide to be."

"well i am glad to hear you are so busy, and i am also glad you have a schedule clearing coming soon. an old friend of mine from university is moving to town and he is a fan of pretty things. would you be interested in helping him?"

"of course, for the right price," you counter teasingly.

"and for 'right price' you mean me excusing you out of social engagements?" he smirks.

"for whatever reason my mother is still hellbent on you being my future husband, even with all of the assurance otherwise and the complete lack of interest on our parts; so, you remain the most effective solution to any and all activities i wish to avoid. even today my mother had a tea planned but i was able to slip right out of it by merely mentioning your name,” you roll your eyes.

"i do what i can for my dearest companions," hongjoong smiled at you, happy your arrangement could offer such benefits.

oh, how he could not wait to see how you and his dear friend would interact.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

hongjoong brings you to your new client seonghwa's house the very next week, only a day after you have officially finished the clifton job. you parted ways at the front of the estate, he said he would go inside, announce your arrival, and wait for the man of the house to call everyone in together. you wanted to get a survey of the land before the preliminary talks of expectations in order to properly manage them.

you have taken notes of the front yard and part of one side when a figure stepped suddenly out from a small walking path.

"hello, is there anything i may assist you with?" the man asked cautiously, thinking you to be some kind of salesperson with your notebook and observing eyes. even now you were observing every part of him.

"i apologize," you start, "i am here to meet with the owner of the estate, park seonghwa. i am to be in charge of his landscaping. i only wanted to get a small lay of the land before we talked, but if i may be overstepping a boundary of your patron's please allow me to make it right at once. i shall easily be ushered where i am most welcome."

"i do not believe he should find your observations to be, instead, intrusions. please, continue with your previous course of action," he assured you.

you shared small smiles, a bow and curtsy, and you observed him one more. what a handsome young man, you thought, it would be pleasant to be tied with him for a few decades.

you went about your way and he went his, and only after you had leisurely strolled the property, having been allowed to take more time than you would have expected to have, were you called inside to meet the man of the hour.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

"this is park seonghwa, madam," hongjoong introduced his friend to you as you stepped into the drawing room.

you could not help the look of surprise as well as the mischievous smile wash over your face, "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," you say.

"the pleasure is all mine, madam," he smiles back.

you share a look, knowing that this was technically not your first time meeting and you both pause for a moment, you remembering your thoughts from the side yard with a blush. the moment is long enough for hongjoong to observe and he catalogues it for later, curious about how this will pan out.

"anyway," he diverts, "shall we begin the meeting?"

"we shall," seonghwa smiles gently, leading you to a room with the materials you require to draw out his garden design.

"let us begin."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

some flowers open early in the season and continue to bloom brightly until the first frost, some take time to properly blossom and receive their fair share of the sun. at some point in the job you had become fairly skilled at reading your client’s behaviors and attributing them to how flowers behaved as well. for example, mrs. clifton could be attributed to dahlias - needing endless care and significant time to grow, but beautiful nonetheless and gentle in their own way.

park seonghwa was something you could not quite place yet.

while seonghwa may have been quite open and kind in your first meeting, every time you have seen him since he has been the opposite: cold and distant. you have been to his estate four times now since the first meeting: to collect measurements, to approve designs, to label exactly where each plant or decoration would go, and only once to begin the actual work. each time you always only talked to a servant in the house, if you were even let inside the house. the single time you had to get his approval for your final design, you had to leave the design with the servant and come back later for the servant to tell you he agreed with your latest plan.

with each visit you were growing increasingly frustrated. you never imagined from that first meeting that he would turn out to be this kind of man. you are not so disillusioned to think you shared some kind of remarkable moment in his side yard before you "officially" met, but you at least thought all of the laughter and joviality from that meeting with hongjoong would translate into future meetings. you were quite wrong in that thinking, but what could have possibly changed from just your first meeting to every time after?

⋆⭒˚.⋆

it was only a matter of time before you figured it out. seonghwa has been directly avoiding you, and, to be very truthful, he has even resorted to staring at you longingly through the window during your visits. he will readily, yet ashamedly, admit that his gaze is indeed quite full of longing.

you walked so uprightly, eyes looking straight ahead of you like you never doubted where you would end up. you had a surety in your step but a softness in your smile that seonghwa had known would be dangerous to him ever since your first meeting. after you had left and it was only him and hongjoong, the other man had turned to him and asked slyly, “so, what are your thoughts on your new landscape architect? will she complete the job to your liking?” seonghwa knew exactly what he was implying and, to be fair, he had considered it for a second before his own insecurities set him back firmly on the path of reality.

he had no doubts of your ability, no one intelligent would think to suppose you held a deficiency of skill or talent. however, he had doubts of how he would handle seeing so much of you. he understood the pressure of everyone, but mostly women, to marry well, and he was nothing special. so, why would you waste any precious time thinking of him? no title in sight, just well educated and well paid, but he was a working man instead of an aristocrat who could live off the rent of his tenants in far-reaching properties. could you ever be interested in the life he could give you? would your parents ever approve of you marrying down? no, he wouldn’t hope for it.

so, he would just have to avoid you until this whole mess was settled.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

you were exactly one month into your project at seonghwa’s house before you met him outside of his estate for the first time. it was a typical summer ball, the outdoor garden filled with sprawling flowers and perfectly kept hedges creating a maze for guests to stroll through.

you were just conversing with mr. and mrs. clifton, with them praising the outcome of their garden and happily seeing so many people enjoying the grounds, when you spotted him out of the corner of your eye.

you could tell seonghwa became aware of you the same moment you became aware of him because he stiffened for a moment then went walking quite quickly in the opposite direction of you.

whatever suspicions you had before had been confirmed - he hated you. why he continued to have you work on his estate was beyond you, but nothing could shake your convictions that he was just an insecure man who was rattled greatly by a woman’s ability to make a name for herself. oh, you felt sorry for the man and the earful he was about to receive.

your feet could actually carry you rather fast if you just lifted your skirt slightly, and with long strides you managed to follow seonghwa until you had him cornered in an empty part of the maze. the hedges were high enough to block you from others' sights and the scene was probably fairly scandalous if a stranger were to stumble upon it.

you had his back up against the hedge and continued to stalk towards him, finally able to articulate the frustrations you have held onto for weeks now.

"why do you hate me so?" you ask, at first angered by his behavior but now only feeling resigned and heavy with disappointment. you see his eyes go wide with the question, a disbelieving look clear on his face. so he was going to play dumb with you?

words could not describe seonghwa’s feelings at the present moment. there was confusion from your assumptions, disappointment that his actions portrayed him as such a coward and that they made you feel judged in such a way, and part of him felt wholly overwhelmed by how attractive you yelling at him was to him. he should be able to focus on formulating an adequate response; instead, all he could think of was how your chest was moving now with your deep breaths as you had him basically pinned against the hedges.

suddenly, hongjoong, who had been watching the small game of cat and mouse from afar for far too long, turned into your corner of the maze and was shocked by the scene in front of him. while he did not care much about propriety, he certainly was aware of unsaid social rules enough to know that how close you two were and how decidedly without chaperones you were could create big problems for lots of people.

"what are you two doing here? why are you so -" hongjoong started but was interrupted, another lost group stumbling into your corner.

a girl you are familiar with, known for being a town gossip, gasped when she saw you with seonghwa and hongjoong, even though you and seonghwa had put much more distance in between yourselves after the arrival of your mutual friend.

for a second everyone stood still, no one in either party was moving or, seemingly, breathing. that is until hongjoong, ever the quick-thinker, jumped into action.

"seonghwa, you have been able to meet my dear friend but i wish for the two of you to be a little more amicable! how about we go to the party and the two of you could share a small dance?” he began to usher you both towards the manor, “really, seonghwa, i’m sure she thinks you hate her by how much you scowl around her,” he laughs out and you and seonghwa laugh uncomfortably - half because of the truth of it and half in order to make this strange excuse seem more believable. so he wants your stroll to look like three friends walking through the maze, you thought.

the girl looks at the three of you suspiciously and asks, “but for what reason were the three of you so close together in this maze all alone?”

“i thought a bout of bonding time was in order for my dear companions, they have not been as cordial as i should wish them to be as my mutual acquaintances,” hongjoong replies with a small laugh. “but i believe i must ask you the same, is there a chaperone in your own party?”

the girl flushes and mumbles an incoherent reply, with rushed well wishes the crowd disperses and the three of you share a sigh of relief as you walk back towards the manor.

“that was dangerously close and wildly improper,” hongjoong chastises you and seonghwa, and you have the decency to look sheepish. “but i stand by what i previously said, there has been a most confusing sort of hostility between the two of you for a reason i cannot place; so, in the midst of the scuffle, i took the liberty of writing seonghwa’s name on your dance card,” he directs a look at you. “whatever it is which you were discussing needs to continue if it is productive in bettering your relationship, but it needs to happen at a lower volume and in a proper way.”

both of you stopped suddenly in your walk and seonghwa felt a dramatic sort of notion that was undeniably true: he needed to clean up this mess he caused without confessing his feelings or you and any respect you could have for him would be lost forever. you felt an intense wave of dread for the imminent explosion of any personal relationship you could have with seonghwa, and how that might affect your friendship with hongjoong.

hongjoong just pushed you two forward.

when you were safely returned inside the ballroom and had waited a few minutes for a new song to start, hongjoong pushed the two of you again into the center of the dance floor where you had no choice but to meet seonghwa's eyes and continue the conversation where you left off. only now, the passion you had felt in the maze had seemingly disappeared and the two of you were left in silence.

you were content with letting the dance play through with no words spoken on your part when seonghwa decided against that.

"i must apologize to you at once," he started, and when you began to reply he signaled for you to let him continue. "i have ignored the rules of polite society and my own moral upbringing for most of our acquaintance, and i refuse to do so any longer. i have been unobliging and obstinate towards you and i must set it right, for your position in society has everything to do with my reasoning," he quickens his point as you raise an eyebrow in anger. "i find you to be one of most incredible beings i have ever had the pleasure of meeting. you are headstrong, humorous, and you are sure of yourself in a way i have never seen before. it is because i believe your social position to be above mine and your personality to be more suited for friends who are more confident like yourself that i have not been able to face you like an equal. not because i fancy myself to be above you, but because i see you as someone who is so decidedly stationed above me."

once he finishes there is a long pause between you. you take a moment to comb through his words and process just how wrong you had been about him once you decided the words held truth in them. he searches his words for any hint of romantic feelings and does not enjoy the subtext in which someone could infer from his speech.

"seonghwa," you start, "i decide my companions. i alone decide if the person with whom i am fraternizing with is 'good enough' or 'not good enough' for me. if you believe me to be so sure of myself i hope you will take a guarantee in these words - if i seek you out it is because i respect you and because i think highly of you." you begin to think about all you know of him, tales of his work ethic and kindness reaching your ears from many different clients and friends. "i admire that you are a working man, i believe it takes strength and dedication to commit your life to work, and that is a value i appreciate in my friends and in potential suitors," you realize a moment too late what you have said, and in that time both of you have flushed pink.

"i mean, i do not think of your station being anywhere except for on my level," you quickly get out, looking into his eyes to ensure he understands the truth in your words but quickly avoiding them the moment your words sink into him.

the dance was winding down, finishing much quicker than you previously thought it would have. you were out of time for talking, except seonghwa takes a careful look at you.

"would you mind if we continued to dance? i would love to ask you questions about your work - i promise i am not always consumed by such feelings of insecurity," he asks with you with a slight laugh for the last line of his appeal.

you join his laughter and agree, letting the music begin again with you both standing in the middle of the room - everything falling into place like it was made to support you and seonghwa.

with that shared dance, it seemed that peace had finally been attained.

you were much happier for it than you would care to admit.

later, when seonghwa went for a glass of punch to quench his thirst, he overheard the girl who had stumbled upon your group talking with her friends in the corner.

"you know between the two choices, i think it is clear. she should absolutely choose the duke! he is handsome, smart, rich beyond compare, and he does not seem to give anyone else the time of day," she said.

one of her friends countered, "but they have been friends for some time now, i think it to be highly unlikely that any romance could bloom so late in their acquaintance with each other. either way, i think mr. park would fit her much better! he is gentle, even more handsome, and he is quite rich as well! maybe he lacks the fortune of a duke, but she will never not be satisfied by a man of his station."

"either way we can all agree that they would both be satisfactory options for her, and i, for one, cannot wait to see who puts the ring on her finger at the end of the season," another girl squealed.

seonghwa escapes the group of giggling girls without notice and he cannot help but to feel slightly pleased in spite of himself. maybe they are right and someone like hongjoong would be more suited to you situationally, but he knows his friend has no interest in you in that way. and to hear people in the ton, some of the most notorious gossips at that, say an arrangement between the two of you would not completely be shocking, but even slightly encouraged, is something he valued more than he could say.

maybe he had more of a chance than he previously thought; after all, he may not have the "fortune of a duke", but he could still potentially be the one whom you refer to as your "husband".

⋆⭒˚.⋆

after that dance it seemed like a true friendship had formed between you and seonghwa, though that in and of itself was becoming a separate problem. with each day you spent tending to his garden you gradually had opportunity after opportunity to learn about the man whose home you were beautifying, and that was becoming dangerous.

at every turn you found him to be incredibly thoughtful: hand-delivering water to you at intervals throughout the day, making sure you always had a place to rest under some shade, never allowing you to stay outside in the heat for too long.

in every breath he was kind: asking about your day, offering rare books in his collection for you to borrow, inquiring about your favorite projects and what drew you to gardening in the first place.

and with everything in his body he was endlessly attractive: with sweat dripping down his neck when he would hand you your glass of water, taking a break with you as he made sure you drank the whole cup. he was unfairly attractive when he would reach across you and flex his bicep unwittingly, trying to position a plant correctly according to your instructions when he insisted he offer you help on a particularly long or hot day. and he was uncommonly handsome when he would invite you into his home for a snack, asking for your permission to give your hands a small massage for their hard work that day. his excuse would always be something about making sure his employees were in their peak form at all times, but you hoped dearly that no other received the same treatment from him.

in all, seonghwa was dangerous, he was cruel, and he was in seemingly ever-present danger of making you fall in love with him any day now. if you were being honest, that day might have already come, but you were too stubborn to admit that yet.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

a few days later, after you, against your will, started to become aware of your feelings, you finish your walk around hongjoong's garden to complete small maintenance and make sure everything is looking as it should before you go inside the house, falling into a chair in the drawing room.

hongjoong awaits you on the couch across from you, looking at you slyly and sipping a glass of something dark.

"so," he starts nonchalantly, "i have noticed an increasing number of social events have had the distinct honor of your attendance recently. would this rare phenomenon have anything to do with the gentleman who has lately been present as well? maybe a man referred to as a mr. park seong-"

"please abandon that sentence before you can finish it," you reply, trying to look unfazed. his words hit much deeper than you would ever care to admit.

"i only ask because it seems as though your payment for the park project is becoming null and void, if my excuses for social events were your price for his garden, why have you continued your work?" he asks, knowing the reason all too well. to be fair, he has met with you and seonghwa many times at seonghwa's house as you have been progressing on the garden, even once interrupting a strangely intimate hand massage - that one still confuses him.

“we have become friends,” you say with a similar, but more forced, tone of nonchalance. “i have a great admiration and respect for his character. with that reason also comes the one which says i have too much respect for myself and my work to quit a project before i can finish it. it is impossible to tell when my time at the park estate will be finished but i do not necessarily hope for it to be over,” you tell hongjoong, gritting your teeth for the next part. “i have become aware of, spiteful of, and currently resigned to potential romantic feelings towards that gentleman, as i am sure you know. in this lies a very serious problem in that i believe we are just too ill-suited for each other to ever be successful, so those feelings must stay unheard of. so, please do not attempt to meddle with my love life.”

“you may ask things of me which i may not decide to give,” hongjoong answers. “things like discretion as well as a promise not to meddle in the affairs of two people who are more suited for each other than anyone else i have ever met - mr. and mrs. clifton included,” hongjoong laughs, then turns serious. “you and seonghwa are a match that even an imbecile could see is worthy of pursuit, and i will actively try to make both of you see that. that is, in fact, a warning, threat, and promise all wrapped in one.” he gives you a long look.

you only sigh, knowing the storm had not yet passed and the rain showed no signs of letting up - not if hongjoong had any say in the matter.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

everything falls apart too easily.

after so many months of growth, it all happens in one night at a ball, getting to be one of the last of the season, when a man you had never met before approaches you with hongjoong.

"madam," hongjoong says, "may i present another old friend of mine from university, this is song mingi."

mingi gave you a slight bow, taking your hand and giving the back of it a small kiss. "it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance ma'am," mingi drawls. (hongjoong privately rolls his eyes at how thick he decided to lay it on.)

"he saw you from across the room and asked if i were familiar with you, how lucky of me to be able to say yes," hongjoong said, laughing. "in fact, mingi, there should be another acquaintance of ours lurking around here somewhere, he always seems to be floating around wherever this young lady may find herself," they both look at you with small smirks and your cheeks flush.

finally, hongjoong spots seonghwa and ushers him over, not without taking special notice of the way his eyes seemed to be locked on mingi, a particularly unpleasant look on his face and eyes clearly observing the flush on your own face.

mingi turns and sees him as seonghwa stalks your way, and while of course he missed his old friend, he was more excited to be apart of hongjoong’s plan to kick things into action for the two of you.

“seonghwa!” mingi exclaimed and they shared a firm handshake, one that was more firm on the side of one particular person. the rest of the evening followed in a similar fashion, seonghwa riding the line between gladness to see his friend and absolute loathing for how he thought mingi looked at you.

through conversations drowning in layers of tension, and even one incredibly tense dance between you and mingi, seonghwa’s eyes almost never left you. he was beginning to see all which he could lose.

when everyone had retired for the evening and you went back to your own bed for the night, the three boys returned to hongjoong’s house to catch up.

one drink became two, which then became the bottle, and after only a short while each of the men were stumbling around the estate looking for trouble.

in the garden mingi finally said, “i am only in town for a short while, seonghwa you must tell me when i should clear my calendar to return for a wedding!”

seonghwa flushed deeply, “maybe i should ask you that instead,” he said, voice coming out full of bitterness.

the other two boys startled, surprised by the abrupt change in tone of the conversation.

“what do you mean?” hongjoong asked gently, treading carefully.

“i mean that i saw how she blushed when he was near,” he points to mingi and turns to him. “i saw how she gravitated towards you and how she smiled at all of your comments, laughed at all of your jokes, all the special attention she paid to you while she couldn’t stand to look at me.” his drunken rant continues, now joined by small tears streaming down his face. “i knew my first impression would come back to haunt me, she wants nothing to do with me!”

he walks deeper into the garden with every word when he stumbles upon a little patch of tulips, obviously planted later than the other plants, but growing and thriving nonetheless.

“i wish i could tell her everything in my heart,” he mourns, he grieves for something he has not yet lost.

mingi and hongjoong share a deep look, knowing that without even stronger and more forceful meddling seonghwa would be lost forever.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

the following day the men plan for a dinner at seonghwa’s house once he has recovered from his intense hangover and is at least slightly less involved in a self-thrown pity party. and while seonghwa has sobered up enough to let go of the most dramatic of the feelings he shared last night, he still felt the base of them linger in the back of his mind.

it was not until hongjoong and mingi had arrived for dinner and the three of them had settled down that seonghwa began to suspect something, and that is when he noticed the fourth plate setting. he looks briefly at it then glances up to hongjoong and darts his eyes between the two biggest imbeciles he has ever met.

"do not tell me -" he tries, but is interrupted.

"mr. park," a servant calls out, "another guest has arrived!"

you step into the room as the servant announces your name, looking beautiful and smiling brightly, smiling only for him.

"thank you kindly for the invitation, sir," you say with a curtsy. he never really had a chance against you.

as dinner progresses and hongjoong's 'subtle' hints get decidedly less and less subtle, and seonghwa becomes more and more withdrawn; so, hongjoong and mingi decide to change tactics.

now that the last course was about to be served, hongjoong makes up an incredibly transparent excuse, "i must oversee the desert selection, mingi could you lend me a hand?" he asks quite forcefully.

"why of course good sir, i would be delighted," mingi smirks as he stares into seonghwa's eyes for the whole of his reply.

seonghwa glares back then turns to you with a softened gaze. once they leave the room, he feels as though he owes you an apology.

he moves slightly closer to you and takes one of your hands, takes a deep breath, and summons all the courage he can find.

"please, madam, if i may say so without supposition or pretension," he takes another deep breath, "i hold you in the highest regard possible in my heart. i have fallen slowly but mightily in love with your character, morality, humor, and kindness during our acquaintance this season; however, i have observed you for months and in all of that time i have not seen any indications of a return of these precious feelings of mine. instead, i have seen an interest on your part for my dear friend mingi, so i would like to finally be brave enough to say exactly what i must in order to do what is right. i love you. and it is because i love you that mingi will never feel comfortable acting on his feelings for you. so, i arranged this morning transport for me to leave town in two days, the very day you are projected to finish the garden on my estate. i thought i at least owed it to you to see the project through. i apologize for any - "

"if you leave in two days i will never forgive you," you interrupt him and his eyes widen. "you have made me wait for so long for a confession of love from you and you cloud it so with talks of mingi? i do not know that man! i only met him a few days ago! he means nothing! you, seonghwa," you grip him tightly, pleading with him to hear you, "you mean everything. he shall never compare to you. he cannot make me feel even a fraction of the love i feel for you when you smile at me, and he cannot make me feel even an ounce of the despair i feel when you refuse to converse with me. i only care for you. i do not know in what moments you have observed me to think me impartial to you, but i cannot help to think that either you have a great deficiency of sight or i, too, have been a fool to let this go on for so long. it is you, seonghwa. it has always only ever been you. i always only want it to be you."

the room stands shockingly quiet for a long moment, until he takes the hand he had grasped so tightly and brings it to his lips.

"i guess all there is to do now is to make me the happiest and most grateful man on earth."

"i guess that must be so."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

for months leading up to your wedding hongjoong and mingi bicker about who will take credit for your partnership at your marriage reception.

you and seonghwa just laugh and discuss which color tulips will be featured at your ceremony.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

#ateez x reader #ateez #seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa fanfic #regency era ateez

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aaronswife81 · 28 days ago

Text

You don't have to listen to those voices... | a.h

prompt: When one of Aaron's student have a breakdown in the middle of training, the icy exterior he had on started the melt... just for her...

Relationship: mentor!Aaron x Trainee!reader

Notes: Not proofread. I wrote this after rewatching cm for the 5720384th time and it's inspired by that one scene where aaron was teaching spence to shoot.

BANG!

"What the hell was that?" Aaron barked behind me. I huffed frustratedly as I lowered the gun to look at where I had hit the target, and of course, I completely missed it. "What are you supposed to do?"

"Front sight, trigger press, follow through..." I mumbled as I turned back to meet him in the suit he always wore no matter what he was training me for—his hands on his hips with a face of disappointment.

"and what did you not do?"

"I didn't follow through..." he nodded. "Try again."

I sighed and faced the target again. I lifted my gun and aimed. Front sight... I briefly pressed the trigger. Trigger press... I let out a deep exhale before pressing the trigger and tried to stay still as the bullet hit the target. Follow throu-

"Are you simply not following the instructions or what?" Aaron barked out. I jolt ever so slightly. I lowered my gun and saw it had missed the target once more. "I've told you time and time again. It's front sight, trigger press and follow through! What are you not getting!?"

My hands trembled a bit as I stared at the target. The empty target. The voices in my head were getting louder. Voices that I've been trying too hard to not listen to. The ones where it was constantly comparing my abilities to everyone else. It had gotten so loud that it managed to drown out Aaron's words. I gulped and stepped back a bit.

"Are you even listening to me?" Aaron yelled. I instantly dropped the gun onto the table, took off the gears and glanced back at him. "I... I need a minute sir." I said before dashing off.

I ran as fast as I could. I didn't care where I was running to. I just wanted to run away from the voices if possible. My legs eventually brought me to the gym. My chest rose and fell as I panted. I went up to the punching bag and touched it gently.

Pathetic. Running away from your issues again? Worthless.

"Urgh!" I yelled as I punched the bag with all my strength without any gear. I knew the skin on my knuckles would split but in the moment, nothing mattered. I used my combat skills against the poor punching bag.

After a while, the adrenaline high died down. I sniffled as tears fell, feeling exhausted from everything. I hugged the punching bag before slowly slipping down and sitting on the padded floor. My arms wrapped around my knees as I press my forehead on my knees.

Then someone called out my name. My head instantly shot up. It was him. My eyes widened briefly. I frantically wiped my tears and sat properly. "Sir-"

"Just call me Aaron," he said as he approached. he then slowly got down and sat next to me on the floor. My eyes followed each of his movements. But the one thing that caught my attention was his eyes. It lacked that cold exterior he always had.

"What's wrong?" he asked softly. I sniffled and looked down.

I could hear him sigh softly. "Look at me." I bit my inner cheek and looked up at him. he smiled a bit as if to cheer me up. "You can tell me anything."

I hesitated. I knew he could see my hesitation. He looked down at my hand and saw my bloody knuckles. He sighed and got up to grab the first aid kit. "No it's fine-"

he ignored my protest, grabbed the kit and sat across me this time. He took my hand and started attending to the split skin. I winced occasionally as he applied an antiseptic solution to the tears. "Stay still." he scolded softly.

I couldn't help the pout that appeared after, earning a soft chuckle from him. I watched as he meticulously patched up the wounds using some gauze and bandage. His thumb lingered over the bandage momentarily before looking up at me. "talk to me... tell me what you're feeling..." He said softly.

Something about this side of him made me feel comfortable to share with him the deepest darkest secret ever. I sighed and looked at him. "I'm afraid... I'm afraid I won't be good enough..." I admitted.

His brown hazel eyes instantly softened at me. "What makes you say that?"

I played with the shoelaces of my shoes. "I've always been compared to others since young... the voices in my head... they keep telling me that I'm not good enough..."

He nodded as he listened. "I just... I'm trying so hard to not listen to the voices..."

"let me tell you something..." he adjusted himself to make sure I was looking at him. "You have been doing amazing..."

I scoffed softly. "I'm shit at shooting-"

"you don't need a gun to take down an Unsub." he chuckled softly. "And honestly, you are one of the most promising agents for the future that I've come across."

I stared at him in disbelief which only made him chuckle. "I'm being serious." He said.

"Well, I don't trust you."

he chuckled again. "you have the top score for the entrance exam into the Academy. You have the best score overall in the whole cohort. Heck, even if you fail your firearm exam, I don't think it'll affect your score that much."

My heart quickened at the thought of failing. I let out a shaky breath. He saw it too. "You can't be afraid to fail in this line of work... sure, failing meant there will be consequences but that's how we learn how to adapt to different situations. We can't rely on textbooks all the time..."

I kept my head down. He reached out and gently lifted his finger to lift my chin to make sure I was looking at him. "You need to learn how to trust yourself...:"

I blinked at him. "how?" I whispered.

"One thing my old mentor told me that got me through this type of situation is you need to have some form of high ego persona." My face contorts into confusion. I couldn't tell if he was joking.

He laughed. "I'm being serious. He told me that the majority of the people you'll meet in this line of work have some form of ego complex where they think they're better than anyone else. It's just them know how to control it."

"oh..." I thought about it. "you don't have to go rub our skills into people's faces. I'm just saying that you can try thinking as one and maybe you'll be more confident with what you're capable of because you are capable..."

I smiled a bit and nodded. "no more crying okay? You're doing amazing already... And honestly, I can't wait to work with you..." He said softly.

My heart turned mushy at his words. His confidence in my abilities was comforting to me. It made me trust myself a lil bit more. But the one thing that was significant in this moment was the voices in my head... it's quiet now.

"Let's take a break for the rest of the day. We'll do your firearm training another day." He said before getting up. He offered his hand towards me and I took it. He pulled me up onto my feet before ruffling my hair. " Rest well."

He walked away. "Thank you, sir..." I said softly. he turned around briefly. "I told you to call me Aaron. I've been training you for the past 8 months, no need for formality. Especially since you shared a side of you that you kept hidden away."

The corners of my lips curled up and chuckled softly. "Then thank you, Aaron."

He nods his head before walking away...

Many months later...

I smiled as I walked the stage and received my FBI badge. After a year or so of training, I'm finally where I want to be. I bowed politely before walking off stage. I waited for the ceremony to be over before walking into the audience to see a familiar figure.

I smiled and waved at him. "Aaron," I called out.

He chuckled as he walked up to me and he wasn't alone. "Congratulations. You made it through," he said. I grinned at him. "Damn right, I did. Thanks to you."

"I'm proud of you." he said softly before handing me a bouquet to me. "thank you."

He then stepped back and suddenly remembered about his team. "Oh meet my team." he then introduced them one by one. I smiled and bowed politely at them.

"So you're the one hotch have been training for the past few months..." Penelope said. I chuckled and nodded.

"Team, she is the newest addition to the BAU team," Aaron said. I watched as his team looked between me and him. I giggled softly and playfully curtseyed to confirm that I was joining the BAU.

The girls squealed and hugged me. "oof!"

"Careful. Don't hurt the recruit," Aaron said, earning chuckles from the rest.

"Another member for girls night!" Penelope exclaimed.

"Well, we should all celebrate and get to know our new member at my place. I'll make my signature pasta," Rossi said. The girls dragged me as we all collectively left the ceremony. I glance back at Aaron with a look to check whether this level of chaos is normal. He chuckled and nodded.

Aaron followed behind us with a smile his eyes only stayed on me...

"aye Rossi," Derek called out softly.

The older looked at him. "is it just me or is Hotch very fond of the recruit..."

Rossi smiled and looked at Aaron who had not stopped looking at the new girl since we left the ceremony. Rossi swirled his scotch. "Seems like he likes her more than he admits."

As if on cue, Aaron gave her a glass of wine and sat mere inches away from her. The two males exchanged knowing glances and subtly bet $50 on how this would turn out...

#aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaronhotchner x you #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #ff #aaron hotchner au

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