And Now I'm Crying - Blog Posts

What Once Was

pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

word count: 697

warnings: none

a/n: written for day 1 of @tamlinweek using the forgiveness prompt. also if i have any hotd fans you may recognize a line at the end, i just thought it worked so well for Tamlin hehe

The Spring Court was quieter than Lucien remembered.

The wind whispered through the overgrown hedges, the scent of wildflowers heavy in the warm air. The once-perfect gardens looked like they had surrendered to time—petals spilling, ivy climbing unchecked, a kind of disarray that made Lucien’s chest ache.

He hadn’t been here in months. But after that dreaded solstice where his mate kissed another and Feyre’s pregnancy where he was treated like a threat to someone he used to call a friend…he hadn’t known where else to go.

But now, his boots crunched across the gravel path that led to the manor, and he felt like a ghost in his own memory. The manor loomed in front of him, sunlit and crumbling around the edges, just like the male inside it.

Lucien swallowed hard and knocked. The door creaked as it opened on its own, and he tentatively stepped through the threshold. His steps echoed on the marble floors. His eyes roamed over the interior. Furniture destroyed, the wooden pieces scattered. Dust covered every surface and flew about the room. And the smell—Cauldron the smell—lead Lucien to believe Tamlin must be bringing his prey back here and leaving the carcass…somewhere.

Lucien was about to open a window or two when he heard the familiar tapping of claws against the floor.

“You have some nerve,” Tamlin growled. Even his beast form had seen better days. Dried blood covered his maw and his golden fur was matted.

Lucien didn’t flinch. He met Tamlin’s sharp green eyes and said, voice soft, “I know.”

“Do you?” Tamlin stalked the rest of the way into the room. “You disappeared. Left when everything was crumbling. When I was crumbling. You didn’t even say goodbye.”

Lucien looked away, jaw tightening. “I didn’t know how to face you.”

“Because of Elain?” Tamlin sneered. “Or because you abandoned your court?”

Lucien’s throat bobbed. “Because I abandoned you.”

Tamlin reared back like he had been slapped.

The tension crackled between, years of history unspoken. Lucien clenched his fists at his sides, then stepped closer. “I came back because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About you. I miss what we had—what we were before everything fell apart.”

Tamlin laughed, bitter and low. “What we had? You mean the friendship you walked away from? Or the thing you never let yourself name?”

Lucien’s voice cracked. “It had a name to me. I was just too much of a coward to say it to your face.”

Tamlin stared at him, chest heaving. “You think you can just show up and expect forgiveness?”

“No.” Lucien dropped to one knee, head bowed. “But I’ll ask anyway. I’ll beg if I have to. I failed you, Tamlin. I left when I should’ve stayed. I was selfish and afraid, and Mother help me, I regret it every day.”

Silence stretched like a chasm between them. Then there was a flash of light.

Tamlin knelt too, one hand cupping Lucien’s jaw, forcing his head up. There was pain in his eyes. Longing. The kind of grief that never quite heals. Lucien couldn’t help but notice his golden hair was longer than he remembered.

“I wasn’t perfect either,” Tamlin murmured. “I pushed you away. Let the rage win. Said things I didn’t mean.”

“You meant some of them,” Lucien said, a rueful smile curling his lips.

Tamlin huffed a laugh, eyes glinting. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Lucien’s fingers found the edge of Tamlin’s wrist, tentative. “But I never stopped loving you. Even when it hurt. Even when you hated me.”

The hand on his face tightened. Tamlin leaned in slowly like he didn’t trust the moment. Like he expected it to vanish.

Lucien didn’t let it.

He surged forward, lips meeting Tamlin’s in a kiss that was all rage and sorrow and grief. Tamlin responded with a low sound, hands tangling in Lucien’s red hair, gripping him like he might disappear.

They kissed like it was the first time. Like it was the last. Like all the pain they’d carried could finally be set down.

When they pulled apart, foreheads pressed together, Tamlin whispered, “Leave me again at your own peril.”

Lucien breathed, “Not unless you make me.”

Trust fall

Ok but this song is so heartbreaking and so beautiful and it gives Steven Universe and AGHHHHHH

chosen one not as in the one the prophecy foretold but as in lamb to the slaughter. as in the only person both brave and foolish enough to do it. chosen one as in sculpted, molded to be the perfect sacrifice to something expertly, divinely crafted to annihilate you wholly and surely. chosen one as in taken away. chosen one as in death sentence. chosen one as in goodbye

Dean’s lost his wallet. He’s freaking the fuck out. It’s not because he’s gotta worry about his credit cards getting stolen—technically, he stole them first—or the shitty savings cards he stuffed in there since he’s got ten more back home. No, Dean’s freaking out because right in the middle of a heated debate with Cas over noodle shapes, the intercom comes on and an totally oblivious lady’s voice says to the entire freaking store—“Would Dean Winchester come to the front desk please? Figure he might want his wallet and photo of his cute husband back.”

To be fair, the old lady was clearly one of those sweethearts who dote on customers and find anyone of a younger generation to be absolutely adorable and not dealing with delicate issues such as the photo of Cas Dean’s been hiding in his wallet for years.

So naturally, in the midst of total mortification, Dean forgets all about bowtie and elbow noodles and avoids Cas at all costs as he makes a beeline for the front desk, perplexed angel at his heels. His ears are burning, his face is burning, Dean feels like the entire store his watching him as he speed walks as fast as he can without full on sprinting.

“Dean—“ Cas hisses, but because he now thinks he’s in an action movie, Dean makes a wild turn into another lane to skitter out of Cas’ view for a moment. It’s enough time for him to pretend he didn’t hear.

The old lady is smiling when Dean reaches the front desk, Cas following and standing too too close right behind him. Her eyes dart from Dean’s bright red flush to Cas, sparkling in fond amusement.

“Was gonna ask you to describe your hubby in the photo to make sure it’s you, hon.” She chuckles in a Southern drawl. “No need to when he’s right behind yah, hm?”

“There is no one behind—?”Cas began, but Dean cut him out with a strangled sort of noise. The lady chuckles again.

“Here’s your wallet, honey. You two have a good day now.”

“Thanks.” Dean wheezes, stuffing his wallet in his pocket like he could bury the last five minutes six feet under.

Neither of them talk about it until they’re in the car.

“What did that lady mean by the husband in your wallet?”

Dean gulps, eyes fixed on the road as if that would save him embarrassment. It doesn’t.

“It ain’t some random smuck, if that’s what you’re asking.” He grunts. “S’just a photo of you I threw in there.”

Cas was silent for a moment.

“Ah.” He murmurs a moment later. “She assumed we were—“

“Yeah.”

“Why did you put it in there?”

“What?”

“You usually keep photos of your family in your nightstand. Why didn’t you put the one of me there too?”

Dean knew how Cas was looking at this. That because he separated Cas’ photo from the ones of him, Sam, Bobby, and Mom, that it didn’t equate him to family. That Dean didn’t see Cas as family like he did the others. And that just couldn’t slide for him.

“‘Cause I wanted to.” He mumbles, ears burning again. “Got a habit of carryin’ a piece of you ‘round when your gone. Your coat, your ashes, your bloody handprint…” he gulps against a sudden lump in his throat. “Guess I’m waiting for you to leave me again. Or somethin’.” He trails off into silence, avoiding the heavy gaze on him.

“I’m not leaving.” Cas says after a long moment. “Never again, unless you ask it of me.”

“I ain’t gonna do that.”

“Then I’m not going anywhere. There’s no need to carry of piece of me around when I will always be right here.”

Dean swallows again.

“Do you believe me?”

And, just how Cas continuously put his faith in Dean, Dean decides it was time to put his faith in Cas.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Dean still keeps the photo in his wallet, not because he thinks Cas will leave him, but because seeing his angel’s face every time he goes for his stolen credit card or shitty savings coupons makes him smile.

Unwavering resolve.