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pprodsuga · 27 days

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never to keep | heeseung

summary: heeseung was always a natural scene stealer, capturing the hearts and attention of those around him. it seemed predestined that he'd pursue a life that would take him beyond the cosmos and leave behind the constellations he once treasured. it's too bad that you were one of them.

warnings: angst and typos, probably.

word count: 8.6K (shorter than previous works, forgive me)

notes: ahahah. this is a therapy piece ... currently dealing with similar themes of a friend prioritizing work and people who don't care for her over people who do, and i feel veryyy conflicted as of late. i, like yn, am not a plaything. why not turn it into a fic. anyway, enjoy and happy reading! x

masterlist + taglist

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

If you love someone, they will always come back to you.

There’s no logic in love, only strong emotions that make people disregard all they know to chase the feeling of reckless abandon. Love is a wildcard that can catch even the most self-protective person off guard. You’ve read it in stories from childhood fairytales to watching strangers fall in love in your favorite books and television shows growing up. You believe the people who kiss on the screen must surely find an ounce of love, even if only for a brief moment.

It’s no surprise that you’ve come to love Heeseung the way you do. To love him is to know him, even if he’s too tired to see you on the weekends or too occupied to sit next to you at the lunch period because of his days training to become an idol. What you know at this point in your life is that love is unconditional; supporting your best friend to pursue a dream he’s talked about since he could speak feels right.

To love somebody doesn’t necessarily mean to devote oneself to the fullest extent, but somehow you feel as though this way of thinking never quite aligned with how you’ve come to love. Heeseung’s parents are a surrogate for your own, especially when it’s just you and your mother in the small, two bedroom apartment that sits on the edge of town and away from the city. They tuck you in at night during holidays and other special occasions when you’ve become too tired to drive back to your home.

Minjun, Heeseung’s younger sister by four years, warmed up to you quicker than anyone had expected. The fierce girl had a protective streak over her brother once he grew into his height and learned that winking at pretty girls could get them to do whatever he asked of them within reason. Minjun doesn’t recall when she met you for the first time because she was likely too young to remember, but her sweet nature towards you speaks louder than you could’ve ever anticipated.

Growing up with a single parent as an only child provides enough time to befriend loneliness. There are days spent idly in the apartment waiting for someone to keep you company, often wishing that the house was filled with people to keep the void full and lively. But now, because of the Lee family and how close you’ve become to their two children, it seems as if the idea of a central family is closer than you think.

Heeseung didn’t expect for you to become a prominent fixture in his life when the two of you were partnered for a science project at the ripe age of thirteen. He’d experienced a growth spurt and acne for the first time simultaneously, growing insecure in himself with every day that passed by. Heeseung hadn’t anticipated you sitting with his family at the dinner table five years later, listening to a mundane story about his mother’s workday at a boring corporate-level position Heeseung doesn’t bother to remember.

He never thought you’d be cooking with his father in the kitchen upon returning home from his training practices, talking about the art of seasoning as the meal preparations come to a finish. He doesn’t remember when you started coming over without the pretense of coming to see him either. Heeseung surely does not anticipate Minjun waiting for your arrival by the front windows just to insist on being the first person who welcomes you into their home.

Naturally, Minjun becomes a recognizable face in your life because of how often she spends time with you and Heeseung. The young girl sets up her homework as the two of you begin yours, her schoolbooks significantly lighter than yours but you make conversation anyhow.

“I think she likes you because you don’t treat her like she’s thirteen,” Heeseung says as he dries the dishes from dinner as you scrub them clean. “She hates it when people baby her.”

“Sometimes I think I need to watch how I talk to Minjun.”

“No, you don’t. Minjun likes that you talk to her like a friend.”

“That’s what she is, no? A friend?”

“More than me?”

You flick water towards Heeseung. “Yes, if you keep teasing me.”

“Seriously, though. Thanks for being nice to her. She complains that she’s the youngest out of everybody all the time.”

“I used to be like that.” You close the tap water and hand the last dish to Heeseung. “I hated being at the kids table when everybody else got to be an adult. Minjun’s at the age where she’s aware of it.”

“God, we sound like her parents, or something.”

You bite back a smile.

Caring for Heeseung is arguably the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He makes it simple when you receive a text from him hours before you wake up and just before you go to bed despite his busy schedule. You wonder at all how he manages to fit you into his life with all of his dreams and responsibilities, but Heeseung always tells you it’s because there’s room for you.

Being so close to his family helps internalize the fact that you are a permanent fixture in his life. Mrs. Lee drops off baked goods on Saturday mornings most times because she knows your mother likes to eat a sweet treat with her bitter coffee. Mr. Lee goes out of his way to fix faulty ceiling fans or kitchen drains when he has the time to spare your income. Minjun gives you drawings from her art classes that sit on your refrigerator. Integrating their life within yours feels natural.

Heeseung has always been somebody you’ve looked up to, poised for success after deciding he loved singing enough to make a career out of it. The eight-year-old boy who loved to choreograph dance numbers to famous songs carries this humble beginning when he talks about what life might look like for him when he’s crossed the threshold that separates his life from now.

It seemed as though Heeseung’s dream of becoming an idol never seemed too far out of reach, even if he had his moments where he felt like giving up. Things always worked out for him in ways nobody could explain, like moving to a new city because of his mother’s job and making friends within an hour of transferring to a new middle school. Or the time when he’d auditioned to train under a management company and hadn’t heard back from them for weeks–Heeseung prepared to stop giving himself false hope for his future as an idol until the fateful email sat at the top of his inbox, welcoming him to the company.

Life was always easier on Heeseung than it was for everybody else.

You don’t see him much between classes because he’s on a special path created for people who are like him. People who are destined to debut as an idol are given certain exemptions to ensure quality education while having enough time to train in all areas of performance art. It took a while for Heeseung to get used to his new life and the new routine set in place for him but you were always there to remind him that this is what he wants more than anything in the world. All of the stress and frustration that comes with change, no matter how brutal or unnerving, will be worth it when he sees his dream to the end.

You’re a young adult at this point in your life but it feels like you’ve aged beyond your peers because of circumstance. Spending time at the Lee residence when your mom’s at work or visiting her friends prevents you from feeling as lonely as you do in between four white walls that barely feel like home without someone else in it. Growing up quicker than your peers feels like something expected of you. Oftentimes, you wish you could maintain childlike innocence as Heeseung does, dreaming so big and far that everything seems like a possibility if you dreamed hard enough.

Watching him dance and hearing him sing feels like a reminder that there’s more to life than what you know. Your best friend is your confidant and the person you see yourself in the most. The boys and girls who befriend him because of his good looks and potential stardom don’t matter much to either of you when the promise of lifelong friendship looms in the future. You can’t imagine Heeseung not being in it.

Mr. and Mrs. Lee sit at the dining table over a cup of post-dinner coffee while Minjun scrolls through her phone by the couch with a Netflix show you’ve never heard of on the television. Their soft murmurs have become a familiar background noise. You sit next to Minjun and peer over her shoulder.

“I like these shoes a lot,” she tells you as she turns the phone for you to see. “All the girls in my grade are wearing these.”

“Do you like them because you like them or because everyone else does?”

She frowns. “What’s wrong with liking what other people like?”

“Nothing, but if you’re going to buy flats just for them to sit in the back of your closet, that doesn’t seem like a good reason to have them.”

Minjun has approached the age you’re all too familiar with. When you turned thirteen, the impending doom of fitting in hit you like a truck when you realized all of the girls in your grade had expensive clothes while you wore hand-me-downs from your cousins. Your backpack, which you had been using for three years because the straps weren’t broken, felt like a burden to carry when everybody else had pretty satchels. You felt juvenile in your too-worn sneakers and the two pairs of jeans you had sitting in your closet. But you were thirteen and your mother made enough money to make ends meet and put dinner on the table. Clothing and new school materials didn’t matter compared to eating before bed.

Part of this insecurity has always followed you throughout childhood, especially when you were old enough to be aware of the fact that you were one of the few people in your grade who didn’t have a nuclear family. The kinds of families you’d see on the television didn’t exist in real life because while these programs taught its audiences the value of a good, stable home life, you’d been watching them alone while you waited for your mother to come home from work. There would be no dinner at the table with both of your parents because you knew there would be just her.

Watching Minjun grow up with two parents who dote on her feels bittersweet. It feels like watching a version of what could have been if only your father had chosen to stay in the picture instead of abandoning his family for a promising career in entertainment. Minjun’s petulance often reminds you that you were not privileged enough to have this kind of grace because of how rapidly your circumstances forced you to grow up faster than your peers did.

There’s a small part of you that envies her life when you think about what yours could have been if he had stayed. Maybe you wouldn’t have had to watch your mother slave away at odd jobs to keep the lights on before finding a good, stable job after years of searching. Maybe you wouldn’t have felt so lonely in your adolescence because he’d take you to ice cream after school. Maybe the hollowness that remains inside of you would have been filled with joy and laughter on the holidays.

“You’re right,” Minjun sighs, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Seri told me my outfit would’ve looked prettier if I wore these.”

“People should keep their opinions to themselves.”

Minjun nods. “Agreed.”

Heeseung emerges from the kitchen a moment later and sits next to you on the couch. The dip in the cushion and his thigh being pressed against yours isn’t a new phenomenon, but the heat that creeps up your neck can’t be helped when he looks like a model from the corner of your eye. You swallow until your mouth feels dry to keep both Lee siblings from asking why you look like you’re about to explode.

It’s easy to fall in love with Heeseung. All of the girls fawn over him already, a promising sign that Heeseung will likely be just fine when he debuts as an idol. He’s always been good with people and speaks in a way that makes people root for his success even if it was unintentional to begin with. He’s charming in a way that seems humble. Heeseung has a skill for making you feel like you are the only person in the room when he talks to you. You’re sure it’s why people feel drawn to him and why everybody loves being around Heeseung so much. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way.

Sometimes, you grow envious of how easy it is for Heeseung to get people to like him. Career prospects aside, it’s almost as if he can convince anyone he’s somebody worth being friends with. Cashiers love him because he doesn’t make small talk awkward. He’s not afraid to talk to strangers and strike up a conversation with somebody while waiting for his coffee order. Heeseung is bashful enough to come across as sincere and it seems to reel people in.

He inspires you in ways that you can’t fathom but simultaneously reminds you that you’ve got no future or prospect. It’s unfair to compare yourself to your best friend, but being in such close proximity where people praise him next to you are constant reminders that your life hasn’t begun and you don’t know if it ever will. Your life feels stagnant compared to his exciting one. While Heeseung spends his days and nights perfecting his dance techniques and vocal skills, you sit in your room and wonder what life would be like if you could touch the moon.

There are days where you wish you could be as suave and charming as he can be. You feel awkward around people you don’t know and limit yourself to new experiences when it feels too intimidating. You’re not somebody who’s confident enough to start a conversation, let alone with somebody you aren’t familiar with. Where Heeseung excels in the socializing department, you find yourself playing catch-up every time you see him befriend yet another person you aren’t familiar with. It’s a wonder how you two became as close as you are.

Meeting him had been by chance. You knew him from friends of friends and saw him in the hallways between class periods but never had a reason to talk to him until the two of you were partnered for a class project. The newfound partnership felt oddly comfortable from the minute Heeseung introduced himself to you with that same charming smile everyone knows him to have. His wit and humor brewed the perfect potion for you to feel like caring for him as deeply as you do would become inevitable. It wasn’t a bet on if you would fall for him as hard as you did, but when.

You’re inclined to believe you keep it hidden well. Heeseung is far too oblivious most times to see you as anything other than his best friend. You’ve treated him like a friend far longer than you’ve liked him romantically, so acting as if you don’t have feelings for him is easy when you remind yourself that having him in your life would be better than the alternative. Still, you have moments where you yearn to hold his hand and kiss him before he leaves for practice.

“Do you want to come to the next showcase this weekend?” Heeseung asks, nudging your side with his elbow. You pry your attention away from Minjun’s phone to look at him. “It’s gonna be a small one in the company theater. There’s going to be a bunch of important people in the industry. Allegedly.”

“Of course I’ll come, Heeseung. This is you we’re talking about. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The smile he gives you is blinding.

“I really appreciate you supporting me, you know that? I don’t say it often, but I should. Thank you for always supporting me.”

Your heart bursts.

“I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t do at least that,” you tell him.

“My parents and Minjun are gonna be there too so you won’t be alone.” He smiles at you like he knew you were worried about who to sit with, let alone if there’s going to be important people that could determine Heeseung’s career.

“Thanks,” you mumble, an overwhelming feeling of shyness overtaking you. “It’s silly that you have to look out for me all the time.”

“No, not silly,” he says immediately, pushing his head to your shoulder. You don’t imagine this position is very comfortable for him, but Heeseung seems keen on staying in this position. “We’re kids, Y/N. You don’t need to have your life together. I’ll always look out for you and walk you through it if that’s what you need.”

You sigh. “You know, one day, you’re going to become so famous that you’ll inevitably be too busy for me.”

Heeseung shakes his head. “No I won’t. Who checks up on me every day after practice? Who do I come to when I need to cry? Who do I invite to my home when I’m not even here?”

“Technically, your parents invite me over when you’re not here.”

Heeseung pinches your thigh. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re not getting rid of me. It’s like, scientifically impossible to separate the two of us.”

“Thanks, Hee.” You feel him nod against you before he lifts his head from your shoulder. “I just feel like I get in my own head sometimes. You know what you want to do for the rest of your life and I barely know what I want for breakfast tomorrow.”

“We don’t always have to figure it out. I know saying that feels like bullshit because I’m training to become an idol but I’m serious. There are so many people we know who don’t know what they’re doing with their lives.”

“It feels like my life could very well be over.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

You make a face at him. “I know.”

“You’ll find something for you, okay? You’re barely an adult anyway. You still have college and all of that shit to figure it out.”

“You’re right.”

“As always.”

��Don’t push it, Heeseung.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Mr. and Mrs. Lee drive you to the showcase. They pick you up and the four of you have a quick dinner before heading over to the company’s theater and you feel somewhat like an important industry person when you’re given a badge with ‘VIP’ on it to signify that you’re part of the family and friends entourage. You see a group of people with clipboards and pens at the ready, dressed like they’ve just come from important meetings that determine the futures of each trainee. Perhaps that’s who they are. Some of these well-dressed individuals have younger people standing beside them, presumably assistants or something as such.

It feels very formal and you’re wondering if the long skirt and long sleeve top you’re wearing is too childish. Everybody who looks important seems to be donning suits or dresses that make them look like they stepped out of a drama show. It doesn’t matter how many times you remind yourself that you’re young and not here to mingle with corporate executives. You still feel like the floor should swallow you whole and spit you out with a new wardrobe that matches everyone else’s.

Heeseung’s parents chat with a few people they recognize and leave you and Minjun to fend for yourselves (or, rather, it feels that way). The young girl beside you hooks her arm with yours when you’ve been quiet for a moment too long and starts to lead you down the aisles.

“Everyone in here looks so stuffy,” she whispers. “People working in entertainment should look like they’re having fun.”

“I feel a little silly in this skirt,” you admit.

“You look great,” Minjun tells you as she bumps your hip with hers. “My mom made me wear this stupid dress that I can barely breathe in.”

“I happen to think you look very cute, Minnie.”

“But I don’t want to look cute,” she whines quietly. “I want to look like an adult.”

“Yeah, well you can look like an adult when you are one. For now, just be happy that somebody finds you cute enough to do things for you.”

Minjun wants to argue but doesn’t. In the time that she’s known you, there hasn’t been a reason for her to distrust anything you say to her because you’ve never had a reason to lie. It’s why she’s likely to listen to you over her own brother, a fact that Heeseung holds a mild grudge over.

“I guess you’re right. I can’t even drive. I need people to drive me places.”

You stifle a laugh. “Yeah, driving can be a pain sometimes. Enjoy your youth while you have it, okay?” Minjun rolls her eyes in a way that lets you know she’s joking. Being outwardly affectionate doesn’t seem to run in the Lee sibling genes, but you’d like to think you know them well enough to tell when they’re being genuine.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.”

You try to tell yourself that, too. When everybody finds their seats and when the showcase begins, you’re in awe of how many talented people there are in the room when you hear their incredible vocal abilities and make performing in front of a crowd look easy. It’s easy to spot Heeseung when he’s dancing with a group of people you’ve never seen before. He always looks as if he’s floating on air, moving his body in ways you can’t fathom and he makes learning difficult choreography seem like a walk in the park. You’ve heard him sing before but not to this extent. The steady tone he delivers when he dances amazes you beyond comprehension and Minjun would later swear that she saw stars in your eyes when you watched her brother perform like this for the first time.

What Heeseung neglected to tell you was that he secured a solo spot after months of impressing his coaches. He performs one of his favorite songs and moves across the stage like he was always meant to be dancing on it. From here, Heeseung looks like a celestial being with the lights cascading down his body. You hold your breath the entire time he sings on that stage and clap the loudest when everybody gives him a standing ovation. You peek to the side to see the same, stuffy executives nodding after his performance and write down things on their clipboards that you can only hope are praises and nothing but.

Heeseung’s parents make their way to the front of the stage when the house lights turn on. They talk to people you don’t recognize and you find yourself following them instead of looking like an awkward mess, as everybody else has chosen to stand from their seats and greet the performers that have come out from backstage.

Your best friend looks magnificent with his makeup and the outfit he last performed in. He looks like a real idol in this light and pride swells within your chest when people applaud him for his incredible performance before he reaches you. His smile turns bigger when he sees you and Minjun approaching him behind his parents and makes his way to engulf you in a hug.

“You’re here,” he breathes.

“I’d always said I’d be here for you, didn’t I?”

“I think this was the most important showcase of my life.”

It would be hard to ignore Heeseung’s arm wrapped around your waist like he’s done it a thousand times before. It’s true that the two of you aren’t strangers to physical touch, but he never lingers on you like he is now. Still, you chalk it up to overflowing happiness and you can sense that Heeseung is genuinely pleased with himself. He isn’t pretending that he performed well like he does when he avoids going home after practice in lieu of spending time with you in your mother’s apartment.

“You’re fucking incredible,” Minjun praises.

“Language,” Heeseung chides, removing his arm from your waist to pinch her cheek. “Thank you for coming too. Where are eomma and appa?”

Minjun points to where they are. “I think they were waiting for you to come out and started talking to the coaches.”

“We should make our way there.”

“You should,” you tell him, pushing Heeesung towards his parents. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

“Nonsense.” Heeseung shakes his head and grabs your wrist as best as he can with multiple bodies trying to squeeze past the three of you.

When Heeseung pulls you away, you’re sure to grab onto Minjun’s hand so she doesn’t get lost in a sea of people either. Mr. and Mrs. Lee beam when they see their son approaching and Heeseung drops your wrist in favor of being smothered with affection by his parents. You can tell he feels embarrassed to be doted on in front of his peers because of how his ears are turning red, but you sit back and laugh with Minjun when she points it out loud.

You let them talk and watch as people clad in business attire approach Heeseung and his parents. You're not sure if Heeseung knows them or not but he smiles and shakes their hands, going so far as to bow to their assistants as well. He talks to them like he’s been in this business for decades, making people laugh and remaining as humble as ever when people praise his performance skill. You’re not sure how Heeseung handles all of this attention and praise at the same time, or even what it must feel like to be talented enough to have people approach you.

As you observe everybody else, it’s clear that Heeseung is the star of tonight’s showcase. The other performers did a fantastic job as well, but something about your best friend draws executives to him, and you’re sure everyone who hasn’t spoken to Heeseung is waiting for their turn. It feels exhausting to watch people socialize. You can only guess how exhausted Heeseung might be.

Minjun joins her parents a little while later at their request, leaving you alone for the time being. You pull your phone out and text your mom that you’re still at the showcase and will let her know when Mr. and Mrs. Lee drive you back to the apartment. You use this as an excuse to look busy, replying to a few friends that you didn’t have time to respond to before coming to the showcase. But those conversations are dry and leave you without a distraction.

“Y/N, come here!”

Heeseung calls your name and your head snaps to where he’s standing. He beckons you over with a wave and you awkwardly waddle to where he’s standing. His family aren’t with him and you wonder just how long you’ve been looking at your phone for.

“This is my best friend, Y/N,” Heeseung says as he pulls you closer to him. “Y/N, meet Kim Namjoon. He’s the president and founder of Big Hit.”

“It’s lovely to meet you.” The bow is almost automatic and you’re sure to put on a good first impression to help any reputation Heeseung has with Namjoon. You bow at an angle that’s deeper than a common greeting but just shy of ninety-degrees.

Namjoon returns in kind. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Heeseung’s a talented one, isn’t he?”

“He’s the best at what he does,” you say earnestly. “I’ve never seen anybody work as hard as him in my entire life. Pardon if I’m overstepping, but I think Big Hit is incredibly lucky to have him.”

He laughs at your politeness. “I feel the same. It’s not every day you come across someone who’s skilled at, well, everything.”

“You know, when Heeseung and I were younger, we had this ongoing joke that he could master anything on the first try. I think it’s what makes him special, you know?”

“Guys, please don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Heeseung whines. His cheeks are red but both you and Namjoon laugh in good fun.

“There’s a reason why I chose Heeseung to be tonight’s soloist,” Namjoon informs. “This showcase is meant for people in the industry and if I’m being honest with you, I think you’ll be getting good remakes on your review.”

Heeseung beams. “Wow…I don’t know what to say.”

“He says ‘thank you,’” you answer for him. “I can’t imagine what training must be like but I do know that all of it has paid off. Thank you for giving Heeseung a chance to prove himself.”

There’s a glint in Namjoon’s eye.

“Have you ever considered working in publicity?” Namjoon asks you.

“No, why do you ask?”

“I think you’d have a real talent for it.” Namjoon says it in a way that feels too casual for a showcase, especially if he’s the one in charge of the company Heeseung is training under. “You speak well for Heeseung.”

“Oh…thank you.”

He turns to Heeseung and claps him on the back. “There’s more to being an idol than training and performing. You need people who know you and know the business. It’s important to make your career thrive because you can be the most talented person in the world, but if you don’t have the right people around you, none of that will matter.”

Heeseung nods. “Y/N’s always been my champion.”

“I can see.” Namjoon smiles at you. “Entertainment is not for the faint of heart and there’s more to it than being photographed. You need to be in the right places at the right time and know the right people who can get you there. That’s what publicity does for you. Y/N’s already doing it and she’s not working in entertainment yet.”

Somehow, his words feel comforting. “I haven’t thought about what I want to do with my life but that seems like something I could do.”

“It’s important work. Heeseung can perform the shit out of his solo but it doesn’t mean anything if he has nowhere to perform it.”

Namjoon smiles at the both of you before his name is being called from behind him.

“Great job on your solo, Heeseung.” He turns to you. “It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” He bows once more to the both of you before departing.

“I feel like I’m buzzing,” Heeseung says as he puts an arm loosely around you. “It was like I was the only person in the room when I was performing, you know? The dance with the other guys was amazing and all of that but I feel like I was on another level when it was just me up there.”

“You were incredible, Hee. I mean that. I don’t know a single person more talented than you.”

Heeseung smiles down at you.

“You know, it means a lot that you come to see me. Sometimes I wonder if people talk to me because they know I’m training to become an idol but you never make me feel like that. It feels natural and genuine. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is, thanks.”

You push him away from you, a giddy smile tugging on the edge of your lips. Heeseung is affectionate but less so in his vocabulary, choosing to tease you because it’s his way of letting you know he cares for you. Hearing him be so open and vulnerable tugs at your heartstrings and it makes you feel like you could achieve anything.

“I’ll always be here for you, remember? You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung’s life changes for the better after the night of the showcase when Namjoon tells him he’s secured a debut spot underneath their brand new label, Belift. Happiness flows within the Lee household and you’re nearly in tears when you realize all your best friend has worked for has finally paid off.

But with it comes uncertainty and your fears are slowly becoming a reality when Heeseung stops talking to you as frequently as he used to.

It comes with the job and you’re more than aware of how much Heeseung has on his plate between preparing for his debut and trying to fit in with the industry. You can’t imagine what life must be like for him now that his dream is just a few weeks away of becoming a reality but part of you wonders if it’s too difficult for him to keep you hanging on a leash.

He calls his parents and Minjun as often as he gets. You know because Minjun swings by your mother’s apartment with Mrs. Lee on Saturday mornings to drop off baked goods, updating you on the latest she’s heard from her older brother. You try your best to quell your jealousy because they’re his family after all, but part of you feels like you have a right to call yourself his family too after all he said to you during the night of the showcase and all you’ve done for him.

You’re sure Mr. and Mrs. Lee can sense it too. Heeseung no longer lives at home, having moved into his own dorm in the heart of Seoul, thirty minutes from you. You aren’t a stranger to their household without his presence but you’ve gradually stopped coming by unless Minjun calls you from Mrs. Lee’s phone to ask you to hang out.

Texts and calls slowly diminish with his new line of work. You went from hearing from him every day to every other day, to nothing at all.

Seeing the blue delivered messages without any indication that he’s acknowledged you, makes you feel like a second priority. But you don’t know if you get the right to feel like this when you know how busy he is and the weight of his debut. Heeseung’s got one shot to make a good first impression and the last thing you want is to distract him from achieving his childhood dream of being a successful idol.

Still, the silence stings.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

Heeseung knows you’re waiting on him and ignores the pit in the bottom of his stomach that tells him to text you back.

His new life has changed in ways he couldn’t fathom. When Namjoon told him the news about his debut and all of the details surrounding it, Heeseung felt as if the weight of the world was no longer a burden for him to carry, and that all he has ever wanted would eventually come to fruition. His new friends, namely the three guys around his age who have trained to become musicians, are people he gets along with more than he thought he would. Heeseung’s newfound excitement about the next chapter of his life takes him to new heights and he finds himself spending more time with Jay, Jake, and Sunghoon as they prepare for the debut showcase.

Heeseung knows you’re waiting for him back at home but it’s so hard to focus on you when he’s wrapped up in his new life. Making time to see you is hard enough as it is and he knows you’re as patient as can be. In the years he’s been friends with you, Heeseung knows that your resilience knows no bounds and all that you’ve experienced in your lifetime has built the strong-willed, confident person he knows you to be.

But his new life gets him caught up in the feeling of the present success. The three guys have known each other far longer than Heeseung has known them, only greeting each other in passing since all four of them were training in different areas of performance art. It wasn’t until they were living together that Heeseung started befriending them beyond practice and rehearsals. Jake’s the one who includes Heeseung the most on group outings or spending time playing video games in the living room. His entire life he’s been alone or with just you, seldom having a group of guys who just gets him.

Heeseung tucks away the nagging feeling in the back of his head when he and Jay are preparing a meal for the four of them when he sees a text from you.

hey hee, are you busy right now? it’s been a while since we hung out and i thought it would be nice to go get boba, or something. my treat !! <3

He shoves his phone in his back pocket before Jay can notice him staring at the screen. The message goes unanswered for the rest of the night as he basks in the company of his friends-slash-coworkers, the thought of getting boba with you far removed from his mind. Playing video games and getting to know the people he’ll likely be working with for the foreseeable future takes precedent. It’s what Heeseung keeps telling himself.

After a while, the guilt no longer eats him alive. You’re busy focusing on graduating and preparing to attend university in the fall while he’s made his debut with his newfound best friends. It’s no surprise to anyone that Heeseung’s fanbase grows at a nearly alarming rate after he makes his debut. He grows popular with each day that passes and it feels like Heeseung has become the face of the newest generation overnight.

He’ll wonder what you’re up to from time to time and let you know how he’s doing. Heeseung first sends a text to apologize, lying about not seeing your text sooner and that he’d love to get boba with you when he has the time. You tell him not to worry because you know he’s busy. He texts you pictures of his first performance and scenic pictures of the cities he visits because of his travel and promotion schedule. You update him on the end of the school year and how your mother is dealing with you moving away for college.

The texts become sparse as the two of you resume your separate lives and Heeseung doesn’t realize that you don’t text him until the day of your graduation–the day that he was supposed to graduate if he hadn’t deferred to the trainee program–wishing him well and that you’re thinking of him. You send a video of yourself pulling your tassel over the graduation cap and he feels nothing for the lost time when he’s on his way to promote his first album overseas.

It’s for my career, he tells himself when he realizes how much time has passed since he thought of you. I’m doing what’s best for me and everybody else needs to get used to it.

It isn’t until Heeseung is permitted a few days off that he comes home per his parents’ request. He doesn’t tell them that he’s a bit homesick even though his dorm is a thirty minute drive, but it feels oceans away when his days are packed from morning until night. He tells his parents about his travels and what kinds of food he’s been eating when he’s overseas. Heeseung gifts Minjun all of the trinkets and souvenirs he bought from his time promoting his album, and what his future holds for him when he returns to his life as an idol. Mr. and Mrs. Lee applaud their son’s hard work, yet they can’t help but feel like there’s a piece of a puzzle missing because you aren’t here to celebrate with them.

You make a visit at Minjun’s request. When you arrive, you’re stunned to learn that Heeseung is back at home and only has the evening until he needs to return to work. Heeseung can see the disappointment that festers in your eyes and the way your shoulder droops as you smile at him for his family’s sake, although he knows it’s false bravado because your grin doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

He leads you upstairs to his bedroom when Mr. Lee insists that the two of you spend some time together after not having seen each other in ages. It feels awkward to be in his childhood bedroom with the door just slightly ajar at this moment, but it isn’t anything completely new.

What is new, however, is seeing that you’ve dyed your hair a different color and that you’ve gotten your ears pierced.

“You look good,” he says, lifting his hand to toy with the end of your hair. “It matches your skin tone nicely.”

“Thanks.”

“Did you do it recently? It looks fresh.”

You don’t note that Heeseung also has a different hair color than his natural jet black.

“Two weeks ago. My cousin did it for me.”

He nods. “Nice. It looks good. I see that you’re wearing necklaces too.”

“Yeah. I decided it was time to stop being a child and get it over with.”

“You know, you don’t have to do things if you don’t want to.” You throw a pointed look at Heeseung and it’s an expression he’s unfamiliar with.

“I know. But I like earrings and that’s why I wanted to get them pierced.”

Heeseung wipes his hand on his pants at the awkward tension in the room. He knows he’s to blame. His schedule and priorities have pulled him away from you and the life he’s built prior to debuting, but can anyone blame him? Can anyone blame him for not being able to balance his life when he’s been given the keys to a new empire?

“Well, it was nice seeing you.” You throw a cheap smile in his direction and motion to open the door until Heeseung grabs your wrist, causing you to turn around.

“You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “You have an early day tomorrow.”

Heeseung sharks his head. “It’s fine. I don’t have to be back in Seoul until ten anyway. I’ve missed you and I want to spend time with you before I absolutely have to fall asleep.”

You scoff. “That’s real funny, Heeseung. You missed me but all of my texts and calls go unanswered.”

He frowns. “You know that I’m busy most days.”

“And nights?”

“I’m with the guys back at the dorm.”

You poke your cheek with your tongue.

“See, I would know all of this if you bothered to talk to me at all but it sees that your new life is treating you just fine.”

You make another move to leave his room but he closes the door, startling you with the loud noise. He apologizes quietly and uses his body to block you from leaving for the time being.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy between promotion and rehearsal that it’s hard to keep track of who I keep up with and who I don’t.”

“You’re talking to me like I’ve never seen you cry before,” you say with a disappointed sigh. “You act like I’m somebody you once knew in a past life.”

“Not true. You’re my best friend.”

“Best friends would bother to talk to each other. You know that, right? I don’t exist just so you can pick and choose when you need somebody to talk to. It makes me feel like you don’t actually care about me, Heeseung. It makes me feel like you’ve ever cared about our friendship unless you needed a shoulder to cry on and I was the first person who would listen to you.”

“That’s not true. I’m just busy.”

“I get that, I really do. But it’s been months, Heeseung. I know that I can’t have your attention all the time and I know I can’t see you as often as I did. But would it kill you to let me know you’re alive? The only time I hear about you is when other people talk about you or when I see you on billboards. That doesn’t feel like a friendship to me.”

His fists ball at his side and his frustration surfaces. Heeseung is frustrated at everyone–himself for being unable to say ‘no’ to his new friends, you for expecting so much of him, and his company for keeping him as busy as he is. But he doesn’t know how to communicate that, not when you’re standing in front of him, looking like he’s the villain in your life when he feels like he’s not.

“Well that’s life, Y/N,” Heeseung settles. “Sometimes we need to learn when to prioritize things over others.”

You laugh humorlessly. “Is that the hill you’re going to die on? You’re too busy to send a simple text back or let me know that you’re, I don’t know, okay?”

“You can’t be a priority all the time.”

“I know that. I’m not asking you to drop everything for me just because I called you. I’m asking you to treat me like somebody you care about, Heeseung. Is that too much to ask?”

The anger Heeseung feels within him feels misplaced, but your inability to hear him about makes him even angrier. It’s unfair for you to demand such things of him when he’s pursuing everything he’s ever dreamed of.

“Yes, it is too much to ask,” Heeseung bites back. “You don’t understand the gravity of what I do for a living and it’s hard to appreciate it when you’re breathing down my neck. God, when did you become such a clingy person, Y/N? The world doesn’t revolve around you and I don’t owe you shit just because you can’t handle that I’m busier than you are.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“I’m being dead serious.” Heeseung steps away from the door. “You of all people know how badly I want this and now it’s like you’re not letting me enjoy what I’ve worked for. What kind of friend does that make you?”

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can catch them. His need to be the victim in an uncertain period of his life causes him to misdirect his frustration with adapting to his new life and the proof is written all over your face.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean–”

“Don’t,” you say sharply. “Just don’t.”

Frozen, Heeseung watches you open his door with such force that it nearly slams into him. He’s quick on his feet to follow you downstairs where he sees his family looking perplexed when you’ve opened the front door without saying goodbye.

“Y/N, I didn’t mean it!” Heesueng yells when you’ve crossed the threshold of his household. “Please come back inside.”

“You made it very clear that I have no place in your new life. Congratulations, I hope you’re happy.”

You walk away while the deep feelings of disappointment and uncertainty settles in Heeseung’s chest. He walks back inside and closes the door behind him to see Minjun and his parents in a deep stupor, trying to make sense of the scene that has just unfolded before them.

“What happened?” Mrs. Lee asks.

“Y/N and I…” his voice cracks. “I don’t think we’re friends anymore.”

The room is silent, save for the ticking of the wall clock.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Minjun says without a smile.

Heeseung wants to tell her that she’s wrong and whatever conversation they must’ve heard was a product of two friends having their first serious argument. Heeseung’s own frustrations towards his new life is something he doesn’t talk about often because he’s worked so hard to become the person he is, and it would be ungrateful to complain about what he has yearned for his entire life. It bottled up so much that hearing you accuse him of being a poor friend caused him to unravel and say things he doesn’t mean.

Mrs. Lee beats him to speaking.

“Don’t say that, Minjun.”

The young girl remains quiet and refuses to meet Heeseung’s eye.

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

In the few years that follow, you resist rolling your eyes when you see Heeseung’s face in magazine ads and billboards across the city. Life takes you to university where you spend the next four years deciding on the rest of your life before you settle on something everybody said you’d be good at.

Graduation approaches far sooner than you’d like and it becomes bittersweet when you see the Lee family, sans Heeseung, in the stadium next to your mom, who are all equally shedding tears as your name is called. Heeseung being absent feels hollow, like another reminder that people choose to leave your life without a moment’s notice but for the sake of keeping up appearances, you smile at the camera when you accept your diploma.

It’s not a surprise to you when you find yourself working in entertainment like Kim Namjoon said you could all those years ago.

A job is a job, but he was right when he told you this would be something you’d excel at. Day in and day out, your responsibilities differ as you begin working at Hybe, formerly Big Hit, to manage the profiles and public appearances of idols and other public figures alike.

Heeseung doesn’t hear from you much. His parents update him on your coursework and send him photos of you at graduation. He cries every so often when he feels the urge to call you and tell you about his day, but doesn’t know whether he has the right to do that anymore. The years in his position has taught him what true life balance is, especially with the media and paparazzi taking an interest in his personal life.

It feels so exhausting to have nobody you can depend on. These days, it’s just him and the three boys he met at the beginning of his career. Heeseung’s popularity has grown so much that he can’t tell up from down. It drowns him in a way he never anticipated and the politics of fame and the industry wasn’t something he accounted for when he began dreaming about a career in the performance space.

Perhaps it’s why he spends his days feeling listless, like he’s got no real potential after achieving his dream. He knows his managers worry for his health and that the other trainees in the building can sense something has been off for a while. Maybe it’s why he roams the halls with headphones on to drown out the noise that’s become his everyday life, with talks of meetings and promotions and everything Heeseung wishes to get away from, if for only one day.

When Heeseung bumps into somebody on his way out of the company elevator, his first instinct is to lean down to collect the papers that have fallen haphazardly on the floor. He pushes his headphones until they rest around his neck and stands to hand them back to the person he bumped into. Only, he feels his body freeze when he sees who it is.

Like Heeseung has always believed, if you really love someone, they will always come back to you.

“Y/N?”

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

potential part two ft. the rest of enha … this was a therapy piece lol

*✧･ﾟ─────────── *✧･ﾟ

taglist: @enha-stars @karinasbaby @baevsxii @lillotus17 @syzavxy @mrmld @nikilvrfvr @luvyev @notevenheretbh1 @wvnkoi @seungiesgf @kgneptun @judeduartewannabe @iheartjayke @wonsbubble @ilyjxdz @foggysfrog @oddracha @haechansbbg @tobiosbbyghorl @ryunjin0 @sharksandminhos @jungwoneez @alex-is-sleeping @minjaexvz @woninluv @engeneeee-168 @friendlyuser57 @moony-mari @trdhgg @sleepyhoon @sunghoonsgfreal @i02hoonz @riksaes @021894s @zeeloveshee @jwnghyuns @vhuteryh @cloudiesblog @awsome209 @fleurixzs @xiaoderrrr @marshwatz @aeripark0703 @bambangan @papichulomacy .

apologies to all tumblr wouldn't tag. :)

#lee heeseung x reader #enhypen x reader #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #enhypen imagines #enhypen au #enhypen angst #heeseung #my writing #never to keep

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crystaldesiree · 29 days

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yall let me cook. what about soulmate!blade

soulmate!blade always felt like the mark on his right hip was a curse. why would the aeons even bestow him a soulmate after all these years? centuries of ceaseless torment that flowed along with an eternal life. the mark, a delicate constellation-like pattern, seemed out of place on someone like him. someone hardened by centuries of conflict and burdened by the weight of immortality.

soulmate!blade, despite all the memories that were chipped away, the recollection of when the mark first appeared still burned in his mind. he had been foolish, believing in the promise of a soulmate. a destined partner.

soulmate!blade's belief withered as the years turned into decades, and decades into centuries, his belief withered away. the mark turned into a cruel joke, reminding him of what he couldn't have. of what he wanted. he closed himself off, a distraction from the emptiness that gnawed at him.

but, soulmate!blade, often, in the midst of tranquility, would catch himself tracing the mark, etching its shape into his mind.

until you.

elio had taken a liking to you, prompting you to join the stellaron hunters. it hadn't taken long for you to find interest in blade. although he kept his distance, choosing to only interact with you in simple, short conversations.

until you inquired about his past. kafka hadn't mentioned anything to you and wouldn't even when you asked. it had led you to be desperate for answers, seeking them straight from the source.

but blade snapped at you, wanting to keep things private. he saw no reason to indulge whatever you were trying to accomplish.

emotions flared within blade. the tranquility he used to feel was replaced with anger, nails digging into skin, desperate to claw the mark out. he didn't know why, and it hurt—a dull ache in his chest that never went away.

until you had come back, offering him something that meant a lot to you. you explained that, in your culture, giving up a piece of oneself was a way to show true remorse. you started attending missions. prompting blade to begin following you around. stalking behind close to you when he can. absentmindedly placing a hand on the small of your back, gripping your shoulder whenever you were nervous. until you were confident in your abilities, eventually deciding to undertake missions alone, leaving blade to his thoughts. you promised to keep him updated through text, insisting it wasn't a big deal to be on your own.

until you stopped texting. updates ceased, and no one had heard from you for days. worry gnawed at blade, despite his reluctance to admit it. without hesitation, he set out in search of you, driven by an unfamiliar concern.

blade's footsteps echoed across the terrain, heading in one straight direction. kafka had told him he would know. know where you were and how to find you. it was a sixth sense that ignited upon your disappearance that he hadn't even known about. his footsteps came to a halt as he heard shallow breathing, a wheeze disrupting the loud silence.

he found you slumped against a wall, your body completely drained of energy. relief flooded through him when he saw you were not visibly injured. blade knelt beside you, gently lifting your chin to check for any wounds he might have missed. your eyes flutter open, meeting his crimson ones.

— blade... — you whispered, a small smile appearing on your face.

— i'm here — he replied softly, his thumb gently rubbing over your cheek.

you shift, a small groan escaping past your lips as your shift rides up your stomach. revealing your right hip, bare to blade's gaze. his breath gets caught in his throat when he sees something—a soulmate mark, identical to his own, on your right hip. the delicate constellation-like pattern was unmistakable.

it tugged at his chest, a sudden sting that caused his throat to dry up. he reaches out to your hip, tracing the pattern he had known for years. etched into his mind. but all of a sudden, different now that it appeared on you. maybe it was a sign. that paths do intertwine, that the same destined partner he used to wish for was real. right in front of him. maybe the mark was a blessing after all.

#hsr blade #blade hsr #blade x reader #blade x you #blade honkai #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail blade #blade x y/n #blade x gender neutral reader #hsr x you #hsr imagines #honkair star rail

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 month

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Hi! I'm just curious how aventurine would react when he caught his partner or crush looking at him and when he asked why, their reply would be that they like his eyes?

Aventurine has noticed that you have been staring at him for a while and had it been anyone one else he wouldn’t question it much, assuming that they knew him and his face due to his ties with the IPC; however since it was you who was looking at him, Aventurine found himself wordlessly adjusting his clothes and the watch on his wrist as though his life depended on it.

He wondered what about him could be so fascinating for you to be staring at him as though he hung the moon, the stars and the constellations and their well known tales of triumph and tragedy.

To Aventurine there wasn’t much about him to admire in the same way you did now and he secretly wished you didn’t look at him the way you did because it made him think that -by some miracle- he had a chance with you.

He was a loser, a hopeless loser, a pathetic liar, a shallow man born without a heart to spare the smallest of sympathies to another person going through turmoil. He didn’t deserve the soft admiration of your eyes on him, nor the way your lips would form a smile directed his way, at least that’s what he thought.

So one day when he caught you looking at him again, he decided to act on his curiosity and ask in hopes that some questions he had lingering within his head would finally be answered.

Why did you look at him as though he gave life meaning? Like he was the only thing in the known universe and why did you always smile at him when he couldn’t even bring himself smile at his own reflection in the mornings?

‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at me recently,’ he begins, a cheshire grin spread across his lips as he closes in on you. ‘So I’ve come to ask what about me seems to have you captivated these days?’ Aventurine awaits for you to tell him that you weren’t actually looking at him but more or less what he was standing in front of or-

‘Your eyes.’ You responded almost immediately and without shame, cutting the blonde from his overthinking as he looked at you with wide eyes, the smile slipping from his face.

‘Come again.’ He says.

‘Your eyes,’ you repeated, ‘I really like your eyes, they’re so pretty and so unique to you.’ You finished, not once ever looking away from his eyes as they stared back at you with an array of conflicting emotions that clashed before your very eyes.

‘My…eyes…’ aventurine trailed off as though this was all new to him. ‘You like my eyes?’ He questions as he looked at you for answers.

You look at him with concern, not having seen this side of him before. ‘Yeah I thought I already said that…why is that a bad thing to admit?’ You asked him this time as you both sat in somewhat awkward silence.

‘No, it’s not.’ Aventurine chuckles after a while, genuinely smiling to himself. ‘It’s just that I’ve heard that being said so many times before but when you say it, I truly believe that you find my eyes beautiful.’

‘Of course your eyes are beautiful.’ You said as you placed a reassuring hand on his and squeezed reassuringly. ‘I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn’t find them to be remarkable, one of a kind and breathtaking simultaneously.’ You tell him all the while looking into his eyes, yes they were dull but that didn’t stop you from loosing your breath every time they looked directly at you. No words could express the feeling you get when looking into his eyes, and it saddens you greatly because you wanted nothing more then the tell Aventurine just how you felt about his eyes and about him in general.

Aventurine didn’t know what to say to all that, he really didn’t, his brain had gone blank, he was suddenly without a voice and his face was flustered to the high heavens from your words alone. How was it that you could be this sweet and be so casual about it too, maybe this was something he wouldn’t understand until far later in life, where he was older and far wiser then he is now.

So all he does is squeeze your hand back in kind and smiles softly as he says. ‘Thank you, I find your eyes pretty remarkable too.’

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr imagines #hsr imagine #hsr aventurine x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail imagines #Honkai star rail imagine #aventurine x reader #aventurine imagine #aventurine imagines #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #hsr aventurine imagine #hsr aventurine imagines

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genshin-impact-updates · 10 months

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Guilty waters run deep

"Navia, do you remember when I refused the title of 'Baron' bestowed upon me by the Palais Mermonia a few years back? Well, that's beside the point. Today, I finally met the Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide. I had always assumed that 'Duke' was simply a hollow title too... But it turns out that Wriothesley is far more worldly than he looks."

— Callas, former President of the Spina di Rosula

◆ Name: Wriothesley

◆ Title: Emissary of Solitary Iniquity

◆ Lord of the Fortress of Meropide

◆ Vision: Cryo

◆ Constellation: Cerberus

"Administrator of the Fortress of Meropide"

— If Wriothesley needed a namecard, this would suffice.

No foreword, and no epilogue. Just like that place of exiled convicts he's in charge of, standing there silently at the bottom of the sea.

Despite its discretion, as a resting place for criminals, the Fortress of Meropide harbors a network of conflicting interests that would have a corrupting influence on many.

But even if someone was bent on infiltrating this place, they'd soon be swallowed up like breadcrumbs in a bowl of soup.

Some have lauded His Grace's aptitude for taking care of thorny problems. Hearing such praise, Wriothesley would simply lower his teacup... and pick up his newspaper.

"You've got the wrong end of the stick. They just wanted somewhere to lead well-ordered lives, and I gave them the 'tranquility' they required."

#genshin impact #genshin impact updates #genshin impact news #official #wriothesley #he's voiced by joe zieja so of course i'm gonna like him

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alltheirdamn · 9 days

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Give Me Tonight | Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel has to leave. Rating: 18+ Word Count: 2k Warnings: a fuck ton of angst (sorry) A/N: This is a tiny one-shot for the lovely @janaispunk and their 1500 Kisses Challenge ... Thank you for giving me the inspiration and the ability to celebrate your milestone!! xoxo

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

Things between you and Joel were strictly physical. You fulfilled each other's needs and parted ways at the night's end, no questions asked—no kisses exchanged. That was an unspoken rule both of you had decided: you didn’t kiss. Kissing was romantic. Emotionally charged, if you wanted to be more specific. Nothing about your relationship with Joel was emotional; you were okay with that. For the most part, at least.

There were times, however, when Joel had his body pressed against you that you so desperately yearned for his lips on yours. When his face twisted up in pleasure, and the beads of sweat rolled down the curve of his nose…that is when you wanted to kiss him the most. Amidst the carnal need driving the force of his endeavors, you noticed a hint of softness in his eyes. It was most prominent when the moon crested over the sky and you were saying your goodbyes. Joel lingered a few moments too long at the door when you turned to leave, almost hesitant to see you go. If he asked you to stay, the answer would always be yes.

But the question never came, and the answer was never given.

One night in particular, much later than expected, Joel showed up at your small apartment. Given the circumstances within the Boston QZ, it was run down and rather barren, which is why you favored Joel’s place over yours. You could only count a handful of times Joel appeared at your place, and that night had been a shock. After a sharp knock on your door, you opened it wearily, scared it was to be a band of raiders coming after you. God knows it was bound to happen at some point. But luck was in your favor, and your time hadn’t run out. Joel stood before you, a plain denim button-up stretched across his sturdy frame and his hair disheveled.

“What are you doing here?” You asked. There was something unreadable in his eyes, a swirling emotion swimming in the chocolate pools you hadn’t seen before.

“Can I come in?” He asked.

He was halfway over the threshold before he asked the question, inviting himself in like any other time. You closed the door soundly, following him into the living room—if you could call it that. There was only one dingy sofa against the wall, along with a half-broken coffee table and a radio that sat near the window. Joel stood in the middle of the room, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Joel,” you cautioned. “What is it?”

“I’m leavin’ tomorrow.”

He didn’t even turn to look at you as he said the words—three words shaped into a weighted knife that slid right between your ribs. You couldn’t articulate why it hurt, but it did. It was the end of whatever this was between you, the end of warming each other's beds, and the constant need to fill a void left inside both of you. Joel wasn’t a man of many words, but you knew the grief he harbored from losing his daughter twenty years ago. You had lost people you loved over the years, as well, and you craved the connection only Joel could give you.

“Leaving where?” You asked.

“Marlene’s asked me to do somethin’.”

“Are you going to tell me what she’s asked you to do?”

Finally, he turned to you, an amalgamation of emotions swimming across his features. You’d never seen him so conflicted, as though the weight of the world balanced on his shoulders. Whatever Marlene was asking of him, the price must be high. Joel wasn’t one to give his help freely, yet here he was, tormented by a nameless job he could not reveal.

“I can’t,” he admitted.

Static buzzed between your bodies, a teether vibrating in the wavelengths of denial that neither of you sought to unfurl. Too many nights had you spent under his body, mapping the constellation of scars that marred his skin. He could argue it all he wanted, but Joel had also memorized yours. The deep understanding of each other's bodies had become something rooted further than just physical. You couldn’t hide from that truth, nor could he.

“When will you be back?” You asked.

You saw the answer so plainly on his face: the clench of his jaw, the averting of his gaze. He didn’t know. Or worse, he knew and didn’t want to say. Saying it aloud meant it was real.

“I only came to say goodbye.”

“Oh.”

What else could you say? Truthfully, you didn’t want to say anything at all. You wanted to stay in this moment and savor the time you had left. Even if it meant standing feet apart and staring at each other helplessly. He’d go, and you’d stay. You had no place in his life, only the purpose of warming his bed and giving him release.

“You didn’t have to,” you offered. “I would’ve figured out you were gone. You don’t owe me anything.”

“That ain’t fair to you. Y’deserve a goodbye.”

You looked down at your hands, your nails digging into the skin of your palms. You weren’t used to Joel speaking so much, let alone in such a solemn way.

“And I wanted to see you,” he added. “Just one more time.”

Under the weight of your eyelashes, you tracked the shadow of his body growing closer. He would swallow you whole if you let him—and you would. Whatever emotion this was that you refused to acknowledge, it had latched itself so tightly to Joel you feared it would never come undone. You’d live your days without seeing him again and learn to be okay with it. You survived this long with the loss of your loved ones; you could do it again.

“You’ll be okay, right?”

You lifted your head, though you were afraid of the truth staring right at you. He nodded, but you saw through it. He was lying.

“I don’t—.” You swallowed your words. Try again. “I don’t know what to say.”

Joel stepped forward, his calloused and rough hands molding around your face. Never once had he touched you so carefully—never had you realized how desperately you ached for it. He tipped your face up, your eyes steady on his.

“Then let’s not say anythin’,” he whispered.

You stared, wide-eyed, as Joel dipped his head towards yours. A slight tilt, an exhaled breath, and his lips were colliding with yours. You froze under his touch, letting the movement of his lips on yours guide you through your uncertainty. You didn’t trust yourself not to fall apart in his arms. If you cracked under the weight of your emotions, would he catch you?

Joel’s fingers flexed around your cheekbones, coaxing you silently to give way to your control. Keeping your distance would at least save you the massive heartbreak in the end, but he was gifting you this one moment. Why would you deny yourself that?

Parting your lips, you welcomed Joel’s tongue into your mouth. A slow, languid kiss that deepened every time your lips met. You melted into one another, consumed by a heavy grief that wrapped around your bodies. It was just you and Joel, locked in each other's embrace while the world tore itself apart around you. Your trembling fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt, fumbling over each as they popped open. Joel’s hand came to rest on yours, halting your exploration.

“Not tonight,” he muttered, breaking from your mouth.

Crestfallen, you pulled away. What were you without your body? That’s what Joel wanted, wasn’t it? It was all you had left to give, and even at that moment, he turned you down. Joel curled a finger under your chin, tipping your face up until you swam within the stormy chocolate waves inside his eyes.

“I just want this,” Joel confessed. “Just give me this. It’s all I need tonight.”

Words failed. They evaded you, though you searched for them and came up empty. Joel took your silence as an invitation to continue his feverish search for solace upon your lips. A broken cry stifled your breathing as you let Joel slip his tongue over yours. Tender strokes overlapping with pitying cries, you resolved to nothing but a heap of devastation.

Joel tangled a strong hand in the tendrils of your hair, guiding your head in whichever way he chose fit. Control fell to the wayside, and you allowed him to overtake the moment. Whatever he wanted, you’d give him. He could ask you to break apart your ribs and rip out your heart, and you’d ask him for his hand to hold it.

This kiss was your undoing.

“Joel,” you whispered.

“Hmm?”

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

He pried away from your swollen lips and rested his forehead against yours. You looked up through tear-drenched eyelashes to see the crease between his brow furrowing deeper. He carried so much pain in his expression.

“I can’t make promises like that.”

Honey-sweet tones of his voice were replaced by an emotionless staccato—a monotone-sounding blade slicing through all hopes you harbored inside your chest.

“Stay with me,” you pleaded. “Just for the night.”

“I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” You argued.

“It’s better if we leave it like this.”

Joel broke from the cocoon of denial you both had built, the walls tearing down and crumbling around your feet. He strode toward the door, his fists clenched and his back hunched with tension.

“Joel!” You called out.

Your body moved on its own accord, crashing into his large frame the second he twisted around at the sound of your voice. He wrangled you into his arms, hauling your body up until your legs strained to wrap around his hips. His hands found their place against your body, one gripping the back of your neck, the other pressed to the base of your spine.

Joel brushed his nose against yours, his eyes drifting shut as he inhaled your aroma. You tempted him into a soft kiss, a subtle coax of your lips hovering over his.

“Kiss me goodnight, Joel,” you whispered, your words spoken over the curve of his mouth. “Kiss me goodnight and give me hope there will be more. I can’t accept that this is it.”

“I can’t give you hope,” he lamented, his mouth moving against your skin.

“Then give me tonight.”

Joel crushed his lips against yours, a ferocity awakening inside him that hadn’t been there all night. You shaped yourself into his form, arching into every hard ridge of his body; no space between you was left unfilled. Joel’s fingers flexed around the curve of your neck, his hand sliding over its shape until his palm rested against your throat. The familiarity of his possessiveness sprung into place, a simple reminder of what you meant to him.

Whatever that may be.

The room spun around you as Joel walked you both toward your bed. He laid you out gently, piecing apart your clothes until you were bare beneath him. His clothes followed, and you returned to his heavy embrace once again.

He took you slowly, every thrust and moan shared between you becoming the only noise inside your small apartment. Terminal moments faded away into the late hours until you both lay side by side in morbid silence. You expected Joel to leave when he finished, yet his body stayed glued to the bed.

Rolling onto your side, you traced a path down his arm, allowing your brain to catalog every inch of his skin and the marks he bore. Years of pain ingrained themselves into his body, and he would collect so many more as time passed. Time that did not include you.

Joel eventually turned his head in your direction, his tired eyes barely holding their weight. You hummed softly, hoping to guide him to sleep. Reaching for his hand, you lifted it to your mouth and kissed each of his fingers, tears rolling down your cheeks as you made your way over each knuckle.

“Goodnight, Joel,” you whispered.

You stirred awake, turning over to see the dent in the mattress beside you.

He was gone.

Joel wasn’t coming back.

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x f!reader #joel miller #post outbreak joel #tlou #joel miller one shot #1500 kisses challenge #angst angst angst

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fanwarriorfictions · 2 months

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Not Again - Epilogue

Summary: What classifies home? For them, it was each other.

Warnings: small bit of angst, mostly fluff

Series Masterlist

-Epilogue-

There was a shift in the air, so subtle that it could’ve been passed off as a breeze through a cracked window. It was just enough to wake Y/n from a deep sleep, Azriel’s shadows caressing her skin as she rose despite the male being dead asleep beside her.

The sky was still dark as Y/n pried herself from Azriel’s grip, untwining their legs, pushing away the hands that try and keep her pinned to his chest. The male didn’t wake up as she finally slipped from their bed, searching the floor for his shirt and her own underwear to cover her bare skin. He didn’t wake, not even as she slipped from their room, a shadow or two following her out.

Their little town house was quiet, nothing out of place, no sign of that shift in the air. Maybe it was just an open window, maybe she hadn’t latched the one in the kitchen where she’d cooled the pie she baked for dinner. Elain had been teaching her new recipes, Y/n was testing them out on Azriel, who finally admitted he also had a sweet tooth, after years of denial.

The house had been a gift from their family, the first few months after the gate had closed had been hard for Y/n. She was happy, so unbelievably happy with her mate, but she’d find herself back in that room, staring at that empty arch, waiting for anything to happen, waiting for her family to step through.

More than once, Nesta had found her sitting there, the busybody of a house guiding its owner to her to check on her. Nesta had sat with her, had listened to Y/n talk through her conflicting feelings, she’d been the one to suggest to Feyre that they needed a new place, somewhere not haunted with memories and what ifs.

After several years living here, she didn’t need any lights to find her way down the steps and into the kitchen. The window was indeed open, the small crack letting in the winter air beyond. She breathed it in, a small smile on her lips at the familiar feeling. Terrasen would be covered by several feet of snow this time of year, similar to the mountains of Illryia, where her mate had grown up and trained.

He’d brought her to Windhaven and other villages throughout the territory several times, usually against his will when Rhys asked them to check on the Illryians, to watch over the female’s training. Y/n knew that Azriel despised the place, she understood why, he’d rarely experienced kindness while he was growing up, not until his brothers had found him. Yet Azriel had bared it, for the females they were fighting for, and for her. The mountains reminded her of home, the snow, the trees, all of it. He’d made them a cabin there among the pine trees, a place she could go when she was especially homesick.

Y/n latches the window, overlooking the small garden behind her home, the towering red cliffs far beyond it. She could see the house of wind high in the starry sky, a few windows lit up by flickering lights from fireplaces inside keeping the home warm.

There, Nesta and Cassian would wake in a few hours, just before dawn broke to eat breakfast and prepare for the day. Y/n and Azriel would fly up to the training grounds atop the cliffs for their daily sessions with the them and the rest of the Valkyries. Then she and Gwyn would go into the library to study and work, Azriel would kiss her goodbye and several hours later he would wait for by the door to take her home.

Silent as ever, she doesn’t notice him until his strong arms were wrapping around her waist, tucking her into his chest. Azriel is practically a furnace at her back, a welcoming feeling in the winter kissed room.

She sighs, letting her head fall back against his bare chest, looking up at her mate. He’s perfectly disheveled, hair messy from sleep and from her hands running through the waves, his neck a constellation of bruises, surrounding the crescent shaped scar of her teeth, a mating gift. His eyes are still heavy, like he’d barely woken up, just knew that she had left, blindly following her.

“Where’d you go, my love.”

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, lingering for a few moments.

She smiles softly at him, “Just forgot to close the window.”

He glances through the glass, where she’d been staring off, he found nothing, “Come back to bed, Princess.”

Y/n couldn’t help but look back out at the garden, at the city, at the cliffs, as if there was something out there begging her to check one more time. Azriel doesn’t persist, he lets her take her time, but he does rest his head on her shoulder, a gentle reminder that the shadowsinger was still half asleep. He would never rush her, but he nuzzles her neck, kissing one of his own claiming marks, the dark purple bruise directly above her pulse.

She sighs, tilting her head to give him better access, “Fine.”

It’s all he needs to pull away, just to sweep her up into his arms, strong and steady despite his sleepy state.

Y/n laughs quietly, “So needy.”

He doesn’t pause his steps towards their bedroom to lean down and capture her lips in a chaste kiss, “You’ve spoiled me to long, Princess, I can’t sleep with out you.”

“Big Illryian baby,” she coos, giving him one more kiss before resting her head on his shoulder.

They walk up the stairs, and into their room. Azriel gently lays her down on her side of the bed before laying down beside her. He tucks the blankets around both of them, pulling her to his side as he settled into the pillows behind him.

In the safety of his arms, Y/n finds it easy to fall back to sleep, dreaming of a night sky, full of constellations, a beautiful stag smiling down on her.

Far above them, the house of wind stirs. A room, long since dark and empty, lights. If anyone had been watching they would have seen a green light in the window.

Nesta had stirred at the familiar feeling, running to that room that hadn’t moved in the last ten years. She was hopeful, but cautious, Ataraxia in her hand.

The green light flowed through the door way as she rounded the corner. The gate was shining with that bright green light, familiar yet different. And there, standing in the middle of the room was a beautiful female she didn’t recognize.

She examines the room with mute curiosity, and Nesta notices a simple blade strapped to her back, a scrap of red fabric tied to the hilt.

“Who are you.” Nesta levels her own blade at the female, “What are you doing here.”

Her golden gaze halts its lazy search of the room, slowly dragging towards Nesta as if she just noticed her. There was something unsettling about the female, like something lurked below her skin, the beauty a disguise for the monster beneath.

Her head tilts in a way that has Nesta’s instincts reaching for her power, “I’m here to collect my niece, witchling.”

The white hair, golden eyes, Nesta raises a single brow, “Manon?”

The witch queen smiles, and those iron teeth slide into place, “I hope she only told you the good stories.”

“Depends on your classification of good.”

Azriel woke to a gentle tap on his mental shields. He was hesitant to open them, he knew what his brother had to say would make him get up and leave the warmth of his mate’s arms. The gentle taps turned persistent, like Rhys knew he was ignoring him.

What? Azriel sighs, Is the world ending before the sun has a chance to rise?

Not quite, Rhys laughs, But it would seem you and Y/n are needed at the house of wind.

Azriel sits up, For?

You’ll see.

Rhys doesn’t give him a chance to respond. Azriel looks at his mate, sleeping peacefully by his side. Her hair is a mess, and her lips are parted, letting out the softest snores. He hates to wake her, half because she looks adorable like this, the other half, because she got grouchy when woken up. He’d learned that the hard way.

So he did it the one way he knew would work. Azriel pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, then her temple, her cheeks, her nose. Each kiss had her whining in her sleep until she was slowly stirring.

“Good morning, Princess,” he whispers, lightly pressing his lips to hers. “You’ve got to wake up.”

She hums against him, “No I don’t.”

Azriel smiles, pushing a wild piece of hair behind her ear, “Yes, you do.”

Y/n nuzzles into his palm, “I don’t want to.”

“I know, my love.” His lips travel across her jaw, down her throat, “We’ve been summoned.”

She sighs, tilting her head back as his lips explored her neck, “Tell Rhys to suck it up, he can summon me when the sun wakes up.”

Azriel laughs, nipping at the sensitive skin around her pulse, relishing in the small noise she makes, “I’m sure he wouldn’t ask me to risk my life waking you if it wasn’t important.”

Finally her eyes open, glaring up at him as he pulls away, “I’m not a feral animal you need to poke with a stick.”

Azriel smirks, “No, I wouldn’t say a feral animal, maybe a domesticated one, like a fussy cat.”

She hisses, baring those lethal canines, and Azriel leans down to kiss her, not scared of those sharp teeth, even when she lightly bites him. He just smiles against her lips.

You two are taking your time, Rhys butts into his mind, Tell Y/n the sun is coming up, no excuses anymore.

He doesn’t even open his mouth to relay the words, before Y/n is already snarling, “Tell him he’s a prick.”

His high lord simply laughs in his mind, before disappearing completely.

The dawn broke as they flew to the house of wind, the sun peaking out over the horizon, desperately trying to warm the snow covered city below. It did little to keep them from freezing, so they flew fast.

The house welcomes them with a warm embrace when they enter, and it’s far from quiet. Voices tumble out of the main living space, and one stops her dead in her tracks.

“No you cannot ride Abraxos.”

Cassian groans, “But-“

“No.”

“Who is that?” Azriel takes her hand in his, noting the way her whole body starts to shake.

She doesn’t respond, only pulls him towards the room, she sees Cassian first, wings flared like he was ready to fight. And there, standing like she couldn’t care less about the giant Illryian before her, was Manon.

Those golden eyes slide to her, and a smile lights the witch queen’s face, “Hello, witchling.”

Faces turned to her Rhys, Cassian, and Nesta, she searched for more, searched for any sign of her parents.

“They’re not here,” Manon says, “I didn’t waste time sending for them, I came as soon as the mirror opened.”

“Mirror?” Y/n asks breathlessly.

Manon pulls a small object from her pocket, a witch mirror. They were few and far between, she’d only seen two growing up, the sister-glasses her and Dorian used to talk when they were apart. This one was similar to those, but engraved into the edges were Wyrd marks.

She read a few of them, most where protective marks, shields. But there, right on top, was the mark she’d made to open the gates, the simple archway.

Azriel examines the mirror over her shoulder, in its reflection she can see his furrowed brows low over his deep hazel eyes.

“As soon as they told me that you’d been taken through a gate I had every witch in my kingdom looking for a way to bring you back,” Manon explains, “And when Dorian had returned, told me that you had stayed in this world, I kept looking. While he was squandered away in his libraries studying those dusty old books, I flew through the world looking for a witch who could make me a mirror no one had ever made before.

“It took many years, many trials, and many broken mirrors,” Manon says, “But we finally made this one, it’s sister-glass is back home, holding my gate open, hiding it from prying eyes.”

Beside her, Azriel speaks softly, “How does it work?”

Manon eyes him, and Y/n has a brief moment of panic as to what the witch might do. The others seemingly have a similar reaction, Cassian none to subtly resting a hand on a dagger at his side. Manon notes the movement and glares at the male.

“It only requires a drop of blood to open the gate,” she says, voice tense like she was holding back her iron teeth, “Simply think of the place you wish to go and the gate will open. It will stay as long as you wish it.”

Y/n felt like laughing and crying all at once. She could go home, could live her life with her mate by her side, could come to her home in Velaris whenever she liked.

She didn’t think, just surged forward and flung her arms around Manon. The witch didn’t snap her iron teeth, didn’t scratch her with those metal claws, she simply wrapped her arms around Y/n and held tight.

“I’ve missed you too, witchling.”

Her whole body is shaking, joyful tears welling in her eyes. When they part, Azriel is there to keep her on her feet, he always was there for her, always would be.

She knew it was something that ate away at Azriel these years, that she stayed for him, that he hadn’t gone for her. It was a conversation they’d had many times, he had no reason to feel guilty, she’d made her choice, and she didn’t regret it at all. Azriel was needed here, there were many things he hadn’t told her those months when she’d first arrived, human queens threatening war, fae from the continent stirring, ancient beings in lakes. They’d dealt with those things together, spying and fighting and killing.

Y/n loved her home, missed it terribly, but she had found her mate, found her own story to tell, found her purpose beyond being a spoiled princess. Her parents reign was far from over, her own was in the far distant future. She believed that she would one day find her way back to Terrasen, and now it was happening.

“Can I see the mirror?”

Manon holds it out to her, “It is yours, use it wisely.”

Y/n held the glass, looking at that small archway carved into the mirror. Behind her, Azriel is smiling, stepping back to give her space. He stands between his brothers, nodding once, whispering down that bridge of shadow, Go home, Princess.

She grins, bringing her thumb to her sharp canine, biting down just enough to draw a little blood. Y/n pictures Orynth, the castle, her parents, and she presses her thumb right on that Wyrd mark.

Green light flairs, shining through the mirror to the floor at her feet, and before her, like a window between worlds, opens a gate. And there, sitting right where she knew they would take their breakfast, her parents, both standing at the ready, to fight, to defend. Yet they don’t find any threat, their eyes wide as they met her own.

“Oh gods,” her mother sobs.

And Y/n is running, wind pushing at her heels, she feels the exact moment she passes through the gate, like the magic in her blood sighs in relief. Her mother meets her halfway, colliding hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs. Before they have the chance to fall, her father is there, wrapping both of them in his arms, holding them steady.

Y/n can barely breathe, they hold her so tight, and she holds just as tightly.

“How?” Aelin asks through her tears.

“I got sick of waiting for you all,” Manon says behind them.

She walks through the gate, leaving Prythian behind, the three Illryian males and Nesta as well.

Rowan looks to the witch, his voice thick with emotion, “thank you.”

Manon nods simply, “It was time my niece came home.”

Aelin pulls away, her hands resting on Y/n’s cheeks, “I’ve missed you, my Fireheart, every single day.”

“I missed you too,” Y/n sobs, looking up to her father, “both of you, so much.”

Rowan doesn’t speak, only places a gentle kiss to her head, holding her tightly, like she’d disappear at any moment. Y/n holds just as tightly to them both. For several minutes, that’s all they can do, none of them willing to let go. Only when Manon clears her throat does Rowan pull back, Aelin is more hesitant to release her hold.

Her father’s eyes move behind her, Y/n looks back to find his gaze on the portal, on Azriel stepping through tentatively. Her heart gallops in her chest as her father walks to her mate, that calm mask over both of their faces.

Rowan stops before him, offering his hand like he had the last time they’d seen each other. Azriel carefully takes the hand, shaking it once, and then her father pulls him into an embrace.

“Thank you,” Rowan says, “For taking care of her.”

Azriel, to her surprise, hugs him back, and her heart almost burst in her chest, “Always.”

Aelin pulls back, wiping the tears from her eyes as she looks through the gate at the three fae still standing there, “Would you care for a tour?”

Rhys grins, “Can I grab my mate before we begin? She’d love to see it.”

“Of course,” Aelin smiles, looking back at Y/n with her eyes shining, “Bring everyone, you’re all family now.”

His family had jumped at the opportunity to tour the vast castle, and the beautiful city surrounding it. He’d stayed by Y/n’s side, watching her tell stories of her childhood home. They’d encountered many of her family on the way, Cassian had almost jumped Lorcan on sight, only stopped by Nesta at his side. Each reunion left Azriel feeling raw.

She’d given all of this up for him, no matter how many times she’d reassured him that it was her choice, and she chose him gladly, he still felt that guilt, he tried to hide it, but she always knew, even without the bond to tell her.

“Come with me,” she whispers in his ear, taking his hand in hers, “I want to show you something.”

He put on that mask, hoping she wouldn’t see through it, see the thoughts eating away at him.

Azriel smiles down at her, “Lead the way, Princess.”

They leave their families in the training grounds, where Cassian was getting closer and closer to wearing Lorcan down for that fight he was itching to have. No one noticed them, and if they did, they didn’t stop them.

She brought him back into the castle, pulling him up the huge grand staircase.

“Where are we going?” Azriel asks.

She sends him one of those sweet little smiles, “Just wait and you’ll see.”

Y/n takes him through several hallways, each of them grand and decorated with gorgeous paintings. Feyre would love to take her time looking at every single one. He didn’t have that time to admire them, his mate’s pace rushing them past each one.

They finally stopped at a set of doors, tall, white doors with golden handles. She takes her hand from his to open each of them, revealing a huge room.

He instantly knew it was her own, her scent still clings to the space, despite her decade long absence.

The sitting room is decorated with well loved chairs, pillows and blankets draped over them, surrounding a large fireplace, the mantle decorated with flowers and trinkets.

There’s a piano in the corner, it looked near identical to the one she bought for their house, she’d been teaching him to play for the past few years, he could finally carry a tune.

Y/n moves through the space, running her fingers over her desk full of papers, “It’s exactly how I left it.”

Azriel follows her, closing the doors behind him, she walks through the space, towards the door that leads to her bedroom. And beyond that, a balcony.

She opens the doors, stepping out onto the ice and snow covered stone, he follows her and he looks out over the city below. Beautiful, it was absolutely breathtaking. The city was alive with music and laughter, much like Velaris. Azriel looked out over the horizon, he could see all the way to the Oakwald forest, the ancient magic singing to him even from here.

“I didn’t give anything up,” she says quietly, entwining their hands between them, “I made my choice, and I gained everything.”

Azriel couldn’t speak, so he squeezed her hand, begging her to continue. She turns, placing her other hand on his chest, directly over his heart.

“I didn’t lose my crown, my life, it’s all still here,” she says, looking out over Orynth, “and I found my home. Not through a gate, but with you, Az.”

He could only look at her, could only admire his beautiful mate. This female, who’d fallen into his life, who’d stood toe to toe with him and won, stealing the heart from his chest. Y/n had chosen him, and he would chose her for the rest of his life.

“Where’d you go, shadowsinger?”

Azriel brought his free hand to her face, holding his world in the palm of his hand. When he kisses her, everything feels right, feels perfect. And for the first time in his life, he felt like he truly belonged somewhere, and that somewhere was with her, wherever she was.

“Home, Princess.”

Tag list

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#and that’s the end of this story #I’m actually crying because I’m so in love with them #azriel #rowaelin daughter #acotar #azriel x reader #acotar x reader #not again

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flamingpudding · 9 months

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Fictober23 Prompt: 6 - "I can't wait for you."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury

Danny stared at the stars above his head, sitting on top of Fenton Works. Even after a week his arm still tingled with phantom pains from his accident. In his left hand was a dagger he hadn't looked at in years now. Was it 6 or 7 years? Danny couldn't really remember. He had been too young when he had made his first decision for himself only.

The fingertips of his right hand traced imaginary patterns over the blade as his eyes searched out different constellations in the night sky. 7 years ago, he would have never imagined for himself a future where he was allowed to follow his own dreams. A week ago he had talked about his dream of becoming an astronaut, exploring the vast space that existed just outside of their own stratosphere.

Now after that the lab accident he had he felt like another dream had gotten shattered by the wheels of fate. It wasn't even his past life from before the Fentons that shattered these dreams, in the way he had feared in the first couple of years after coming to live with them. It where times like these when he would dug out the dagger to take it with him to see the stars.

His eyes turned from the stars to the blade in his hand.

It was a special blade his biological mother had ordered when she learned about having twins. The blade itself was only one half. The flat surface of the handle and the blade on one side while the other appeared like a high quality blade and greatly decorated handle, spoke of the missing part. His dagger was only half of a dagger, the other half was with his twin.

This was the only thing he had taken with him when he had left at the tender age of 5 or was it six? His memory was blurry and back then celebrating your birthday wasn't as big of a deal as it was in the life he had gained with Fentons.

At times Danny wondered why he had been the only one to see it. His twin had gone through the same teachings, the same lessons, the same training, the same mission. Yet Danny had been the only one who saw the way their grandfather really was. The manipulation, the gaslighting, the brainwashing. Danny had seen it all and realized it pretty soon and when he had talked with his twin about it?

He had hit a wall. Grandfather knows what he's doing. Stop imagining things, Danyal.

"I can't wait for you. Damian, if you can't see what I do, then I can no longer stay here and wait."

These were the last words he had said to his twin after another argument about their grandfather gaslighting them about a mission result. It was right there and then that Danny decided he needed to leave and that he did.

Somehow, as a five years old he had managed to get all the way to America before they found him again. And when he refused to come back they, his grandfather's mans, attacked without remorse. After all it was better to get rid of loose ends than to let them frail your masterpiece.

But ending up near death in the middle of a forest where the Fentons happen to be camping was his luck back then. They probably thought that he wouldn't make it, that Danny wouldn't have the will to continue barely breathing in his own pool of blood but Danny proved them wrong. He did have the will and he had continued crawling until Jazz had found him.

That was how his life had changed the first time. The Fentons took him in, allowed him to dream and to build a future and family of his own. Now this lap accident was making changes to his life again and Danny couldn't help but think back to his previous life. "I wonder if Damian finally saw what I did or if he still is under grandfather's influence…"

Months later Danny was introduced to an apparent family friend of his parents. One Danny felt was too much of a fruitloop and gave him concerning flashbacks to his grandfather but was still easier to deal with. But following all the incidence of conflicts with the fruitloop was also a moment to which said fruitloop somehow convinced his parents to let him drag Danny to a Gala.

Danny hadn't paid any attention to the guests of this gala, no he had taken the first chance he got to escape the way Sam had advised him before to do, and fled to a balcony. Breathing in the clear night air Danny loosened the tie he was made to wear. He did not notice the soft click of the balcony door behind him.

"Danyal." Danny whirled around and pulled out a hidden blade he kept on his person more out of habit than anything else. He hadn't heard his name spoken like that in years, even the fruitloop and a more American dialect when it came to saying his name.

He froze at the mirror image with green eyes that stood before him. That couldn't be could it?

"Damian?" The other teen nodded and Danny only relaxed his stance ever so slightly. His shoulders were still tense and he was still ready to spring into action or use his ghost powers to escape if needed.

Neither of them spoke a word as they took in each other's appearance and Danny hid a small chuckle as his twin clicked his tongue at his defensive stance, crossing his arms.

"I see, you still have that half of a dagger mother had made for us."

"The only thing I took with me when I left."

His twin clicked his tongue once more before reaching into a hidden pocket and pulling out the other half of that dagger. Showing that he also had kept his half of it throughout all these years.

"There is no longer a need for you to wait, Danyal."

Danny blinked and completely dropped his defensive stance, hearing the unspoken words. He let a small smile tuck his lips upwards. It appears that there was a lot he had to catch up on with his twin.

"I never waited to begin with Damian. I ghosted you right after." He chuckled lightly, knowing his brother wouldn't understand until later.

"Don't lie, Danyal. You took your half of the dagger with you." His brother frowned before smirking at him. "You said you couldn't wait anymore but taking it with you was clearly telling me that you would still do so anyway."

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vinnytotherescue · 9 months

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What makes us human (lies of p x female reader)

What is it that makes us human?

Is it our heart, pumping warm red liquid into our bodies to keep us alive one more day? Is it our lungs feeding us oxygen and pushing our chest to move in an ongoing life-long choreography? Or is it our brain controlling our body, organs, and mind enough to answer this question? Is it maybe something simpler? Like the warmth we exude by simply existing or our curious eyes moving around ready to capture a new memory.

Unfortunately, there is never one answer to this question since every human has a different view on this topic. A doctor would agree that a beating muscle is enough, but a philosopher would argue that there is more to being human than a single organ.

Responding to this question becomes an even bigger hassle when said person is no human but a highly intelligent puppet. From the moment Pinocchio was created his very first goal was to become human, whatever that meant. But as time went on he began searching what it really suggests. The more he investigated the more conflicted he got with the inconclusive answers and their variety. His second solution to his problem was posing this question to the residents of Hotel Krat, an even bigger hassle as he later noted. Antonia was the first victim of his complicated question and the least helpful.

“What makes us human? Oh, my dear sweet boy, that’s a difficult question, isn’t it? It could be anything really, from having working organs to being able to feel”

Next was Lady Sophia, his presumed advisor through his long and tiring journey of fighting and killing automatons around Krat. Her answer was better but not exactly what Pinocchio hoped for.

“Being human is such a peculiar concept. We are able to react to situations and feel different emotions like anger, joy, and love. If you meant physically now, we are given organs and whole systems that make us operate. But when you think about it, we are not that different from puppets. Are we? I mean you do have operating systems maybe not as complicated as our own but the thing you lack is proper emotion”

As Pinocchio grew closer to becoming human, he did have the opportunity to feel certain emotions, but never the ones he heard about. The feeling of anger and dread was not what popped into his mind when he thought of being human. What he longed for was joy, happiness, and most importantly love. Would he ever be able to feel love?

That’s when you came into the picture. A young woman trying to escape this hell hole named Krat. It was only supposed to be a two-day trip to the city to meet some friends when that turned into a full-blown nightmare. How she managed to survive that long was a question in itself since she had no weapons and skills to properly use any. Simply hiding in boutiques and abandoned apartments was her way of surviving. Leaving the city of course was out of the question since she was evidently lost.

Gemini was the first to notice her hiding in a cabinet as they ventured into another seemingly empty apartment. Unfortunately for her, the noise that came out of her mouth as a piece of glass fell on her foot was not subtle but thank god it wasn’t a normal automaton that found her.

Pinocchio slowly walked toward the source of the sound and when he stood outside of the cabinet, he simply tugged it open. A kick to the face was not what he expected to say the least. Stumbling back, he was quick to compose himself and grab her arm as she desperately tried to escape his iron grip. Her kicking and punching immediately stopped when she heard his soft velvety voice next to her ear. Her eyes widened and her head snapped to look at her captor or maybe her savior. His eyes were bluer than the summer sky and the freckles adorning his pale face resembled all sorts of constellations.

Reassurance filled her chest for once in those long two weeks as she stared at the seemingly human person behind her.

“It’s ok I got you”.

Pinocchio felt the need to bring her to the hotel since she was the first living human he managed to find “roaming’ the streets. That happened a few months ago and since then the puppet’s interest never left. He would always inspect her, her humanity. The way she moved as if dancing when trying to decide which book to read, the way she bit her lip when she was thinking, or the wide smile she would give to the cat every time she crossed paths with her. What made her so human?

What made him wonder though was the peculiar warmth he felt in his chest each time he was close to her. After every trip to Krat, he felt a small change in him, giving him hope that he was becoming more and more human. But the feeling that deeply resided in his chest was still a question left unanswered. Could he feel something? But he is still a puppet, of course, he had a fair share of human traits as time moved on but was having emotions one of them? Talking of questions, he never got to ask her the one that posed to the rest of the Hotel Krat residents. What made them human, what would make him human?

It was nearly midnight in the hotel and (y/n) was immersed in a book she got from the library a while ago. She lay on the couch her eyes scanning the yellowing pages without a care in the world around her, and the boy that entered the dimly lit room. He moved toward her making his footsteps purposely louder as if not to scare her. Her eyes though stayed put on the letter-filled pages. P walked until he was in her field of vision, maybe a little closer than what she anticipated. His face was right next to her as he bent down to take a look at the book she was reading. The moment her head snapped to the left she came face to face with her crush.

“P-Pinocchio t-too close!” her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as she tried to put some distance between them, to her disappointment. Pinocchio only stared in confusion.

“Sorry did I scare you?” he slowly moved to sit next to the shrieking girl on the couch patiently waiting for her response.

“No of course not” she tried to put her brave face on, but his piercing blue eyes only made her more vulnerable “I was just surprised to see you that close that’s it” folding her arms over her chest and putting the book to the side she tried to focus on P’s face. There was always a look of confusion on it that she found adorable, but she would never say that out loud.

“Can I help you with something P?” her voice was soft once again and brought that warm feeling back into his chest. P examined her face and tilted his head.

“Can I ask you a question?” (y/n) was taken aback for a moment but managed to compose herself quite fast.

“Yes of course P, what is it” The way his name rolled off her tongue so effortlessly hypnotized Pinocchio. It was like a siren was calling his name.

“What makes someone a human?” (y/n) certainly did not expect a question like that late at night. He searched his eyes for some sign that maybe he learned how to joke but nothing. They just sone bright with curiosity as he awaited her response.

“Well, that’s a difficult question P you know that right?” his eyes suddenly turned sad as he turned to look at the fireplace. Her heart broke the moment she saw that, and she was quick to come back.

“But if you really need to know I will tell you what I think” A small smile took place on his lips as he nodded his head vigorously.

The girl held her chin between her fingers her eyebrows scrunched up as she tried to figure out how to proceed. What made them human? She never really thought about that before.

“Well, I don’t know for sure, to be honest. To me, a human is not someone with blood coursing through their body or someone who needs to breathe air. Of course, you may think that’s important but what makes us human is how we act. People whom we learned to call humans many times have done things that only a monster would do. To me, these are not humans. Humans are kind people who help others. People who would care about someone in need. People who will not hesitate to provide help. Their curiosity and their positive active stance in life are what makes them human”.

P’s eyes were so focused on her, and a look of admiration found its place on his face. Knowing immediately what the next question would be as she saw his mouth open, she responded.

“And yes Pinocchio, to me you are human. You did everything a human would do. I don’t care whether your heart is metal or soft, whether you breathe or not, you have shown me all kindness and showed many emotions that other humans haven’t.” The warmth in the puppet’s chest got stronger and stronger. Him? A human? His metal heart was filled with something he could not explain but he loved it. His smile grew wider and before he could control his body his arms were tightly wrapped around her. (Y/n) came out of her trance in mere seconds as she felt his cold body on hers. Her cheeks burned red and her heart beat like crazy. She tried to keep her body under control so that he didn’t notice but to no avail. Pulling away from her hope returned to his eyes.

“That means that you can answer my other question as well!” before she could get the chance to interfere, he started talking.

“There is always when I’m around you this warmth in my chest that won't disappear. It’s so strong and I want to be close to you to feel it more and more” (y/n)’s eyes widened in shock as she stared into his cerulean eyes.

“You mean love?” her heart was beating so loud that it was hurting her ears. Pinocchio had found out about love in all the books that he read but he never thought that he would be able to experience this as a puppet. Maybe he was closer to becoming human after all.

“I love you?” that came like a question at the beginning “I love you”. P locked eyes with her and waited patiently for her reaction like a lost puppy. The realization hit the girl like a brick and time stopped for a while. A while that made P think that he said something wrong.

“Did I say something wrong” His metal heart seemed to stop for a minute. For once in his life, he felt lost. The girl suddenly jumped in his arms sending him right down on the couch. Her smile was so wide and small giggles escaped her mouth.

“I love you too silly.”

For once in his short life Pinocchio could answer how it feels to be human, what makes him human.

The end

Thank you everyone for reading! i haven't written in a while so im a bit rusty but i had to write for P im literally in love with him :')

#lies of p #lies of p fanart #neowiz #liesofp #pinocchio #lies of p x reader #lies of p x you #x reader #video games x reader #lies of p pinocchio

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evermore-grimoire · 9 months

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The Evermore Grimoire: Astrology

Libra (September 23rd to October 23rd) is the seventh astrological sign in the zodiac and is represented by the scales; a symbol of justice and balance. In Greek mythology the constellation is associated with Themis (goddess of divine law) whose daughter, Astraea (goddess of justice) went up to heaven and became the constellation of Virgo. Traits associated with Libra include being intelligent, kind, artistic and always willing to put others before themselves, They also value harmony in all forms. Ruled by Venus, the planet of beauty, Libra adores a life that looks good. As the master of compromise and diplomacy, they're adept at seeing all points of view, and excel at crafting compromises and effecting mediation between others. Libra's have a rich inner life yet love other people, and are always happiest with a large group of friends, family, and coworkers on whom they can count on. However as an air sign they can often be "up in the clouds," and while they're amazing at making big plans, follow through can be tricky. Working with detail-oriented signs, like Virgos or Capricorns, can help Libras actually manifest their dreams into reality, especially in the workplace. But don't call out Librans for daydreaming as their imagination is one of their biggest assets, that that often put to work by finding careers in the arts or in literature. They even have a penchant for the spotlight and love bringing friends together for an event that can help them shine, too. This sign is also averse to conflict and finds it tough to be honest if they disagree with someone. Instead they prefer to pull back. But when Libras do make a close friend, they keep that friend for life. They're also not judgmental about others and have a diverse set of friends from different life circumstances and situations. For a Libra, there's always room for one more.

artwork by Yaraslova Apollonova

#MythEdit #MythologyEdit #Astrology #Zodiac Signs #Libra #My Edit

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koishua · 4 months

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you're my hom(m)e — choi yeonjun.

notes: enough domesticity and fluff to rot this country's teeth. my late late val's day gift <3 pretty short but what's new. if you like it then pls pls pls leave a forehead kiss for me bc i have an exam and need moral support. if you don't then pls leave one anyway bc ur cute i bet anyways bye

home has a name and it's choi yeonjun. it's when you're here and he is there, far away, and yet his voice, even through the phone, is still more than enough to chase your fears away. when he calls you and your name slips past his lips and you can feel the desperation— the yearning— and when his heart breaks at the sound of your silence behind the line, because he knows that you're crying and he knows that you don't want him to hear how painful the time apart has been for you.

home is choi yeonjun when he is back by your side again, arms wrapped tightly around you, clinging onto your presence like he's been depraved of it for longer than eternity. it's when he cradles the back of your head to the nape of his neck and when the grip of his arm around your waist becomes stronger after you tell him that you miss him. home is wherever with yeonjun. not the apartment you'd been renting ever since you'd moved out to study, being there through everything with you even before a tall, charming, and silly man named choi yeonjun existed in your life.

home is yeonjun (yeonjun yeonjun yeonjun yeonjun— God, you hope you'll always get to say that same name with all of the love and affection in the universe, long after the last star burns out and fizzles out into nothing) when sunlight filters through your curtains and you wake up to see his sculpted face all puffy, pillow marks on his cheek from how long he'd stayed laying on his side to face you, not that you look all that better, but he'd disagree. it's when you can lay there and count the lashes brushing over the skin right under his eyes, having enough time to observe his every feature in great detail. home is whenever yeonjun's eyes flutter open and an immediate toothy smile forms on his well-rested face, you brushing away the hair over his forehead to place a chaste kiss there and wherever else you manage to catch before he feels ticklish and traps you in his arms.

home is choi yeonjun (gosh, his name is so beautiful and you're pretty sure from the odd way your heart beats, that somewhere on that bundle of tender and tired muscle his name is etched and carved into it), because he knows where your ice cream scoop is whenever you feel down and you crave the company of a cold treat. it's him, because whenever you look up at your ceiling, there are stars glowing in the dark in the shape of your favourite constellations ("if you're going to wake up in the middle of the night to contemplate on life and don't want to call me, you can at least stare at a ceiling that's not dreadful and boring"). it's yeonjun, because he loves it when you laugh at his stories about his day and he loves it even more when you tell him about how a bird flew inside the cafe you'd been working on writing a paper at and how it landed in your table and how the owner had to chase it away and they'd accidentally destroyed your cheesecake in the process, offering you a new one apologetically.

home is choi yeonjun, because on the day you'd agreed to have a home date because of your conflicting and busy schedules, he'd made it to you in time despite the raging storm and pouring rain, drenched from head to toe ("the car broke down and i had to take the train, but then i realized that i didn't have my card with me, so i had to run. i'm sorry if I'm late."). home is everything that reminds you of him, even the coffee mug he'd seen at a flea market and bought, because he'd thought that the spots on the ceramic looked like your childhood pet parrot.

choi yeonjun is home, he simply is.

#i forgot how i used to tag for a sec #txt imagines #choi yeonjun x reader #yeonjun imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #choi yeonjun fluff #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x you #txt scenarios #txt yeonjun #fluff imagine

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prettyobsessed · 4 months

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Part 1: .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 💫Constellations of Affection💖.˳·˖✶

☁︎/ pairings: Xavier / fem!reader

☾ / genre: romantic, fluff [sfw, safe for minors]

₊˚ / tags: safe for work, safe for minors, contains swear words, slight flirtations mentioned, fluff, romantic, sweet Xavier, angry Xavier, friendship blossoming, best friends to lovers, slow burn, continuation, fight scene, past relationship turmoil, self-improvement, drowning in work, hectic work life, kisses, hugs, super gentle

♡ / word count: 5.3k

₊⊹summary₊˚⊹

Amidst the whirlwind of a bustling life, I find solace in the unwavering presence of Xavier, my steadfast friend and protector. Despite harbouring feelings for him, I guard my heart, scarred by past relationships. As our bond deepens, I grapple with the desire to reveal my true feelings. Will I find the courage to confront my fears and express my love to Xavier?

﹌﹌﹌

As I pull away from the hug, Xavier's arms remain wrapped around me, holding me close with a tenderness that fills my heart with warmth. His gaze meets mine, and in those kind eyes, I see a reflection of the love and care he has always shown me. "Thank you for staying,” I whisper, my voice barely above a soft murmur, but the sincerity behind the words is unmistakable.

𓍢ִ໋୧🍵 ⋅₊˚*ੈ♡⸝⋆·˚ ༘ *🔭୧ ˙

In the bustling city of Linkon, where neon lights danced upon the urban landscape, I found solace amidst the chaos in the form of Xavier, my steadfast best friend and protector. Xavier, a Deepspace hunter dedicated to protecting civilians like myself from Wanderers, became my protector and confidant after our first encounter on a bridge near Linkon City four years ago.

Our friendship blossomed from then onwards, where we would escape the confines of our busy lives to gaze upon the stars, lost in the beauty of the night sky. Our nights are often spent together, stargazing from rooftops, sharing our hopes, dreams, and even secrets. Sometimes, Xavier would even take naps on my lap and give me gentle head pats, sending a flutter through my heart.

Amidst our shared reveries under the celestial canopy, Xavier would playfully bestow upon me various endearing nicknames, but none resonated with me as deeply as being called Princess. Whenever the word slipped from his lips, the sweet and sultry timbre of his voice carried a softness and affection that enveloped me like a comforting embrace—making me feel truly cherished.

His presence brought a sense of calm amidst the storm of my hectic life, a beacon of light in the darkness of uncertainty. I couldn't help but feel captivated by his mysterious aura, finding him irresistibly charming and attractive.

Yet, despite these intimate moments, our relationship never progresses beyond friendship.

Despite the blossoming of affection within me, I find myself paralysed by the fear of opening my heart once more. The scars of past relationships still linger, casting a shadow of doubt over my longing for something more with Xavier. I tread carefully, concealing the depth of my emotions beneath a carefully crafted facade, praying that Xavier won't decipher the hidden turmoil beneath the surface.

Every interaction with Xavier becomes a delicate balancing act, a choreographed dance of veiled glances and cautious words. I hold my breath, fearing that the slightest slip-up will betray the secret longing I harbor within.

Yet, with each passing moment in his presence, the yearning to unburden my heart grows stronger, the desire to lay bare my soul to him almost overwhelming.

But the spectre of past heartaches looms large, haunting my every thought and action. I am burdened by the fear of repeating past mistakes, trapped by the dread of disappointment and heartbreak. And so, I remain ensnared in a silent struggle, grappling with the conflicting desires to both reveal and conceal the depths of my heart.

As a dedicated professional in the fast-paced world of the fashion industry, I often find myself immersed in a multitude of responsibilities. My days are characterised by a constant juggle of tasks, from meeting deadlines to surpassing expectations set by clients and colleagues alike. The pace is relentless, with back-to-back meetings, creative brainstorming sessions, and meticulously planned photoshoots demanding my unwavering focus and dedication.

Despite the chaotic nature of my professional life, Xavier remains a steadfast and unwavering source of support. His presence serves as a calming anchor amidst the turbulent waters of my daily routine. Whether it's offering a sympathetic ear during moments of stress or providing a reassuring smile to lift my spirits, his unwavering support is a beacon of light in the midst of my busiest days.

Xavier often frequented my apartment, and during moments of respite, I eagerly seized the opportunity to unveil my creations to him, transforming our time together into impromptu fashion shows. With each meticulously crafted garment, I sensed a subtle tension electrifying the air between us, prompting me to ponder whether it was merely the allure of the dresses drawing us closer or the unspoken emotions simmering beneath the surface.

There was a particular allure about skirts that seemed to captivate Xavier's attention. I recall one instance when I slipped into a mini skirt, his eyes lighting up with unmistakable admiration.

His excitement was palpable, and he couldn't contain his enthusiasm, clapping his hands in delight. Even as I changed into another outfit, he couldn't seem to shake the image from his mind, insisting that I don the mini skirt again for a closer look.

A mischievous spark ignited within me, nudging me to flirt back with him. Succumbing to both his charm and my own playful inclinations, I obliged, slipping back into the mini skirt and performing a slow spin that allowed him to drink in every detail.

As I stood before him, adorned in the mini skirt, I could feel his gaze lingering on me, his breath caught in awe. It was as though in that moment, the fabric of the skirt became a conduit for unspoken desires, weaving a silent narrative of longing and admiration between us. With a coy smile, I couldn't resist teasing him, suggesting that perhaps he was too enamoured with the mini skirt.

The tension between us felt noticeable, and I sought refuge in the familiarity of casual attire, hoping to diffuse the charged atmosphere and regain a sense of normalcy—though deep down, I secretly relished the idea of indulging his request.

—

Sometimes, after particularly hectic days at the office, Xavier kindly offers to give me a lift, his bike a welcome respite from the chaos of my workday. Even on days when Xavier himself seems exhausted, he always maintains a vigilant watch on the road, ensuring our safety as we navigate the bustling city streets together.

Sensitive to my needs, Xavier never rides too fast, understanding my tendency to experience motion sickness. This consideration speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and care, as he ensures our mode of transportation aligns with my comfort, sparing me the discomfort that often accompanies other forms of travel such as cars or taxis. Hence, I usually prefer taking the train—it offers a more stable and soothing journey, allowing me to arrive at our destination feeling relaxed and without any adverse effects.

Despite the occasional setbacks, our bond only grew stronger, anchored by shared moments of laughter and quiet contemplation beneath the twinkling city lights.

—

It was on one such evening, as we lay side by side on the rooftop of my apartment building, that Xavier posed a question that caught me off guard. He lay beside me, his thoughts growing louder with each passing moment.

"Can I ask you a question? What do you think of me?" His words hung in the air, laden with unspoken meaning, and I felt my heart race with uncertainty. His eyes danced in the moonlight, a shimmering reflection of his soul, seeking answers within the depths of mine. Caught off guard by his sudden inquiry, I searched for the right words to convey the depth of my feelings for him. But as I stumbled over my response, I found myself unable to articulate the truth that lay buried within my heart.

"Honestly?" I began, my voice tinged with uncertainty. “I think you're… amazing.” A nervous laugh escaped my lips as I struggled to find the right words. "Your selflessness, your love for animals, and your unwavering presence shines through in every action... whether it's kindness or lending a helping hand to a friend in need. You're a rare gem in a world full of ordinary stones, and I cherish every moment we spend together.

Everything about you is so ho-“ I stuttered, the word "hot" lingering on the tip of my tongue, before quickly correcting myself. "Cool. Everything about you is cool. It's one of the many reasons why I admire you so deeply and… I’m really proud to call you my best friend.”

As I awaited Xavier's response, a wave of apprehension washed over me, my mind swirling with doubts and insecurities. But before I could question his reaction, he deftly changed the subject. "Haha," he chuckled softly, his words masking the disappointment that flickered in his eyes. "Best friend... I see," he echoed, his tone carrying a hint of resignation. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I tried to make sense of his words.

What was that. What is going on? Was I simply reading too much into it—into his reaction? Before I could seek clarification, Xavier changed the subject, his bright facade masking turmoil within.

"Let's go! It's getting late. I’m getting sleepy already," he remarked with a fake yawn, his voice cheerful despite the underlying tension between us. I nodded, the faint rumble of approaching trains echoing through the station, heightening the urgency in his words. As we boarded the train together, the worn fabric seats welcomed us with a familiar embrace, their faded texture a testament to years of commuter traffic.

Xavier settled beside me, his presence comforting yet unnerving in the dimly lit carriage. I stole a glance at his reflection in the window, the soft hum of the train's engine creating a cocoon of sound around us. He rested his head on my shoulder, his breaths steady and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within me.

What did he mean by ‘Best friend…I see’? The question echoed in my mind, refusing to be silenced as I grappled with the uncertainty of our relationship. Did he also see me as more than just a friend? Or was I simply projecting my own desires onto a friendship that was never meant to be anything more?

The weight of my thoughts pressed heavily upon me as I journeyed home, the rhythmic sound of the train's wheels against the tracks serving as a backdrop to my inner turmoil. I wanted so desperately to reach out to Xavier, to confess the depth of my feelings for him, but the fear of rejection held me back, chaining me to the confines of my own insecurities.

And so, as the train rumbled onward into the night, I was left alone with my thoughts, grappling with the uncertainty of what tomorrow might bring. For better or for worse, Xavier had become an indelible part of my life, his presence shaping my world in ways I had never imagined possible.

—

That night, as I lay on my bed, memories of my past relationship flooded my mind like an unwelcome torrent. Two years spent together, believing we were destined to be each other's forever, shattered in an instant when my ex-boyfriend cheated on me with my own best friend. Every whispered secret, every shared laugh, now tainted with the sting of betrayal—an irreparable fracture.

The bitter taste of betrayal tainted my perception of love, leaving me disillusioned and wary of entering another relationship.

My days became a relentless cycle of pushing myself to the limit, both physically and mentally. Yet, despite my outward transformation, the pain of betrayal lingered like a stubborn shadow, threatening to consume me at every turn. That day, I found myself unable to hold back the tears as they streamed down my face upon discovering the truth, each drop a poignant reflection of the depth of my heartache.

To escape the tormenting memories, I buried myself in work, immersing myself in tasks and projects with unwavering determination. I also poured my energy into crafting my own set of outfits as a hobby. But no matter how much I tried to distract myself, the ache of heartbreak remained a constant companion—a haunting reminder of the love lost and the trust shattered.

Yet, just when hope seemed all but lost, a flicker of light appeared on the horizon. That is, a year after the devastation of my past, I met Xavier. His presence breathed new life into my world, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of my despair. Little did I know, he would become the beacon of love and healing that I had long believed to be lost.

As I pondered back to Xavier's words, my eyelids grew heavy with fatigue. Soon, I surrendered to the embrace of sleep, diving into its depths.

—

Ever since then, life became a whirlpool—sucking me into its chaotic currents. It's my typical coping mechanism to bury myself in work, a futile attempt to escape thoughts of Xavier. Days blurred into nights filled with endless work and overtime, a relentless cycle that offered temporary distraction. Then, amidst the hustle, a familiar ping broke through the monotony—a text from Xavier. ‘Princess. U busy? I’m craving for soba noodles suddenly. Wanna eat 2gt?' his messages popped up one by one. Again, his simple words stirred a flutter of emotions within me, and I couldn't help but blush.

Xavier's persistent attempts to meet up tugged at my heartstrings, but I resisted, afraid to deepen my feelings for him and disrupt the delicate balance of our relationship. ‘Kinda tired tonight. Another day okie? Sorry🤍’, I replied, my fingers tapping out the message with a weariness that mirrored my exhaustion. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me as I left the office well past midnight.

The city streets, usually bustling with life, now felt eerily deserted as I made my way to the train station. Boarding the train homeward, fatigue threatened to pull me into slumber. The train's bell-like chime jolted me awake as it announced my stop, piercing through the haze of fatigue that clouded my mind.

I alighted at my stop, the deserted train station casting eerie shadows in the late-night silence. Each step echoed off the empty walls, my weariness dragging me down like an anchor as I trudged wearily up the stairs. Thoughts raced through my mind, a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirling in the darkness of the night.

As I ascended to the top of the stairs, exhaustion bore down on my shoulders, threatening to engulf me. Abruptly, a figure emerged from the shadows, jolting me out of my reverie. Before I could react, we collided.

Nearly stumbling backward, my heart raced in my chest as I struggled to comprehend the situation. With a shaky hand, I reached out to steady myself against the railing. "Watch where you're going, dumbass.” The harshness of this rugged-looking stranger voice pierced the stillness, stirring a knot of anxiety in my stomach. It was a jarring encounter, snapping me out of my tired stupor and reminding me of the harsh realities of the world outside my bubble of work and avoidance.

“I’m so sor-“, my voice trailed off. As I strained to identify the source of the voice, a sense of dread crept over me. The intonation, the cadence—it all felt uncomfortably familiar. Oh no. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I peered closer, and there he was: Leon, his presence like a ghost from my past, haunting me in the dead of night.

For a moment, I was frozen in shock, unable to comprehend how our paths had crossed again after all these years. But then, as his words registered in my mind, I felt a surge of anger rising within me, pushing aside the fear that threatened to consume me. “Wait… (your name), is that you?” Leon's voice cut through the tension, his tone filled with surprise and a hint of uncertainty. "Leon," I replied, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. Trying to ease the tension, I added, “I almost didn’t recognise you.”

But before he could answer, his demeanour shifted, his eyes softening with an emotion I couldn't quite place. “(Your name)…” he said, his voice tinged with regret. "I'm sorry." His unexpected apology caught me off guard, momentarily halting my rising fury. But as I struggled to process his sudden change in attitude, he reached out to grab both my arms, his presence, like a repulsive chill, sent waves of disgust through me.

“It’s been years and I still miss you,” he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "Can't we just talk?"

I recoiled at his touch, feeling repulsed by the memories of our tumultuous past flooding back. "No," I said firmly, my voice edged with apprehension. "We can't." But as I attempted to pull away, his grip tightened like a vice, his fingers digging into my skin with a disturbing intensity. "Please," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation and a hint of madness. "I really miss you."

In that moment, panic flooded through me, memories of past betrayal threatening to overwhelm once again as I attempted to break free from his touch. Leon's expression turned aggressive, his grip tightening on my arms as I struggled to break free. I attempted to flee from his grasp, but he wouldn’t relent.

Leon's voice erupted into a furious crescendo, each word dripping with venomous anger. "Bitch! You think you're hot shit now? Who are you fucking now, huh?” His aggressive tone sent shockwaves of fear coursing through me, urging me to escape his tightening grip. Desperation clawed at my mind as I screamed for help, the haunting memories of our tumultuous past intensifying the terror of the present moment.

Summoning a surge of determination, I gathered every ounce of resolve within me, channeling it into a fierce effort to break free from Leon's suffocating grip. With a desperate lunge, I wrenched myself from his grasp, feeling the weight of his hold relinquish as I staggered downward, my heart pounding with the urgency of escape.

The reverberation of my voice in the desolate station amplified the intensity of my fear. I struggled against Leon's vice-like grip, panic coursing through me as I frantically scanned the empty surroundings for any sign of assistance. Yet, the late hour rendered the station eerily deserted, devoid of any potential saviours. In the grip of terror, my thoughts instinctively turned to Xavier, the one person I yearned to have by my side in that moment. The memory of his unwavering strength and protective presence ignited a flicker of courage within me. Drawing upon every ounce of resolve, I broke free from Leon's grasp, staggering backward in a desperate bid for escape.

“Get away from me!" I cried out, my voice trembling with a potent mix of fear and fury. As I darted up the stairs to get to the street and find help, my heart pounding in my ears, Leon's menacing presence loomed behind me. With a sudden, forceful movement, he seized hold of my hair, his grip unyielding and merciless—anchoring me to the ground with a jolt of pain and terror.

I found myself sprawled on the unforgiving ground, my arms instinctively forming a feeble barrier against Leon's relentless assault. With every ounce of determination I could muster, I unleashed a powerful kick aimed squarely at his groin. The impact sent shockwaves of pain through his body, doubling him over in agony, his knees crashing to the ground as a guttural cry escaped his lips.

Despite the adrenaline-fueled panic coursing through my veins and the tremors that racked my body, I persisted in my struggle against him, each futile attempt to break free intensifying the sense of desperation and urgency in the air.

Leon's face contorted into a menacing snarl as he regained his composure. He lunged towards me once more, but before he could reach me, a figure emerged from the shadows. It was Xavier. With his imposing presence and determined stance, Xavier swiftly intercepted, closing the distance between us and Leon with remarkable speed. Without hesitation, he delivered a powerful punch to my attacker—his silhouette blurring with the force of his strike.

His usually gentle gaze now burned with an intense darkness as he confronted Leon, ready to protect me at all costs.

“Fucking coward,” Xavier spat, his eyes blazing with anger as he delivered another forceful blow to Leon's face. “Don’t you fucking dare lay a finger on her again.” With each punch, Xavier's resolve only seemed to strengthen, his determination to defend me evident in the unwavering force behind his blows.

Xavier subdued Leon with practiced ease, pinning him to the ground. The weight of his authority was palpable in the air.

As Xavier continued to rain down blows upon Leon, the sound of fists meeting flesh echoed in the dimly lit space. It punctuated the tension with each impactful strike. It was a visceral dance of justice against brutality, a raw display of Xavier's resolve to protect me. The sight of Leon, bloodied and bruised, bore witness to Xavier's unwavering commitment to my safety.

Never before had I seen Xavier so consumed by rage. It was as though he had transformed into an entirely different person, his usual calm demeanour replaced by a ferocity that I had never witnessed before.

Leon, now all bloodied up, stared up at Xavier in shock and disbelief. His bravado shattered by the force of Xavier's righteous fury.

“If you’re anywhere near her or touch her again, I’m gonna make sure you won’t see the daylight,” Xavier warned, his voice carrying the weight of his conviction, leaving no room for doubt or negotiation.

With fear etched on his face, Leon scrambled to his feet and bolted in the opposite direction as fast as his legs could carry him.

With Leon's retreat, the tension in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a heavy silence broken only by the faint sounds of the night. Xavier's gaze lingered on the spot where Leon had stood, his expression a mix of resolve and concern.

Turning towards me, his face a portrait of pure concern, I could still see the remnants of his earlier anger simmering beneath the surface.

"Are you hurt?" Xavier's voice softened with genuine concern as he focused his attention on me, his hand reaching out to gently cradle my cheek. His touch was warm against my skin, a soothing balm to the chaos that had unfolded moments before. I shook my head, my breaths ragged as I leaned against the solid cement pillar for support. As I attempted to rise, Xavier's reassuring presence steadied me, his strong arms providing stability. Gratitude flooded through me, knowing that once again, Xavier had rushed to my aid, much like that pivotal night at the bridge.

"Thank you… Xav," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper, trembling with emotion as I met his gaze. "How did you know where I was?" I asked, my heart still racing from the intensity of the moment. Xavier's expression softened, his eyes reflecting a mixture of relief and concern. "I was worried about you," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm, a comforting hand supporting my back. “I just had a feeling something wasn't right, so I wanted to check on you. I'm relieved I found you when I did."

Despite the lingering rush of adrenaline, I found solace in Xavier's protective presence and his timely intervention.

Xavier's eyes scanned my face, his brow furrowed with genuine worry as he assessed my injuries. "We need to make sure you're alright," he insisted softly, his voice carrying a sense of urgency. Taking my hand in his, he effortlessly hoisted me onto his back, his actions speaking volumes about his commitment to my well-being. As we hurried through the quiet night together, Xavier bearing my weight, a sense of security enveloped me in his embrace. Despite the lingering fear and uncertainty, I found solace in relying on him for support, grateful for his unwavering strength and care.

"I can walk just fine, you know... You don’t have to carry me," I admitted sheepishly, a blush tinting my cheeks as I acknowledged my dependency, my face nestled between his shoulder and neck. Xavier's gaze shifted slightly as he turned his head, locking eyes with me in a reassuring manner. "I want to make sure you receive proper care. We're heading to the hospital to have your injuries checked," he explained calmly, his voice filled with determination to ensure my well-being.

“You’re so dramatic, it’s just a scratch!” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Xavier sighed and replied, "Ok fine, but let’s at least go to the nearby clinic?" I nodded in agreement, grateful for his compromise and his insistence on ensuring my well-being.

With each step, his purposeful stride conveyed his unwavering resolve to take care of me, easing my apprehension about seeking medical attention. The cool night air enveloped us as we moved forward, Xavier's presence providing a comforting shield against the uncertainty that lingered in the darkness.

—

After receiving care and ointments from the clinic, Xavier accompanies me all the way back to my apartment, ensuring my safety with his tender manner and attentive care. With each step, his strength supports me, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the swirling storm of emotions within me. As he guides me through the door, his touch is reassuring, grounding me in the reality of his protective embrace.

Once inside, Xavier assists me in removing my shoes and leads me to my bedroom with a confident, fluid grace. As he settles me onto the bed, his expression shifts between concern and determination, evident in the focused way he prepares to apply the ointment to my scratch.

"Wait," I interject, sitting up. "I'd like to shower first. I don't feel comfortable resting on my bed in my outside clothes."

Xavier nods understandingly, his eyes reflecting his unwavering support. "Of course. Would you like me to leave then?" he asks, gesturing towards the door with a gentle motion.

I pause, considering how to express my desire for his company. However, honesty prevails in my mind. “No, please stay," I reply, grateful for his presence. "Could you help me blow dry my hair after?" Xavier's surprise is evident, but a soft smile graces his lips as he realises I trust him enough to ask for his assistance. "Of course," he says, his voice warm with reassurance.

Stepping into the shower, the warm water envelops me in a comforting embrace. Thoughts of Xavier flood my mind, his timely arrival a beacon of hope in my darkest moment. Gratitude swells within me for his unwavering support, though questions about how he found me linger in the recesses of my mind.

Once refreshed and renewed, I search for Xavier and find him peacefully asleep on my couch. Bathed in the soft glow of the lamp, his expression is serene, imbuing the room with a sense of calm. Drawing closer, I marvel at the tranquility that surrounds him, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm in the stillness of the night.

Studying his features, I notice the gentle fall of his hair and the subtle curve of his lips softened in slumber. A small leaf rests atop his head, a whimsical detail that brings a smile to my lips. As I reach out to remove it, a droplet of water from my hair lands on his chest, causing him to stir and awaken.

Xavier blinks sleepily, his gaze softening with warmth as he focuses on me. “I-I’m sorry!” I stammer, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. "I didn't mean to disturb your sleep. There was a leaf on your head, and I simply wanted to remove it. Look!” I explain, holding up the leaf as evidence. He chuckles softly, the sound carrying a warmth that melts away any lingering tension.

"It's okay," he murmurs, his voice a gentle caress, softened by the lingering tendrils of sleep, yet resonating with a sincerity that soothes my unease. As he unfurls from his slumber-induced cocoon, the fabric of his shirt tautens, tracing the contours of his toned abdomen with a subtle grace. A delicate flush of warmth blossoms across my cheeks, suffusing them with a soft, ethereal glow, like the first blush of dawn.

With a quiet determination, Xavier rises to his feet, a stalwart figure against the backdrop of uncertainty. The ointment, a healing elixir, already nestled in his hand, ready to tend to the tender wounds etched upon my skin. His touch is gentle yet purposeful, each movement deliberate as he tends to my grazed cheek and elbows, a silent vow of protection and care woven into his actions.

“Now, where can I find your hair dryer?” Xavier asks, his eagerness evident in the sparkle of his eyes and the gentle curve of his lips. The dim light of the room casts soft shadows across his features, adding to his allure as he waits patiently for my response.

Guiding him to the location of my hair dryer, I make my way to the kitchen to prepare some refreshments. The aroma of chocolate muffins wafts through the air as they warm up in the oven, filling the kitchen with a tantalising scent. Meanwhile, I carefully brew a fragrant cup of green tea, the steam rising gently from the cup as it steepens.

Returning to my room with the refreshments in hand, I find Xavier already waiting. With a warm smile, I place the food and drink on my side table, gesturing for him to sit on my dressing stool while I settle onto the bed beside him. As he inspects the wetness of my hair, I can't help but notice the soft glow of the streetlights seeping through the window, casting a tranquil ambiance over the room.

Handing him the hair dryer, I set it to medium heat and watch as Xavier meticulously blow-dries my hair with the brush I provided. Each movement is executed with care and tenderness, his focused attention ensuring my comfort throughout the process. Xavier playfully teases me about the small leaf in his hair, insisting I placed it there, to which I respond with mock offense, playfully stuffing a chocolate muffin into his mouth. Laughter fills the room, muffled by the treat, as we enjoy this lighthearted moment together.

“All done,” Xavier announces with a smile as he switches off the hair dryer.

Throughout the interaction, I can't help but feel a sense of warmth and affection for Xavier, grateful for his unwavering support and the comfort of his presence. The glimmer of streetlights seeps through the window, casting a soft glow on Xavier's features, particularly his blue eyes. In that moment, a tranquil stillness envelops my apartment.

As the sound of the hair dryer fades, I rise from my stool and move towards Xavier, who remains seated on my bed. I wrap my arms around him in a heartfelt embrace, my gratitude overflowing for his timely rescue. Overwhelmed by my emotions, I surrender to the warmth of the moment with Xavier. With a gentle kiss planted on his cheek, I convey the depth of my appreciation, cherishing this intimate connection between us.

Xavier's warm smile softens his features, his eyes brimming with tenderness as he gently reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from my face. "Princess, from this moment forward, I vow to protect you wherever life may lead," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody that brings peace to my soul. Nestled in our peaceful embrace, cocooned in warmth and affection, I realise the depth of the bond between us. This connection is precious, a beacon of light in the darkness of uncertainty.

With a contented sigh, I nuzzle closer to Xavier, guiding his head to rest on my chest, where he finds solace in the steady rhythm of my heartbeat. His arms around me are a sanctuary, offering solace and comfort in a world of chaos. And in that moment, I know with unwavering certainty that I am exactly where I belong.

Moved by the depth of my emotions, I lift Xavier’s head to meet my gaze, cupping his chin with my hand, and without a word, I press my lips softly against his, sealing our love with a tender kiss. It's a simple gesture, yet it speaks volumes, expressing all the love and gratitude that fills my heart. As our kiss deepens, I feel a sense of completeness wash over me, as if I've finally found my home in Xavier's embrace.

Reluctantly parting, breathless and exhilarated, a sparkle in Xavier's eyes reflects the emotions swirling within my own heart. In the lingering sweetness of our embrace, I know that our love will endure, steadfast and true, through every twist and turn that life may bring.

—by prettyobsessed⋆˚✿˖°

Editor’s note: So sorry! Work has been so hectic, but I hope this piece that I wrote will make your heart flutter♡

It’s for my Xavier gurlies; those who love his gentle side. Will Part 2 show more of a darker side to him? Stay tuned! For a bad boy Xavier ✎ (❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧

On a side, side note: I realise I enjoy writing slow burn scenarios. Do you guys prefer a fast-paced one instead? Feel free to let me know!

—

this content is copyrighted by @prettyobsessed. all rights are reserved. it is prohibited to replicate, imitate, plagiarise, or repost my content on any other platform without authorisation. translations are also not permitted unless proper credit is given🌷

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