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#i'll still be SO sad if he dies
fernflowerss · 1 year
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Ok so I don't want to sound like the crazy one that is trying to grip too hard unto false hopes BUT
cc!philza has been wanting to do his finale for a while.
His wife is canonically DEATH ITSELF
He very (suspiciously?) Randomly appeared in friday's lore stream
If I remember correctly he has read passerine
Are y'all picking up what i'm putting down?
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i think i'd kill for anything related to don henry tomasino
ANON I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU ENDLESSLY !! thank you so much for this request i love don Henry au so much........😭💔💔💔
anyway! here's random sketches:
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and Henry on Vinci's funeral bc i was thinking about it last week. in my head. in my head Vinci was the one who established Henry as the don.. and there's possibility that Vinci & Henry are relatives so yeahhhhhhh. his death would be kinda personal thing to Henry? not super emotional and tragic thing tho, but still
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post anything related to don!Henry feels like undressing in public ngl
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avocado-frog · 9 months
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Last line tag
@the-stray-storyteller tagged me and in a day when I respond to my other tag, I will tag her back. get wrecked
I accidentally made myself a bit sad with my own writing so now I'm pushing my "dylan probably met elliot pre canon" agenda (which is apparently becoming the dylan gets adopted au) anyways implied child abandonment because it is dylan
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She came to find out that even after a year, Dylan was still under the impression that their parents had to come for them at some point, and she had to be the one to tell them that it wasn't going to happen, and Elliot had to be the one to bribe them out of their locked room with a cookie and a box of apple juice.
---
Tags, no pressure, open tag, you know the drill
@kaiusvnoir
@briannaswords
@litbylightning
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psulphuratus · 1 year
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stinky, culprit of keeping me awake until 5am (⁠ʘ⁠言⁠ʘ⁠╬⁠)
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full-pockets · 2 years
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Is Faendal always super friendly to non-elf players? I remember entering RiverWood playing as a dark elf on two play-throus and he was so friendly to me. He was all like 'Hello sister what's mine is yours nice to see a fellow elf'.
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joycrispy · 7 months
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Awhile ago @ouidamforeman made this post:
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This shot through my brain like a chain of firecrackers, so, without derailing the original post, I have some THOUGHTS to add about why this concept is not only hilarious (because it is), but also...
It. It kind of fucks. Severely.
And in a delightfully Pratchett-y way, I'd dare to suggest.
I'll explain:
As inferred above, both Crowley AND Aziraphale have canonical Biblical counterparts. Not by name, no, but by function.
Crowley, of course, is the serpent of Eden.
(note on the serpent of Eden: In Genesis 3:1-15, at least, the serpent is not identified as anything other than a serpent, albeit one that can talk. Later, it will be variously interpreted as a traitorous agent of Hell, as a demon, as a guise of Satan himself, etc. In Good Omens --as a slinky ginger who walks funny)
Lesser known, at least so far as I can tell, is the flaming sword. It, too, appears in Genesis 3, in the very last line:
"So he drove out the man; and placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life." --Genesis 3:24, KJV
Thanks to translation ambiguity, there is some debate concerning the nature of the flaming sword --is it a divine weapon given unto one of the Cherubim (if so, why only one)? Or is it an independent entity, which takes the form of a sword (as other angelic beings take the form of wheels and such)? For our purposes, I don't think the distinction matters. The guard at the gate of Eden, whether an angel wielding the sword or an angel who IS the sword, is Aziraphale.
(note on the flaming sword: in some traditions --Eastern Orthodox, for example-- it is held that upon Christ's death and resurrection, the flaming sword gave up it's post and vanished from Eden for good. By these sensibilities, the removal of the sword signifies the redemption and salvation of man.
...Put a pin in that. We're coming back to it.)
So, we have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword, introduced at the beginning and the end (ha) of the very same chapter of Genesis.
But here's the important bit, the bit that's not immediately obvious, the bit that nonetheless encapsulates one of the central themes, if not THE central theme, of Good Omens:
The Sword was never intended to guard Eden while Adam and Eve were still in it.
Do you understand?
The Sword's function was never to protect them. It doesn't even appear until after they've already fallen. No... it was to usher Adam and Eve from the garden, and then keep them out. It was a threat. It was a punishment.
The flaming sword was given to be used against them.
So. Again. We have our pair. The Serpent and the Sword: the inception and the consequence of original sin, personified. They are the one-two punch that launches mankind from paradise, after Hell lures it to destruction and Heaven condemns it for being destroyed. Which is to say that despite being, supposedly, hereditary enemies on two different sides of a celestial cold war, they are actually unified by one purpose, one pivotal role to play in the Divine Plan: completely fucking humanity over.
That's how it's supposed to go. It is written.
...But, in Good Omens, they're not just the Serpent and the Sword.
They're Crowley and Aziraphale.
(author begins to go insane from emotion under the cut)
In Good Omens, humanity is handed it's salvation (pin!) scarcely half an hour after losing it. Instead of looming over God's empty garden, the sword protects a very sad, very scared and very pregnant girl. And no, not because a blameless martyr suffered and died for the privilege, either.
It was just that she'd had such a bad day. And there were vicious animals out there. And Aziraphale worried she would be cold.
...I need to impress upon you how much this is NOT just a matter of being careless with company property. With this one act of kindness, Aziraphale is undermining the whole entire POINT of the expulsion from Eden. God Herself confronts him about it, and he lies. To God.
And the Serpent--
(Crowley, that is, who wonders what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil anyway; who thinks that maybe he did a GOOD thing when he tempted Eve with the apple; who objects that God is over-reacting to a first offense; who knows what it is to fall but not what it is to be comforted after the fact...)
--just goes ahead and falls in love with him about it.
As for Crowley --I barely need to explain him, right? People have been making the 'didn't the serpent actually do us a solid?' argument for centuries. But if I'm going to quote one of them, it may as well be the one Neil Gaiman wrote ficlet about:
"If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization." --Robert G. Ingersoll
The first to ask questions.
Even beyond flattering literary interpretation, we know that Crowley is, so often, discreetly running damage control on the machinations of Heaven and Hell. When he can get away with it. Occasionally, when he can't (1827).
And Aziraphale loves him for it, too. Loves him back.
And so this romance plays out over millennia, where they fall in love with each other but also the world, because of each other and because of the world. But it begins in Eden. Where, instead of acting as the first Earthly example of Divine/Diabolical collusion and callousness--
(other examples --the flood; the bet with Satan; the back channels; the exchange of Holy Water and Hellfire; and on and on...)
--they refuse. Without even necessarily knowing they're doing it, they just refuse. Refuse to trivialize human life, and refuse to hate each other.
To write a story about the Serpent and the Sword falling in love is to write a story about transgression.
Not just in the sense that they are a demon and an angel, and it's ~forbidden. That's part of it, yeah, but the greater part of it is that they are THIS demon and angel, in particular. From The Real Bible's Book of Genesis, in the chapter where man falls.
It's the sort of thing you write and laugh. And then you look at it. And you think. And then you frown, and you sit up a little straighter. And you think.
And then you keep writing.
And what emerges hits you like a goddamn truck.
(...A lot of Pratchett reads that way. I believe Gaiman when he says Pratchett would have been happy with the romance, by the way. I really really do).
It's a story about transgression, about love as transgression. They break the rules by loving each other, by loving creation, and by rejecting the hatred and hypocrisy that would have triangulated them as a unified blow against humanity, before humanity had even really got started. And yeah, hell, it's a queer romance too, just to really drive the point home (oh, that!!! THAT!!!)
...I could spend a long time wildly gesturing at this and never be satisfied. Instead of watching me do that (I'll spare you), please look at this gif:
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I love this shot so much.
Look at Eve and Crowley moving, at the same time in the same direction, towards their respective wielders of the flaming sword. Adam reaches out and takes her hand; Aziraphale reaches out and covers him with a wing.
You know what a shot like that establishes? Likeness. Commonality. Kinship.
"Our side" was never just Crowley and Aziraphale. Crowley says as much at the end of season 1 ("--all of us against all of them."). From the beginning, "our side" was Crowley, Aziraphale, and every single human being. Lately that's around 8 billion, but once upon a time it was just two other people. Another couple. The primeval mother and father.
But Adam and Eve die, eventually. Humanity grows without them. It's Crowley and Aziraphale who remain, and who protect it. Who...oversee it's upbringing.
Godfathers. Sort of.
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rorsry · 8 months
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watched uhh dorothy returns ro wizard of oz (2013) and i'd give it a 6.5/10 in general but entertainment wise i'd give it an 8.5 (tbf i was watching it with my brother idk how i'd rate it if i was alone) theres a part where they need a boat and dorothy snaps a piece of wood off a tree who yells in pain and then every tree there starts throwing rocks and acorns at her but then it cuts to a tree hunched over and hes like "take me... take me." and i csnt properly explain why it's so unbelievably funny. the line delivery makes him sound so accepting like he's really willing to die to help dorothy get a boat and i can't stop thinking about it
#also watched dino king. uh. 29 minutes in my brother and i thought it was gonna end soon so we paused and saw we still had an hour left#and we both visibly went HUH??? and i was like are we gonna power through this movie or watch khumba......and he chose to power through#for a dinosaur movie it's not bad i actually really like what they tried going for? ie using footage of real landscape and cgi-ing dinos#in it to make it seem like it's Real Life. obviously the cgi is so very noticable but they did pretty good👍🏼#when speckles (main character) fell into water instead of cgi-ing the water the dropped something irl but put his model over ir#which i find neat i didnt think they'd do that. kinda sad at the lack of blood when the dinos would kill each other#also speckles' family dies which i expected and when the timeskip happens and he finds a girl and then she dies i expected however i did no#expect them to kill two out of three kids like i'm glad junior survived but god damn after the first one died i was hoping the last two#would survive at the very least. also fuck one eyed i thought he was just survivng at first but no he literally started beef#with a one year old dinosaur baby and decided Yeah Im Gonna Ruin Your Life Forever Buddy#my brother and i when speckles finally kills one eyed: yoooo YOOOOOO#movie would have heen better with like 98% more blood but when they did sue blood they used both cgi and fake irl#which i'll admit was kinda cool#fuck you one eye i fucking hate you#ok anywaus we tried watching khumba but didnt bc it was getting late so we watched the first 20mins and then skipped to the end#i think it wouldve been a nice movie? i have no idea but i mean i didnt hate what i saw#if you guys rver wanna watch a movie just got to free with ads on youtube ive been obsessing over those for months now#btw dino movies are very boring to me i forgot to add that. so yeah dino king IS boring to me but i had fun
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astraystayyh · 6 months
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Volcano
pairing : han x reader. enemies to lovers. slow burn.
summary : you've never gotten along with han, your mutual prejudices ruining any prospect of friendship between you both. but you slowly realize that you are more similar than what you originally thought- your darkness recognizing his, and his light yearning for yours.
"I'll take care of you. It's rotten work. Not to me, not if it's you."
cw : depiction of a panic attack, minor injury, both reader and han say mean shit to each other, cursing, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.
word count : 13.2k
a.n: highly recommend listening to "Let the light in" by Lana when Han starts playing it in the fic hehe feedback is highly appreciated as always <3
skz quotes series masterlist.
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You remember being seven years old, sitting on the floor of your bedroom, while your mom brushed your hair. It was a late July night, a cold breeze swaying your white curtains, akin to the fluttering of a butterfly’s wing. Your eyes were slightly puffy, delicate red veins protruding the white of them. You had just finished watching a Disney movie- the Lion King; heavy sobs escaping your lips when Mufasa died.
There were still faint hiccups coursing through you, a slight shake in your hands as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. Your mom brought you to her chest, her chin resting on your small shoulder blade. "You’re sensitive, my sweet girl" she had uttered, rubbing your arms soothingly.
It was the first time someone described you as such. You didn’t know what ‘sensitive’ entailed exactly, but it contained the word ‘sense’, so you assumed it was something good, a quality to be proud of you. You could sense, maybe more than others, maybe too deeply. That’s why you cried when you didn’t get a good grade, or when your friends left you alone in the park.
But you didn't mind back then. What was your heart made for if not to feel?
You should’ve paid more attention to the way your mom spoke, to the bittersweetness lingering in her tone. As if she knew exactly what it entailed to be sensitive- to have your heart overflow with delicate feelings for the rest of your life, with no safe destination to guard them in.
☄༄
You’ve forgotten the last time you cried in.
The tears are lodged inside your throat- you can clearly feel them, an uncomfortable weight sitting on your vocal cords, rendering them impossible to use.
You used to cry, freely, so much that you lost count of how much it happened. But you realized that every tear that escaped your eyes, made you vulnerable, weaker, in the hands of the people around you. Every tear that washed over you, only rendered you more transparent for everyone to peer at how they wounded your soul. 
So, you conditioned yourself to stop feeling as deeply, or at least to stop showing it. The sadness, the hurt, the anger were all stored within you; but your face remained placid, not betraying how you truly felt. You were like a pond, tranquil at the surface, raging from within.
But on days like this one, you miss the person you were. When the implications of being sensitive still haven’t weighed down on you. When you could get rid of your feelings in the essence of your tears. When you didn’t yet feel bad for feeling.
Chan's eyes are on you, as you type furiously on your laptop. Your vision is so blurry that you can no longer see your lit screen. But you’re afraid that if you pause then Chan would ask if you were okay, and you hated that question. Because you never truly knew the answer to it. Yes, you were okay. But you haven’t cried in six months and your friend didn’t greet you back this morning and you suddenly feel very small in a very large library.
"Hey," Chan taps your hand with his pen and you suck in a slight breath, before raising your head to meet his eyes. "Are you-" he starts but you’re quick to cut him off, knowing exactly where this was headed. "Did you answer question five? I’m stuck on what formula to use."
Chan raises a brow at you, and you blink repeatedly. His eyes travel to your feet tapping furiously against the floor, and he understands.
 "I'm still at number four," he finally says and you nod in relief. You’ve been close friends for a year and Chan has come to know you- he’s dropping the subject.
"Oh, and are you coming to the party tonight?" Chan asks, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s hosting it and there is hope twinkling in his eyes. You feel bad because you’re about to crush it.
"No, need to revise more for the upcoming test."
"Of course, you’ll still be buried in your books," a sarcastic voice quips up, and you stiffen inwardly. Han- one-third of 3racha, Chan’s self-made producing group, and the bane of your existence. You never liked who you were around Han, he brought out the worst in you. Made all your insecurities roar forward, plastered across your body in neon red.
He was friends with Chan, long before you came into the picture, back into their high school days when Han skipped a class and ended up in the same one as Chan’s. A genius, as everyone around you liked to call him. And they were right- excelling came easily to Han, in everything he ever did. Even tapping into each one of your tender nooks and crannies.
He knew how to expertly push your buttons, how to make his tone sound mocking, and taunting, but only to you. Because you were sensitive, and he knew it, finding it almost amusing to toy with you. 
You decide to stay silent because nothing good ever comes out of talking back to him. So, you bite your tongue, turning back to look at your screen. But Han’s elbow grazes your arm, as he leans a bit further into your face. "Come on, live a little, y/n. You’re missing out on the college experience," he makes a big show of opening his arms wide, a single red pen spinning between his fingers. "Quit being stuck up for one night." And it spins, and it spins, and it spins and something ugly inside you crumbles.
"I’m sorry I wasn’t born with a golden spoon shoved down my throat and I actually have to work for my future."
Han’s eyes widen at the raw animosity in your voice, before narrowing down promptly. He’s leaning onto your face again, and his tone is low and cold when he speaks again. "What did you just say to me?"
"Is it so hard to grasp that not everyone is as privileged as you? We can’t all afford to get wasted every fucking night and call it a life."
You’re being mean. This is the rudest you’ve ever been to someone else. You know that your reaction is disproportionate to what he said. But it isn’t just about this instant. It’s an amalgam of every moment Han made you feel small in, because you don’t go out as much as him, because you don’t understand as quickly as him. Taunts thrown your way under the guise of teasing, but you know better.
Still, guilt eats at you as your eyes lock with Chan’s. You should’ve stayed silent, as you’ve been diligently doing for the past year.
"How do you stand being her friend Chan? Is it out of pity?" Han muses, a pout pulling at his lips. You stare ahead as Han tsks lightly, before tapping your cheek with his pen, bringing your face back to him. "I think it is. Because isn’t she so fucking boring?"
Being near Han always makes you hyper-aware of things you never noticed before. Like how a breath has to travel from the depths of your body so you’d be able to release it, and how excruciatingly long it takes for you to draw in a new one. Because Han’s words are never harmless, no, they settle on the confines of your lungs, crushing down any bit of oxygen willing to leave you.
You've had enough.
"When you’re eighty, on your deathbed, and all alone. I hope you know that there is no one around to blame but yourself."
"Don’t cross the line, yn," Chan finally speaks and you scoff, as you get up to grab your things.
"What fucking line, Chan? So, he can insult me all day but as soon as I do it there is a line? Why are you taking his side?"
Chan stays silent and you chuckle dryly. "Of course, you are. You’re only friends with me out of pity after all."
"That’s not true-"
"Well, you didn’t deny it, did you Chan?"
"Yn, I-"
"Save it."
Han’s eyes are glossy as you take one final glance at him. But your heart’s bleeding too much for you to care about his minor cut.
☄༄
For how much time can a conversation haunt someone? Seventeen days, for your case. And you're still counting.
You have nit-picked your fight with Han in the library so much that it's driving you insane. His voice is drilled into your head- the coldness of it as he reeled back from the shock of your words, and then, the pure venom dripping from his tone, as he attacked you where it hurt the most. Chan.
Han chose his words carefully, stitched up the sentence perfectly to hurt you, to stick to your flesh like burnt skin, one that you peeled over and over, each time it threatened to scar.
You haven't talked to Chan in seventeen days. He tried to stop you; on your way out of class, in the line of your campus cafeteria, on the doorsteps of your dorm. But you always fleet away. His eyes were also imprinted into your brain- the disappointment in them when you clapped back at Han.
What about him? You wanted to yell. Why are you only disappointed in me?
But the tears in your pillow have dried. Then fallen again. Then dried once more. And you found the answer to question five. And you miss Chan, terribly so.
That's why you're pacing around his dorm, at 10 pm, when it's also terribly cold outside. Your fingers have gone numb from the ministrations of the wind, but you don't move from your place. You know that the chances of seeing Han- the second person you’ve been avoiding like the plague- would be higher here. But you didn't care anymore.
Your thumb hovers over the call button and you bite your lip harshly. Would Chan pick up? Would he hang up? Was he really your friend out of pity?
"Yn?" a voice calls out, and you startle, turning around to see who it is. Changbin, carrying two bags of groceries in his hand. He's Chan’s friend as well, the final member of 3racha. You like Changbin. He's always being very kind to you. You've grown much closer to him than to Han in the past few months; not that the latter has ever wanted a friendship with you. From the day you met and his eyes narrowed promptly each time you talked. You should’ve known from the start.
"Why are you out here in the cold?" Changbin asks gently, stepping cautiously towards you.
"Chan," you say simply and he nods, understanding what you mean.
"He's not here now, but he'll come home soon. Let's go inside, okay?" he smiles tentatively at you and you hum in reply.
Changbin opens the door and you follow inside. You help him take out the groceries silently, stacking them in their fridge and shelves. Lots of protein powder, and chicken packets. You'd laugh about it if you weren't so sad.
"Chan misses you," Changbin speaks up suddenly, and your heartbeat quickens at his words.
"I miss him too."
"Then you'll be okay."
You try to remember Changbin’s reassuring smile when Chan finally opens the door to the dorm, an hour later. He finds you sitting on the stool in the kitchen. His eyes light up once they settle on you.
And you unravel at the sight.
You're crying, sobs rippling from you as he brings you to his chest. He's patting your head and whispering that it's okay. And you know his shirt is all crumpled from clutching it in your hands. But he doesn't mind. He only hugs you tighter.
"I'm sorry, yn. So, so, sorry. I should've stopped him before, I just... You two are my best friends and I didn't want to add fuel to the fire by talking and-"
"It's okay, it's okay, I'm the one who should apologize for ghosting you."
"I understand why you did it. I fucked up but I missed you so much. Can we please never do this again?”
“Yes please,” you giggle, but the sound withers as the door opens once again.
"What is she doing here?" a cold voice breaks you and Chan apart, as your eyes land on Han. His gaze sucks the breath out of you, and the warmth in your heart fizzles out. Your hold on Chan’s shirt tightens and he takes an unconscious step in front of your body. Han doesn't miss the protective gesture.
"Get out, yn."
"You don't get to kick my friends out of my house," Chan is angry. And you regret ever coming here.
"Last I checked it's my house too." Han doesn't even bother looking at you. He's holding Chan’s gaze as if they're silently communicating. "You know damn well what she said why-" he takes a deep breath, running a hand angrily through his hair. "Fuck this. If she's not leaving then I am."
And with that he storms out, slamming the door behind him. You flinch at the sound.
Chan’s eyebrows are knitted as he stares at where Han stood seconds ago as if trying to conjure him up once again. You never wanted to strain their friendship. You knew how much Han cared for Chan, even if he didn't bear the same sentiment for you.
"Chan, I’ll leave. Call Han and tell him I'm gone."
"You don't have to."
"I know," you reassure, placing your hand on his forearm. "We'll talk more later, okay? It's cold and he has nowhere to go. Just call him, please."
"Fine," Chan concedes. "Call me when you get home, alright?" his eyes finally soften and you squeeze his hand in reply, before heading out as well.
The walk from Chan’s dorm to yours is fairly short, but tonight, it seems like kilometers are separating you from the safety of your bed. There is a heavy weight crushing your bones, most of it being guilt at what just transpired between Chan and Han.
That's what comes with being sensitive- you bear the weight of your feelings and the one of those surrounding you.
Were you out of place with what you said to Han? Yes. Was it eating you inside to see the consequences of your words? Yes. But he was also to blame, you repeated in your head. He was also to blame. Please. You plead, you don't know to whom, maybe to the voice in your head to stop being so mean. 'But none of this would've happened if you weren't so sensitive. So easy to bruise' the voice mocks and you stumble on your feet.
It happens so suddenly it takes you off guard- the way the breath is knocked out of you. You pause, chest heaving as you bend down slightly. Your hand is on your heart as you try to breathe again, but it's shaking so much. Your legs give out under you, and you plop down on the floor, eyes tightly shut. You can't breathe. You can't breathe. You're going to pass out.
"Yn, what-" A hand rests on your shoulder but you shake it off. You don't want to be touched. Not by him.
"Let me help-" Han speaks again, and you scramble away from him, as best as you can anyway. You end up kneeling on the ground once again, your back to him. "Get-get away."
"I know you're mad but you aren't okay and I know how horrib-"
"You aren't helping!" you shout through tears, as your heart threatens to spill out of your throat. "You’ve hurt me e-enough already."
You don't remember how you got home that night, how you managed to open the door or cross the road leading to your dorm. But you remember Han leaving you on the cold ground, just like you wanted. You remember the ache in your bones as you laid on your bed; the burning desire to stop feeling for a night, to cut your chest open and tear off your bleeding heart.
☄༄
One month later
If there's one thing you've always complained to Chan about, it's the fact that his building had an elevator in it, unlike yours.
Today, you’ve come to regret this fact. Tremendously.
You’ve been avoiding going to Chan’s dorm for the past weeks since the last thing you wanted was to see Han. But, he insisted on you coming over, reassuring you that it would only be him and Changbin at home since Han supposedly had other plans.
Well, Chan was wrong. Because Han just walked into the elevator you are in, mere moments before its doors closed.
Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes lock on yours. He looks like he wants to say something but he decides against it, opting for sighing loudly instead, before pressing the button leading to the fourth floor, rather harshly.
Your need to flee has never been this strong.
You watch anxiously as the numbers slowly go up. 1… 2… 3… Then a loud voice startles you and the elevator starts to shake in place. The door is suddenly opened and you are met with a cement wall, blocking your exit.
"What the fuck?" Han groans as you press the emergency button repeatedly, hoping that the elevator will resume its course and this nightmare will be forgotten.
It doesn’t.
"You’re going to break the goddamn button," Han pushes your hand away and you stumble away from him.
"Can you shut up? I’m not in the mood for your bullshit."
"Does it look like I’m happy to be here?" Han scoffs, as a ringtone plays in the elevator, cutting you off before you could respond. 
"Hey guys, this happens from time to time, so no need to worry. Is everyone alright?" Someone speaks and you assume it's the worker charged with the maintenance of the elevator.
"Yes," you both reply at the same time.
"Great. We’ve contacted the mechanics but they said there’s a lot of traffic, so it might take a bit longer for them to get here."
"How long?" Han asks the question that’s on your mind as well.
"Two hours, at most, for you to get out."
"Oh, for fuck’s sake," you groan, as hot tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. This is the last thing you needed today- to be stuck in a cramped-up space with the one person who sucks the oxygen out of any room you’re in.
"Thanks, man," Han sighs and you turn your back to him, facing the wall. You’ve had a horrible day, scratch that, a horrible week. Hanging out with Chan and Changbin was the one thing you were looking forward to, only for the worst possible scenario to happen- being stuck in the same place with Han. You feel an urgent need to sob but you can’t cry in front of him. Not when he’s all claws and your skin is tender.
"Wait, are you claustrophobic?" He suddenly asks, seemingly inches away from your body.
"As if you’d fucking care," you scoff, before heading to a corner of the elevator and settling down.
"I'm not a monster, you know," he mutters in an almost sad tone, one that forces you to look up at him. His hands are deep into his pockets, eyebrows knitted as he gazes down at you. "Do you really think I’m that much of an asshole?"
"Yes," you reply instantly, before staring forward again. The hurt that flashes in his eyes shouldn’t tug at your heartstrings, but it does, ever so faintly, like the last wave that grazes your feet as you get out of the ocean. "I’m not claustrophobic," you add after a while and Han finally sits on the opposite side from you.
It’s hot and stuffy in the elevator, and it’s quiet, too quiet for your liking. You’ve never really liked silence for too long, it made the small voice in your head only grow bolder, louder, impossible to ignore.
Thirty-five excruciatingly long minutes go by and the tension only grows more suffocating. It’s simmering, barely beneath the surface, waiting for the person who will finally make it explode. 
It’s Han.
“Can I ask you something?”
“No.”
“Come on, we have nothing else to do.”
“Have you tried being silent?”
"Yn," he says sternly and you begrudgingly concede. "Fine. Ask me."
You imagine him smirking slightly, the way he does each time he manages to push you over the edge.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
“We’re not doing this right now,” you shake your head, tone adamant.
"When’s a better time for it? We’re literally never in the same place."
“And whose fault that is?” You smile too sarcastically and he frowns. “So, I’m the only one to blame?”
“Can’t you see how full of yourself you are? Fuck, Han, this is exactly what I hate about you.”
“What are you even talking about?”
“You’re so immature, you never sit back to think of how your words might impact someone.”
"What words yn? I was teasing you!" his voice grows louder and so does yours. "You were hurting me!" you yell, chest heaving. There is something utterly terrifying in this confession- to let someone know how easy it was for them to get to you.
"But I didn’t mean to," he drags a hand through his hair, exasperated. "It's not my fault you felt that way."
An ironic chuckle leaves your lips, as you point at him. "See, you're doing it again! You're blaming me for my reaction instead of evaluating how your actions might have caused it."
"Look, yn," he scrambles to you until there are only a few centimeters separating your bodies. "I really wanna fix this, okay? Can we stop screaming?"
"Why are you so hellbent on fixing it?" you question, as you lean further away from him. He notices and takes a step back, giving you space.
"Because although I don't care about you, I care about Chan. And this is hurting him. So, I want to be civil with you."
The mention of Chan feels like a cold bucket of water dousing the fire within you. You know he’s struggling to be in the middle of two people he loves. He doesn’t deserve that.
"Fine," you sigh softly. “You talk. I’ll listen.”
"I didn't... I didn't know that my words would hurt you. In truth, it looked like you weren't affected at all. That's why I kept pushing you because… God Yn you're so perfect it maddens me."
Your eyebrows knit together at his words- the last thing you expected to stumble out of his mouth. "What are you talking about?"
"You never get sad, never get angry. Your emotions are always in check. You're always smiling, always laughing. Have everything figured out from how you want to be now to where you want to be in the future. And you know yourself, you never step out of order. And this is selfish and stupid but it irked me. Because I am the opposite of you. I'm a mess and too human it terrifies me, so I wanted to see if you had a breaking point. But each time I taunted you, you remained placid. So, I kept pushing to see if you'd break one day because, selfishly enough, that would make me feel better about how broken I am."
"Han, you're so stupid. Aren't you a literal genius? You excel in everything you do and you have fun on top of it, every single night. Don't you realize how lucky you are?"
"Do you really believe I find joy in being wasted and not even remembering what happened that night? I do that because I'm in my mind most of the days and it isn't the best place to be in. So, I like to forget."
“Why do you think I always bury myself in my studies? Because it's safe and it makes me forget too. Did you really think I didn’t feel? I feel too much and that’s the problem.”
Han remains silent as you curse under your breath. "Do you even realize how selfish this is? To test a human's breaking point? All because what? I didn't shove my struggles down your nose? Would you go around and do this to everyone who looked fine to you?"
"I know, I know, I was just in a bad place, and this isn't an excuse but I... I felt as if you were just showing me everything that was wrong with me."
"That is how I felt around you," you chuckle bitterly and he hangs his head low. He’s much quieter when he speaks again. “I guess we’re more similar than I thought.”
"Doesn't excuse what you did. You targeted me and made me feel insane because no one was hearing the hostility in your tone like I did."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I really am. I never thought it'd get this bad and I deserve every name you called me."
"You do." You close your eyes, as Han’s words wash over you. There is so much more you want to say, so much you want to spit out in his face because of his selfish coping mechanism. But you also want peace, for Chan’s sake. So, you try to bury your resentment, just like you do with every other feeling. One day it’ll turn into indifference. You’ll make sure of it.
You bite your lip, before clearing your throat. Your tone is softer when you speak again. "I'm sorry for what I told you in the library. About you dying alone and whatnot. That wasn't nice of me."
"You really hit the nail with that one," Han chuckles quietly, and guilt floods your heart at the expression on his face. "And I'm sorry for calling you boring. You aren't. And for everything I said before that."
"Okay. It's okay." You reassure, a tiny smile drawn on your lips.
He nods before a sly grin grows on his face. "Should we hug it out?" he teases, cocking an eyebrow at you and you stare pointedly at him. "Don't push your luck."
"Yes, ma'am."
An hour later, the mechanics finally manage to get the elevator going, which in turn allows you both to get out. Han opens the door to the dorm, and you find Chan lying on the couch, scrolling down his phone.
"Han? I thought you would..." he starts before trailing off as he looks up. "Yn? Where were you, I’ve been calling you for the past two hours."
"I didn't have signal."
"Why where were-" Chan goes to question before stopping once again. He hurriedly stands up and walks toward you.
"You... Are standing next to one another."
"We are," Han replies, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.
"And you aren't... Fighting?" his statement comes out more like a question, which makes both you and Han chuckle.
"We aren't."
"We talked it out, in the elevator which we were both just stuck in," you add and Chan’s eyes grow wide, as a breathtaking smile breaks out on his face.
"Oh my god. Finally. We'll talk about the elevator bit later but it's been so hard trying not to be in the same place as the both of you."
"We know. We're sorry," you both pout in sync and Chan shakes his head, before opening his arms wide. You giggle, before walking to him and sinking into his embrace. Han follows you shortly after, and your eyes meet behind Chan’s back. He shoots you a tiny thumbs up.
Is this how a dandelion feels, you wonder, when someone blows on it in the hopes it'll grant their selfish wishes. Only to be tossed away afterward, lifeless.
You drown out the thought before smiling back at Han. It doesn’t reach your eyes.
☄༄
Befriending two-thirds of 3racha holds within it a lot of privileges. The first one is listening to unreleased music, the second is having exclusive insight into their upcoming performances.
Their gigs don't happen as often as they'd like, because they're still students who unfortunately have lots of assignments. But when a window of free time materializes, they unveil their latest productions at vibrant parties, dimly lit bars, or even the occasional club. Which attracts a lot of people, some even coming from neighboring towns to listen to them play.
Everyone can recognize raw talent, even if rap doesn't happen to be their favorite genre.
This is how you know that they'll be performing Heyday, their latest creation, at Seungmin’s party. You've met him in passing, and Chan insisted that you'd come. Not that you needed much convincing anyway, you fell in love with this song the minute you heard it.
There is an exhilarating energy in Seungmin’s mansion, a palpable anticipation preceding 3racha’s performance, as you all gaze at the makeshift stage. The place is packed, bodies pressed tightly to one another. You feel slightly uncomfortable but you swallow it down. You're here to support Chan first and foremost, you can leave if things become too much for you.
The introductory chords materialize abruptly, and 3racha takes the stage. Chan is clad in a white shirt with huge gaps on his sides, revealing glimpses of his chest each time he bends down. Changbin, on the opposite end of the spectrum, is wearing a tightly fitted black shirt, hugging each muscle of his to perfection. Han, the last one to walk in, sports a loose black shirt, with a low neckline. His nails are painted to match the color of his attire, you notice.
The song kicks off with Changbin's incendiary rap as deafening cheers ring all around you. You make sure to scream on top of your lungs too, as Changbin’s loud voice commands the attention of everyone in the room. You’ve always held a penchant for his rap style- how powerful he sounds, and how addicted you quickly become to hearing him on stage. You remember once telling him that any song that starts with his rapping is a successful hit. He playfully nudged your shoulder but his appreciative smile was hard to miss.
Chan’s part is next and you try to rap along, as best as you can anyway due to your fleeting memory. It sounds mostly like gibberish but you don’t mind, especially when your eyes meet Chan’s and he grins at you, before morphing into the mesmerizing stage persona that's peculiar to him. You clearly remember the first time you witnessed him on stage, and how enthralled you were by the sheer power he exuded. His destiny was intertwined with music, no one could deny that. 
A bed squeaking sound comes next, followed by the knocking on the door and you giggle against your will. That was Han’s ingenious touch, as Chan had shared when you'd raised a quizzical brow at him while listening. “Is this based on a real-life experience?” You asked, a knowing smirk etched upon your features, and he pretended to zip his mouth, earlobes turning a vibrant shade of crimson.
Han finally starts rapping in his inimitable style, exuding an effortless, laid-back aura. Your gazes meet at the "let's go play" line, and he tilts his head quizzically at you as he utters his confused "huh?". You raise one eyebrow at him prompting a sly smirk from him, before redirecting his attention to the opposite side of the stage. Yet, your eyes remain on him throughout his entire part.
The boys step off the stage, and you watch from the corner of the room with a wide grin as a swarm of people surrounds them. Congratulations and praise fill the air, and you can tell that 3racha thrives on this moment- it's what they live for, what makes their souls rise up from the ashes. 
Chan catches your eye, and you applaud enthusiastically, letting out a happy giggle. He blows you a kiss, and you playfully pretend to catch it, eliciting a small shake of his head. Changbin, who's standing near him, catches the exchange and winks at you from a distance, to which you respond with two thumbs up.
Even though you're a bit far from them, you're certain the boys can sense the pride radiating from you in waves. There's something truly magical about humans existing in their element, particularly people you care about.
Your gaze shifts to Han, and your smile falters slightly. He's also glowing, but signs of discomfort are starting to creep onto his face. You recognize them fairly well, as you've felt them too at times when emotions become overwhelming. So, after a brief internal debate, you decide to act and begin making your way toward him, pushing through the crowd despite the rising complaints behind you.
They fall on deaf ears.
You grab Han's forearm, pulling him with you through the sea of bodies toward the bathroom. He doesn't fight, following diligently behind you. You open the door and pull him inside, pausing as you realize you don't have a specific plan for bringing him here. This is also the first time you've been alone together since the elevator conversation.
"Thank you," Han whispers, and you nod, your eyes softening. "I'm okay, I love performing, I just needed a breather," he quickly adds, as if feeling guilty for being overwhelmed. 
"That's completely understandable. You are running on a lot of adrenaline, and the room is so crowded," you say with a smile, turning to the mirror to touch up your makeup.
Han remains silent for a while as you powder your face, before reapplying your cherry lip gloss. You can hear him taking in deep breaths, and you avoid looking at him, worried he might feel embarrassed.
"What did you think of the performance?" he finally asks, and you raise your head slightly. You lock eyes with him through the mirror, as he leans against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. His black t-shirt falls a bit, revealing more of his bare skin, and your eyes trail down for a moment.
"It was really good. I think this song might be my favorite of all yours."
"Really?" Han grins, his words filled with an excitement that warms your heart despite yourself. He's just received heaps of compliments from hundreds of people, yet your words still seem to affect him deeply.
"Yes. I loved your rap, how it started in a laid-back manner, and then you cleared your throat and picked up the pace. It added a unique edge to the song."
"Thank you, really," his smile is genuine, and you giggle softly, shaking your head.
"What's funny?" he asks, walking up to you. You're still facing the mirror, and he's now only inches away from you.
"I didn't imagine you'd appreciate my compliment this much."
"It feels sincere," he shrugs and you nod, finally turning around and leaning against the sink.
"It is sincere."
"Good."
You hold his gaze, eyes only trailing down to go across his face. He looks far different from how he did on stage. Shier, more eager for praise.
"You have..." he steps up until the scent of his cologne tickles your nose. His hand raises ever so slowly to your face, and you hold your breath, as he picks up something from your cheek. His hands are warm.
"An eyelash fell. Make a wish."
A surprised chuckle escapes your lips. "You wish on fallen lashes?"
"You wish on everything when you need hope." his voice is low, a timber so foreign to your ears it sends shivers down your spine. So, you close your eyes, wishing for your heart to quit beating so fast.
"Done," you whisper and he blows the single lash away, his gaze still on you.
"Thank you for coming."
"Of course. I had to support Chan and Changbin." It slips from your mouth before you can stop it, and Han slightly recoils from your words.
"Right, them. Yeah. Of course," he finally backs away, and oxygen fills your lungs once again. "I'm good now. Should we go out?"
"After you," you nod tightly and he walks ahead first, his perfume trailing after him and pulling you into a dizzying dance. 
☄༄
The party Seungmin hosted was your last time having fun for a while. Your preparation for midterm exams began soon after, and you found yourself swarmed with assignments left and right. Thankfully, you and Chan were going through it at the same time, which meant you met at the library each day, revising silently near one another.
Except this time, you were joined by Han.
Goosebumps ran across your skin as he pulled the chair next to you, not the good kind of shivers. You were reminded of the fight you had right here, three months ago. Which still left a bitter taste in your mouth.
You don't hate Han anymore. He's actually funny, and you enjoy listening to his ramblings when you go over to Chan's dorm. He's also really different in his home, much quieter, and softer. Much more like you.
But you're also human, and there is still a part of your brain sending off warning signals at his presence. Maybe because the hurt was never buried properly. You just brushed it off under the carpet after your elevator conversation. Most of it was spent shouting anyway.
"Hey," he greets and you just nod in reply. You can feel his gaze linger on you a bit after that, and a pang of guilt twists in your heart. "Hi," you finally reply, but you tune out his response. Why is it that you're sensitive to everyone's emotions but your own?
Twenty minutes go by, then forty, and you can no longer take the uncomfortable feeling clinging to your skin. So, you excuse yourself, hurriedly stepping out of the library.
Han follows you; you can tell it’s him because someone's chair scraped loudly against the floor as soon as you stood up, and that couldn't be Chan because he is always careful with the silence in the library. So, you put on your headphones and walk faster.
This is childish, surely it is, but you can't control your emotions. You've apologized and so did he, you talk from time to time and you even held his arm and took him to a quiet bathroom. So where is all this bitterness coming from?
"Dammit, yn, how are you so fast?" Han grabs your arm pausing you. He's panting slightly and you just blankly stare as he takes in a deep breath.
"Are you okay?" he finally asks and you nod, turning around to walk away. He stops you again.
"I made you uncomfortable, didn't I?" he asks quietly, and you sigh, rubbing your forehead wearily.
"You didn't do anything, I just... Being in that library reminded me of certain things."
"I know. Me too. Can we please talk?"
"We are talking," you raise your brows and he stares pointedly at you. "Come on you know what I mean."
"Fine," you giggle, "we can talk."
"I didn't apologize properly to you in the elevator. Truth is, I did it because Chan was mad at me and I couldn't stand it anymore."
The bitterness- you understand where it comes from now.
"But I am sorry. Truly sorry. I was selfish and I hurt you and this will sound like a joke, but I hate hurting people. I really do. I was just too wrapped up in my problems that I didn't realize how it would affect you and I'm sorry, I'm really sorry. I also shouldn't have tried to kick you out that day, but dying alone is my biggest fear, and seeing you in my home made me want to lose my mind because I couldn't get what you said out of my head, but it was so cold outside and again I shouldn't have told you to go out and I am so sorry-"
"Han, breathe," you smile, cutting him off and Han sucks in a deep breath, chest slightly heaving from talking uninterrupted for a minute straight.
"I'm sorry I just wanted to apologize, properly this time. I'm doing it because I'm guilty, not because of Chan. Nothing excuses my behavior, I know. And I wish I could turn back in time and actually get to know you because you're really cool and very nice, but I can't. All I can do is apologize. So I'm sorry, Yn. I really am."
"I appreciate it," you smile, and Han exhales a little from relief. "I didn't know that was your biggest fear, but even if it wasn't, that was uncalled for. I shouldn't have said something so mean. So, I'm sorry for it too. But I'm not apologizing for being mad, you deserved that."
"I did, I did, I know." He's quick to agree. "I don't want us to be awkward around one another. I'm not telling you that you have to be my best friend but, we can be friends, right? But you also don't have to. It's enough if you forgive me and... You know what? Never mind forget I said anything, I'm just nervous and-"
"Okay."
"Okay?" he repeats.
"We can be friends. I accept your truthful apology."
"Actually?"
"Yes."
"Like we can start over?" he grins and you chuckle at the excitement in his face. "Yes."
"Can we hug it out?"
"Too soon," you pout and he nods, a faint blush dusting his cheek.
"Right. Should we go back to the library? I saw that you were stuck on a question. I can help you."
"You won't make any comments?"
"No. Pinky promise." he outstretches his pinky towards you and you muse over it for a bit, before wrapping your finger around his. You grin at Han- your first genuine smile since he's known you. His hold on your pinky falters.
"Okay. I'm in."
.☄༄
Five weeks later- 1:13 a.m.
You were still slightly cautious near Han as if you were both threading along an invisible line. You could talk, but not too much, afraid any old animosity would shine through. And you could stay together, but not too long, in case it gets awkward and you wouldn't know what to do. So, you never mixed, just like water and oil, each of you knowing their place, away from the other.
But you still didn't want to miss out on outings with your friends. So, when Chan invites you for a movie night with Han, and Changbin, you don't say no.
The night runs smoothly, the warm beer you had easing your nerves bit by bit. It was also easier to forget that you once hated Han when he brought tears to your eyes from laughing so hard.
2:56 a.m.
An unbearable heat suddenly envelopes you, your very blood boiling from within. You hesitantly look down, to find your entire body bathed in red, as if your skin had melted away, exposing you to the scorching heat embracing your tender flesh.
You are in the heart of a volcano, with lava bubbling dangerously below. Hanging by a frail thread, you dangle over the edge of death.
And then, you plummet. 
You startle awake, your heart pounding in your chest, your hand clutching it tightly. Cold sweat clings to your skin, and it takes you a few moments to realize that you're safe, far from the inside of the volcano that had threatened to consume you.
You glance at your phone- 3:43 a.m. You read. It's only been a mere hour since you went to sleep. You don't think you could drift back into slumber. 
Dragging a hand tiredly across your face, you walk into the pitch-black kitchen. You pour yourself a glass of water, hoping that the icy drink will cool you down. You are safe.
"What are you-" you startle, dropping the glass and spinning around, hand pressed to your heart.
"Han, fuck, you scared me," you sigh, tugging at your hair slightly and he's quick to your side, a string of hushed apologies tumbling from his lips.
"I'm sorry, here let me clean it up," he kneels and you follow suit, grabbing his hands and gently pushing them away. "No, I dropped it, let me clean," you reassure, but your hands are trembling as you pick up the shards of glass, any bit of logic clouded by your racing thoughts.
Your heartbeat's ringing loudly in your ears, you barely register the glass cutting your skin until an uncharacteristic warmth oozes from your hand. Blood.
"Shit," you curse lowly and Han illuminates the place with his phone flashlight. "Did you cut yourself?" he asks and you shake your head, walking over to the sink.
"It's nothing, don't worry."
"Yn, let me see," he's standing behind you, the ghost of his breath grazing your exposed neck.
"Han, really it's-" he cuts you off, grabbing your forearm and walking you over to the couch. He finally turns on the lights before crouching down in front of you.
"Show me?" he asks gently and you're too tired to fight him. You open your palm tentatively, taking a look at your cut for the first time as well. It's not too deep, it won't require stitches. But it's also not shallow, blood oozing from it at a steady rhythm.
Han simply frowns upon gazing at your wound, before walking over to his room. You don't move from your spot, gaze lost into the space before you. What would happen if you never woke up? Would you feel your flesh burning? Bones melting as the searing lava-
"Here," he gently holds your wrist, as his eyes meet yours. "This will hurt a bit. Hold my arm as tight as you want and tell me if it becomes too much, okay?"
"Okay," you simply nod.
He dabs up your cut with a cotton pad soaked in alcohol. You hiss softly, as the liquid burns your open skin. Han abruptly stops at the sound. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry I didn't mean to I just-"
"It's okay," you smile reassuringly, "I can handle it."
Han nods, resuming his treatment. He's even softer this time, if that is even possible. He's careful when he rubs a soothing gel on your cut, before wrapping your palm in a gauze. He can't find a pair of scissors so he cuts it with his teeth, his lips brushing against the back of your hand. You account the warmth you're suddenly feeling to the aftermath of your nightmare.
"Why are you even up?" he finally asks as he settles next to you on the couch, eyes looking up to the ceiling.
"Nightmare."
"You’re okay?" he asks gently and he sounds truly concerned for your well-being. You aren't used to this. To Han acting like a friend to you. But it feels nice to be cared for, so you don't mind him blurring the lines tonight.
"I'm still a little bit scared," you admit sheepishly and Han's eyes soften under the dim moonlight.
"It passed. You're okay now."
"Am I?" you drag a hand tiredly across your face and Han frowns, inching closer to you.
"Is it a recurring dream?"
"Mm. It tires me out."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No, I just want to forget." 'Help me forget' you want to add, but you decide against it. "Why were you up, anyway?"
"I got inspiration for lyrics so I had to write it down."
"Can you share some with me?" you ask, tone a tad too hopeful. Han catches it and smiles warmly at you.
"Sure. This is probably going to be in the chorus..." he pulls out his phone, heading to his notes app. "This is what I have so far... I let my frustrated screams out hoping that they’d be washed away in the rain. I send it off with a smiling face, down to the last drops left on my fingertips." he pauses, scrolling down a bit more. "I also wrote this; I think it'll be nice in a verse... I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."
"You're such a talented lyricist Han," you whisper in awe, and Han’s cheeks warm up at your words, reminiscent of a setting sun. "But I also wish it was as easy as this. To let out all the emotions you bottle inside and for them to wash away with the rain." You bite your lip, as Han’s words echo in your head. "I think... I think that's why I get this nightmare. I don't free my emotions anymore, and they show up in my dreams to torment me."
You don't know where these bouts of honesty are coming from. Maybe because you're too weary to keep up a happy facade. Or maybe because you know that the person who wrote these lyrics must understand exactly how you feel.
"Well... It's raining." Han whispers after a while and you look at him, confusion plastered across your features.
"And?"
"Should we test it out?"
"Test what?"
"Screaming under the rain," he says as if it's the most evident thing in the world.
"What? That's insane, Han we will get sick and..." You pause, as the words dissolve in your mouth like the seafoam meeting the shore. "You know what? Let's do it!"
"Really?" he asks incredulously, a huge grin on his face.
"Yes!"
"Okay, let's go!"
You both abruptly stand up, still only clad in your pajamas. You quickly slip your shoes on before running outside. The rain envelops you in a cold hug as soon as you step outside, rain droplets trickling down your clothes. You don't mind, you have lots of bottled-up feelings to free. 
"This needs music," Han smiles as he takes out his phone, putting his playlist on shuffle. 'Let The Light In' starts playing, and you shoot him a thumbs-up.
"It fits the rainy mood," you grin and he nods, squinting his eyes to be able to look at you.
"I think if we scream here, we'll scare the neighbors."
"I know!" you chuckle, wiping away the rain droplets on your forehead. "Where should we go?"
"The empty parking lot!" Han shouts so you'll hear him over the growing rain and you nod. He takes off running and you chase after him. You're both completely drenched once you're a bit far away from the house. But you don't care. Not when there is pure adrenaline rushing through you.
You finally stop, loud giggles escaping your mouth at the thrill of what you're doing. "You should start!" you yell excitedly and Han nods, taking in deep steadying breaths.
"Okay, I'm ready!"
"On the count of three! One... Two... Three!" and Han shouts at the top of his lungs, his screams getting lost in the rain. An incredulous smile breaks out on his face as you giggle loudly, the sound of it ringing out in the downpour.
"You looked insane!"
"I feel insane!" He yells honestly and a fit of laughter takes over you both. You hold his arm to steady yourself. 
"You should try it now!" Han urges and you nod, willing yourself to calm down. 
"Okay, will you count down for me?" 
"Yes," he assures and you clap excitedly. Han can't help but smile at the excitement on your face.
"One... Two... Three!" And you shout, continuous screams spilling from the depths of your soul. Han wasn't wrong- your pain, your fear, your anger are all dripping along the rain droplets, from your bruised heart to the tip of your fingers.
You've never felt this free before.
The two of you don't notice the passage of time, the rain acting as a cathartic release to all your pent-up emotions. It was as if your pain intertwined with each rain droplet, and you were letting go of everything that had held you down. Each scream acted as a break from the burdens of the past, and the worries of the future. 
As you finally stopped, panting and soaked to the bone, you looked at each other with raw exhilaration in your eyes.
"So, how was it?" Han yells over the rain and you break out in a relieved smile. "I don't think I’ve ever been this happy my entire life," you beam at him and the sight makes the rain feel less colder to Han. 
He watches, a small smile on his face as you twirl around, face looking up toward the sky, a deluge of rain grazing your cheeks like a lover's tender touch. The smile doesn't leave your face as you spin around, happy chuckles leaving your mouth from time to time.
You look... free. As if there was an invisible weight on your shoulders that the rain washed away. A heavy burden that you carried within you, like a secret secret. He likes the sound of that. Maybe that's what he'll name his song. 
Han slightly shakes his head as he watches you skip around, clothes completely soaked. You are now standing a bit far away, right beside a street lamp.
Ooh, let the light in
Its light shines on you alone.
Time seems to slow down, as Han’s steps falter. You're smiling, not at him, but at the universe. A happiness so raw filling you that it needs to come out, even if no one's watching.
You're spinning around, delighted giggles spilling from you like the most mesmerizing chorus. Something is building up inside Han, begging for a release. It refuses to come out in a scream- violently. It's tender and soft. He thinks that if you held his hand right now, you'd be able to free it.
Look at us, you and I back at it again
Is it possible to feel something other than an emotion? Because right now, weirdly, all he feels is you.
Cause I love to love to love to love you
I hate to hate to hate to hate you
Your eyes land on Han and there is pure joy dancing in your pupils. He's glad you no longer despise him. He doesn't think he can stomach it anymore.
Cause I want to want to want to want you
You run to him, holding his hand before twirling him around.
I need to need to need to need you
Han can't believe he ever thought you weren't human enough. You are a mosaic of every feeling that makes one human. There are lyrics writing themselves in his head and they're all about you.
Ooh, let the light in
You clasp both his hands, before crossing them over. And then you're both spinning around until the world around you blurs. All he sees is you, and the light surrounding you alone.
Ooh, turn your light on
He thinks he might, if the light is you.
5:22 a.m
"There is a heater in my room, you should come," Han offers as you dry your hair with the blue towel he just handed you.
"It's okay I’ll stay here," you point to the couch but he shakes his head adamantly. "You'll die from hypothermia. Do you know how mad Chan will be if I let you pass away?" he whispers in fear, a hand clutching his heart.
"So dramatic," you giggle, before following him into his room. He goes on his bed first before tapping the spot beside him. You sigh before lying next to him, snuggling further into the hoodie he gave you to change.
"You're still shivering," he remarks, as your teeth clink together.
"It's okay."
"You shouldn't have gone out with just a t-shirt."
"I didn't exactly plan on this, you know," you smile sarcastically and Han chuckles before tapping your shoulder softly.
"Come closer."
You debate for a second before complying, the cold tuning out all the rational thoughts in your head. 
Your arm brushes against his and you can't breathe once again. But it's a different type of deprivation. Han always seems to steal the oxygen from your lungs, but for once, you don't mind. Red embers are burning within you and their flames keep you alive. You press your chest to his back, as your forehead rests on his shoulder. Maybe he'll turn you to ashes. Will you rise from them?
"You're so cold," his hand reaches behind to rub your arms soothingly, an earnest attempt to warm you up.
"I’ll be fine, go to sleep. Don't worry about me."
"I can't control it."
In the dark room, Han can't see you curling your hand into a tight fist at his words. 
"If you stay quiet then I’ll sleep," you say after a while and Han giggles softly.
"That's the goal. You need to rest."
"You should sleep too."
"I will."
"Okay. Good night, Han."
"Good night, Yn."
You think he's fallen asleep when you speak up again. "Hey, Han."
"Yes, Yn?" He replies instantly, voice slightly hoarse. 
"Can you repeat that lyric to me, about the flowers blooming again?" You ask quietly, and you feel him nodding against your chest.
"I’m sure it’ll get better... Just like the earth hardens after the rain and flowers bloom again."
His warm voice vibrates within your body. "That's a nice lyric."
"I hope you'll dream of it instead."
☄༄
Against Han’s strong belief, he's the one who fell sick after your rain-soaked outing. 
You knew of it from Chan, who texted you saying that Han caught a nasty cold, and then got food poisoning, which meant he couldn't be there for their highly anticipated meeting—after their electrifying Heyday performance, a record label expressed strong interest in signing them. 
"Can you come over and stay with Han?" Chan implores as soon as he answers your call.
“That bad?” You ask, a pout pulling at your lips.
"I don't want to leave him alone. He's been really sick for the past week now, and… it's partly your fault"
"I can’t believe you’re guilt-tripping me into coming," you chuckle even though you know he is right. Han wouldn’t have gotten out in the rain if it wasn’t for you.
"I'm sorry it’s just I don't think he's been good, apart from the illness. And I’m worried, and I don’t know I thought maybe you could talk to him. He reminds me of you, in his sadness, so you might understand what's wrong more than me."
You think it over for a second before rising up from your bed.
"I'm coming"
As soon as you step inside their dorm, Chan pulls you for a side hug, placing a quick kiss on your forehead. “Thank you so much,” he whispers, clearly grateful that you agreed to come. It worries you even more for Han.
“No problem. You can go, I’ll be with him.”
“Thank you, Yn” Changbin smiles before hastily pulling Chan outside the door. You wave them both goodbye.
You cautiously crack open the door to Han’s room, to find it completely engulfed in darkness. The stream of light from the door falls upon Han, who squints his eyes, trying to see who disrupted his fragile peace.
"Hi," you speak softly, finding it a bit odd to raise your voice in such a still room. Han attempts to sit up, before doubling over, hand tightly clutched around his stomach.
You rush to his side, kneeling beside his bed. It's the only lit-up part of the room.
"Still hurts?" you ask, your hand moving in soothing circles on his back. He nods, eyes squeezed shut, and you feel your heart crack at the sight.
"Have you taken any medicine?"
"A few hours ago. I need to eat something before I can take more, but I can't get up to the kitchen."
"Why didn't you tell the boys?"
"Didn't want to be a burden."
"You aren't. I'll make you something to eat. Okay? Try to sleep meanwhile."
"You don't have to," Han shakes his head, his eyes finally meeting yours.
"I know," you smile softly, before exiting the room.
Minutes later, you're back in the room, a bowl of sliced fruit in your hands.
"Do you guys live off protein powder and frozen chicken?" you ask, earning a quiet laugh from Han as he lays his back against the headboard.
"We do. Please save me," he jokes and you laugh, shaking your head. "Good thing I grabbed some fruit before leaving."
"Thank you," he grins, eyes slightly squinting closed. 
"Here," you grab a strawberry, bringing it to his lips. His eyebrows raise up in surprise, a sheen layer of sweat coating them. "What? Look at how tightly you're clutching the comforter," you point to his hands and Han sighs, before parting his lips slightly.
His mouth brushes against your fingertips, igniting a cascade of emotions in you. You'll think about what it means later.
You grab a green grape next, feeding it to him gently. A drop of water trickles down the corner of his mouth, and you wipe it away with the back of your finger.
"I can- I can do it," Han mumbles, voice wavering like an unpredictable storm. His trembling hands reach for the bowl, but they struggle to hold it right.
"Han, it's okay, I don't mind," you try to keep your voice gentle, sensing that there is an impending doom awaiting just below the surface.
"No, I- I need to do it. Just let me-" A tear falls into the fruit bowl. "Let me do it, please. I can- I can do it, I’m not useless, I…"
The floodgate opens.
A stream of tears escapes Han's eyes as he looks down at the bowl between his hands. He's crying, eyes tightly shut and the small whimpers escaping his lips feel like a dagger piercing your heart.
"You're sick. Let me take care of you."
"It's horrible horrible work." His voice cracks as his eyes finally lock on yours, and you can tell that his anguish isn't about his illness. These are the words of the shadows threatening to swallow him whole. You have to fight them off with the light.
"I will do it."
As Han lays on his bed, the sound of you washing the dishes resonating from the kitchen, your voice bounces off the dark walls in his head. You didn't try to convince him that it was easy work, you told him you'll do it, even if it's horrible. You'll do it because you want to, not because you can, not because it's accessible. The thought sends a warmth in his chest. It's faint, like a flickering candle trying its best to withstand the wind. But it's there. He holds on to it. He'll shield it with his cupped hands so it wouldn't fizzle out. 
"Hannie, you’re okay?" you peer into the room. Hannie- the candle's flame grows higher.
"Mm," he hums, too weak to turn and look at you.
"You're shivering," you remark, and he tightens the blanket around his body. "It'll pass."
You stay silent, and he thinks you've left the room. But then he feels the left side of the bed dip, with you climbing tentatively on it.
"This worked last time when I was cold," you smile softly at him, before bringing his head to your chest and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He feels frail and fragile in your embrace. You hug him tighter to you.
"Warming up?" you ask and he nods against your chest. He's burning.
"Try to sleep," you urge quietly, your hand moving to pat his back. "It will pass."
"What if it doesn't?" Han asks faintly. Please don't let the candle die, he wants to plead.
"There is always light at the end of the tunnel."
"What if the tunnel is closed?"
"Then you go back to the start and find a new one," you respond.
"Can I find it later? I'm so tired tonight." His voice is drowsy, sleep already clinging to his achy bones. 
"Just rest for now. You did well," you scratch his back lightly, as he nuzzles further into the crook of your neck. 
There was never a candle to begin with- you were the light.
☄༄
Had someone told you five months ago that you'd be lying on Han's bed, watching "Howl's Moving Castle" at 2 a.m., you would've thought they were utterly delusional.
Yet, here you are now.
A lot of things had changed since your rainy outing with Han, as if the universe had shifted into alignment, two stars in the sky finally colliding and making way for something new. You saw him under a different light, understanding that no one picks up a dandelion unless they desperately need the solace it provides.
You've grown to care for him, in the course of the past two months. And funnily enough, you've started to like who you were next to him- just yourself, with no pressure of making conversation, or catering to his expectations of you.
He saw you at your worst anyway, and so did you, there was no use in filtering things anymore.
You've been there through the entire process of writing, composing, and producing Secret Secret- the song whose lyrics had captured your heart. You didn't expect him to ask you to be there with him, he just shot you a text, three days after you came over to his house. 'Wanna be there while I work on the song? I know you liked the lyrics.' It was an offer you couldn't pass up on.
You weren't, in your opinion, much help. Han was gifted in the music realm and song-making flowed naturally from him. But he noticed how interested you were in music, so he called you over each time he worked on the song, even asking for your input at times.
That's why, when the song was finally done and released on 3racha's Spotify account, you decided to celebrate by baking him a cake. You may have dropped an eggshell in the batter (you recovered it later on), and the icing's color turned out less vibrant than what you hoped for. But you managed to adorn it with a garden of little flowers, and with store-bought icing, you wrote the words "after the rain flowers will bloom again."
You showed up to the dorm and Changbin pointed you to Han's room, where he had apparently been holed up all day. You shot him a grateful smile, before pushing the door open with your foot.
"What are you doing here?" Han asked, an incredulous smile drawn on his lips.
"Surprise!" you grinned, pushing the cake his way. "Congrats on making Secret Secret."
"Are you serious?" he chuckled, jumping out of his bed. He peered at the cake, eyes softening as he gazed down at the design.
"You drew a little garden..." he whispered in awe and you nodded, a faint blush creeping up your face.
"I'm glad you recognized what it was. I'm not the best baker," you admit a bit shyly but he shook his head. "It's perfect. I can't believe you did this to celebrate our baby!"
"Your baby," you corrected, although the use of 'our' warmed up your chest, weirdly enough.
"You were here with me every step of the way. She's ours."
"It's a she?" you giggled, and he smiled proudly.
"Mm. Do you accept being her mother?" he mused; hands clasped in front of his heart like he was praying you'd say yes.
"It would be my greatest honor," you nodded solemnly, and he let out a breathy chuckle, grabbing the cake from your hands and setting it on his bed.
"Should we hug it out?" he teased, arms stretched wide but you merely stared at him, unimpressed.
"Come on," he whined, "you can't reject me for the third time. And, in front of our child. On her birthday!" his tone grew louder and you couldn't help but giggle at his mock outrage.
"Try harder."
"Our child won't know what a loving parent relationship is and then she'll seek out unhealthy love from the ones around her and-" you cut him off by finally wrapping your arms around him.
You've always known that being near Han left you breathless, but this time, it felt as though he was breathing life into you. You close your eyes instinctively, as his hold tightens on you. He smells immensely nice, like pinewood and soap. You should've hugged him sooner.
"Thank you," he said quietly, forehead pressed against your shoulder blade.
"You did well," you whisper back.
"We did. She's our child, remember?" he reprimanded and you laughed faintly.
"Yeah, ours."
Hours later, the movie's credits finally roll down, and the finished cake sits idly by Han's desk.
"I should go," you rub your eyes tiredly, and Han stares at you as if you are out of your mind.
"At this hour? Do you want our kid to lose her mom?"
"Han," you drawl, hitting his head with the pillow next to you. "You can't hold me hostage."
"I can, as your husband."
"Since when are we married?"
"Since you agreed to be Secret's mother." Another playful hit to his face.
"Stop attacking my face, how will I get laid then?"
"So, you are cheating on me?" you ask, feigning outrage.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry baby you're the only one I want." You falter at the nickname before hitting him even harder, matching the tempo of your quickening heartbeat.
"You're crazy," he laughs, grabbing your wrists and pinning you onto the bed. He's hovering over you, eyes hooded with a tender intensity as he gazes down at you.
"Will you stay, please?"
"The couch is uncomfortable," you reply, avoiding his eyes. He lets go of one wrist before holding your chin gently, urging you to look at him.
"You can sleep here. We've done it before."
"You were freezing both times. That's why I did it."
"I'm very cold tonight," he pouts, eliciting a surprised chuckle from you.
"Are you now?"
"Very much so."
"Fine. Only because I don't want you to die from hypothermia."
"Thank you!" he grins excitedly, finally letting go of your wrist. You bring a hand to your flushed cheeks, as he tosses a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants in your direction.
"Get changed! There is a spare toothbrush in the cabinet."
You make sure to groan theatrically, before heading into the bathroom, where you splash your face repeatedly with water. You aren't used to this- being a blushy mess, because of Han, nonetheless. It was dizzying you, how things took the complete opposite turn between you and him.
At least, back then you weren't alone in your hate, you couldn't stand being alone in your affection.
So, you'd stop this, whatever feeling that's coursing through you. Tomorrow, you will firmly close the door on the blooming feelings within you. But tonight, you’d both lay on the same bed, arms brushing against one another. It's completely dark and quiet, but there is an entire symphony playing within you.
"Thank you for today," he whispers, turning around and tucking his arm under his head, this way he's facing you.
You mirror his actions, and your fingertips brush against one another. You can't see him but you can feel him. He's everywhere, wrapping around all your senses. 
"Thank you for making this song. It's very comforting to me."
"Why is that?" he questions, inching closer to you, you can feel his minty breath fan all over your face.
"I’ve always felt like I carried too many emotions within me. Like a volcano, bubbling over until the day I explode. I never liked feeling this way, so I tried to hide it," you confess softly.
"Like a secret secret."
"Like a secret secret," you repeat, glad that he understands.
"You don't have to hide with me," he says after a few silent beats, and you swallow nervously.
"I know." you lick your lips as the music inside you grows louder. "Still cold?"
"A little."
"Come closer," you beckon, and he complies instantly, wrapping his arm behind your back and drawing your chest close to his. Your legs entangle with one another, as your face lays on the crook of his neck. It's intimate, far more than any time you've done it before. You don't want to sink in his hold in fear of never resurfacing again.
"Good?" he asks, voice tinged with a newfound raspiness. 
"Mm," you hum, and he releases a relieved sigh.
You've once read that everything in this universe sings. Every atom's vibration creates a sound, contributing to a grand celestial chorus. It's an unscientific, but lovely thought, to wonder who our hearts sing for.
Right now, it's for Han.
☄༄
The music echoes through your being, an ever-present melody that refuses to fade into silence. Even with no audience to enjoy it.
Han always found his way back to your side, no matter how many times you've tried to distance yourself from him. And you couldn't bring yourself to refuse him, because you were friends, first and foremost. And friends don't abandon one another just because a mere glance at them sprouts a blush across your cheeks. 
That's how you find yourself on your way to Han's dorm, for the third time that week. Watching movies together has become your little tradition, for the past few months, and sometimes even Chan joins in. Although he mostly enjoys shooting you a knowing smile, to which you flip him off.
Your phone rings and Han's name illuminates your screen. You smile against your will.
"Can't wait to see me this much?" you singsong and Han's chuckle rings through the phone. It's rich and deep, causing you to tighten your hold on the device.
"Yes. And can you please go to the store? I'm out of snacks."
"What do I get out of it?" you muse, changing directions to the nearest convenience store.
"Snacks."
"Asshole," you giggle on your way to cross the road.
"And my eternal gratitude of course."
"Right, because I can't-" Loud tires screech right beside you and you startle, letting out a loud yelp as you drop your phone.
A hand on top of your heart, you bend down to pick up your fallen device, as the driver gets out of the car that grazed your body, mere inches away from hitting you. 
"Are you okay, miss? I'm sorry I didn't see you." The middle-aged man is quick to your side, and you glance at the small kid in his car, willing yourself to calm down for their sake.
"I'm fine. Just a bit startled. Drive more slowly, there is a kid with you."
"I know, I'm sorry," he drags a hand through his stressed features and you couldn't help but feel sympathy for him. "It's okay, don't worry about it. Just pay more attention to the road, okay?"
"Thank you so much. Thank you," he clasps his hand in gratitude before getting back to his car and you wave him off, your heart still wildly beating in your chest.
You head into the convenience store, picking up the snacks you know Han loves before paying for them. But as soon as you step back outside, you spot a disheveled Han crossing the road, sprinting toward the store. His pace quickens upon spotting you.
"What are you..." your question is cut short as his arms wrap around you, pulling you to his chest instantly. You can feel the frantic rhythm of his heart, and you're confused as he pulls away, hands cradling your cheeks and turning your face left and right.
"You're alright, nothing happened to you, right? You’re okay?" he inquires urgently and you let out a confused giggle, as you grab his arm to steady him.
"What are you talking about?"
"I heard the tires screech and you yelled and then you didn't pick up when I called and I thought-" his voice cracks. "I thought something happened to you."
"No, no. I'm okay. Nothing happened, I promise." you reassure, as he brings you to his chest once again, his hand smoothing the top of your hair.
"I was so scared," he kisses your temple, as his thumping heart resounds within your chest. "So terrified that something would happen to you. I thought I'd lose my mind."
"You don't mean that," you shake your head slowly, peeling yourself away from him.
"Can you really not see how much I care about you? How I crave being near you?" his voice raises a slight octave. The music in you picks up.
"How long do I have to pretend to be cold to have you nearby? For god's sake, I'm never cold around you, yn. When I see you, I ignite." He takes in a deep breath, pressing his forehead onto your shoulder. "And I... I couldn't have lived with myself if something happened to you. I... You drive me crazy, Yn. When we became friends it felt like I was stepping inside a home for the first time, and yet I already knew each turn in it."
He grabs your arms, shaking you slightly as his chest heaves up and down. "My darkness recognizes yours and my light is you and you- you think I wouldn't care if anything happened to you?"
He shakes his head as tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. Has his music always been this loud, were you just not listening properly?
"I'm scared because we didn't start well and I understand if a part of your heart still resents me, I do. But I don't think I can pretend anymore. Not with you," his voice softens as his gaze locks on yours.
"Were you pretending too?" He asks, hope dripping from his tone. "Do you feel it too?"
A split second goes by. A candle flickering somewhere. A dandelion plucked from the ground. The shadow of a cloud passing over the sun- and you pick.
"I feel it too. So much that my heart feels like it’s singing for you, Han."
"I'll sing for it in return," he whispers, before crashing his lips onto yours. His hand slides up the back of your neck, drawing you closer. You drop the bags of groceries as you cradle his cheeks, feeling them warm up beneath your touch. You can't believe you've ever disliked your heart for feeling too much, not when the lovely emotions flowing in your heart threaten to burst it at the seams, submerging you in a warmth you've never known before- Han. 
Two months later
You have 3 new messages from: hannie
"kept this song a secret from you baby but i wrote it for you so you can't be mad"
"i don't know if you remember but you’ve once told me that you are a volcano. as if that’s something that’s supposed to put me off. well, some people dedicate their lives to studying volcanos. and i would dedicate mine to learning you."
"Volcano.mp3."
Light.
3K notes · View notes
astronomical-bagel · 3 months
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and btw, grian's last stand against gem and the scotts? Insane. I cant help but replay the scene where he tells Cleo to get away over and over again, "You need to move out of the way, there's no trigger. I'm manually triggering it." because like. there's no way he really thought he was gonna get out of this. He had to be there in order for the trap to go off, the escape hatch was a pipe dream. What he was really saying to Cleo was, "Save yourself, I'll hold them back." He knows he's not going to get away from Gem and the Scotts, but he just wants to give Cleo a fighting chance.
And then I cant help but remember Grian's last words in Last Life, "Not like this! Not like this!". Ever since Last Life, his deaths have been... a little sad. Stabbed in the back while running away from Scott, killed by a warden through a wall, falling onto the very corner of a cobblestone block after falling off his tower -- right next to the water, too.
I think, in this season, grian wanted to die for a reason. he didn't want it to be an accident, a preventable goof, and more importantly he wanted it to mean something. He wanted to die protecting someone else. Outlive his teammates for a change.
Cleo still dies before he does, but he doesn't have any confirmation of that, just the distant sound of thunder, and he's too busy fighting to really process it. When he dies, he doesn't have any complaints. No 'I don't feel good"s, no "Not like this"s, no "I'm so sorry, Scar"s, no "Don't tell Tim"s. This time all he says is, "I did a lot of damage." He's satisfied with his death, proud of it, even.
And I think, even if he died, even if his sacrifice didn't mean too much, he felt his death was a lot more honorable than his other ones. He died on his own terms, he died protecting someone, he died fighting, and, just like Grian always aims to go, he went out with a bang.
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obliviouscxnt · 2 months
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His Shadow Azriel x Reader
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a/n: quick little idea/drabble i had (that could honestly get turned into another series) idk if this has been done before, if it has let me know please, I'll probably delete this. I hope you enjoy :)) <333
synopsis: azriel takes you for granted
Warnings: angst
pt.2
He thought it was poetic, the way the shadows disappeared around Mor. She brightened up his life, literally.  
Never did he think he’d find someone else capable of doing such a thing. Until he met Elaine. 
The change was gradual, so gradual he hadn’t even noticed. 
They stayed with him, at first, treating the once-human girl like any other person. But then she was turned fae, and Azriel’s visits with her began. With each visit, less, and less, shadows joined him. 
He was completely unaware, she stole his focus. 
He felt protective of her, like a precious flower he had to keep from wilting. That protectiveness slowly became something more, a yearning. Even more so when Cassian discovered he was mated to the eldest Acheron.
Though the night Elaine kissed him, everything changed.
They’d sat outside, in her garden, and even though the sky was already dark they’d stayed. Getting lost in conversation. She told him about things she cared about, and he listened. She asked him about himself, and he answered.
 At some point she ended up in front of him, gazing up at his lips. 
She looked so beautiful, illuminated by the stars, surrounded by her lovely garden. A sight he felt lucky to witness. 
When she leaned forward he couldn’t stop himself. He met her halfway, so softly, so gently. But as soon as his lips touched hers, all those feelings for her died. He felt nothing.
The switch in emotions almost gave him whiplash. It was dizzying. 
Underwhelming didn’t feel like the best word for it, but it was the only thing he could come up with. Nothing was exciting about the kiss, nothing revolutionary. It wasn’t like it felt wrong, but it didn’t feel right either. 
Disappointment was what Azriel felt. A little part of him was hoping that maybe the Acheron sister would be his mate. 
It seemed fitting, right? Three brothers, three sisters. But now that her lips were against his, he knew it wasn’t right.  
The spymaster pulls back, taking a step away. Looking at the beautiful woman. Any feelings beyond protectiveness had vanished from his body. Not even a tickle of butterflies when she smiled at him, so obviously delighted with the kiss they shared.
It wasn’t her fault, any male would be lucky to have Elaine. But it was clear to him, that male couldn’t be him.
“It’s getting late, we should head in.” Her face drops at his words, he doesn’t even look at her as he begins leading her inside and back to her room.  
He should say more, apologize, and tell her how he feels so she at least has a reason. Not just silence. But his brain was still reeling from the drastic change in emotions—or lack thereof. No words leave his mouth.
He walks Elaine up to her room. Bidding her a short goodnight before leaving the frowning woman to her own devices.
He kicked himself for hurting her, for allowing it to get that far. Elaine was just so tempting, and he was so hopeful. He kicked himself for that too. 
Of course he wouldn’t have a mate. 
He couldn't even give the poor woman an apology.
It wasn’t until he made it to his room, all the way up in the House of Wind, that he realized no shadows were with him. Not even a whisper reached his ears.  
They’d been with him as long as he could remember, and now they were just gone. 
He couldn’t place the feeling they left in their absence. But he knew he didn’t like it. 
*****
You knew it was unfair of you to be jealous. He didn’t know how deep your devotion ran.  He didn’t see life the way you had, you didn’t even think he saw you as anything other than a servant. 
It wasn’t unfair of you to feel sad about that. 
You’re nothing but shadows to him. When he’s always been everything to you. From the moment he first called to you, when you were barely a flicker of darkness.
But he would never see that. 
Azriel is sound asleep when you slip through the cracks of his door and into his room. 
He hadn’t even called to you. Did he even care you were gone? 
You find yourself taking form, a form of something he could relate to. A beautiful woman, someone like Elaine, or Mor. But you knew you looked nothing like them. Your darkness couldn't captivate beauty like that. Bold and enchanting, like the Morrigan. Pure and innocent, like Miss Elaine.
A sigh leaves your mouth as you curl up in your designated corner, looking at the hands that felt alien to you. Even if you showed him this form, saw him face to face, would he see you any differently?
You doubt it. You’d always be shadows to him.
You were so busy wallowing to yourself in the corner you didn’t see the shadowsinger stir at your sigh. Didn’t see him blink awake, or sit up and look around. 
But you felt it when his eyes settled on you for what felt like the first time. Heard the gasp that left his mouth. 
Your heart stops, frozen in fear for half a second, before it starts again, and you collapse into clouds of darkness.
*****
It was the middle of the night when Azriel woke Rhys up, shouting at him from outside his mental barriers. The worry in his voice was what had the High Lord jumping out of his mate's arms, waking Cassian, and heading to the abode carved into the top of the mountain. 
Azriel paces around the office room, running a hand through his hair. If he wasn’t so stressed he would’ve noticed that his shadows don’t try to comfort him like usual.
“What’s going on?” Rhys asks as he and Cassian walk into the room. Both are in different states of undress with looks of concern on each of their faces.
Cassian immediately notes Azriel’s distressed state, a rare sight considering the spymaster had long ago mastered staying calm and stoic in the face of trouble.
Cassian almost doesn't want to know what has the male so bothered.
“There was something in my room.” 
“What?!” The reactions are simultaneous. Any sign of sleep was immediately gone from both of their faces.
“I think it was a woman… I don’t know I didn’t get a good enough look. It disappeared right after I woke up.”  His fingers grip his hair. Heart still beating fast from the interaction. No one has ever snuck up on him like that. 
He's usually the one doing the sneaking.
His shadows, which had returned sometime after he’d fallen asleep, hadn’t even noticed the stranger, if they had they certainly didn’t warn him. He tries not to feel the nerves that fact struck in him.
“What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?” Cassian asks.
“Exactly what it sounds like, Cass. One second it was sitting in the corner of my room, the next it was gone.” Which made absolutely no sense, the wards surrounding House of Wind forbid winnowing of any kind. 
This was obviously a serious issue, the wards could either be faulty or someone could have found a way around them. 
“Are you sure you it wasn’t just a vivid dream?” Cassian asks, just trying to come with any better explanation.
“Was your encounter with Bryaxis just a vivid dream?” Azriel snaps. There was no way he imagined it. No way.
Rhys diffuses, stepping in with hands raised in surrender. Silently telling Azriel that they were on his side. “What did it look like when it disappeared? Did it look like it was winnowing?” 
The spymaster thinks about it. No. No, it didn’t. 
It was like its body blended with the darkness. Became the darkness. Almost like… Azriel’s eyes widen.
A shadow. 
“What? What is it, Az?” Rhys asks, probably noticing the revelation he was having from the look on his face. 
The shadowsinger's face becomes neutral, as calm as a person with his features was capable of looking. He shakes his head. “Maybe it was nothing. Sorry for waking you guys up. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Then he left without another word.
Rhys and Cassian share a look. A mix of bewilderment, concern, and exhaustion filled their features.
Azriel waits till he reaches his room to say anything, making sure to close the door behind him before a single word can leave his mouth. “Are you jealous? Is that it? Is that why you always leave around Elaine and Mor? Why you thought it would be fun to scare me and my family? Because I don't give you enough attention?” 
His shadows scatter, detaching from his body, hiding under his bed and in the darker nooks of his room. 
“Don’t hide now. I know it was you, that’s why you didn’t warn me.” He gazes into the dark corners of his room, glaring. How could they keep something like this from him? Hide the fact that they could take form? “Show yourself.”
There was an eerie pause, Azriel’s heart began beating faster. Then the fae lights started to flicker.
With each flash more and more shadows gathered before him. Building on each other. The lights went out completely.
When he turned them back on you stood before him.
The most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
Pure darkness rose from your body, looking like black smoke. It encapsulates you, different from the way it encapsulates him. The darkness wasn't an extension of your body, it was a part of you, was you, moved with you like it was just another limb.
“My intention was not to scare.” You spoke in a whisper he’d heard many times. A whisper that was most loyal to him. That fulfilled his every beck and call.
Azriel was at a loss for words. You were stunning, a word he'd not known the true meaning of until he laid eyes on you.
“For years, centuries, I’ve followed you. I chose you as my singer. I answered your call.” Tears fill your eyes, but when they fall they dissipate into smoke. Blowing away with a wave of your hand. “I have shown you nothing but loyalty, and care. I’ve sat back while watching you love others and I’ve made peace with it, I’ve accepted our differences.” You suck in a deep breath and steady yourself. “But when I leave, you don’t care, don't even notice.” Your lips tremble, voice breaking as you ask him a question he couldn’t even think to answer. “After everything I’ve done, how can I mean so little to you?” 
Azriel’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. He has so much to say but his vocal cords are tied. He did care, though it was clear he hadn’t shown it enough. He found himself thinking about all the little times the shadows had been there for him, comforting him, caring for him. And now he could put a face to those moments, it wasn’t just shadows, it was you that’d been there for him over the years.  
“So yes, I was sad and mad, and maybe a little jealous... But I wasn’t trying to scare you. I was just- I don’t know! Imagining? Yearning for a life I can’t have?” 
 The fae lights began blinking again making his heart jump with every flicker. He doesn't want you to disappear yet. He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. 
“You don’t have to say anything, I don’t want an apology.” You lift a shadowy hand, wiping your face and steeling yourself. “Don’t fret, shadowsinger, I’m still your faithful servant. I couldn’t refuse your calls even if I wanted to. And I’m okay with that, it’s what I chose. Just don’t expect me to be there for you in moments where you can't even acknowledge my existence.” 
The lights flicker again and you're gone. 
Leaving Azriel to wonder if he’s lost you. Although, he never really had you in the first place.
next->
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hey everyone sad news :( mr. handsome died
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illyrianbitch · 12 days
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Where I Left My Lover
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Pairing: Reader x Azriel
Summary: After a brush with death, Azriel makes a difficult decision to protect you.
Summary: angst!!!! & bad decisions.
Word Count: 3.8k
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
With a forceful push, the door to Rhysand’s office swung open as Nesta swept into the room, eyes blazed with a fury that made Azriel swallow. Cassian’s loud footsteps echoed as he followed after his mate.
"Tell me it isn't true," she demanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl.
Rhysand moved to intercept her, his hand outstretched in a futile attempt to stop her from her warpath. "Nesta, perhaps we should—"
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Nesta shoved him away with a forceful gesture, her gaze fixed on Azriel. The shadowsinger stood eerily still, even his shadows unmoving. 
"Azriel," she said, her voice trembling with anger. "Tell me it isn't true."
His gaze faltered, and suddenly he found himself unable to meet Nesta's accusing, burning stare. He looked away, his shadows curling into themselves behind him, as if retreating in shame.
Nesta's anger flared, hands clenching at her side. She breathed out sharply, the sound a mixture of frustration and rage. Whipping around to face Rhysand, she leveled a searing gaze at him.
"I expect something like this from you," she spat, her tone laced with contempt.
Rhysand's expression hardened into a withering glare, but before he could respond, Nesta turned back to Azriel. "But you?" she continued, her voice dripping with disappointment. "You're supposed to be better than this."
Azriel's jaw tightened as he grit his teeth together. From behind Nesta, he watched as Cassian approached, staring at him with a frown and furrowed brows. Azriel looked back to Nesta.
“You don’t understand-”
 "I don't care," she retorted, her tone icy. "You cannot do this. Not to Y/n."
At the mention of your name, Azriel's heart clenched, a wave of sadness washing over him like a relentless tide. He swallowed hard.
"This is for Y/n," he responded, his voice low. Flat.  "To keep her safe."
"That is not your decision to make," Nesta snarled, "You are stripping her of her right to choose, and you know deep down she wouldn't want this."
There was something about the way Nesta spoke, how she stared at him with such disappointment, that made him angry. Azriel was making the right decision. He was being selfless, yet everyone was seeing it the other way, seeing him as some monster.
Within seconds, his control slipped, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he took a step forward, his eyes flashing with a dark intensity. "She almost died!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with desperation. "She almost died because of me. I don't care what she wants. I'm doing this to keep her safe."
Cassian moved quickly, placing a firm hand on Nesta's shoulder. “Watch it,” he growled as he met Azriel's gaze.
Azriel blinked. And then he was composing himself once more, moving back into a straight posture. "I'm doing this because I love her," he said, his voice softer now, tinged with sorrow.
"No," Nesta said, her voice sharp. "This is not love. This is wrong. And if you go through with it, I'll never let you forget it."
As Nesta turned to leave, Azriel felt a pang of regret gnaw at his heart. A wave of guilt washed over him at the realization that he had disappointed someone he cared about so deeply. He truly cared about Nesta, respected her strength and conviction, and the thought of her walking away, angry and disillusioned, made him sick to his stomach. Had he lost two people today? Was he truly doing the right thing?
Yes, he reminded himself. Images of you conjured in his brain— your pale, bruised and bloody body, the way you laid limp in his arms. He thought back to how he’d relished in the screams of the soldiers who had tortured you, how he took his time carving them out for what they had done. He thought about how long you’d been in that bed, unmoving with shallow breaths, how scared he’d been that he’d lost you. You were human. You were something he could lose. And his life, his duties, had almost cost him your life.
Azriel looked up to meet Rhysands gaze, who had been standing in quiet observation, making no move to talk or intervene. Azriel had already spoken to Rhys, had gotten the same discussion from him. His gaze flickered to Cassian, who was shaking his head as he stared out of the door his mate had left through.
“Nes is right,” Cassian said, “I mean, we’ve done our fair share of questionable things, but this?”
He paused for a moment, eyes darting between his two brothers.
“It’s what needs to be done,” Azriel said.
Cassian shook his head. “No. It’s what you think needs to be done. And you’re wrong.”
Azriel let out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched. 
“Rhys,” Cass said, turning to face the High Lord. “C’mon. You know better than this. You really think this is okay?”
Rhysand held his gaze. For a moment, Cass believed he’d gotten through to his brother, that perhaps he’d realized how far this was going to go, how wrong Azriel was. But Rhysand simply straightened his posture.
“I’m not a part of this,” was all he responded.
Cass shook his head once more, poking a finger into Rhysand’s chest.
“Don’t give me that bullshit. Az has lost his goddsdamned mind. Why are you entertaining this?”
It was Azriel who moved next, walking up to Cassian and pushing him away with a small shove. He gave a snarl, shadows swirling around his forearms. Cass looked down at the hand pressed against his chest, and then up at Azriel with flared nostrils and a look of deep disappointment in his eyes.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Azriel growled, “You think this is something I want to do?”
Cassian pushed him off.
“I think you’ve lost sight of what is fear and what is reason.”
“Enough,” Rhysand commanded, walking to the two males to separate them with his extended hands. He turned to Cassian and let out a small exhale. Cass saw it, then, the sadness in his eyes. 
“In the centuries that Azriel has been a part of this family, a part of this court, he has not asked for favors. He has asked me now, and I owe it to him.”
Cassian let out a small scoff. It was a losing game. They were all stubborn— it came with their lineage, with their dna. So he settled at casting Azriel another glance and frowned.
"This is selfish, Az," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "She is not only yours. She’s family. She’s Nesta’s friend. She’s my friend—"
Something flickered in Azriel's eyes, a weariness settling over him as he grew tired of defending his actions. "Do you want her as a friend or do you want her alive?"
Cassian slightly recoiled, a small tick in his jaw. “That’s not fair.”
“Cassian,” Rhys said slowly, “Leave.”
Cassian rubbed his jaw, a heavy anger simmering beneath his skin as he shot one last glare at Azriel. "Whatever," he muttered in disappointment, "I can’t even look at you."
And with that, he turned and stalked out of the room.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 
The soft chirping of birds filled the air, the sounds a gentle caress against Azriel’s skin. The beauty around him stood out in stark contrast to the heavy silence that hung over him like a suffocating cloak. He’d always loved your little home, loved how secluded it was, how quiet. Everything was slower here, more timid, more calm. 
You were inside with Rhysand, now, and Azriel could hear the faint echo of your voices. It didn’t last long. Within moments it went quiet, and Az clenched his fists at his side.
The longer he lingered outside, the more he felt the pull of your presence, the echo of your touch haunting him like a ghost. Azriel fought every urge to run back inside, to hold you and kiss you again like he had moments prior. It wasn't long enough. He should have taken another minute, another hour. But he knew, deep down, it would never be enough, that it would never be the right time. The longer he spent with you, the longer he felt your touch, it broke him even more.
Azriel’s shadows pulled at him, wrapping around his ankles as if to pull him back inside. He scolded them, his wings twitching as he slightly kicked his feet. They swarmed once more. They were angry at him too. Azriel knew this. He felt it in their touch, in the way they’d whisper. He did his best to ignore it.
He wasn’t being selfish. He was putting you first.
There was a faint creak as the door opened behind him. Swiftly, he turned around, his eyes locking with Rhysand's as his brother stepped out and closed the door behind him with a deliberate slowness.
Rhysand gave Azriel a small, curt nod.  "It's done.”
Azriel's chest tightened, a lump forming in the back of his throat. "Is she-" he began, his voice catching in his throat.
“She’s alright.”
There was a heavy ache in Azriel’s chest now, something tender like an open wound. His heart felt hollow. Empty. He looked down at the ground, at the shadows at his feet, and tightly shut his eyes. 
Rhysand’s face softened. “Az,” he started, but Azriel simply shook his head. 
"Don't," he whispered hoarsely. And before Rhysand could respond, he disappeared.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 
Azriel stood outside the small inn, his heart pounding in his chest as he hesitated at the threshold. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't risk drawing attention to himself or risk the chance of undoing what he’d chosen to do. But the pull of his own longing had been too strong to resist. He’d lasted longer than expected, but even then, he’d been in agony. He was restless, angry, and above all else, he was lonely.
With a deep breath, he adjusted his posture, making a mental check of the glamour he’d put around himself, concealing his wings and any other identifying features of his. Even with the cover, he kept his wings tightly folded against his back, just in case something went awry.
And then he entered, casting a wary glance around the room as he made his way through the crowded floor. His hands were tucked securely in his pockets, his shadows coiled around him like protective tendrils. He’d done his best to make them blend into the black material of his clothing, told them to stay put and ripple like fabric would. 
Finding a small table in the corner, Azriel made his way over, but as he lowered himself into the seat, a nagging voice in the back of his mind warned him of the folly of his actions. This was stupid, dangerous, and entirely self-indulgent. Dangerous, dangerous, his shadows echoed. He tightened his jaw. He would only be here for a few moments, he told himself, he just wanted to see you— once. That was all.
His shadows whispered louder, a small anxious buzz in his head. He needed to leave before it was too late.
But before he could make a move, he looked up and froze, his breath catching in his throat.
“Hello,” you said timidly, giving him a small smile. Azriel’s heart leapt as the sound, a sudden rush of warmth filling his veins. Your hair was shorter now than the last time he saw you, and you wore a few dainty gold chains around your neck that he’d never seen. Had you bought those recently? Made them with your friends? They looked beautiful on you. And you had so much color. You looked alive. You looked happy.
A moment passed as Azriel simply stared at you, and then he was shaking his head slightly, freeing himself of the daze he had fallen into. 
“Uh, hi- hello.” 
It was then he finally noticed the two small glasses in your hands, both filled slightly with an amber liquid. You followed his gaze, looking down at your own hands. You frowned slightly and then you extended one towards him. 
“I’m not sure why I brought this,” you admitted, “But here. This is for you.”
Azriel swallowed, gently reaching out to take the small cup from your hands. His fingers brushed against your skin ever so slightly and he nearly jumped at the contact, a tingling sensation filling his body.  Your brows furrowed as you observed his hands, your gaze tracing over the perfectly smoothed, tan skin.
He had them glamoured too, just to be safe. 
He watched as you blinked, your expression shifting with a mixture of confusion, as if you sensed something wrong. A wave of sickening guilt rolled through his stomach. His shadows circled at his feet— subtly enough that they’d blend in to the darkness of the cornered floor, but strong enough to where Azriel felt them, pawing at him like dogs to an owner.
“Thank you,” Azriel finally brought himself to say.
Your gaze instantly flickered back to his eyes. You scanned his face, taking in his features, the brown of his eyes. And then you gave him another smile, a small blush forming on your cheeks. You looked over to the empty seat in front of him. 
 "Do you mind?" 
Azriel felt a surge of flustered panic coursing through him, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to compose himself. "Oh, yes, of course, please," he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. He readjusted himself in his own chair.
As you settled into the seat across from him, Azriel couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He watched, mesmerized, as you took a small sip from the glass, the soft curve of your lips bringing back every memory he’d held of them.
He watched as you scanned the crowd. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to look away, to break the spell. This would only make things worse for him. But try as he might, he couldn't tear his gaze away from you, couldn't tear himself away from indulging in your presence. It took every ounce of restraint within him not to lean forward, to reach out and caress you.
You caught Azriel's gaze as he quickly averted his eyes, a small laugh escaping your lips at his sudden shyness. "I'm sorry for interrupting your quiet time," you said.
Azriel shifted in his seat. "No," he replied, a bit too quickly, his voice catching in his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. "I mean, I don't mind."
You smiled, a warmth in your eyes that made his heart flutter– something just as painful as it was comforting.
 "This may sound silly, but it feels like I was supposed to come talk to you," you confessed, your voice soft.
A tug in his chest. “Really?" 
"Yes," you replied, your gaze drifting momentarily to the crowd before returning to him. "I'm quite good at listening. Maybe you need a good ear."
Azriel chuckled softly. You always were great at listening, even better at talking, too. It was a perfect balance. He’d always loved that about you. Your presence was so calming, so quiet compared to the loudmouths he called family, even if he loved them dearly. He missed it, how gentle you were. 
"I don't know if that's what I need.”
You tilted your head, studying him with a curious expression. "What brought you here today?" 
Azriel thought for a moment, his gaze falling to his glass as he traced a finger along its rim. He knew he couldn't hide the truth from you, not when you were always so good at reading him, so stubborn at getting what you really wanted.
After a brief pause, he finally admitted, "A girl."
Your eyes lit up with interest, a smile gracing your lips as you leaned in slightly. "Yeah?" you asked, “She somebody special?”
Azriel met your gaze, attempting to muster a smile, but a lump formed in his throat, choking back the words he struggled to say. He bounced his knee nervously under the table. “She was. I can’t seem to let her go.”
Your frown deepened at the admission, a pang of sympathy tugging at your heart. "I'm sorry," you murmured. 
But Azriel quickly shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips as he reassured you, "It's alright."
Silence enveloped you for a moment.
"She was the love of my life," Azriel said, his voice softer than he’d ever heard it. He glanced up at you, instantly finding your attentive gaze that met his own.
You remained quiet, but he knew the look on your face. Eyes wide, slight furrowed brows, a small smile. You were urging him to continue, waiting for him to finish, to be heard.
"Beautiful, kind, funny," he continued, his voice soft with reverence. "Also a great listener."
As he spoke, memories of moments shared with you flooded his mind, each beautiful and painful in their own rite, a haunting sense of longing drowning his senses. 
You gave a small breathy laugh. 
"No wonder you can't let her go," you said. There was a ting of sadness in your gentle voice. Azriel wondered what it was for. 
"Yeah," he agreed softly, his gaze drifting back to his glass.
Silence settled between you once more, the air heavy with every unspoken thought and emotion that Azriel felt. He wasn’t sure why he did it, why he let it slip. But before he could stop himself,  Azriel looked up, his gaze searching yours as he asked, "Have you ever felt that way?" 
You paused, caught off guard by the sudden turn in the conversation. For a moment, you opened your mouth to respond, but the words eluded you, leaving you with a furrowed brow and a frown of uncertainty.
You slumped slightly in your chair, a heaviness settling over you as you admitted, "No, I haven't." 
Azriel's heart sank at your response, a pang of disappointment coursing through him despite his efforts to suppress it. He had hoped, perhaps foolishly, that there might have been a glimmer of memory within you, somewhere deep in your bones that recognized him. 
He didn’t know why he pressed further, didn’t know why he couldn’t stop himself from talking. He felt his shadows slowly rising from his feet, now surrounding his thighs. He pushed them back. 
"Have you ever been in love?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
A part of him dared to hope yet again, to cling to the possibility that you feel the same yearning, the same ache that he’d felt for years. But even as he spoke the words, another part of him recoiled in shame, knowing that he had no right to ask, no right to expect anything from you. He had dug his own grave. This was his doing. This was his choice— and he was being selfish. He was being so utterly selfish as he sat there before you. 
Still, the longing lingered, a flicker of hope that refused to be extinguished, even in the face of his own self-imposed exile. But as he watched you, the sadness etched in your features, he knew that his hopes had been in vain.
Your gaze met his, troubled and uncertain, and you hesitated before answering, "I— No. I don't think I have."
Azriel felt a wave of sadness wash over him at your response, a deep ache settling in his chest. His heart was burning now, a pain that made him queasy, made him want to cry and scream at the same time. He decided this was worst than any torture– having to sit across from you as a stranger, as someone who was unable to touch you, hold you, tell you how beautiful you looked, and listen to you say you’d never been in love. Because you had been. You were deeply in love, so in love it scared you both. 
A hot anger filled him. He mourned his old life. He mourned his future with you. You were something real. He had something real. But his past, his duty, his life, it had prevented him from keeping it all, from indulging in a life much simpler than his own, one where he could sit across from you in a run-down inn and watch drunken village males make bets with one another. 
But it was still his fault. He had done this. And you sat before him, a look of frustration on your face, as if you could feel something was off. Shame filled him. He needed to leave. 
Quickly he brought his cup to his lips and chugged the remainder of his drink, the burn of alcohol a bitter sensation that he welcomed with open arms. 
"Thank you for the company," Azriel said as he pushed himself up from the table.
Your gaze followed him, a flicker of concern in your eyes as you watched him rise. "You're leaving?" you asked with a frown.
Azriel nodded, his movements stiff as he straightened his posture. "It was very nice meeting you," he replied, his voice strained as he turned to go.
But before he could take another step, you spoke again, your words stopping him in his tracks. "Wait," you said, the chair sliding on the floor as you stood.
Azriel turned back to face you, his heart pounding in his chest as he awaited your next words. It was getting harder to breathe now, his heartbeat shuddering in his ears. He needed to leave. 
"I hope that one day I'll experience a love like that," you said, pausing for a moment. With a soft, but hesitant, smile, you continued, "That one day, someone will love me like you loved her."
A flicker of surprise crossed Azriel's features. His mouth fell open slightly as he took a sharp inhale. And then he was swallowing heavily, blinking away the pressure building up behind his eyes. 
“You will,” he responded, his voice a slight croak. He cleared his throat, looking to the floor for a second. Then, his gaze was holding yours for a lingering moment. "Goodbye, Y/n.”
You watched his retreating figure with a small smile on your lips. But then, like a sudden bolt of lightning, a realization struck you. You frowned.
Your feet moved of their own accord, propelling you forward faster than your mind could process. You dashed to the entrance, flinging open the door as sunlight flooded your vision, momentarily blinding you.
"Wait! How did you know my—" you began, the words catching in your throat as you stepped outside, your eyes scanning the area in search of Azriel's retreating form. But to your dismay, there was no one there, no trace of him to be found, only the empty street stretched out before you, bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun.
Your voice trailed off into a whisper as you finished your sentence, "name.”
Your name.
How did he know your name?
Frowning, you brought a hand to your chest, feeling a small burning fluttering sensation in your ribs. With a sigh, you bit the inside of your cheek. You turned around and made your way back inside, your heart now heavy with a sensation you didn’t quite know how to name.
✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹
a/n: since in death & his reaper azriel forgot about reader, i obvs had to balance the scales and write one where the reader forgets az. we luv angst!!! hope y’all enjoyed 🫶🏻
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sad-leon · 8 months
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Part 1 :D
and here i present, Finding Home :D
This is a seperated au that focuses on Leo and how he grows as he learns what "home" is
Not all the parts are gonna be this long, but I wanted a solid start. I don't have an update schedule either, but feel free to ask questions :D
Masterpost || Next
A bit of background if yall want it:
When Splinter drops Leo in the explosion, all he sees is the turtle disappear into smoke as the lab is actively collapsing. He assumed Leo died and left to make sure none of his other turtles got killed.
Draxum picked up Leo and look care of his wounds. Leo has scrapes on both sides of his shell from being stuck in the ground, along with a scar on his right arm. Draxum tried raising Leo for a few years on his own before realising it would benefit both of them if he had help, so he turned to Big Mama.
Bug Mama and her assisstant, Galileo, help raise Leo for years. Gali teaches Leo how to speak, though he still chirps quite often, especially when sad or startled.
A bit of Gali lore: Big Mama had orignally named her Leo when Draxum gave Gali to BM. Gali didn't like having that as her name, so Big Mama helped her find a new one and they settled on Galileo.
Splinter takes the boys to tour the hidden city so they're not caught off guard by mystic stuff and yokai like he was. That's when Mikey spots Leo on TV and Splinter recognizes the son he thought he lost immediatly :)
About the sword comment: I'll reveal more in the comic itself, but Leo and Draxum made a deal that if Leo could prove his strength by winning the Battle Nexus championship 5 times, he'd train Leo with the mystic sword.
How the Battle Nexus works in this au: there are always battles going on, but once during each season, a championship/tournament is held to name a champion.
This is technically Leo's 7th tournament, but 5th victory
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morepeachyogurt · 8 months
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i love you, i do, but i cannot fucking stomach you
1. richard siken | 2. david foster wallace | 3. slavoj žižek | 4. x? | 5. succession, jesse armstrong. gif by @lesbiankendall | 6. orla gartland | 7. trista mateer | 8. ilya repin | 9. iain thomas | 10. thoroughbreds, cory finley | 11. yrsa daley-ward |
text id below
1. sometimes you get so close to someone you end up on the other side of them
2. [in red highlight] everything i’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.
3. [white text on a background of a field] A FRIEND HAS TO BE OUTSIDE MY REACH, BEYOND MY GRASP. AND THERE CAN BE NO FRIENDSHIP WITH SOMEONE WHOM I AM NOT READY TO BETRAY: A FRIEND IS SOMEONE I CAN BETRAY WITH LOVE.
4. Long before Caesar and Brutus were lessons, they were friends. // They played with stick swords in their kingdom of trees // and dressed up in crowns of flowers // and painted mud on each other's faces. // The pair was often found walking down dirt roads, // Caesar stomping proud and tall, // and Brutus- step by step- placing his feet into the footprints left behind. // Caesar grew into a strong Roman man. // Brutus grew into Caesar's shoes. // They walked to a wishing well and they threw in their weapons // and Caesar whispered a prophecy: // "We live and die together." // The day before the slaughter, Brutus took pause. // He turned to Caesar and thought // "I'll love you twice as hard today to make up // for tomorrow," // and they stayed up and played cards on the kitchen floor. // It wasn't until the next morning that Brutus realized how cold the tile was. // Life and death are not mutually exclusive. // When Caesar died, so did Brutus, in the sense that he never really lived again. // In the present, when someone mentions one of them, // they seldom exclude mention of the other.
5. a scene from succession. the characters kendall and stewy are in a dimly lit alley, one walks away from the other while saying “you’re my third oldest friend. you fucked me like a tied goat. we’re great.”
6. I'm not happy if you're not happy // And swear that you're always sad // You're pathetic, I resent it // When you're down, it hurts so bad
7. I've gotten so good about not flinching at the sound of your name that people don't know I'd still throw myself mouth-open into the ocean for the chance to drown somewhere you might see it.
8. the painting ‘Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivana’. it depicts a man holding another man who is bleeding profusely from his head.
9. there are a million ways to bleed, but you are by far my favorite.
10. scene from the movie thoroughbreds. a character lays crying wrapped around her friend, she is covered in blood, her friend is unconscious.
11. [in pink highlight] and be wary of friends, yeah? they are the ones who kill you, in the end.
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slytherinshua · 3 months
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BURNT PROMISES, SECOND CHANCES : a wonwoo atla au.
genre. avatar the last airbender au. arranged marriage au. slow burn. no communication istg. mutual pining. angst. fluff. fire lord wonwoo. nobleman's daughter/fire lady/briefly assassin reader. ft. advisor!jeonghan & brother!mingyu. warnings. wonwoo is frustratingly bad at anything social. reader is neglected. reader is depressed. wonwoo is overworked ngl. dragons. swords. (reckless) firebending. brief brief mention of child abuse. burns from firebending. blood. assassination lol. wonwoo is shirtless like... 3 times BCUZ AXE WANTED IT OKAY?? kissing. pairing. wonwoo x fem!reader. wc. 14.5k (i am so insane and i almost died 15 times writing this.) a/n. this fic is my longest ever fic and tbh idk if i'm ever gonna write a fic this long for a long time. i used to not be able to write more than 3k and then suddenly BOOM 14.5K OUT OF NOWHERE?? this is definitely a fic i'll remember for a long long time, and i have to say i'm extremely proud of it. fandom cross-overs have always been one of my absolute favorite things to write, and this definitely filled a little spot in my heart that i didn't know needed to be filled w a svt atla au. special thanks to @blue-jisungs who has hands down been the most helpful person in me being able to complete this fic-- i seriously wouldn't have finished it without you </3, and thank you to @wheeboo for proofreading this beast for me <3 i love you both very much :D
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Wonwoo stood at the edge of the coffin, blank eyes staring down at the body that lay inside it. The news had been shocking to the whole Fire Nation. As far as anyone knew, the late Fire Lord had been healthy and suspected to rule for several more decades, yet here he lay, lifeless and cold in the wooden box. Wonwoo felt neither sadness nor grief. His father had always been a cold man who had shown little attention to his children.
Mingyu, Wonwoo’s younger brother, had become a ship general the year prior, and was still at sea, unable to return in time for the funeral or his brother’s suddenly announced coronation. Though, hearing the news of his father’s passing had started him back in the direction of home, it would take him several months or more to arrive still. He would stay for a month or two before returning to his diplomatic travels to the Earth Kingdom.
Wonwoo had, of course, been aware from a young age that he would one day become the Fire Lord. It was destined for him as the eldest son, and he had spent his entire life leading up to now preparing for it. His training had been twice as intense as Mingyu’s growing up, and while he had sometimes seen it as unfair during his teen years, he quickly grew to understand the burden he must bear as the next in line to the throne.
He had responsibilities that Mingyu did not. He was not only expected to attend extra fire bending lessons, but he was required to be well-versed and knowledgeable in political matters, royal etiquette, local affairs, military management, and public speaking. On paper, he had all the qualifications necessary to be a responsible and wise leader, though it was Wonwoo’s own doubts and uncertainties that led to the uneasy feeling in his stomach at the thought of the power.
His gaze wandered a little, up to the throne surrounded by crimson flames, once occupied by his father, now empty. Soon, he would be the one seated there. There was a sense of pride that flickered in his eyes as he took in the sight. He had always been determined to become a leader that the nation could trust. He had always assumed he would have a little more time to prepare, though.
There were many things that still felt improper about his coronation in two days. For as long as the position of Fire Lord had been in place, it was customary that the lord be already wed before taking the throne. And, if he happened to already have children to secure the family line, even better. 
Wonwoo had neither.
He had barely ever thought about women or love, having been too focused on his studies. But now, the task of finding a wife as quickly as possible was plaguing his mind among the other sudden changes. 
“Your Highness?” 
Wonwoo turned at the sound of the voice echoing in the empty throne room. It belonged to Jeonghan, Wonwoo’s advisor and long-time friend. Jeonghan was one of the few people that maintained Wonwoo’s absolute unwavering trust, something that not even Mingyu could say he possessed.
“I’ve compiled a list of eligible young ladies that would be suitable to be your bride. Given the pressure from the public, there isn’t much time for you to spend much time with them, but if any of them pique your interest, you could at least meet them before the wedding.” He explained, handing over a scroll to Wonwoo. 
Upon unravelling it, Wonwoo scanned a long list of names, each clearly stating who the woman's father was and what connections she had. Below each name was a brief description of background, and important or notable skill sets and events were specifically stated. 
“You’ve put stars next to some names.” Wonwoo noted, furrowing his eyebrows as he read further down the list.
“The stars are to separate the ladies whose fathers have already expressed their approval of their daughters marrying you. I didn’t star the ones who seemed greedy for the throne or possibly had ulterior motives, I might add. I would suggest picking from them if no one particular interests you.” Jeonghan clarified, pointing to a couple of the starred names, “These young ladies are well beloved by the public for their beauty and skills. Some are excellent firebenders, others have accomplishments in different areas.”
“How long do I have to choose?”
“About 4 days… 6 at most. Though, I’m sure the wedding planners and the lady’s family would both be appreciative of extra time to prepare for the ceremony. If you leave it to the last minute, they’ll have to scramble to get everything ready in less than 48 hours.”
Wonwoo nodded, “I’ll decide by this evening and give you my selection. Please set up a meeting with her family for Thursday. If the wedding is on Sunday, I’d like to have at least met her once before then. Thank you for the list, it makes the process a little easier.” He said sternly.
Jeonghan laughed and threw an arm around his shoulder, “Why so gloomy? You’re about to become the Fire Lord! And you get to choose among the most beautiful young ladies of the Fire Nation to be your wife! Brighten up a bit!”
“Despite the celebrations, I’m not feeling particularly cheerful about any of it. I’m juggling the coronation, picking a wife, the wedding, keeping track of Mingyu’s route back from the Earth Kingdom, electing a new army recruit, firing some of the higher ranking generals that only survived because of bribes with my father, and tending to the public’s complaints about the reconstruction on the East side of the city. My brain feels like it’s about to explode.” Wonwoo sighed.
“For this week until your wedding, focus on the first two of those tasks. The coronation will go smoothly even if you don’t write the speech ahead of time. You’ve prepared for many years for this. The rest can wait a little, but you can’t show up to your wedding without first choosing who you are marrying, so please inform me of who you choose as soon as possible.” Jeonghan patted his shoulder reassuringly. 
Wonwoo nodded, taking one last look at the long list of potential wives before rolling the scroll back up, “You’re right. I’ll make sure to give the time sensitive tasks my full attention.”
“Would you like to join me for some tea?” Jeonghan suggested, “I’d like to take one more chance to address you as Prince Wonwoo before your change in title. Or should I start calling you Fire Lord Wonwoo already?” They both laughed at Jeonghan’s teasing, and Wonwoo agreed to the offer for tea. He was glad that amongst all the change, Jeonghan remained a constant steady fixture of his life.
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Wonwoo kept his word and picked out a bride from the list before his coronation. He trusted Jeonghan and his judgement on who were the best potential wives, and so he picked from among the starred candidates. After comparing descriptions and seeing some portraits, he finally landed on his final choice.
His crowning as Fire Lord took place on Wednesday. The ceremony went by surprisingly quickly, which relieved him of some of the stress he carried. The Fire Lord headpiece felt heavy and unstable on top of his head, and though he had made it through the coronation, he still felt uneasy. Was he really qualified to take on such an important role?
Wonwoo didn’t get much sleep Wednesday night. Shuffling in the corridors and disturbance of the long red curtains in his bedroom kept him awake most of the night. He was sure it was just all the sudden changes getting to his brain and keeping him up, but the anxious feeling that he couldn’t shake off almost tormented him.
He put on one of his best robes to visit his soon-to-be bride the next morning. The walk to the family’s house was short as they were among the nobility of the Fire Nation and lived within 20 minutes of the royal palace, in the heart of Caldera City. Wonwoo had done some additional research on the lady he had picked with the help of Jeonghan. Since he wasn’t able to pick a bride the traditional way, he wanted to try to lessen the chance of unhappiness in the marriage by trying to pick someone with qualities he respected, which is how he landed on you. 
Y/n L/n: the daughter of a high-ranking government official who worked in Ancient Studies and the Preservation of Fire Nation Culture. Wonwoo had heard that your father was quite the fire-bending expert, though it was said that you did not possess the gift. You were renowned for your beauty and intelligence, as well as a kind heart. 
If it was true that you fit the description, Wonwoo had high hopes that even if he didn’t fall in love, he would still be able to proudly say that you were his wife. He just hoped that you wouldn’t despise him. He didn’t have the best track record when it came to romance.
Being busy with his princely duties and preparing for the throne all his life, whenever he received any romantic gestures or subtle flirting from girls, they usually went right over his head. He didn’t have the slightest grasp on the concept of flirting or reciprocating emotions, and since it wasn’t something that came naturally to him as a teen, he always assumed that he would learn later in life. He had always expected there to be plenty of years for him to find a wife when he felt ready. He certainly hadn’t bet on being rushed into it when he was barely 22. 
But this was the way things had panned out, and Wonwoo had no choice but to face it head on. He was the Fire Lord now. There was no room for nervousness.
He left his guards by the gate of the house, strolling through the pleasant front gardens by himself. There was a stone pathway that led to the front of the house. He took his time getting there, stopping to smell the flowers that had been planted on either side. His real intention of getting to the door as slowly as possible was his quickly growing nerves in the pit of his stomach, but he masked it well.
As soon as he knocked on the door (Wonwoo swore even before he opened the door), it was opened by family servants. They immediately bowed at him and welcomed him inside, leading him towards a large sitting room where the family was waiting for him.
His eyes immediately fell on you, and without even knowing, his lips upturned into a small smile. The portrait he had been given of you really didn’t do you any justice. You were infinitely better in person, he thought. He introduced himself and took a seat, preparing for the conversation that would unfold in the next hour or more. 
He could tell that you were nervous as you talked. You fiddled with your fingers in your lap each time you had to answer a question Wonwoo or your father posed, and for some reason, it made Wonwoo feel more at ease. He was glad he wasn’t the only one feeling anxious over this first meeting, though he was sure no one would be able to tell. He had perfected his public speaking at the age of twelve.
The basic introductions and formalities were coming to an end after almost an hour of speaking. Wonwoo had clarified all the expectations that would come of being a Fire Lady and your father seemed overjoyed that Wonwoo was taking interest in his daughter.
“It seems this conversation is dying down a little. Would you mind if I talked with Y/n alone? Perhaps we could take a walk around the garden?” Wonwoo asked gently and was met with enthusiasm from both your parents.
“Of course! Take as long as you want with her.”
You led the way out to the back garden which Wonwoo found to be even more charming than the front garden. There were twice as many flowers, as well as a stone fountain in the centre of the grounds. What Wonwoo found most pleasing was the small turtle duck pond nestled by a tree. He made his way over to it with you.
“I hope you’re not… opposed to this marriage?” Wonwoo started tentatively, first addressing his biggest fear.
Thankfully, you smiled and shook your head, “I would be a fool to be opposed to a marriage to the Fire Lord.”
“But, are you not disappointed?” He asked.
Again, you shook your head, “You must be referring to the fact that we are not marrying for love? Of course I had always hoped that my marriage would contain mutual love and respect… who knows, maybe it still can? I know I will be making my parents happy with this, and I am flattered that I, of all the Fire Nation, seemed to catch your attention. I wouldn’t have accepted this marriage if I hadn’t considered thoroughly all that it would entail. I’m ready to commit to being your wife, though I am not sure why you sought out me.” 
Wonwoo smiled, “You don’t seem to give yourself enough credit. Your list of accomplishments was longer than any of the other ladies.”
“My ‘list’?” You questioned, digging into your pocket to pull out a small piece of wrapped up fabric.
“Yes,” Wonwoo laughed softly, “Given the rush for this marriage, I was given a list of ladies to pick from to make it easier.”
You unfolded the piece of fabric, revealing some small pieces of bread, and crouched down to toss one piece into the water. A baby turtle duck swam up to eat it immediately, the others following along, hoping to get a piece of the bread too. Wonwoo smiled again, watching you feed the turtle ducks with care. He hoped you would like the turtle duck pond at the palace as well. 
“What accomplishments were on that list… If I may ask?” You were curious. You didn’t view your life as particularly grand or accomplished. You had spent most of your childhood sheltered and started school late.
“You graduated top of your class from one of the most prestigious schools in the nation. I heard you took up a variety of extra classes beyond the basics, including painting and even army history despite not being able to firebend. Your list of charity work was particularly long. If I remember correctly… over ten different organizations are in your name?” 
“I’m glad they included that, at least. It might be one of the only things I’m actually good at.” You mumbled, and Wonwoo furrowed his eyebrows.
You stood up again to face him, “Is it true that you own a dragon?” 
Wonwoo was partially taken aback by your question, but he answered it nonetheless, “Yes. Part of my firebending training was studying the behaviours of Huoyan. We learned together. She was just a baby when I got her. I owe my firebending skills more so to her than any of my past masters.”
You watched Wonwoo talk about his dragon, intent on the way his eyes— which had been dull and tired looking all during his visit— seemed to brighten and sparkle as soon as he started telling you about Huoyan. You had always been interested in animals, particularly Fire Nation ones. You took close care of the turtle ducks, but because you couldn’t firebend, you were never allowed to own a dragon.
“She sounds incredible. If you wouldn’t mind…” You started, your cheeks flushing halfway through. You weren’t sure if what you were about to ask was entirely appropriate— you could be majorly overstepping. The way Wonwoo was waiting expectantly pushed you to complete it, though. “Would you be so kind as to introduce me to her once I move into the palace?” 
Wonwoo graced you with a smile back, “Of course. Once you move into the palace I’ll be sure to introduce you to her. Perhaps I could even take you for a ride on her?” Wonwoo suggested, and was met with your ready agreement. You asked again if you really had his word to complete the request. You wouldn’t rest until you were sure of his sincerity. You grinned when he promised— within the first week of being at the palace, in fact, you would be well acquainted with his dragon. 
Wonwoo had other meetings for the day, so he had to leave shortly after your discussion about dragons. The next time you would see him, he would be your husband. You wondered how living with him would be. Would it feel awkward and cold like your conversation in the house or would it feel warm and honest like the brief discussion about dragons?
You hoped it would be the latter, but you soon found that your hope only led to disappointment.
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Your wedding to Wonwoo was a very public affair. All the nobles and half of the middle class of the Fire Nation were invited to the ceremony. While you weren’t unused to public events from growing up in the nobility, the massive number of people attending a royal event as prestigious as a wedding was definitely foreign to you. You used to be part of the crowd and only very rarely the subject of attention. Given that you were becoming the Fire Lady, you would have to get used to the attention quickly.
There was no chance to talk to Wonwoo before the ceremony, despite getting ready at the palace. The servants helped you with your wedding garments, which were fancier than anything you had ever put on before. The gold elements of the luxurious silk robe were hand-sewn on and glimmered when the light shone on them. They depicted flames of gold and red, and even the red thread seemed to shine brightly. The dress was mostly made up of a rich dark red material which was lightweight but clearly much higher quality than anything you could buy at a market. 
The maids applied gold shimmer to your eyes as well as a dark red lip, as was traditional of the wife of the Fire Lord. The last piece of your outfit was an elegant headpiece. It, too, was gold and was pinned uncomfortably tight into your hair to keep from slipping. 
You looked in the mirror one last time before the ceremony, turning your face to the side to view every angle with scrutiny. These were your last few minutes as just the daughter of nobility. Within half an hour, you would be the new wife of Fire Lord Wonwoo, ruler of the Fire Nation.
As soon as you stepped into the view of the public, there were deafening cheers. More than half the Fire Nation was in attendance, it seemed. Such a cause for celebration hadn’t happened in years. 
The public had always been nosy about the personal lives of the royal family. There were groups of people who loved to romanticise it and believed that every royal wedding only came about when a son or daughter of the royal family had fallen into the deepest of love. 
There were people with a bit more sense, thankfully. They still wished you and Wonwoo to have the happiest marriage possible, but their judgement wasn’t clouded with the unrealistic idea that royals had the luxury of marrying for love. 
You could only hope that Wonwoo would fall in love with you. You believed yourself capable of loving him if you were sure he loved you back. Until you were sure, though, you took everything with healthy apprehension. You weren’t going to allow your mind to be clouded with the softness and warmth that you had felt from him during your walk in the garden. Your mother had always told you that you couldn’t judge a person by how they acted when they were trying to make a good first impression. You needed to watch and silently observe— and only then would you know the true nature of your husband.
This is why your eyes stayed firmly on Wonwoo throughout the ceremony and afterparty. The public thought you were enamoured with him, oblivious to the fact that you had barely spent more than two hours in his presence. You were eager for the wedding to finally be over, hoping in your mind that Wonwoo would invite you to meet Huoyan after.
He did not, though. Instead, he bowed to you and said he had some things to attend to before retreating back to his chambers, letting the servants show you to your new room. You were disheartened when you realized it was almost on the opposite side of the palace from Wonwoo’s. What kind of married couple slept so far apart? Even the justification of this being an arranged political marriage didn’t constitute that level of separation. 
You sat down on the edge of the bed, contemplating the issue. Your brain was screaming to bring it up with Wonwoo. How were you supposed to get close to him when you were separated during the day and during the night? He was your husband. There was no reason why you couldn’t bring it up with him. 
But what if he wanted to be separate from you? You thought about the possibilities for minutes before finally dismissing it. You felt nervous at the thought of asking him about it first. You didn’t have the courage to speak to him that freely yet— you were sure you would sound entitled if you did. 
You hoped that the situation was just a result of how the royal palace worked, and not because Wonwoo had no wish to get to know you more. Despite growing up a nobel, you had never set foot inside the royal palace and were ignorant to its inner workings. But there was still time to learn.
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You spent the next 2 weeks familiarizing yourself with the palace and your responsibilities as Fire Lady. There weren’t many— especially compared to the Fire Lord’s responsibilities— but it was enough to keep you busy for a few hours of the day. They were mostly social matters, enriching yourself with the people of the nation, and listening to their concerns.
You quite liked the work you were given. You had always excelled at finding solutions to tricky problems, and it stimulated your brain much more than at home. The times you were working were the best part of your day. When you were left on your own in the palace, you succumbed to boredom. It was big and empty inside— the only warmth in the place coming from the elaborate flames used as decoration. It didn’t feel like home to you, so you spent most of your day by the turtle duck pond in the gardens. Though you longed for some human interaction, the turtle ducks at least kept you company.
One thing continued to bother you, though.
You barely saw Wonwoo at all.
Since your wedding, you had only had two other conversations with him in 2 weeks, each of which only lasted for a few minutes. Wonwoo woke up earlier than you did and didn’t wait for you to come down to eat breakfast to start on his tasks as Fire Lord for the day. He would often go on overnight trips without informing you, which made you feel almost invisible to him. 
Whenever you crossed paths with him inside the palace, he was very clearly on his way to somewhere important and couldn’t spare any time for you. You had started to try to initiate conversations with him in hopes that a little effort would break the ice between you two— just simple things like asking about his work or how his day had been. He responded gently, but it was very clear in his tone that he had no desire to continue talking to you. It had been unsuccessful so far, as each conversation ended abruptly when one of the servants called for Wonwoo’s attention or he excused himself from your presence. 
You often saw him talking to his advisor: Jeonghan. He seemed to follow your husband around everyday with a huge pile of scrolls. You assumed they were the daily tasks of the Fire Lord.
You were the last person to interrupt someone when they were so clearly busy working, so you kept to yourself as much as you could. Despite your loneliness and constant boredom, time seemed to pass quickly. April fourteenth marked six months post the wedding. By this time, it was quite usual for you to not even see Wonwoo at the palace for weeks at a time. 
You didn’t ask for much. You were never a greedy or dependent person. But the lack of attention given from Wonwoo had started to affect you more than you realized. You used to be social and bright, filled with energy to tend to people’s issues or helping animals. Now, you barely even went out to the market anymore. 
You had become rather dull and cold to Wonwoo whenever you saw him, hoping that he might pick up on your change of demeanour and fix something in his attitude, but he seemed as oblivious as ever. In your head, you had absolutely resigned to the fact that your husband did not care for you at all, and that the rest of your marriage would carry on in this sad lonely state. He still slept in his room that was on the other side of the palace from you. He still kept busy with duties all day long. He still woke up earlier than you and turned in early (you had started to think that he was doing this to purposefully avoid you). You felt hopeless and your loneliness brought with it depression.
You even felt a little betrayed by him. He had made several promises to your father that first meeting, one of which was that you would be sure to be happy and content at the palace. He couldn’t have been more wrong on that. 
Your brain also kept going back to his later promise that he made to you in the garden— that you would get to meet Huoyan as soon as you moved in. All these months, you had clung in vain to that side of Wonwoo in the garden. If he was truly like that to you everyday, you were sure you would’ve fallen deeply in love with him.
But now you knew for certain that it was all just an act. You had been wrong about Wonwoo all this time. He had no intention of getting to know you. The warmth you had once felt from him was truly a one-time thing. You didn’t expect that he would ever showcase that sincerity to you ever again.
Over time, you slowly lost interest in making an effort, and retreated further into your new life of solitude. There was a lot you could do in your room, big open space secluded from the rest of the palace. With a quick trip to the palace armoury one late night, you found yourself a new hobby.
If you had done this right after your wedding, you would’ve made sure to ask Wonwoo about it first; another precaution in hopes of being a “good wife” and “one that he could grow to love”. Having tried everything you possibly could think of and failing at that task, though, you didn’t care if he minded or not. The servants all took your orders as the Fire Lady without any questioning, and you quickly learned to use your position of power to keep yourself entertained enough to not entirely lose your mind stuck doing nothing for months.
And so, with two borrowed long swords from Wonwoo’s collection, one sharp dagger, fifteen ancient martial arts scrolls and five sword-fighting ones, you dedicated yourself to the art of self defense and battle. If you were careful enough, Wonwoo would hear nothing about this.
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Wonwoo had been anticipating Mingyu’s arrival back home for weeks. It was unsurprising that he had taken twice the expected amount of time to get back home than any other general would have. Mingyu’s skills at directing a fleet of ships were… questionable. No one could strip him of his position, though. His title as prince overruled any judgement from any of his crew.
“Wonwoo! How have you- Ow!” 
Wonwoo looked up from the map he was studying, quick enough to catch Mingyu hop forward in pain, clutching his foot from where he had bumped it against the edge of a table. Wonwoo smiled. He had a lot of affection for his younger brother, no matter how incompetent he was sometimes. And though he would never admit it, he had missed him while he had been gone for a year.
“I’ve been well. It’s still the same here. Quiet. Especially when you’re away.” Wonwoo commented, rolling up the map and setting it aside.
“It’s still the same? Father died, you became Fire Lord, and you got yourself a wife, yet it’s still the same?!” Mingyu asked incredulously. Wonwoo could only nod, stepping down from the throne to walk with Mingyu.
“How is married life?” Mingyu asked once the two were walking out of the throne room.
Wonwoo shrugged, “I thought it would be different from being single, but it barely is. I still spend most of my time in solitude.” 
“Don’t you talk to her?” 
Wonwoo paused before answering, “I don’t see her much. We both seem to be rather busy.”
“Do you at least make an effort to talk to her when you can? You can’t be that busy. No matter how many tasks you had, I know you still drink tea with Jeonghan every day.” Mingyu pointed out, disappointed in his brother’s excuses. “I know you were always hopeless when it comes to this, but you must have considered how lonely she must feel in solitary in this massive palace, right?” Mingyu studied Wonwoo’s face carefully, sighing when he caught the guilty look in his eyes which he had hoped would not appear.
“So let me get this straight,” He took a breath, “You married one of the prettiest ladies in all of the Fire Nation, only to never talk to her and then wonder why married life is so quiet?” 
Wonwoo admitted to it in a hesitant mutter, causing Mingyu to groan.
“God, you’re stupider than I thought! At this rate, she’ll want to break off the marriage, Wonwoo. Don’t you see that she has the power to ruin your reputation as Fire Lord if she chooses? If you don’t remedy this, she could tell the entire Fire Nation that their beloved Fire Lord is a cold and cruel man with no affection for his wife, despite her efforts to get closer to him.” Mingyu stated clearly.
Wonwoo frowned. He had never thought of that possibility before. “It’s been… almost a year since our wedding already.” Wonwoo realized, shocked at how fast the time had all gone. The days seemed to bleed into one another, and with his lack of sleep keeping up with daily tasks, you were often the last thing on his mind.
“Do you think it’s even possible to make it up to her now?”
“Well, yes, you have worsened your chances of fixing it by studiously ignoring her existence for 12 months, but you shouldn’t feel completely hopeless. If you put in the right amount of effort, she might come around.”
“What should a husband do to try to win the affection of his wife?” Wonwoo asked, feeling completely overwhelmed at the situation. 
“Send her flowers, do her favourite activities together, take her on dates, devote time to her! And for God’s sake, don’t forget your own wedding anniversary! You can’t expect her to care for you when you don’t give her any of your time.” Mingyu explained frustratedly. Among the two brothers, he was definitely the more experienced when it came to love. Unlike Wonwoo, he actually had time to date amongst his other commitments. 
Wonwoo felt a pit in his stomach, an uncomfortable lurch in his core that was screeching out all the mistakes he had made. He realized in an instant how truly awful he had been treating you without even knowing it. He had foolishly assumed that you, being of nobility already, would do fine on your own in the palace. Given the nature of the marriage, he hadn’t even considered your possible desire to get closer to him, or the stress that would come with being uprooted so abruptly, going from your own familiar living space to the deafening quiet of the royal palace. Now that he was aware of all of these errors on his part, he felt a strange crack in his heart; an ache that couldn’t be soothed without knowing that he could make you happy again.
He had made many mistakes— almost innumerable. As his brain raced, it only pulled more and more instances of your clear discomfort that he had never bothered to pay attention to before this moment. He thought back to every interaction he had with you over the months, and it was never more clear to him that you had only been comfortable around him during your first meeting together. The feelings that the dragon conversation had brought in both of you had never been repeated.
Wonwoo now knew what he needed to do. He was determined to get you back to the way you were smiling and laughing that first conversation. He needed to fulfil his promises— however late he was to that. And he had a hope that the key to setting everything to rights was sleeping on his back doorstep: Huoyan.
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Your mental health had significantly improved since you had picked up your new hobby. It gave you a thrilling surge of excitement whenever you were able to pick up the two long swords from the box under your bed. It was more dangerous than anything you had ever been allowed to try as a nobleman’s daughter— yet, it was always something you had been interested in.
You liked delicate things well enough. Sewing and painting and dancing were all enjoyable hobbies, but they never truly excited you as much as dragons or firebending or sword fighting. You had grown up watching your father teach Fire Nation history and demonstrate some of the very first fire bending techniques; learned straight from the dragons. 
Tried as you did when you were a child, you could never seem to produce a single spark or flame. It disheartened you early on in life, and once that fantasy of adventure had been shut down, your father never saw the point in teaching you sword fighting. You had been disclosed to be a gentleman’s lady: one who sat still and looked pretty and smiled a lot. But now that you had the tools and authority, you weren’t one to let this chance to indulge your inner child go.
You quickly got in the habit of sneaking out to test your quickly improving skills in the real world. You used the training grounds in the middle of the night when no one would see you, and after a couple months, you felt confident enough to go even further. You found a list of active criminals in the Fire Nation and took it upon yourself to take them on.
Charity work had always been your favourite— helping people had always been your passion. It fuelled you like nothing else had, and each night that you snuck back into the palace having successfully taken down another threat was another night you slept soundly. 
It wasn’t long until the Fire Nation started to notice. A new hero taking out the nation’s top criminals— ones that not even the royal guard had been able to capture. They named you The Scarlet Shadow for your dark crimson and black robes and your proficiency in the art of stealth. Your smaller frame and stature helped you get around unseen. You used the shadows to your advantage, slipping in and out of them without being caught. 
It was incredible how much you learned without a dedicated master. You wished you could hire one, but you didn’t want to be found out by Wonwoo, so you kept everything as secretive as possible. You spent the entire day reading scrolls and practicing in the privacy of your room. Once the sun set and you had told the servants you were sleeping early yet again, you snuck out.
It was now the first week of October, and you were dreadfully reminded that your first wedding anniversary would come on the fourteenth of the month. The first six months had been some of the worst of your life— mercilessly having been ignored and made to feel insignificant by your own husband. But the latter six brought some of the best months of your life.
The freedom of The Scarlet Shadow completely disconnected you from your duties as the Fire Lady. It brought a freedom that you never had, and if this was how you would be spending the rest of your life in the palace, you would gladly accept it.
Your target for tonight— the fourth of October— was an infamous and nefarious man named Orin. He was known to capture children from homeless Fire Nation families with an excuse of paying taxes. He then sold them to the rich and corrupt as slaves. The abuse didn’t stop there, as many of them were malnourished, overworked, never paid, and even beaten. 
Your heart ached for the victims of the man. You had known about this situation for years, but was never able to do anything about it. Given his reputation, Orin would have probably taken one look at you before being determined to marry you. You could only wonder at what horrors his past wives had to go through. They had all run away from him as soon as possible. Some, less fortunate ones, had died trying.
You got dressed in your garments: a black and red robe that was easy to move and fight in. It was stealthy, and didn’t make any sound when you walked in it unlike the fancy bejewelled silk robes that you wore as Fire Lady. You sheathed the long swords and stuck the dagger safely in your shoe, ready to pull out and throw when you needed to. You pulled up the black cloth over your nose, shielding all but your eyes so that no one could identify you. 
And then, you jumped out the window.
It was a cold night: one of the first proper ones in October. Given the change of the season, more people were sleeping earlier. Most of the city was hushed and in their beds already, which made your task even easier. It was always more risky to navigate in the summertime when night festivals were held until morning.
Orin’s house (or mansion, that is) was on the East side of town. The man slept late, usually partying until the early hours of the morning. You wished you could get the job done while he was sleeping, but it would be too risky. If anyone found out that you weren’t at the palace, you would never hear the end of it from your personal servants and advisors. You grimaced, thinking what Wonwoo would think of this whole situation.
You weren’t sure why he was always on your mind. Everything you did came back to him, even though you still didn’t know him. You had always thought that the relationship between a husband and his wife should be intimate and companionable. You wanted to be able to tell your husband anything and everything— to be able to confide in him and seek comfort when you needed it. You wanted to be taken care of, and in turn, take care of him. You wanted the supporting relationship that you had seen in your parents.
And though you knew that Wonwoo had none of these qualities, you still held out hope that he would one day improve. You had seen many people have changes of heart; even the cruelest man had a chance to change his ways.
When you had first met Wonwoo, you had been overcome with just how beautiful he was. You had been so sure that his heart must be as beautiful as his face, foolishly having fallen for his charming smile and pleasant offers which you now knew were just a facade to win you over. Your chest tightened thinking about how wrong you were. 
Yes, he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen. His dark silky hair always fell perfectly over his forehead, hitting just below his eye, complementing his face shape. He always dressed in only the finest silk. You admitted to being guilty of admiring his figure from afar. You were sure he was in shape— any firebender who trained as vigorously as he definitely was. You had never seen more than a sliver of his collarbone; but it was enough to confirm that he had enough muscle to run a nation.
And that was something you did admire about him. He was able to run the Fire Nation to perfection. Within the first months of being Fire Lord, he had already come up with several clever solutions to problems that his late father had started. He was healing the Fire Nation’s relationship with the Earth Kingdom through his younger brother, Mingyu. He sent diplomats to the other 2 nations as well, promising aid in any crisis that might arise. He preached peace and harmony between the 4 nations, and you were glad he wasn’t a proud Fire Lord with elitist ideals, but a humble and honest one.
You still held respect for him as a Fire Lord, but any respect that you had for him as a person was dwindling the more days spent as if you didn’t exist. You longed to be noticed, to be treated as an actual person. You didn’t need to experience love, but you had always wanted to. Didn’t you deserve to at least once?
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Wonwoo huffed, sweat beading on his forehead and back from the challenging training he had set himself to do. He breathed, and with each breath came new sparks of fire. It was hot in the room, but he barely noticed, too focused on the new skill he was attempting to master. It was a sort of jet propulsion— using the flames he was able to create to propel him forward at a high speed. 
Huoyan watched him from the corner where she napped. Her red scales brandished against the warm light that came from the fire in the room. Since Wonwoo was 13, he had stopped taking lessons from the palace masters and learned on his own with Huoyan instead. She was a strict master, one could say; but the bond he had created with her was stronger than anything else.
Wonwoo attempted the move again, faltering at the last second, causing the blast to hit the ceiling in an uneven flurry. He groaned and fell to the ground, frustrated at how long it was taking. He used to be the quickest learner in the Fire Nation. He was able to focus all his attention on mastering new skills with ease, and that allowed him to pick up on techniques twice as quickly as others.
He just couldn’t focus at all right now.
Huoyan whined from the corner, showing her disapproval of Wonwoo’s inability to pick things up quickly. He frowned, rolling to the side, still on the floor, and looked at her. She was curled up, almost catlike, her wings wrapped around her body like a blanket. But Wonwoo couldn’t miss the grumpy look on her face. He stood up and walked over to her, reaching out his hand to rest on her nose, scratching it gently.
“I’m sorry, Huoyan. I don’t think I’m in the right mindset to train right now…” He muttered, sitting down in front of the dragon. He reached over for his silk robe that he had folded before training, slipping his arms through the arm holes again but not bothering to tie it across his body. Huoyan licked Wonwoo's hand— a sign of affection and trust amongst dragons and their owners, and Wonwoo smiled.
“Do you think she hates me?” Wonwoo asked quietly, not really looking for an answer from the dragon, though she gave him a low rumble. “Right. She probably does. I would hate me too…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He had been thinking of you ever since Mingyu had come to visit almost a month ago. It was all he could think about. The guilt was eating him up from the inside out. Whenever he heard mention of you, his stomach lurched forward and the guilt practically doubled. 
“I don’t know what I need to prioritize anymore. I prepared my whole life for being the Fire Lord… I’ve learned what to do in situations and what choices to make that keep the wellbeing of the entire nation at its core. But no one prepared me for being a husband. How do I even make it up to her?” He frowned. 
He had always confided in Huoyan. As ridiculous as it sounded to talk to a dragon, Wonwoo had always found it the most natural. She couldn’t give him responses like Mingyu or Jeonghan, but she had insights that they didn’t. She couldn’t talk, but Wonwoo could still understand her. Their bond was strong enough for that.
He was too scared to talk to Jeonghan about his struggles. He was sure that he would laugh at him, unable to see how serious the problem was. He had never had any problem with dating or love.
“How do I show her that I care?” Wonwoo questioned. Huoyan huffed, making Wonwoo scowl and raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Of course I care about her! She’s my wife. It’s a husband’s duty to care for his wife.”
Huoyan shifted, tucking her wings closer to her chest and wagging her long tail along the floor.
“You’re right, I haven’t been showing her any attention… But… I have noticed her. I always have. She looked hopeful… and then… it was gone. I-I watched it fade away. Her eyes stopped shining. They’ve been dull for months.” He explained, distraught. “I wanted to talk to her. She always caught me at my busiest— or maybe I’m just… too nervous? You should see her Huoyan. She’s prettier than you. I’ve never seen anyone so… angelic. She used to try to start conversations with me; ask about my day and the sort. I wanted to keep talking to her but my heart would race so fast in my chest. It felt… uncomfortable.” He narrated with a small smile. Huoyan listened intently, her eyes closed. Every once and a while she would give a response— a grunt or a huff whenever Wonwoo was being unreasonable.
The conversation proved incredibly productive thanks to Huoyan’s sharp ears. Wonwoo was able to let out all his thoughts. Explaining them out loud helped him understand where things had gone wrong and how he could fix them. He decided to talk to you tonight. No more avoiding it out of fear, no more suppressing the guilt he felt. He would lay it all out to you; admit to every mistake. 
He needed to earn your trust, and he would do that with being painfully honest. He knew his ego would take a massive blow, but it already had. It was dwindling. The great Fire Lord that he had always aspired to be wasn’t able to even win over his own wife. The thought was laughable.
The walk down the corridor towards your bedroom was filled with nerves. His throat felt dry as he gave a gentle knock to your door. When he didn’t hear a response, his heart sank, but he knocked again. Did you hate him so much that you weren’t even willing to listen to him?
His chest tightened at the thought. He felt entirely helpless. If you wouldn’t even listen to him, there was nothing else he could try. He knocked one more time, calling out that he would open the door if you didn’t say anything.
There was no response, and so he pushed it open slowly.
The room was empty, and Wonwoo’s eyes widened. You had nowhere to go except for the palace and the servants had informed him that you had gone to bed early and should be in your room. 
Panic flooded through every inch of Wonwoo’s body. From the top of his head to his finger tips. His hands started to shake as he thought of all the possibilities.
The most likely of which? Kidnapping.
You were a nobleman’s daughter. You weren’t a firebender— you couldn’t defend yourself. You were the Fire Lady, an extremely desirable victim for enemies of the Fire Nation who wished to get some leverage over Wonwoo. His mind raced to the possibilities of needing to choose between you and whatever the people who took you wanted.
If it were a case of life or death, he would choose you in an instant.
Thanks to his extensive training, Wonwoo was easily able to think of the best move to take. Mingyu had brought with him a pack of shirshu from the Earth Kingdom. They were excellent trackers. They would be able to find you faster than Wonwoo’s search party could.
He found one of your headpieces from on top of your vanity and took it. He was in a frenzied rush, calling over his personal guards to come with him in case he needed backup. He had the shirshu sniff the headpiece, a relieved sigh escaping him when the animal seemed to pick up on your trail. He mounted Huoyan and had the guards go with the Shirshu, and started on the hasty search.
His heart was racing the entire time. Each time it looked like the shirshu had picked up on something, his heart rate felt like it doubled. It didn’t take long to find where you were, but when Wonwoo realized the location, his heart completely sank.
Orin was well known in the upper circle of the Fire Nation, and he was without a doubt, the most sickening man Wonwoo had ever met. His father had held a position in government and Orin had inherited it. Though Wonwoo wanted to arrest the man or even banish him from the Fire Nation, he didn’t have the means to expose him for his wrongdoings yet.
Kidnapping was one thing, but knowing that you were in the hands of Orin had Wonwoo’s stomach twisting inside out. He had never felt so sick to his stomach. And worst of all, it was all mostly directed towards himself. He hated himself.
If he had taken better care of you then this would never have happened. If he had paid attention to you— made sure you were safe and happy and looked after. If he had gotten over his stupid nerves and been a good husband, then you would never have had to have suffered like this.
Until he saw you with his own eyes, he could only pray with his entire being that you were still alive. He didn’t even want to think about the things Orin could do to you. Would he manipulate you? Threaten you? Take advantage of you? Harm you? Kill you?
He didn’t wait another second to storm into the house, startling the servants who quickly got out of the way. He quickly made a search through the entire house, his guards taking the lower floors while he took the upper. He blasted down the door to Orin’s bedchambers with firebending, not wasting a second to rush in.
What he found there was certainly not what he expected. The man was lying on the floor, a pool of blood underneath him, dripping out from a heavy stab wound to his chest. It was obvious that he wouldn’t survive more than 10 minutes at the most.
Before he took his chance to interrogate Orin, he saw a dark figure jumping out of the window from his peripheral vision. Was it the person who killed Orin? Then… Could they have taken you?
Wonwoo quickly changed his course, believing that going after the assassin would be more productive. If they had killed Orin then they must also know where you were, and maybe even, what Orin had done to you. He knew better than to trust anything Orin said to him. It was likely that even if he asked, the man would lie even until his dying breath. Honesty had never been one of Orin’s virtues. Not that he had any of those to begin with.
It was hard to pursue a person dressed in black and dark red during the night time. Wonwoo was thinking with a panicked and terrified brain— and so the easiest way he thought of to see where he was going was to firebend. He tried to be careful as he sprinted, shooting flames in front of him when he needed to. Sweat was building up as the exertion started to take a toll on his body. He needed to catch his breath; calm himself down from the panic he was dealing with. But the assassin was almost within reach, so he pushed his body just a little further.
He blasted one more flame forwards, but due to his exhaustion, it wasn’t perfectly aimed. It hit the assassin square in the back, knocking them to the ground roughly. Wonwoo’s eyes widened and he rushed forward. 
He heard them cough, trying to roll on the ground to put out the flame, but it had clearly already burned through their garments. They screamed as the fire scorched their skin. Wonwoo felt like he couldn’t breathe. He had never used firebending so carelessly before. Even in an Agni Kai, he was focused and precise. He had rarely been in combat that wasn’t for training purposes, and even when he was, he knew how important it was to stay in control of fire. It was known that fire was the easiest element to lose control of; and so, the first thing that new firebenders were taught was the first rule of fire bending to never break: never lose control of your flame. 
But Wonwoo had done just that.
Wonwoo quickly put out the flame on the assassin’s back, grimacing at the bright red scorch marks they had left on their skin. From the design of the robes, he quickly realized that this wasn’t just any assassin. He had come in contact with The Scarlet Shadow. 
He quickly pushed her back so that her face was up, holding her shoulders so that her exposed back couldn’t come into contact with the rubble on the road. His hand trembled as he moved to pull down the black fabric covering the assassin’s face. She needed to be able to breath easily after being burned so badly.
Wonwoo had already been through enough panic tonight, but this was more than anything else. The face he was faced with once he removed the cloth was the last one he ever expected. Soft eyebrows, delicate eyelashes closed over eyes that he knew well, perfect lips parted to let uneven heaves escape, cheeks tainted with dirt and scraped from the fall. 
“No… N-no…” He struggled to breath, holding her up as carefully as he could. His eyes stung with tears that he refused to let fall and his chest constricted for the fifth time that night. It had all gone wrong from the start— his attempts to help had all backfired. And now he was faced with a reality that felt like a stab to the heart.
Wonwoo had burned his own wife.
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Wonwoo’s brain made sure to remind him of his very first conversation with you as Huoyan flew him back to the palace, you securely in his arms. You had asked to meet his dragon. You had been excited to, even making sure he promised to. Those promises had burned to the ground like everything else. He would never allow himself to forget the sparkle in your eyes as you asked him. He hadn’t seen the same shimmer of excitement since you had first become his wife.
“Would you be so kind as to introduce me to her once I move into the palace?” 
He had smiled at your question back then. He had been pleasantly surprised that you seemed so interested in dragons. It wasn’t what he would have expected from you, but it gave him hope that he would be able to go closer to you. He had also always loved dragons.
“Of course. Once you move into the palace I’ll be sure to introduce you to her. Perhaps I could even take you for a ride on her?”
Take you for a ride on her. That promise was finally being completed now, in the worst way Wonwoo could ever imagine. He held you a little closer as he thought about it, his heavy breath dispersing into the air with every heavy sweep of Huoyan’s wings.
He would never forgive himself.
The healers at the royal palace were the nation’s best, and Wonwoo made sure that they had strict orders to give you their full attention. He couldn’t leave the room; couldn’t bear to think of leaving you again. No, he would stick by your side from now on. He would never leave you alone. He would devote all his attention— his heart, his mind, his body, his soul to loving you. He would make sure you never questioned his affections again. 
As he watched the healers apply medicinal creams and ointment to your back, he was again reminded of that very first conversation with you. 
“Of course I had always hoped that my marriage would contain mutual love and respect… who knows, maybe it still can?”
Your hope and optimism was something Wonwoo should have cherished. Your faith that a love-filled marriage was still possible for you was a quality that he could only wish he possessed. He had been entirely foolish. He had made every mistake possible to make. He had watched silently as all that hope and excitement and trust had faded from your body.
He would never forgive himself.
He always saw you roaming the corridors alone. You often went out to feed the turtle ducks. They were your only company other than the servants. Wonwoo assumed at first that you would immediately find ways of entertaining yourself. You had all the power you could wish for; anyone would bend knee and foot to your every command. You could host extravagant balls or buy gifts for yourself from across the world. You could wear the most precious gemstones and fabrics in the entire Fire Nation. 
But you never did. Your humbleness had stuck with you all this time. It was something that Wonwoo could not take away from you. He didn’t know whether to be grateful for that or not. The virtue was admirable, but if you had not possessed it, could you have been happier?
Wonwoo shook his head. It was all too late for these trifling what if’s and maybe’s. The past was set in stone, unchangeable. All he could do was look to the future with hope and treat the present with the proper determination to change his ways.
Your burns were severe. Being blasted by such a powerful fireball from such a short distance had certainly left an impression. Wonwoo cried when he first saw it. Red, angry, scorched skin marked right in the middle of your back, sticking out awfully against your otherwise smooth skin. It was all because of him. He had left a second mark on you— one much more visible than the first. He had damaged your mind, and now, he had damaged your body. The guilt he carried was sickening.
Wonwoo asked Jeonghan to cancel every single responsibility for the next 4 months. Jeonghan panicked, of course. It was nearly impossible to expect the Fire Lord to do nothing for that long, but Wonwoo was firm in his request, and somehow, Jeonghan managed it.
He spent most of his time by your bedside, looking after you as carefully as he could. He ordered the healers to show him how to properly wrap your wound and apply new medicine, and once he was sure he could do it properly, he assured them that he would take care of it.
Huoyan slept closeby as well, knowing that Wonwoo wouldn’t leave your side, but wanting to be a listening ear if he needed it. Wonwoo was grateful for that, and used the opportunity well. Daily talks to the dragon helped him clear his thoughts and understand his feelings. Huoyan couldn’t lift the guilt, though.
There was only one person who could.
Wonwoo anticipated when you would wake up for more than a week. He needed constant reassurance from the healers that this was normal. Your body needed to conserve its energy to focus on healing itself. The medicine helped, but it was your own body that was going to heal it.
It took ten days for you to regain consciousness.
The first thing you felt when you woke up was excruciating pain in your back. You felt like you barely had any strength in your body. Everything felt as if you were in a daze, and your memory was extremely foggy. You couldn’t remember anything from the last month.
When you gathered enough strength to open your eyes, the first thing you saw was the symbol of the Fire Nation. A large red tapestry was hung on the wall, at least four times the length of your body. You couldn’t see much else besides it, as you were lying on your stomach, your head resting on the pillow sideways.
Ah. The palace.
You sighed, but immediately regretted it as any movement brought more shocked pain to your back. You grimaced, a pained whine escaping your lips. You felt relief before you could register the reason why, and forced your eyes open.
It was Wonwoo, pressing a cool cloth against your bandaged back gently.
Wait.
It was Wonwoo?!
“Wonwoo?” You questioned, your voice softer than you were used to. It would still take some time to get your energy back— even talking felt like more exertion than comfortable.
“Y/n. Don’t talk, please. It will only tire you out.”
You furrowed your eyebrows. Wonwoo sounded different. His voice was deep and slightly raspy, but soft and full of worry. You were sure of it. It was impossible to miss. He was… worried about you?
“Wonwoo?” You asked again with a little more urgency. You felt the cloth on your back stop moving. He stayed silent, waiting for you to continue your thought. Clearly you wanted to talk, and though he didn’t like the idea of you overexerting yourself, there were many things that you were probably curious about.
“Why are you… doing that?” You were almost scared to ask. Your own sensibility forbade you from blindly trusting Wonwoo in the moment, even though your heart was screaming for it. He was so close to you (literally within 30 cm of your face), and it was all you had wanted in the past. You had just wanted to be close to your husband. You wanted to love him, and for him to love you back. 
You forced yourself to be rational and not fold immediately, though everything about him was entrancing you at this moment. The smell of bergamot hit your nose and almost distracted you completely from the pain in your back. Wonwoo’s touch was soft and hesitant. He handled you as if you were a piece of glass that could shatter at any small impact. He had already hurt you enough for 1 lifetime. He never wanted to do it again.
“I want to take care of you. You’re badly injured, Y/n.” He muttered. You looked at his face, searching for sincerity in it. And it was there; clear as day. His eyes were scared and tired, as if he had barely gotten sleep in the last week. 
“What… happened? Why- how did I get injured?” You demanded. Your throat was strained from the energy it took to speak, but you needed answers.
“I don’t want to distress you. You’re still in pain. Please, just… sleep for now?” He asked hopelessly.
You were torn. Sleep sounded like a dream right now, but you didn’t know if you could trust Wonwoo for answers later. You couldn’t figure him out— you didn’t know him; you couldn’t trust him. He changed like a switch after a year, and now you weren’t sure what to believe. 
“Will you tell me later? Will you tell me everything?”
Wonwoo nodded, “Yes, of course. You are overdue for an… explanation. And I am sorry. I’ve treated you worse than an animal for the past year. I… I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to regain your trust, but I want to. Please believe me— there’s nothing more I want to do than to make things right.” You saw his eyes get hazy, overcome with emotion; grief, remorse, self-loathing, hope. You wanted to believe him, and you barely had the energy to do otherwise, so you found yourself humming in small agreement. It seemed to put him at ease a bit. He relaxed his shoulders and stood up.
“I’ll be here if you need anything. Let me know if you’re uncomfortable.” He smiled at you— an expression you hadn’t seen from him since that very first meeting. This smile was sad, though. It couldn’t reach his eyes and it quickly fell back down. You wondered what it would look like in full. You wanted to see him smile brightly. You wanted to be able to be the cause of his smile; to be able to make him happy.
He drew the curtains to block out the sun that had just risen and walked out of your view. You closed your eyes and welcomed sleep, falling into dreams quickly. Your dream was unpleasant. You tried again and again to get Wonwoo’s attention and affection, only to be met with his old attitude. It was as if he was unaware of your existence. When you woke up, you had a bitter feeling in your chest.
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You were in significantly less pain after your sleep. From the light outside, you reckoned it was a couple hours after dinner. You could sit up on your own, and you could feel your strength slowly coming back to you. You sat up quietly, having your first view of the room you were in. It was large and spacious. A large balcony was to the other side of it, decorated with elegant golden statues of two dragons. They were embracing each other; a couple.
You looked over to the dresser, and heat immediately spread up your neck and to your cheeks. You had caught Wonwoo changing his top robes. His back was right in your view. You couldn’t deny that you had pictured it before. Wonwoo had always been the most attractive man you’d ever seen. His skin was milky and smooth. His muscles were defined but he still kept a lean physique. Your eyes were trained on him as he slipped his arms through fresh red robes, tying the garment across his chest. It was only when he started turning around that you forced yourself to look away, pretending as if you hadn’t been staring. 
“You’re awake.” Wonwoo commented, soon joining you on the bed— sitting on the edge of it. “Did you sleep well? How are you feeling now?”
You shied away from his dark pupils that were examining your face. His eyes looked brighter and more refreshed than before— he looked more alive than he had hours ago, and you liked the look on him. He looked… prettier.
“I’m not in as much pain now. I slept okay… just had a bad dream.” You admitted, frowning at the thought. It was hard to trust that Wonwoo would keep being this nice to you. You had never been an attention seeker; usually you hated any kind of focus on you, but something about Wonwoo’s attention was pleasant and warm. 
“A bad dream?” Wonwoo echoed, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “What was it about?” You shied back slightly, unused to his contented look as he waited for you to respond.
“It was just… you were ignoring me again. In the dream. I hated it.” You whispered. Wonwoo’s eyes softened and saddened, and without thinking, he reached out to cup your cheek. He knew that he had hurt you by ignoring you all those months, but to know that it had hurt you this much? It felt like his already shattered heart was splintering into his insides, tearing apart his entire body and being. 
“I am so sorry, Y/n… For not showing you the love you deserve, for ignoring you all that time. I don’t know if I have an explanation for it… there’s no excuse that justifies treating you like that. Especially you. I-I’ve thought about it every day since my brother’s visit. I’m ashamed to say that it took him to knock some sense into me. I would try to explain myself… but I’m afraid I’ll only sound selfish and stupid.” He sighed heavily, shutting his eyes tightly and dropping his hand from your cheek.
“No. Tell me, Wonwoo. I want to know, no matter how bad it sounds. I want to know everything. You said you’d tell me everything.” You demanded. He nodded.
“You’re right. Are you… quite comfortable? Explaining it all might take some time. I’m still worried about your back.” Although it warmed your heart that he was so worried (the cute frown that he wore while trying to inspect if you were in pain had you melting), you cared the most about hearing what he had to say.
“I’m okay, Wonwoo. Don’t worry about me.” You reassured him. That was all it took to get him to start talking, and he started from the very beginning.
“After my father’s death, I had to find a wife quickly, as you know. I didn’t have time to deliberate much on who to pick— I just had my instincts to trust. I am certain I picked the right woman, though. You have never once disappointed me, Y/n. The fault was always on my part. I was the one who ignored you. I was the one who never tried to get closer. I was the one who failed you. And I’m so, so sorry for it.” Wonwoo’s eyes were getting teary— he couldn’t hide the gut-wrenching guilt that he felt whenever he thought about it. 
You had never seen him this emotional. You were happy that he felt comfortable enough with you to be this vulnerable, but the burden he was carrying made you feel heavy as well. You wanted to comfort him, console him, assure him that it was alright. You didn’t like holding grudges— for as long as you can remember, you were always hopeful that people could change. Wonwoo was finally showing the sincerity you had always longed for. He blinked back the tears before continuing, taking a deep breath and steadying himself by looking at you.
“I always wanted to talk to you. It just… felt uncomfortable. I’ve never been good at talking to people casually. They don’t train you for that in classes, believe it or not. I’m good at public speaking and strategic planning for the nation; but if you had ever put me next to girls in school, I’d end up a flustered and oblivious mess. I was always like that. Mingyu was better with the ladies and I was better with… textbooks or animals. They can’t be hurt as easily.
“I can only assume that by ignoring you, I was trying to avoid hurting you with my words. I never considered that by doing that, I would have caused you much more pain than a few awkward conversations. You always left my heart racing when you would smile at me from across the room those first few weeks. I kept a straight face because I knew the image would stay in my brain for the rest of the day and keep me from completing important tasks. Ignoring you and the effect you had on me was a bad way to cope with my feelings. I didn’t think I had time for love.” 
The explanation took you by surprise. You had always presumed that Wonwoo had never cared for you, and that was why he never put any effort into talking to you. Knowing that you had been in his heart all that time surged the hope that you had for him that had been hidden away in your heart.
“I planned to talk to you sooner, but on the night I tried to find you, you weren’t in your room. I assumed you had gotten kidnapped, so I tracked your scent with a shirshu brought from the Earth Kingdom. You can imagine my distress when I realized that the trial led right to Orin’s homestead. I was so panicked. I could only imagine what a man like him would want to do with the Fire Lord’s wife.” He breathed, the panic he felt from the time rushing back slightly.
You frowned, your heart aching to hear how much he cared for you. You grabbed his left hand gently, slowly giving it a reassuring squeeze. The gesture made a tear slip down his cheek, but he wiped it away as quickly as possible. 
“I… saw someone jump out of the window and decided to follow them given that Orin was already almost dead on the floor. I thought they would know where you were if they had searched the house in order to assassinate him. I-I didn’t know it was you, and I was so panicked from it all that I used my firebending recklessly. I…” His lip trembled and more tears spilled past his waterline. 
You were close to crying as well. Seeing Wonwoo so heartbroken by his own actions twisted your insides together. You pulled on his hand, making him lean forward until you could wrap your arms around him. You had never wanted to hug someone as badly. The way he crumbled into your embrace immediately finally broke you, and you allowed the tears to fall. You didn’t want him to talk until he had calmed down, so you rubbed his back, tracing the line of vertebrae one by one. You pulled away when you felt his breathing stabilise, but still kept him close to you.
“And then? After you hit me?” You questioned softly but curiously.
Wonwoo sucked in a breath, “I never meant to hit you— even before I knew it was you. I never knew you were The Scarlet Shadow. I wish I could have taken the time to be proud of you, instead of harming you.” He frowned again, but you just shook your head.
“It was all a mistake. I will heal soon. I’m pretty strong, you know?” You smiled, brushing away a tear stain from his cheek.
“I brought you here immediately and the palace healers took care of you. I asked them to teach me how to change your bandages and apply the medicine. I’ve been taking care of you for the last week.” He smiled, and you were glad he wasn’t teary anymore. You didn’t like seeing him cry.
“Wait… What’s today then? How long was I out for?” You asked. 
Wonwoo looked up, counting in his head, “It’s the 14th of the month… You were out for 10 days.”
“The 14th? Isn’t that…?” You looked up, meeting Wonwoo’s eyes. Realisation dawned in them as well. It was your wedding anniversary.
“1 whole year and this has been our longest conversation yet.” You giggled. The hurt feelings you felt from that reality were gone now— replaced with only amusement as you knew the cause had been nothing but the shyness of your husband.
“I am never going to ignore you like that again. I promise.” He said seriously, and you smiled.
“I know you won’t.” You kissed his cheek before you were even realising what you were doing. Both your eyes widened simultaneously before blush spread to your cheeks. “Sorry, you just looked– I just-” You didn’t register that as you were stuttering, Wonwoo’s eyes were focused entirely on your lips. He cut you off before you could finish, catching you by surprise.
You had never been kissed before, and neither had Wonwoo. It felt new and unfamiliar, yet somehow comforting. Wonwoo’s lips were warm and soft, and feeling them move against yours instantly brought butterflies to your stomach. It took a second for you to properly kiss him back, and even more time for you both to find a steady rhythm. 
It was like a dance almost; You had to tilt your head the exact right amount in order to not bump your nose against his, all while still moving your lips against his at the perfect pace. You weren’t sure what to do with your hands. They felt awkward just sitting in your lap— especially when Wonwoo’s right hand was gently holding your jaw. They found their place on his shoulders before too long, and that seemed to feel right to you. It grounded you while also allowing you to pull him closer to you, which was something you desperately wanted.
When you tried to deepen the kiss, though, Wonwoo pulled away. You blinked open your eyes, breathing heavily. 
“Why’d you stop?” You asked through short inhales. Wonwoo’s face reddened. 
“I- you were pulling me closer, and I wanted to hold you, but then I’d have to hold your back, a-and I can’t risk hurting you…” He whispered.
“Wonwoo… You’re going to make me fall in love with you.” You whined softly, your eyes staring into his.
“I always wished you would.” He breathed.
“You don’t have to wish for it anymore.” You promised him. “Can I… kiss you again?” You asked in a small whisper. Wonwoo nodded, immediately resuming where it had left off— lips connected; gentle, loving, and long overdue. 
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“I told you not to get up!” Wonwoo yelped, surprised by your arms encircling his waist before he could finish tying his robes.
“I said I’m fine. It’s been over 2 weeks. It barely even hurts anymore.” You shushed him, hugging his middle and resting your cheek against his soft silk robes.
“Barely?” He repeated, “I’m not letting you do anything until you can say it never hurts anymore.”
“You’re so stubborn.” You complained. Your hands soon found the tie on Wonwoo’s garment, and you smiled subconsciously as you realized he hadn’t been able to finish getting dressed. You held the sash in one hand, the other briefly running over his abdomen before he caught it.
“You can’t keep your hands to yourself, I see.” He muttered, amused at your actions. You shifted around until you were facing him, and started to cross his robes, tying them together (not without sneaking one last peak at his chest and abs).
“I was just trying to help you get dressed; obviously.” You rolled your eyes before stepping up onto your tippy toes to give him a small kiss.
“Are you really feeling okay, though?” He asked softly. You nodded. You really did feel fine this morning, and especially excited. Wonwoo had promised to take you for a ride on Huoyan; finally fulfilling his promise to you over a year ago.
“You know I always tell you when I’m in pain.” You soothed him.
“I know, but I can’t help but be worried about you. It’s my fault, after all. I want to take responsibility to make sure you heal properly.” He sighed. He always made sure to look at the burn every day to see how it was progressing. It had gotten significantly better, but he always had lingering worries that he had permanently damaged your body.
“It was an accident, Wonwoo.” You brushed your fingers over his cheek, tracing the line of his cheekbone with care. Falling in love with his good looks from afar over the year he ignored you was almost inevitable, but in the past two weeks when he was by your side at all times, talking and laughing and loving you, it was impossible to not fall 100 times harder for him. 
“Accident or not, I hurt you. It was a mistake I am never going to let myself repeat. A husband should never hurt his wife.” He frowned. You felt like you had this conversation with him almost every day. He wouldn’t let go of the thought that everything that had gone wrong was because of him. While it was true that he had made many mistakes, you didn’t want him to carry that guilt forever. 
“I already forgave you enough times, my love. There is no need to feel guilty anymore.” You shushed him for now by hugging him, knowing that you would probably have the exact same conversation the next day. Wonwoo hugged you back— it had been 4 days since you had convinced Wonwoo that he could touch your back without fear, and 7 days since you had started trying to convince him. You had both enjoyed hugs where you didn’t need to be careful of any pain, and you enjoyed another one. Wonwoo squeezed you tightly before letting you go.
“I’ll help you get ready, and then we can go.” He smiled.
“I can get ready by myself.” Your argument was bound to fail. Wonwoo followed you like a lost puppy wherever you went, and when you started walking towards the dresser for a fresh set of robes, he quickly followed.
“You ready?” Wonwoo’s bright smile was something that you would never get tired of. The gentle creases in his face to the way his eyes brightly reflected his smile, shining brightly; it was all so perfect. You would truly never get tired of him.
“I’ve waited 382 days for this. I’ve never been more ready!” You were eager and still a little impatient as Wonwoo had made you wait until after breakfast. The much looked-forward-to dragon ride had been one of the only things on your mind for the last week. And the second you saw Huoyan, you knew it would be the most magical experience you’d ever have.
Wonwoo helped you onto her back after you said hello and gave her some nose scratches which Wonwoo told you she loved. Wonwoo got on in front of you and told you to hold on tightly. Lifting up into the air caused some shrieks from you and giggles from Wonwoo. You calmed down quickly as Huoyan flew steadily. The view of the entire Fire Nation capital from up so high was unbelievable. You had never seen anything as gorgeous.
“Everyone looks so tiny from up here.” You breathed, watching the ground below as you flew gently around it. People looked to be the size of ants, and large houses were merely the size of a gold piece coin. Huoyan soared upwards above the clouds once you had had your fill of looking at the ground. 
The sky was even more beautiful than the ground. It was a clear sunny day, and the clouds in the sky were varied. From large fluffy ones to misty thin ones, you tried to spot as many as you could with Wonwoo. You got tired near the end of the flight. You wished you could stay up in the sky with Wonwoo all day, but you still hadn’t recovered all your energy. You rested your head on Wonwoo’s back, closing your eyes and letting a happy smile envelop your face.
“Tired, my love?” Wonwoo asked softly. You hummed. You had been up in the air for hours now and easily lost track of time. 
“Would it be silly if… I wanted to kiss you up here?” You asked quietly. 
Wonwoo smiled at your slightly sleepy request, “No, it’s not silly. Unless I’m silly for wanting it as well.” He giggled softly and turned, making his face visible to you. “Huoyan, sorry.” He said quickly before capturing your lips with his. 
It didn’t last long, as Huoyan started to complain about it all happening on her back. Wonwoo didn’t press for a long kiss and just let Huoyan fly back down to the palace. The rest of the day was spent less excitingly, but still enjoyable. Any moment with Wonwoo was enjoyable. You visited the turtle duck pond again and fed them, and then walked around the grounds of the royal palace together.
Once you were all ready for bed, tucked under the covers with your head on Wonwoo’s chest, he spoke again, “I thought of a question. I probably should have asked you earlier, but it only just came to me now.”
“Hm?”
“Why did you become The Scarlet Shadow?”
You hummed, “I guess it was just… a way to spend my time. I didn’t have anything to do, and I had always wanted to try fighting when I was little, so I just decided to go for it. It was very… fulfilling. I liked being able to help people.” You smiled, “And, hey, I guess I was pretty good at it. I even killed Orin.” 
Wonwoo laughed, “I think I should be worried about what will happen to me if I ever anger you.” He rubbed your arm, sleepily watching you listen to his heartbeat.
“Don’t worry… I love you too much to do anything to you.” You mumbled.
“Me too.” He smiled, thinking back to the events of it all. It had been a long journey for him to end up here; with you in his arms. Among the ups and downs, one thing had stayed steady: your hope that he would change. You still gave him a second chance, even after all the pain and mistakes and broken promises. You still loved him, even when he couldn’t bear to love himself anymore. And as he made sure to heal every wound he had ever given you, you also healed his shattered soul, putting it back together piece by piece.
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crxss01 · 8 months
Text
— Never Felt So Low
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pairing ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ 42!miles morales x reader
summary ⁺˚⋆。°✩₊ you see miles a month after his dad's funeral.
warnings ✧˖ ° angst, comfort, sad miles, grief, mentions death (obvi), sad tía morales.
m. list, main m. list.
translations ✧࿓☾ mija: dear, bonito: handsome/pretty boy. princesa: princess, gracias, muñeca: thanks, doll.
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miles had been distant ever since his dad died, you completely understood him (in a way) and the fact that he wanted to be there for his mother. but you also wanted to be there for him, to be able to give him the comfort that he needed.
since he had made no attempts to contact you, you decided that you were just going to his house with no invitation. you would not only fail yourself if you didn't go but you would also fail him because right now he needs all of the support that he can get.
knocking on the door, you waited until it was answered by rio morales, who you liked to refer to as tía morales. the woman looked a mess, which was understandable, her eyes were bloodshot and she had dark bags under them, her nose was red, her hands were shaking and her bottom lip was quivering.
"ohh... tía morales." you walked in, pulling the older woman into a hug.
she held you close and tightly, not tight enough to the point that it was uncomfortable but to the point where you felt the pressure, tía morales did not start to cry instead choosing to just enjoy the comfort you were offering.
you let her hug you for however long she wanted. a couple of seconds or minutes later, you lost track of time, she started to pull away slowly.
"i missed you, mija." she told you, her hands cupping your cheeks and her thumb gently caressing one of them.
"i missed you too, tía." and it was true, the woman was pretty much a mother figure to you.
"go check on our boy, i'm starting to get so worried about him." she shook her head, holding back tears. "he's been suppressing his emotions."
you nodded. "alright, i'll try to help him."
tía morales pointed at his bedroom and you walked to the door, stopping right in front of it and lifting your arm to knock.
“ma, i already told you that i don’t wanna eat anything right now.”
“it’s me, bonito.” you called out softly. “can i come in?”
there was a minute of silence and you were scared that he was about to tell you to leave when he finally spoke. “yes, come in.”
so you did. the moment you saw him sitting down on his bed, head thrown back and staring at the ceiling you felt relieved to see that he was at least looking healthy so far.
“miles…”
your previous thought changed when he turned his head to look at you and your heart broke this time. he looked pale and so tired, you wanted nothing more than to bring back the rich color of his skin and to make the happy look return to his tired eyes.
“hey..” he said with no emotion whatsoever, even his voice had a rough edge to it that you didn’t notice while you were outside his door.
“hey, bonito.” you walked closer to him and sat beside him on the bed, taking his hand in yours.
“i’m sorry, it’s been a while.” he apologized. “i made you feel alone.”
“don’t apologize, i understand.” you shook your head. “but now i want to be here for you and i think it was the other way around, i wasn’t there for you and made you feel like you only had your uncle and mom.”
“i knew i had you too, princesa. i just didn’t want you to see me like this.”
“miles, i don’t care about your appearance as long as you look healthy, you know that. you are going through a tough time right now and i want to be here for you.”
miles laid his forehead on yours. “gracias, muñeca.”
“can i stay here with you?” you asked, wanting to spend the night with him in your arms but still not wanting to intrude. it was good enough that he didn’t argue with you about you being in his home, yet you even were willing to spend the whole week with him if it would bring back the tiniest spark back to his eyes.
“yes, you can.” he nodded, raising one hand and softly stroking your cheek with his thumb just like his mother did.
after what seem like hours in the same position, his face had lost part of the tension on it, a calm expression replacing it and it made you feel a little better that you had that effect on him.
“here, mi niño.” tía morales had walked in and was passing two plates of food to you and miles.
“ma, i already—”
“thank you, tía.” you took both plates from her. “we’ll both eat it.”
the woman nodded, a smile on her face before she left the room, closing the door and leaving a 4inch gap.
you turned to miles and put one plate down on his bed and focused on one. lifting a spoonful you blew on the rice and chicken on it before directing the spoon to miles’s lips.
“say ahh.” you told him.
miles looked at you for a second before rolling his eyes and opening his mouth. “ahh.”
you put the spoon inside his mouth, and he gladly chewed the food when you took the spoon out.
grabbing food from the plate on the bed you also ate and closed your eyes at the taste of tía morales’ delicious cooking.
after miles swallowed his mouthful, you took another spoonful from the plate on your hand and lifted the spoon to his lips.
miles once again looked at you for a second but instead of rolling his eyes, he smiled showing the dimples that you loved so much.
his smile was contagious and you couldn’t help but smile as well while you led the spoon inside his mouth.
after you both finished eating you took the plates out to the kitchen and washed them before going back to miles’ room and changing into one of his shirts and shorts then laying next to him on his bed.
“i missed you so much, beautiful girl.” miles said, hugging you close. his head on your chest.
“and i missed you too.” you said truthfully.
miles nodded into your chest and you both stayed quiet for a few minutes. when you felt little droplets of tears falling onto the shirt you were wearing, you didn’t say anything. already knowing how sensitive miles was and how he preferred to cry in silence unless he spoke first.
your hand started going up and down his back, letting him know you were there and he got the message because he hugged you more tightly and sobs were coming out of his throat.
“i just miss him.” he finally spoke, his voice breaking.
this was your queue that you could speak now. “i know, bonito, i know.” you told him. “let it all out.”
“it hurts so much.” more tears started coming out of his eyes.
you needed to use all the strength in you in order to not start crying right then and there along with him instead focusing on being as comforting to him as you could, whispering sweet nothings to him and pulling him close to you.
the night went on like this and you made sure that miles was asleep before you allowed yourself to fall under exhaustion control and also fall asleep.
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taglist: @anikaluv @janaeby @queerponcho @laylasbunbunny @onginlove @all444miles @fiannee @sp1dercunt @milesandcorysupermacy @loonalockley @miguelslefteyebrow @dxille (if you asked to be added to the taglist and you’re not on here is because your @ didn’t appear!)
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ʚɞ ⁺˖ ⸝⸝ reblogs are really appreciated!
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