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d3adlyromb3ar · 12 days

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✰ sinking lily pads

— synopsis. he thrived in the sorcerer world, she was forced into it. how could two people that strayed so differently from each other become so close?

— pairing. gojo x oc!fem!reader (main), toji fushiguro x oc!fem!reader

— word count. 4.1k

— contents. mentions of child abuse, neglect, abandonment, angsty asf, injuries, blood/gore, depressing thoughts, dissociation, ptsd, mentions of death, jjk violence/fighting

series masterlist | previous chapter

✰ chapter two. lives left

He would’ve preferred to leave Moon’s room in a better mood, but the reveal that she had died on her previous mission had his blood boiling.

All of a sudden he was seeing red, wishing to resurrect the creature that had killed her— just to kill them again. This time slowly, giving him time to make this evil being suffer.

I have this technique for a reason.

Her words echoed in his head, and logically he knew she was right. She wielded the 9 lives because she was strong enough. She was meant to. Although, it never brought him comfort. He rather her never having to use the 9 lives technique at all.

Despite all that had happened in the past with Moon and himself— he never stopped caring for her. He wished it could be like that, a switch that he could turn off. All too quickly, he knew that weren’t to be true. He’d always care about her, no matter how hard she tried pushing him away.

Besides, he always knew there was something deeper to her. Something that had her thinking as such. He didn’t need the Six Eyes to recognize the pain she hid underneath her facade.

He didn’t even know where he was walking, letting his feet guide him aimlessly through the school. His mind was empty of a destination, and instead forced him to remember that day. The one he remembered all too well.

(Flashback to a year)

The sun shining through the treetops mixed with the cool breeze, it couldn’t have felt more perfect outside. The distinct smell of the flowers blooming, the sweet aroma filling the air. It was addicting, almost easy to let yourself get lost in the moment.

Gojo had his glasses pushed up into his hair, the object being used as a makeshift headband. He leaned back on his arms, letting his face point towards the golden rays. It felt heavenly on his skin.

“God,” Moon’s voice whispered next to him, “Feels so perfect outside.”

The white haired sorcerer tilted his head in her direction, giving her a smirk when they met eyes.

“Of course it's perfect. I’m here after all.” He said.

She rolled her eyes, fighting down her smile as she finished off her sandwich. Using the back of her hand to wipe off the crumbs from the corner of her lips.

“You know, not everything is about you.” She told him, taking a sip from her juice.

Gojo held a hand to his chest, gasping dramatically with mock hurt.

“So mean!” He whined, “And here I thought we were having a nice time.”

She giggled at his antics, setting down her drink and leaning back on her arms– matching Gojos posture. He smiled to himself, the sound of her gentle giggles like music to his ears. Somehow he made it a mission to himself to always draw that sound from her. Whether it was because he just wanted to make her laugh, or maybe he just adored the sound so much. The way her eyes would crinkle– her smile contagious as he always found himself mirroring her.

“We are having a nice time, just making sure I keep you in check.” She told him, glancing over at his smug expression.

He tilted his head curiously.

“Keeping me in check huh?” He wondered with an amused tone.

She nodded her head as if what she was implying was so obvious.

“Yup. Gotta keep you humble.” She told him.

It was his turn to laugh, the hearty sound echoing in the distance as he fell all the way back– hands clutching his stomach. Moon couldn’t help herself from laughing at the sight.

“Nines you kill me! You know that?” He managed to get out.

“Ah see, already showing me how humble you really are. Admitting that I can kill you– because you’re so right.” She stated proudly.

This had his laughs dying down, the dominance shifting from his aura to somewhere in between the two of them. Although it wasn’t fear he felt, not even a threatening feeling– he felt challenged if anything. If he was anything, it was arrogant for knowing he truly was the strongest.

“Is that so?” He asked, sitting up and scooting closer to you.

She watched him scoot closer, not thinking twice about the action.

“Mhmm.” She hummed, running a hand through her hair.

“You think you can kill me?” He asked her, his eyes focused on hers.

She leaned closer this time, getting inches from his face as she held his gaze confidently– no faltering. Gojo held his breath, letting his eyes dart from one to the other– her hazel ones capturing him in a trance. Her eyes always were unique to him– the inside always looking like a blooming flower or some beautiful explosion. He could sit and stare all day– depicting where the green stopped and where the yellow started, morphing into a gorgeous dark blue.

“You know I could.” She whispered.

Maybe he should have felt threatened. Maybe he should have felt the frustration that someone challenged him of his all powerful role. But he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He admired her power, because he knew full well that she was. He respected her strength, the abilities she possessed. She was magnificent, and he was truly captivated by her. He didn’t know if it was the power that first pulled him towards her– excited to meet someone that could keep up with him. All he knew is that he wanted to be around her– know her. He didn’t want to live a life without her involved in it.

He’d never felt such a pull towards anyone in his life– therefore why he wanted to stick around.

He felt himself getting lost in the moment, his eyes glancing down to her lips– watching her tongue wet the pair. The pink, plump flesh trapped him in his stare. The only thought swirling through his mind was how badly he wanted a taste.

Moon saw the way his gaze traveled down to her mouth, the sudden realization of what he was thinking hitting her. She always had that weary thought in the back of her mind, but she never believed it would be true. If only she could have the true strength to submit herself to her own desires– but she didn’t. She already let herself slip up by letting a mere friendship bloom between her and the white haired sorcerer. But now in this moment, physically seeing the emotion speak within his eyes as they traveled back up to hers– she knew she had to stop.

She’d never let anyone get close to her… again.

She leaned back and turned her head back in front of her, facing away from Gojo completely. The sudden movement pulled him out of his trance, leaving him to attempt to mask the hurt he felt from the rejection. Even if it wasn’t spoken– he knew. Although he ignored his own feelings when he noticed the far away look she suddenly sported in her eyes.

“Moon?” He tried.

She took a deep breath, willing herself enough strength to walk away. Learn to stick true to her word and stay away from people. She knew it was unfair to him, but she couldn’t feel that pain again– the same pain that never left. After all these years, the wound still bled– and she never had the power to stop it.

“I gotta… I’m gonna go–” She rushed out, gathering her things.

“Hey, hey, what's the rush?” He asked, sitting up straighter.

Uncomfortable with the sudden shift in the mood.

“I just… I just remembered I have to meet with Yag–”

He furrowed his brows at her rushed movements, the way her hands slightly shook when trying to zip up her bag. He couldn’t help the worry bubble within him.

“Did I do something?” He voiced out loud, wondering if he was the cause for her sudden distress.

Her chest twinged with pain, her guilt doubling at the thought that he was already trying to blame himself. Her lips twitched with the urge to tell him otherwise– to scream out to him what she really felt. But she couldn’t, and would never.

She faced him, trying to keep her face neutral.

“Not at all, just forgot I had something to do.” She explained casually, and hoped he bought her lie. “Gotta go, see ya.”

Without another glance towards his beaten down expression, she hurried off to the steps of the school– making her way towards her room. She needed to be alone right now– she needed to think.

Although she had thought she lied well to him, she didn’t realize that while she looked at him– he could see the pain written in her expression.

He was left sitting under the tree by himself, letting himself get lost in his thoughts. All at the same time, feeling hurt and concerned.

(Present)

His feet carried him towards the school stairs, and he gladly took a seat– letting himself come back to reality after the memory.

It wouldn’t have been such a painful memory if things hadn’t changed drastically after that. She had isolated herself almost completely from him, everyone even. She didn’t talk as much as she did– although she was never that talkative to begin with. She kept her distance– staying calculated about the time of interactions. Gojo was the first to bring it to his friends' attention. Shoko and Geto barely saw it as an issue at first.

She’s just going through something. Maybe she needs her space. They both told him.

For a while, he supposed he believed them. Perhaps that was easier than thinking it was something he did. If he scared her off or if, she truly didn’t feel the same way he did. The rejection was harder to accept, so he stuck with believing you just needed time.

Now almost over a year has passed, and you still keep yourself far from everyone– from him.

“With how hard you’re thinking, you’re gonna end up hurting yourself.” A smooth voice called out from behind him.

Gojo already knew it was his dear friend Geto, making his way down the stairs.

“I ain’t thinking that hard.” Gojo mumbled into his palm that he rested his head on.

“I can practically hear it.” Geto joked, earning a chuckle from the white haired sorcerer.

His laughed died down, going back to staring aimlessly at the stairs that descended in front of him. The long haired sorcerer gazed with watchful eyes at his friend, curious as to what was bothering him so.

“Yaga’s been hinting at a big mission soon. I’m curious if that’s what got you so preoccupied.” Geto wondered.

Gojo had heard the same whispers of the same mission, but it definitely wasn’t what he was stuck in his head about.

“Nah. It’s Moon.” Gojo admitted, knowing when it came to Geto— he wouldn’t judge.

He was his best friend for a reason. Always able to calm him down when he felt slightly out of control.

Geto hummed and ran a hand through his hair, fixing some strands that fell out of place from the light breeze.

“Did something happen?” He asked his friend.

Gojo sighed, and glanced towards Geto with a disappointed expression— not directed at him of course.

“Did she tell you what happened on her mission?” He wondered.

Geto shook his head with a chuckle.

“Do you think she would? Doesn’t seem like her style to come to me and vent.” He pointed out, although he wished she would.

Geto cared for her, and knowing something was bothering her– it bothered him. He felt useless sitting on the sidelines, waiting for the day she’d finally express herself. When would that be?

Gojo scoffed, knowing he had a point– but disappointed nevertheless.

Geto saw the worry etched into his friends features, and grew serious all of a sudden.

“What happened?” He asked, despite not wanting to know the answer.

“She lost a life.” Gojo whispered, his eyes dropping back down to the stairs.

Geto felt his stomach knot up slightly, concern for Moon growing more intense by the second. He knew a great amount about the 9 Lives technique– knowing how traumatic and difficult that was to possess, to experience. Knowing she had gone through it, all alone. It made him feel sick.

Gojo lifted his gaze back up to his long haired friend, the silence making him wonder where his thoughts were. By the look on his face– he almost knew what he was thinking.

“Oh Miss Dair…” Geto trailed off, frustrated that you didn’t come to him– or anyone for that matter. This was serious and you were trying to isolate yourself. “Does Yaga know?”

Geto glanced to his friend, watching the white haired sorcerer shake his head. A part of Geto wanted to tell Yaga, not to get you in trouble– but to bring awareness to your odd behavior.

“He should know about this.” Geto stated, irritation lacing his tone.

“She wouldn’t want that, you know. She’d be furious with us if we told him.” Gojo told him.

Geto scoffed, shaking his head this time.

“She already acts indifferent with us– would it really matter?” Geto questioned, genuinely offended, how Moon treats them.

Gojo again couldn’t argue, knowing Geto had a point.

“I hope she’s okay.” Geto suddenly softens, his worry overcoming his frustration. “Losing a life is like losing a piece of your soul, I can’t imagine what she had to go through.”

Gojo perked up at that information, swallowing with difficulty through his tight throat. A thought suddenly popped into his head, and despite him truly not wanting to know the answer— he found himself asking.

“What happens when she only has one life left,” He whispered into the air, glancing over to Geto’s unfocused expression. “Will she be… herself?”

He watched closely, narrowing his eyes when he saw the long haired sorcerers eyebrows twitch. The silence was killing him, although it had only been a mere few seconds of it.

“I don’t want to lie to you, my friend. Though I am not positive what will be the outcome, I doubt she will be the Moon we know now.” He admitted solemnly.

Gojo tensed from his words, running a hand through his white locks. It was all theories— he knew that. But it didn’t calm him from his anxious thoughts. How much longer did he have to live his life being concerned to death for his friend. It was exhausting— yet completely out of his control.

“Don’t let my words alarm you Satoru,” Geto placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort, “This is Miss Dair we’re talking about. She’s a strong one.”

The white haired sorcerer nodded, but couldn’t find the relief that his words meant to bring.

“We all have an ending, and she won’t be meeting hers any sooner than she’s meant to.” Geto assured him.

Gojo wanted to ask how he could possibly know that— but couldn’t bring himself to.

Geto gave his friend’s shoulder a squeeze before standing up— brushing off his robes.

“You should get some rest. Our lives are about to get much busier.” Geto suggested.

Gojo knew he was right— again. The sorcerer life wasn’t one of relaxation. He knew all too soon there would be a mission to keep them occupied.

“Now— get some rest.” Geto called out as he walked away.

Leaving Gojo alone on the stairs, still stuck in his head. He needed to push all these worries away for now— there were bigger things at hand. He needed to focus.

Not too far from the school stairs, Moon stood in front of her bathroom mirror– staring intensely at her reflection. She couldn’t figure out what bothered her so much about what she saw– although there was indeed something. An evident change in her appearance–

No… I look the same… yeah. She argued with herself.

She gripped the edges of the sink, leaning closer to her reflection’s tip of her nose. It wasn’t until she focused harder on her eyes, when she finally recognized the unfamiliar haunted look in her gaze.

With a frustrated huff, she pushed off of the white porcelain– stumbling backwards from her reflection and into the door with a thump. Her chest started rising and falling faster– her breathing erratic as she felt herself losing control.

Her eyes squeezed shut as a violent image from her most recent fight came flashing. The destruction, the loud screech from the monster as it ruptured her ear drums. Last of all, the indescribable feeling of death. The anxiety when your senses start to dull. The last thing she faintly heard was the struggling pounding of her weak heart– attempting to keep her awake for a few more seconds. It was all too much.

The thought came and went like a fleeting shadow, but nonetheless it appeared.

Sometimes I wish I could’ve stayed dead.

Her hands gripped her hair, pulling and squeezing as she shook herself out of the images, the memories of what she had gone through. It would haunt her– it haunted her now as she struggled to keep sane.

Her chaotic state had her stumbling around the bathroom, her body leaning harshly against the shelf next to her shower– causing the furniture to tip over and smash against the tub. The sound rang and echoed throughout the porcelain walls, the noise causing Moon to flinch back– stumbling back into the bathroom door.

She was overwhelmed, feeling helpless as she couldn’t do anything but let herself succumb to the panic she was trying so desperately to fight off. She cried out as she held a shaking hand over her chest, the pain suddenly sticking out to her. Her lungs felt constricted, like someone was squeezing the air out.

The pounding intensified in her head, causing her to miss the knocking coming from her main door.

Geto stood patiently outside of her door. He just needed to see for his own eyes that she was okay before he let himself fall asleep. The talk from earlier– the reveal that she lost a life. He needed to check on his friend for himself.

After waiting another minute, he started to wonder if she had fallen asleep. Disappointed that he wouldn’t get to see her, he started to walk away– making it a goal first thing tomorrow to see her.

Before he could take his first step to leave, he heard the faintest cry coming from her room. He furrowed his brows in confusion and leaned his ear closer to the wood– listening again for something.

Perhaps he’d heard something that wasn’t actually the–

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard another cry, louder this time. Immediately he grew tense and knocked again– more urgent this time.

“Moon? It’s Geto, I heard something in there. Everything okay?” He called out, listening again when he didn’t hear her answer.

Although he could hear lots of noises, and what had sounded like whimpers– her whimpers. Her broken sounds panicked Geto– making him wonder if you were hurt.

Geto sent a hurried text to his friend, not even a second later– the white haired sorcerer was appearing before him.

“What’s going on?” Gojo asked, his voice stern and serious.

“I heard distressing sounds coming from inside, but she wouldn’t answer me when I called for her. I’ve been knocking for a bit, and she won’t answer.” Geto rushed out, worried deeply for his friend.

Gojo thought quickly and mumbled under his breath before placing his hand on Geto’s shoulder.

“She’s gonna hate me for this.”

Before Geto could ask, Gojo had teleported the two of them inside her room. The sounds of her whimpers louder and so clearly coming from the bathroom. The noise broke both the men, the two giving each other a look before moving towards the bathroom.

“Moon, are you okay in there?” Geto asked, seeing as Gojo grew suddenly silent.

The whimpers died down, the shuffling almost stopping immediately. The two men glanced at each other– trying to figure out what she was doing. Before they could talk amongst each other– the door suddenly opened.

Moon walked out, glancing at the two standing before her in her room.

“Yeah I uh… my stomach’s been off. Must’ve been something I ate.” She explained to them, keeping her gaze on the floor as she walked towards her couch and plopping down.

Her episode had tired her out, and she felt ready to pass out at any moment.

Geto was the first to study her, his eyes trailing up and down for injuries– but stayed stuck on her pale and clammy face. Her skin looked a little sickly.

“Sorry to hear that, and sorry to barge in– we just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He explained this time.

She waved him off, giving him a weak tired smile.

“I appreciate it, but I’m fine.” She assured him.

Geto wasn’t entirely convinced, but he was happy to at least see her with his own eyes. No injuries were enough to keep him relaxed for now– but he was still worried about her. Always would.

The long haired sorcerer glanced over to Gojo, who was gazing intensely at Moon. His blue eyes exposed and studying her features, memorizing every freckle– every inch of her skin.

Moon lifted her gaze to Gojo, swallowing nervously when she became aware of how deeply he was looking at her. It was an overwhelming sensation of feeling seen– like someone could finally see her pain written all over her body. The pain that she refused to reveal.

Despite Gojo having so much to say, to ask– to know. He stayed silent and followed Geto as he said goodbye and left her room.

Moon sighed in relief, a part of her grateful that they hadn’t caught her in such a state. Although the other part of her longed for them to stay– for him to stay. She wanted to tell him everything, but instead she kept telling him nothing. The way it should be.

The two sorcerers walked in silence next to each other, both too lost in their thoughts to create small talk. It was almost as if they knew they were both thinking the same thing, or at least they had the same ideas– same theories about what exactly was going on with Moon.

Geto was the first to break the silence, after taking note of the concerned look on his friends face.

“Satoru…” He started, but was quickly interrupted.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be focused for the mission.” He rushed out, running a hand through his white strands.

Geto frowned and stopped walking, causing Gojo to turn and study his friends expression.

“Let’s not shut each other out, okay? We already have that issue at hand.” He started, his tone stern but his expression soft. “I just need you to be honest with me. I’m worried about her too– so I need you to talk to me if you feel there's something wrong.”

Gojo’s eyes softened and his shoulders slumped, knowing he was right. It was easier to ignore the issues– ignorance was bliss. Although, he knew all too well that it would only be worse at the end.

“I just want our friend back.” He whispered, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Geto let his hand rest on his friends shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze– bringing Gojo’s attention back on him.

“Our Moon is very much there Satoru… we just have to keep being there for her.” He reassured him.

Geto wasn’t pigheaded, he knew very well that Gojo was blaming himself heavily for this whole situation. Despite it being completely out of his control– he knew Gojo well enough to know that wouldn’t matter.

“I feel like I’m not doing enough.” He expressed, his voice weak.

Geto gave his shoulder another warm squeeze before removing his hand from him completely.

“You are, my friend.” He promised him.

The dark haired sorcerer left in the direction of his room, leaving Gojo alone with his thoughts. But he knew there wasn’t much else he could say to comfort him. Geto knew he would just have to keep reminding him he was doing enough, until Gojo believed it himself. Meanwhile, maybe his own words would convince himself too.

Gojo did feel comforted by his friends words, but he knew that all too well that the pit in his stomach wouldn’t stray away.

Where’d you go Nines… Gojo thought lastly before heading to bed.

ending notes. hmm, now we are starting to see the two different perspectives of why they aren't close anymore. poor miss moon is kinda a mess 😭 feedback is appreciated as always 🤍

#jjk #anime #jujutsu kaisen #gojo my beloved #gojo satoru #gojo x oc #toji fushiguro #angst #angst with a happy ending #fic rec #fic series #sinking lily pads fic #hurt/comfort #major angst #slow burn #geto suguru #jjk geto #jujutsu geto #geto suguru is such a sweetheart

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alpydk · 1 month

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Two Years (Gale x Tav)

Wrote this after reading a fic with a similar theme that honestly rubbed me up the wrong way with how it was handled (Sorry not sorry).

I will warn, this is not a happy read. - Word count 984

Ao3 Link

Summary : “You see me as I am and do not find me wanting. With these stars as my witness, I swear you'll always be enough for me.” It’s been two years since you and Gale agreed on the decision to have children together. That precious day where he held you as you finally admitted that you wanted children with him afraid of what he might say. He’d always said he loved to teach, that he loved you. But children of your own, you knew that could be a deal breaker. And yet he said yes, he said yes before taking you by the hand to the bedroom as if simply making the decision would instantly result in conception.

It’s been two years since you and Gale agreed on the decision to have children together. That precious day where he held you as you finally admitted that you wanted children with him afraid of what he might say. He’d always said he loved to teach, that he loved you. But children of your own, you knew that could be a deal breaker. And yet he said yes, he said yes before taking you by the hand to the bedroom as if simply making the decision would instantly result in conception.

You’d spent many a night in each other's embrace, his subtle touch upon your thigh, his leg nudging yours aside as he mounted you. But after two years things changed. He no longer takes the time to kiss you tenderly, holding your chin with his fingertips as you stand before the bed. You no longer look into his eyes with devotion as he rests above you, instead choosing to close your eyes and wait for things to be over. You love him but this is no longer a declaration of your hearts entwined. It's now a chore, a must-have to one day get the result you both used to long for.

In the start, you were hopeful and then came the first loss. It was early days and the clerics explained it was something that happened. That it was very common. That you should rest and the gods would one day bless you. The druids explained the cycles of the moons and provided herbal concoctions to aid you best. And you were both hopeful. Gale smiled at you with his deep soulful eyes and you believed them all despite the pain. They told you after loss there was a high chance of conceiving, so despite not wanting to be touched you tried, and you tried again. Ever hopeful that maybe this once would be the one needed.

He never needed to ask when a cycle ended. He would simply see by your expression, by the puffy eyes if you had cried, or the way you opened the wine without hesitation and he would try to take your hand for comfort just to be shunned away. The guilt each and every time a reminder of how you were failing him. You wished things could go back to how they were two years ago. He loved you more than words could ever explain but you knew deep down that he deserved better.

Loss number two was less traumatic. The nausea came and you kept it hidden for fear of breaking the spell. You allowed yourselves to smile in secret, speaking not of the future, whispering small dreams to one another in bed. Names, would they be in touch with the weave? But when that future didn’t come to fruition you didn’t shed any tears because you had already expected it. You had already grieved before your body even registered what was happening.

Gale secluded himself in his library looking for the answers that others couldn’t provide. He found so many books and wanted to try so many spells but you put up your own walls. At times he would snap if you interrupted his work. You’d bring him tea only to find the previous cup still full. He buried himself in the research while you tried your hardest to carry on as normal. You wouldn’t show him that you were hurt, keeping up a brave face. Everything was okay, your relationship was fine. You were still hopeful.

You know he blamed himself. For his affliction with the orb, for his meddling with the goddess. His time in the library grew more and more and you spent days alone only to reunite with him for those passionless nights. And you told him it wasn’t his fault. That it was yours, something wrong with your body, your mind, your faith and when he denied it so vehemently you pushed him away. You both refused to blame each other. Instead feeling the rejection as you denied the feelings that came in waves. You both stayed away because you didn’t want to hurt one another with the pain you carried so heavily, the grief that you felt no one else could understand.

“Your time will come. Well at least you know it can happen. My friend once…” You nod, tired of the platitudes, growing angrier at the world. You don’t even recognise yourself anymore and you understand why Gale won’t look at you, why the gods won’t bless you. Why would they bless you when this is the person you are now?

Two years and Gale now sits in front of you holding your hands in his, a distant reminder of a night under the stars. With you, I forget my goddess. He says he misses you. That he misses what you had together. And for the first time in months, you finally see each other past the pain and loss and you realise you have missed him as well. So very much. You sit together and cry, holding each other, whispering apologies and I love yous.

He places a hand behind your head, the soft pad of his thumb brushing the tip of your ear and he kisses you with such a longing. As if he has been starved of your touch for so long. You place your hand on his chest, the markings of the orb long since faded and you feel his heart beat in tandem with yours. You let your hands roam, playing with the ties of his robe and for once you do not think could this be the night. You will think of that afterwards. For now, you want him. You want what you had, what you have.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #galemance #gale bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #major angst

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bubblegump-1-nk · 6 months

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Can’t Catch Me Now

Matthew Riddle x Fem!Reader

summary: Mattheo’s father sent him on a mission: make you fall in love with him, then lure you into a death trap. He should’ve known you wouldn’t let him forget you that easily…

Disclaimer: mentions of death, toxic relationships, cursing, slight mentions of torture

Song: Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo

- First time writing for Mattheo! Wanted to do another fic abt my baby Theo but this idea came to me and couldn’t bring myself to write something so toxic about him 😭. Also there’s a lot of time skips in this so I hope it’s easy to follow!

“I love you.” You said sweetly.

“Me too, see you tonight.” Mattheo responded.

You kissed him on the cheek and entered the Transfiguration classroom as Mattheo left to go to Divinations. Tonight… if only you knew what was in store for you. Time past forward quickly, and now Mattheo was knocking on your dorm door, and you walked out, ready for your date.

“You look beautiful” He said

“Thank you. You don’t look to drab yourself.” You said, causing him to chuckle before taking your hand and leading you out of the castle.

You two had been walking for ages, getting farther and farther away from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Not a soul in sight.

“Ok seriously, where are we going Matty? We’ve been walking for years.” You say, dragging out the last word.

“Soon. We’ll be there soon.” He said, tensing up as he did.

You were now at a location, heavily secluded from everyone and everything. You joked that no one would hear you scream out here. Only you had meant it in a different way than what was actually held in store for you. That’s when they appeared, the Death Eaters. You looked at Mattheo in shock, but he was already tearing his hand away from yours and stepping back, taking his wand out.

“Mattheo?” You whispered, tears in your eyes. A look of horror on your face. No wand in hand.

You screamed when the Crucio hit your chest, soon followed by a spell that left you unconscious on the floor.

***

You had been sitting in the chair for hours. You hands and legs tied back. About 5 Death Eaters were in the room, Mattheo making up the 6. He never hit you with a spell, but he never blocked one either. Just stood there, watching, his face wiped clear of any emotions. As you were focused on him, you made eye contact with him for the first time since being in the room. The spells had stopped for about 20 seconds now. Was it finally over? Were you free to go? That’s when it hit you. The green light. You fell unconscious, never to be seen again.

“Mattheo wake up! We’re here.” Said Theo (😍), having been shaking Mattheo vigorously for about 3 minutes.

“What?” He asked, still shaken from the dream he just had. He’s been having it for weeks now. Ever since the incident. Your death has followed him even into his unconscious mind. He can’t escape you.

“We’ve arrived at Hogwarts you idiot.” Said Draco, exasperated at Mattheo’s constant zoning out.

All the boys knew about the mission, they all knew what happened in the late days of May. They were all at the meeting after your death, Voldemort congratulated all of - which is something you don’t simply forget. Y/n’s father was a powerful wizard, who declined all of the Dark Lord’s advancements of recruitment. So, Voldemort decided he might just need a little push, that being the death of his beloved daughter Y/n. It didn’t work, of course, and instead your father and mother ended up fleeing to some desolate place.

“Git.” Mattheo said, before slapping Draco across the head and collecting his belongings to get off the train.

Draco lifted his arm as to hit Mattheo back but Blaise grabbed his arm and gave him a look that made Draco forget about hitting him. They all knew Mattheo never actually loved you, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still responsible for killing someone. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s turning out just like his father.

———

They soon entered Hogwarts and took their seats at the Slytherin table.

“What’s taking the first years so long?” Theo asked, wondering why the sorting ceremony hadn’t started yet.

“Beats me but I’m fucking starving.” Said Blaise.

Mattheo was about to speak but was cut off by Dumbledore, who now stood in front of the podium.

“Welcome all back to Hogwarts. Now, I’m aware that you must all be very hungry, but this is a statement I must make, and we’ve decided it’s better made without the first years present.” He paused for a moment, adjusted his glasses, and continued. “As I’m sure your all aware, one of your classmates has died this pass summer.” A complete hush fell over the Great Hall, everybody knew about what happened to you. What happened to your family. Except, no one knew who or what caused it. Your death and your parents ‘disappearance’ was all a mystery to everyone except for the 4 Slytherin boys sitting at the middle of the table in far right.

“Y/n L/n was a strong witch, who was kind to all who…..”

Mattheo began to zone out, not wanting to be reminded of you more than he already was. It all started about 2 weeks after your murder. The first time was when he awoke in the middle of the night, you had infiltrated his dreams again. He went outside for a smoke, when he heard it.

“Mmaatheeooo”

He turned his head swiftly to the left, where the sound came from.

“Mmaatheeooo”

It came again, but this time from behind him. Your voice. It was your voice.

This reoccurred about once a week. Sometimes in the dead of the night, sometimes while eating lunch or reading the Daily Prophet.

———-

Mattheo tried his best to forget about you, to have a good year, but it was hard with you stalking his every move. It had worsened now. He heard you calling his name almost every day, your face appeared in the flames of the fire in the common room for a split second last night. He’s already found three of the letters your wrote him in the past on his desk, letters he was sure he had burned. And the worst part was, he couldn’t tell anyone, couldn’t say anything. He would just appear weak and crazy.

It was now early November, and the days were getting colder. Mattheo found himself walking alone outside, going to retrieve the jumper he left by Hagrid’s hut. As he was nearing the hut he heard a strange sound. Almost like heavy footsteps. He turned around, and looked around swiftly but not a soul was outside. He shook it off and continued walking, except this time the footsteps were louder, and closer. He turned around again but not a person was in sight. He began to walk faster, the footsteps did too. He stopped abruptly, looking around one last time, when he saw them. Footprints, leading all the way up to right by his side. His heart beat faster, and the wind began whistling as it passed through the trees. The world was silent.

“Mattheo” Came a voice right beside him.

Mattheo jumped back, a quiet shriek leaving his throat.

“Mattheo” It came again.

“Get the fuck away from me! Stay the fuck away from me!” He called out. It was silent for a few seconds, Mattheo thinking his warning had worked.

“Catch me.” The voice said. Your voice said.

Mattheo was confused, what did you mean ‘catch me?’ Was that even what you said? Your voice was a breathy whisper, so the words were hard to make out.

“What is wrong with you?” He called out again.

“Can’t. Catch me. Now.” You said, your voice circling around Mattheo.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Mattheo practically screamed this time.

All was quiet, before the footsteps slowly started walking away. It appeared as though you were walking backwards, by the looks of the prints.

Mattheo stood there, shocked, watching as you walked away from him.

Then the footsteps were gone, just as quickly as they had come and the landscape returned to a quiet and peaceful one. The sky was getting darker, and by the looks of it, Mattheo had missed dinner. He slowly began dragging his feet in the direction of the astronomy tower. Once he reached the top, he let out a sigh and pulled out his cigarettes and a lighter.

He’s beginning to think he might just be going crazy.

“Figured you’d be up here.” Says a voice from behind him.

“Yep.” He says, as Theo comes to stand next to him.

“Pass me one.” Theo says, holding his hand out for a cigarette. Mattheo hands him one and Theo lights it.

The smoke in silence, appreciating the view along with the cold air. The smoke from the cigarettes blending with the smoke from their breath.

“She’s everywhere you know.” Mattheo blurts out.

Theo’s silent for a moment, staring out at the sky.

“I know.” He says, finally.

“You do?” Mattheo asks, turning to face Theo. A confused expression painting his face.

“Yeah. I hear her laughter.” Theo explains.

“Her laughter? That’s it?” Mattheo asks, temper rising. How come he has to endure all this pain and Theo gets laughter?

“Yeah, she sort of just laughs lightly every now and again. It used to scare me shitless but now I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Yeah we’ll count yourself fucking lucky. She calls out my name. She fucking followed me today, her footprints were everywhere. Her voice was saying some shit about how I can’t catch her anymore. This shits so fucked up.” He says, growing angrier by each word.

Theo let’s out a laugh.

“You think this is fucking funny, do you?”

“Well, I mean, she’s right. You can’t catch her anymore.”

“Does it look like a give a fuck? Why doesn’t she whisper to you this shit, huh?” Mattheo asks, annoyed.

“Maybe because she never loved me. Maybe because she loved you.”

“Yeah, well, you were just as responsible in her death as I was.”

“Right… but it was you she trusted.” Theo says.

“Alright mate are you on her side or mine?”

“Yours obviously. She’s coming for me too.”

“You know, I miss her, now and then.” Mattheo says, reluctantly after a bout of silence

“Yeah well that’s no good is it? She’s still dead whether you miss her or not.”

“I fucking know that! Don’t you think I fucking know that?!” Mattheo yells, throwing his cigarette at Theo

“Calm down mate. It’s not doing you any good getting worked up about it.”

——-

It’s December now. All the leaves have left their trees and the the weather’s gotten harsh and bitter. Mattheo can’t escape you no matter what he does. You’re here, you’re there, you’re fucking everywhere. He hears your voice when the wind blows, hears your laughter in the rustle of the trees. The other boys all know of Mattheo’s pain. They’ve experience it too, but like Theo, they only experience it now and again. It seems they’re not your priority on your haunting list.

Mattheo’s laying in his bed, trying to find sleep. You haven’t let him sleep properly since about 3 weeks ago. As he turns to the side, he sees the curtains around his four poster shifting, getting moved to the side. He intakes a sharp breath. The curtains fully open now, and he’s met with a cold wind.

“Won’t you just leave me the fuck alone?” He whisper-shouts.

He’s met with no answer. The room is now completely silent, and before long 10 minutes have past. Was that really all you came to do? Move his curtain? Whatever it was, he’s thankful for your departure because now he’s really feeling the exhaustion kick in. His eyes begin to shut and his body relaxes as it melts into his mattress. Just as he feels like he’s about to get the sleep he’s so desperately been needing…

“See you tomorrow” You whisper, right into his ear, mocking the words he had said to you the night of your murder.

———-

Sorry if the ending sucks, this idea came to me late one night so I began to write but I didn’t really think it out before I started 😭 I didn’t want to have this in my to-do list for forever so I’m really sorry if this feels rushed! I hope you guys enjoy it anyway

#hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #slytherin boys #theodore nott #angst #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle #tw death #the hunger games #haunted #major angst

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rileytwenty · 9 months

Text

Her Price

(Geralt x OC)

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

Summary: Former brothel worker, Mary, is traveling with Geralt and Jaskier. In an attempt to contribute more to the group, she does something rash that forces a confession out of Geralt. Big angst.

TW: prostitution, rough/low-key abusive sex, bite marks/bruises/hickies left from said sex, dom! male, arguing, swearing

Mary had joined Geralt and Jaskier on their journey about a month ago. Since then, the trio had fallen into a nice rhythm. At each town they visited, Mary’s job was one she completed while the boys waited on the edge of town. First, she would go into the market and use her “charms” (breasts) to persuade the merchants to give her a discounted price for any supplies they needed.

Next up was the inn, where she would flirt her way into getting the innkeeper to give her and her “friends” a cheaper rate. Only then, once prices were negotiated low enough, would the boys come into town. This system worked without a hitch nine times out of ten.

Occasionally, the innkeep would be too upset by her friends turning out not to be a couple more pretty women –one of them was a Witcher, for fuck’s sake– and he’d kick them out. Though, this had only happened a few times, and Mary has become careful to use more vague language about her travel companions.

Geralt would go out and fulfill any contracts whilst Jaskier performed at the local inn or tavern.This is where they got their coin from.

Sometimes, Mary’s job would also include patching up Geralt after a bad run-in with a creature. She knew a fair bit about fixing injuries, seeing as her mother had been her town’s Healer growing up. Before she died, that is, and Mary was forced to join a brothel to keep off the streets.

As disgusted as people were about her profession, she didn’t mind it much. Sex never meant anything to her except for a steady income.

If she was being honest, she was more grateful for the sense of adventure she received from traveling with the pair than she was for the opportunity to leave the brothel.

Just an hour ago, they’d arrived at a small town in Velen, and the usual plan was going swimmingly. Mary had gotten all necessary supplies with coin to spare, and had negotiated their stay at the inn for nearly half price! A new record for her. Excited to share the news, she went and retrieved Geralt and Jaskier from the outskirts of town.

“Good job! What did you do, sleep with him?” Jaskier joked, throwing an arm around her shoulders in celebration.

Mary was mildly uncomfortable at the insinuation, and it made her think: did he silently want her to? She could probably get the price even lower if she did. Truthfully, she didn’t do a whole lot of the heavy-lifting, and maybe this was Jaskier commending her for what he thought was her finally pulling her weight. However, she didn’t get a chance to be uncomfortable for more than a moment, because in typical Jakier fashion, he just kept talking.

“Damn, Mary. I think that’s your best bargain yet! You hear that Geralt? We have coin enough for all the ale we can drink! Mary, will you drink, too? You never do, and I find it quite strange. Of course, if you don’t want to…”

She had learned to tune out his ramblings after a week or so. He hardly ever sought a reply, and a simple humm sufficed when he did.

After tying up Roach, they finally meandered into the inn. The innkeeper merely laughed at the sight. “You’re one tricky lady, you know.”

“Oh, thank you, sir. I do try.” Mary took a small but dramatic bow.

The three of them all headed to their separate rooms to put away their belongings.

Geralt quickly headed off to fulfill a drowner contract, leaving Jaskier to make some coin downstairs.

Mary had no job left to do, and she was starting to feel useless; Jaskier’s joke had wedged itself into her thoughts.

How much did she contribute, really? Enough to not put a strain on the two? They had been awfully tired lately, the both of them.

Guilt overwhelmed her. Of course, they were too decent of men to actually ask her to sell her body, but perhaps it had been an expectation all along, or the reason they brought her along in the first place — the thought of more coin, and free inn visits. Had she been a burden, not using her skillset to provide for the group the way they did?

Geralt was always saying that he needed new armor, or supplies to upgrade what he had, but it was too far out of their price range. She considered the idea of him being able to better defend himself if only they had more money. Increased coin meant a decrease in his injuries.

Well, it was decided. She needed to start making as much coin as the other two did.

There was no brothel in this town, so no one would see her as competition if she went downstairs and did some business.

Most men in the town lived there and didn’t really travel, she had discovered through talking with a few. Some were married, but quite a few were single or waiting for a girl to reach maturity.

If they liked the young ones, she could accommodate. She knew how to look up through her lashes and act a little dumb.

After making her way around the room, swaying to Jaskier’s music, she finally spotted her target. He was looking at her almost predatorily, and his clothing quality told her he had the money she needed.

She approached, a sadness in her glossy eyes as she took a seat right beside him.

“Hello, missy.”

“Hi.” She made her voice nice and sweet and sent him a smile.

“You alright, there? Lookin’ awfully distraught.” He noted, turning in his chair to face her.

“Mm-hmm. ‘M fine.” She let a tear fall.

“Don’t give me that crap, sweetheart. Tell me the truth.” He was commanding it of her, his pupils large in satisfaction.

She sniffled. “It’s just… it’s… I don’t want to complain, I-“

“Honey, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

She stared at him with her big doe eyes before relenting.

“It’s my ma. She’s sick. I’ve been trying to make enough money for her medicine, but it’s so hard, trying to make coin around here. I’m not strong enough to help on the farms, and I-“ She let her voice crack.

“Oh, it’s alright.” He rubbed her back, but it was awfully low to be comforting.

“I don’t know what to do.”

He paused to think while she wiped her eyes. “Well, I could help you out.”

“Really?” She shot her head up in excitement. “Thank you, I-“

“But not for free.”

Exactly as she foresaw, word for word.

“W-What do you mean? I don’t have anything to trade, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, we’ll come to an agreement, I’m sure. You have a room here?”

“Uh-huh.”

He tsked at her. “Use your words, now.” She wrote that in her brain for later, it would certainly come in handy.

“Yes. Yes, I do. The third one on the left is mine.”

“Good.” He placed his hand on her jaw in encouragement. “Let’s head up there, shall we?”

Faking her virginity had always been easy, especially when she was younger and could tell men who were passing through that it was her first day on the job. Now, she had to lie a little more complexly, but it still wasn't hard.

The man had surprising stamina, and they went for at least three hours. Long enough for Geralt to come back.

He and Jaskier shared their evening experiences as they trudged up to their rooms. The noises from down the hall stopped them both abruptly.

“Who’s in there with her?” Jaskier asked quietly.

“I don’t know! You’re the one who’s supposed to have been with her all evening!”

“I saw her flirting with quite a few of the men. However, I didn’t know she took one to bed.”

Geralt was shocked to hear this— Jask knew of his feelings for her.

His tone was piercing, “And you just let her?”

Jaskier turned to his companion with his brows raised. “Let her? She’s not a child, Geralt. She may sleep with whoever she pleases.”

“I-“

“And don’t you complain about those feelings of yours. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to express them, and you’ve been too chicken shit. These are the consequences.”

Jaskier was done with Geralt’s emotionally-constipated bullshit and slammed the door to his room.

Geralt’s hearing was superior to most, meaning that he could hear every sound escaping her lips.

So many times had he imagined those sounds, had he prayed that he’d get to hear them. Now that they rung upon his ears, he hated it.

He wanted to draw those beautiful moans out of her. Not some Velen low-life who would be too wrapped up in his own pleasure to truly care about hers.

He didn’t mean to keep listening, but he was frozen with indecision. Though, the more he did, he could hear the slight inflection in her tone that indicated the fakeness of these sounds. She was incredibly good at hiding it, but it was there.

Why was she in bed with this man if she was not enjoying herself? He had to remind himself of Jaskier’s words. If she wanted to stop it, she would.

He couldn’t take another minute of hearing their bodies collide, thus he stormed out of the inn. He couldn’t sleep next to that.

Instead, he found himself in the stables with Roach. She was giving him a look as though she knew the situation, and was judging him for it.

“Fuck off, I know.”

He couldn’t be mad at Mary, he really couldn’t. He had given her no inclination of his desire for her. She was completely unaware of the pain she was causing him. It was not her fault. The only person to blame here was himself.

He would tell her in the morning, he decided. She would never sleep with anyone but him again. She would never feel the need to, he would make sure of that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, Mary woke up sore and bruised. The man —whom she never learnt the name of, as he preferred “sir”— had been a rougher man than she’d taken him for. He liked to see her cry.

Nothing she couldn’t handle, but still draining. All in all, it was not one of her favorite nights.

However, she didn’t mind it so much after finding the large sack of coin on her nightstand, far more than she expected, and definitely enough for Geralt to buy new armor with.

She squealed in glee, dressing herself and packing up quickly. When she exited her room, Jaskier was just about to knock.

“Oh, Jask. Good morning!”

His eyes widened at the sight of her skin littered in marks. “Jesus, Mary! Did he do that to you?”

She followed his line of vision down to her chest, arms and neck, only now noticing how bad it looked. “Oh, God. I look like the whoriest whore around.” She tugged on her coat, despite it being a humid, late-spring day.

“Doesn’t that hurt? Mary-“

“Please, Jask. This is nothing. I’ve had men do far worse. Anyway, where’s Geralt?”

Jaskier hesitated to respond, but eventually let her drop the subject.

“He left yesterday, haven’t seen him since.”

“Left? To go where?”

“Away, I’d guess. You were pretty loud last night.”

Mary scoffed. “Oh, please. I’ve seen him sleep in a roaring tavern before.”

Jaskier only shrugged, not finding anything to say that wouldn’t reveal what was Geralt’s to tell her.

She shoved past him to go find the witcher. With Jaskier in tow, she stepped outside. Where would he have gone? Not far, likely.

“Geralt?” She called.

It took him a minute to get to his feet, but he soon emerged from the stables.

“Mary, I have something to tell you-“

“No, Geralt, you listen! We spent coin on that room, and you decided not to sleep in it because of a little noise next door? I doubt it’s something you’ve never heard before, and now you’re going to be complaining about your back for days. Seriously, you couldn’t just cover your head with a pillow?”

He was astounded. “It… wasn’t the noise keeping me awake.”

“Whatever, it hardly matters now.” She was determined to get back on track with her joy. “Here,” she thrust the sack of money at him, “When I was out yesterday, I saw an armorer by the market. I stopped in to see if anything was cheap, and they had the supplies to upgrade your Griffin armor. Expensive, of course, but not a problem now! Or you could wait until the next town, see what they have. Up to you.”

Both Jaskier and Geralt were puzzled, but then in a moment it clicked.

“Mary… where did you get that?” Jaskier was walking on eggshells with the tension floating around.

She was growing offended by the expression they both wore. “I’ll give you one guess.”

No guesses were needed. They knew.

Geralt spoke. “Look, there’s no judgment from me. You’re welcome to sleep with whomever you please. It’s just-“ He was struggling, he always had trouble expressing things like this, “I want to be the only man in bed with you.”

Mary blinked. Once, twice. “What?”

He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I should have said something before. I lacked courage, and that’s on me. If you don’t feel the same-“

“I do. Feel the same.” He didn't mind her interrupting this time.

“You do?”

“Mm-hmm.” She was smiling so widely she was at risk of her face cracking open.

Officially breaching a grin, he pulled her to him by the hips.

Cupping his face, she brought his lips down to hers. She was so indescribably happy to be held by him that she smiled through the kiss.

His arms roamed up her sides and back, and as his hand slid across a bite mark on her shoulder blade, she flinched.

Geralt pulled away, looking into her eyes for answers.

“It’s fine, sorry.” She dismissed, leaning in to return to the kiss, though he didn't allow it.

A glance at Jaskier’s concerned face confirmed to him that she was injured. “Mary, are you hurt?” He moved to take her coat off to get a better look, but she stepped back.

“It’s alright, nothing that won’t heal up in a few days.”

He looked to Jaskier, as Mary was clearly not going to discuss it.

“Jaskier, don’t you say a fucking word. It’s none of his business. None of yours, either.”

Geralt only had to glare at Jaskier for him to crack and jump behind the witcher. “Sorry, Mary, but he scares me more. When I walked into her room this morning I saw that she was covered with… marks, of all kinds, from her… erm, nighttime activities.”

“Marks? From- Mary, did he do something to you?”

“Nothing I didn’t agree to. The cruel ones are rare, but they always pay the best. Worth it, I’d say.”

Geralt shut his eyes, willing his feelings down. “Show me.”

She didn’t want to, for worry that he would think differently of her. “Why, so you can humiliate me? Call me a whore?”

“No. I just want to see.”

Sighing, she pulled off her coat. He was going to think of her what he was going to think of her, it was really up to him.

Geralt was transfixed with every spot on her skin. Bruises in the shapes of hands, crescent shaped indents from fingernails, scrapes, teeth imprints. He gently grazed his hands over them.

“Why would you let him do this?” He was full of sorrow. She had allowed someone to hurt her, “For what? Coin? We had plenty.”

“I suppose it was foolish. I felt like I had to contribute something, to earn us money the way you two do, but sex is my only skill.”

“Mary.” So much emotion pushed into one word. Defeat, mostly. He’d failed to make her feel taken care of.

Geralt was too overcome with emotion, so Jaskier took over. “I wish you’d have spoken to one of us. We’re doing fine, you didn’t need to do this to yourself. You’re contributing perfectly well, getting us those bargains at the markets and inns. Saving coin is just as good as making it.”

Geralt’s eyes were still staring into space, but he spoke. “I’m so sorry, that you thought you had to accept that man’s abuse for money. In future, I’ll take more contracts.“

“Geralt, no. The whole point of me wanting to buy that armor was that I wanted you as safe as possible. Which, with you being a witcher and all, I know isn’t much, but armor is crucial to your fighting style. Better armor means less injuries for you.”

“Promise me, you’ll never let this happen to you again.”

She looked into his eyes, which still couldn’t focus on her, and saw the pain. The regret, the guilt.

“Okay, I promise.” She grabbed his hands in hers, drawing his attention back to her. “The only hands on me from now on will be yours.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, lightly so as to not disturb her bruises. She looped hers around his neck.

Geralt was still distraught. “You won’t regret it, I swear.”

She wanted to lighten the mood. “Oh, you’re that good, huh?”

Geralt let her cheer him up. “Being a witcher does have its perks.”

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x oc #the witcher #witcher #oc #angst #major angst #geralt #geralt z rivii #confession #secret pining

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purpleyoonn · 2 years

Text

Eye of the Beholder

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder”

Summary: As you begin to notice minute details unseen to you before, you start to realize that what you thought was the truth, was anything but. The people you thought were acquaintances had different ideas of their meaning in your life, and needed to show you who they really were to you.

Pairing: Mafia BTS x Psychoanalyst Reader

Genre: slight yandere bts, soulmate au, neurodivergence, mafia au, polyamory, angst, bts x reader,

Warnings: violence, police interrogations, stalking, kidnapping, obsession, yandere actions, mafia activity, reader is neurodivergent, the boys just want to take care of reader, explicit violence, description of violence, slight description of torture, manipulation, slight stockholm syndrome,

Word Count: 8.7k

Masterlist // Navigation

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The lights within the interrogation room always gave you a headache, no matter what you did as a preventative. You have tried anything from taking Tylenol before entering the room, to wearing sunglasses. Nothing you tried worked. So, when you got to your desk that morning, hoping to gather your papers before moving to the oh-so dreaded interrogation room, you were a little concerned to see some prescription migraine medicine resting on top of your papers, stacked nicely instead of the messy way you left your station yesterday.

“What the…” You immediately checked to see if anything else was touched, if anything was missing, but it seemed the only thing touched was what you needed for this morning.

Turning around, you looked at the other desks in the room, trying to see any signs of someone watching, but no one else was there besides your partner and boss, who were both currently in your boss’s office discussing your current case.

You were a psychology expert within your city’s police department, using your numerous psychology degrees and observations skills to determine different aspects of a person’s life. You were observant and noticed even the minute details about someone’s body language and actions to help give the police any evidence you could.

Picking up the prescription, you looked for any indication of who could have given it to you, only for your own name to look up at you from the label, confusion you even more. You almost dropped the box back onto your desk, not liking the questions appearing in your head.

“Hey Twitch! You coming or do I have to interrogate this perp by myself?” Your partner called out, gaining your attention and pulling you from your desk. You nodded, holding your hand up to signal that you would be right there before dropping the box of medicine in a drawer in your desk, grabbing the neatly stacked papers with a reminder to see if you could access the security cameras, and rushed after your partner.

Twitch was an unfortunate nickname you were given by a suspect during one of your first interrogations. He had called you out when you told your partner he was lying, saying that “I didn’t even twitch my left toe! How do you know if I’m lyin’ or not?” with which you proceeded to lean forward, ready to explain your method of observation when he spoke again. “Now who’s the one twitching, Twitch?” and unfortunately, the nickname was loved by your partner and colleagues, gaining you the stupid nickname of Twitch.

You raced to your partner, moving in stride with him as you reached the room where the suspect was held.

“You alright there, Twitch? You seem a little out of it.” His voice reached your ears just as you stood outside the door. His hand was rested on your shoulder, catching your attention, and making you look up.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You replied, only for his eyebrow to raise in suspicion as he narrowed his eyes at your words. You looked away for a second, hoping he would drop it.

“Okay fine, but we are going to talk about what has you spooked when we get done here, okay?” He stated, but you knew he wouldn’t bring it back up. He would watch you for the next couple of days instead.

He walked in the room without a second glance your way, knowing you would follow. The suspect in your ongoing murder case was seated behind the table, hands placed neatly in front of him as he watched the two of you enter the room, his eyes trained on your form as you sit down in front of him.

“Now, Mr. Seo, I want you to take a look at these pictures.” Your partner starts, pulling out a couple of images from his file. You just leaned back, waiting for your turn to provide any information or input.

“September 24th of last year, you were seen entering Misso Hills at 6:43 pm by two witnesses and was caught leaving at 7:19 pm on our security cameras.” You watched as Mr. Seo examined the photos, his eyes glinting at one of the images, one where the victim was face was shown.

You watched even closer, keeping an eye on his face as your partner continued the interrogation. Whenever the victim’s name was brought up, Mr. Seo’s left eye crinkled, and his left index finger flexed. His tell, you realized.

This was your first time in the room with him, and you could already tell that he knew something, and that he was itching to continue his previous direction. It would take a little more for you to determine if he was the right suspect, which you signaled to your partner.

“I’m guessing you’ve got a thing for dark hair? All of the previous victims have dark hair, pieces of it missing when found. I’ve got to ask, why brunettes?” You watched as the suspect remained still, eyes now watching you as your partner spoke.

“I bet it’s because you got rejected once. She couldn’t stand you, huh? Probably stalked her and made her uncomfortable, didn’t you?” This, this is what got the reaction you needed.

Mr. Seo’s expression went cold, his eyes locked on your own as he moved forward in his seat. His body became tense and you could see the muscles in his cheek tightening.

“They were never uncomfortable with me.” His words weren’t aimed at your partner, despite his hostility towards him, but were aimed at you. It seemed like he was trying to reassure you of his innocence.

Seeing the way Mr. Seo was looking at you, your partner snapped his fingers, trying to get the attention back onto him.

“If they weren’t uncomfortable then why did you have to bound them? Why tie them to the bed?”

“I didn’t intend for that. They kept sending me mixed signals.” Mr. Seo was losing his steam, almost unable to control himself or his mouth as he spoke.

“What kind of mixed signals Mr. Seo?” Your voice was calm, soft even, as you watched the mentally deteriorating man.

“Ahh, I was wondering what your voice might sound like.” Mr. Seo’s expression turned soft, his eyes sparkling as a smile grew on his lips at finally having you talk to him.

“Answer the question Mr. Seo. What kind of mixed signals.”

“They would look at me and smile one minute, and then I would go to hold them, and then would tell me to leave them alone! Who does that? Why smile at me if you aren’t going to let me hold you?”

“So, they smiled at you? That’s it?” Your partner was now beginning to see just how mentally disturbed Mr. Seo was, turning around and signaling to our colleague behind the mirror to get ready to assist in the arrest when Mr. Seo jumped. It was so quick that you were held against the mirror, Mr. Seo’s hands on your neck as he spoke.

“Why do you give such mixed signals? Don’t you want me!?” He was abnormally strong, your breath faltering as he squeezed tighter, trying to hold onto you as your partner and 4 of your colleagues had to pull him off and restrain him.

You fell to the floor, hands grasping at your neck as you struggled to breathe. Your partner’s hands were immediately around you, pulling you up and into his arms as he practically carried you out of the interrogation room.

He ended up bringing you into his office, first aid kit pulled out as you sat on his desk, his body positioned in between your thighs so he could get a closer look at your neck. You tried to reassure him that no damage was done internally, and that the most that would happen would be a dark set of hand-shaped bruises, but he wasn’t listening.

“He’s lucky there were people behind the glass.” He muttered under his breath, unable to control his temper at seeing you hurt.

Jimin was a lot of things, but calm was not one of them. He was unable to relax or sit still, his lovers always having to remind him to slow down, take a breath. That fucker was going to suffer for what he did to you, and it wasn’t going to be nice. Jimin had to remember to send a picture of your neck to Namjoon, knowing he would like to know what was going on.

Jimin had been watching you as a partner for two years now, someone needing to be closer to you in case something like this happened. When Jin learned of your decision to join the law enforcement as a psychoanalyst, Jimin volunteered to go undercover within the department.

Jin was your psychology advisor at the university and was the one who advised you on joining the Seoul Police Department, the closest department where they could plant a cover easily. The chief was under their payroll and was easily able to create a spot for Jimin and you.

They couldn’t have you going out by yourself, unprotected and without one of them by your side. You needed their protection, needed their careful hands watching over you. They knew you could take care of yourself, but why would you need to when you had them? They would provide everything you needed if you just asked.

Jimin was this close to just taking you, bringing you back home where you belonged. He didn’t care about Namjoon’s plan anymore, not when you got hurt like this. He didn’t even realize the tight grip he had on your wrist until you pulled away.

“Jimin, are you okay? You were spaced out there, just staring at my neck.” Your voice always did wonders in soothing his beast inside. He always felt warm and loved when you gazed at him the way you did.

Jimin certainly had the advantage over his lovers when it came to you. Because of the work you two did, you often spent numerous days with no other company, working together on different cases. He arguably knew more about you than you did, using your proximity to gain what repertoire he could.

He knew that you had an aversion to touch, that it sometimes made you physically ill when someone would get too close to you. He was proud that he was able to touch you, that you wouldn’t flinch away from him.

Jimin knew that you had the same dinner every day, the same pasta recipe that your grandmother had taught you when you were seven. He loved the little dance you would do when you took a bite of the pasta after a particularly long day, like that one bite made your entire day better.

“Yeah, Y/n, I’m okay. Just worried about you.” He lied, knowing his fake tell wouldn’t give him away.

-*-*-

It was your day off and you planned to just relax in the comfort of your own home. While you loved your job at the department, loved helping people get the justice they deserve, it was hard and draining. Your senses were always on overdrive, not knowing what to expect, and that drained you by the end of the day.

You had your television playing in the background, and your favorite mug filled with hot chocolate sitting on your side table as you sketched a landscape in your sketchbook. You often liked to sketch or draw when your mind was numb.

You tended to feel numb, almost completely out of your control. Something that has been happening for as long as you can remember. You knew by now, that it signified the oncoming burnout you always experienced every couple months. With your line of work, there was always a give and take. For you, your love for helping people within your realm of expertise outweighed the things you had to deal with outside of your career.

Your “issues” like your father called them, were a problem to live with sometimes, had you struggling in your day to day. Your father had you in a class every day as a child, hoping to get rid of whatever problems you had. It never worked, if anything, you began to struggle more.

Now, on your own, you had figured out a way for you to live like your father wanted, and to live like you were able to. Your home had black out curtains to block out the light when you had bad sensory days. All the fabric and blankets in your home were of a soothing texture, one that didn’t set you off, and everything else in the home were comfort items for you.

You had your favorite books neatly organized on a small bookshelf opposite the front door, a nice entertainment center held your television and an abundance of comfort movies for you to rewatch whenever you liked. Both surfaces held little knick-knacks that you’ve collected over the years, your favorite being the little glass dolphin that used to belong to your mother.

“And this just in, the main suspect for the Misso Hills murder case has been found dead in his cell, strangled with his own hands before trial is set to begin next week. Seoul PD is currently investigating if foul play is at hand, but no word yet.”

The news channel was playing in the background as you worked on a small sketch, the words of the anchor catching your attention. You placed the sketchbook down on your coffee table, turning your complete attention to the words coming from the news anchor.

How did he manage to strangle himself under the watch of some of the most trained guards in Seoul? You couldn’t make sense of it, your brain rattled with different information you knew about the holding cells. None of it made any plausible sense.

The doorbell ringing caught your thoughts, your body already moving to answer the door. However, when you looked through your peephole, no one was there. Only a small package was there, only to be found when you opened the door. It was small in shape, almost the size of a jewelry box. The packaging was a light blue, your favorite color and it had a purple ribbon tied around the center.

Sitting back down in your recliner, you slowly unwrapped the box, your fingers working slowly as you tried to guess what it could be. There was no note attached to the outside, no indication of who could have sent it. Your name was the only thing discernable, the only indication of who it was meant for.

When you opened the box, you were shocked by the bracelet resting inside. The diamonds were a light blue in color, seven of them making up the otherwise simple silver bracelet. Picking up the bracelet, you notice a small piece of paper peeking out from underneath the cushion that held the jewelry.

To our darling,

You will always be safe in our hands.

Please where the bracelet as a symbol of our love. It will keep you safe.

Always Yours

The note was simple, written in an elegant script that had you wondering what the person writing it looked like. The words, however, had you faltering, the bracelet dropping from your grip as you reread the small not over and over.

These people knew where you lived. They called you their darling, maybe thought that you were in some kind of relationship with them. But why would they think you needed protection? Did they know what happened with Mr. Seo?

Placing the bracelet back in the box, you put the box, with the note, in a drawer by your front door. You didn’t know who sent it, but you were not going to where that bracelet, no matter how nice you thought it was.

You sat back down to your phone ringing, Jimin’s picture showing up as the caller ID.

“Hello.”

“Hey Twitch! Did you see the news?” You had almost entirely forgot about the news, about Mr. Seo’s untimely demise before justice could be sought for the victims.

“Uh yeah, I did. Do you have any information the news didn’t?”

“No I don’t. Mr. Min hasn’t said a word, and we’ve been given a temporary leave. He believes foul play is involved and doesn’t want either of us to be involved in his case. Somehow, he thinks you might…”

Jimin’s words have you pausing again, your brain moving too quickly to take them in. Too much was happening in such a short time that your brain was short circuiting. You couldn’t think, needing something to do. You rushed to your small kitchen, remembering to place your mug in the sink before grabbing your grocery list, almost forgetting that you were still on the phone with Jimin.

“Y/n, are you okay? What’s going on?” His words echoed in your ear, your mind numb to his voice as different sensory input crashes against you, almost dropping the phone.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I need to go. I’ll call you later.” You manage to push the words out, already feeling like your words were getting caught in your throat.

Everything felt like it was going so fast, your breathing was quickening, and you almost couldn’t get your arm into your coat as you gripped onto your keys and grocery list tightly. You needed your comfort food, you needed something that you knew was the same, wasn’t going to change.

Finally managing to get your coat on, you pulled against your door, only to bump into a hard chest, knocking the already small amount of air from your chest.

“Oh my god! Are you okay?” You couldn’t even hear the words aimed at you; you were already shaking at the newest break in your routine. You sat on the floor, trying to breath when arms wrapped around you, pulling you into their arms and holding you too them, pressing their weight against you in an attempt to calm you down.

“That’s it, breathe. You are doing so good.” His words break through your own inner thoughts, not even realizing that it was your neighbor Jungkook, holding you. Namjoon, his boyfriend was kneeling behind him, concerned look aimed your way as he pushes the hair away from your face.

“Hey, there she is.” Namjoon had a smile on his lips, eyes flickering to every corner of your face, looking for any sign of what could have caused your panic attack.

Your eyes were becoming clear, the small haze leaving as you try to sit up against Jungkook, his arms circling tighter against you, preventing you from moving as he stood up from his position and stepped inside your still open door.

“Uhm, what—”

“Don’t worry. Namjoon is going to go to the store for you, after this, you don’t need to be leaving the house. You need rest, so I’m going to stay here with you.” Jungkook cut you off, making you the slightest bit annoyed as he placed you back into your previous spot on the recliner, bundling your discarded blanket around your bottom half, even going as far as tucking it under you.

Jungkook and Namjoon had lived next door to you for about three years now. They had come over directly after moving in and introduced themselves, bringing you a plate of cookies. They said they had just wanted to introduce themselves to their new neighbors, and you had become fast friends as soon as you saw your favorite cookies on the small plate.

“You don’t need to worry about me. But what you might need to worry about is Joon over there knocking over a store shelf.” Your snippy words had Jungkook laughing loudly, and embarrassed and red-faced Namjoon spluttering at you as he paused in the doorway.

“That—That was one time! And it was an accident! How was I supposed to know the floor was wet?”

“Um, the very clearly identified spill with the “Wet and Slippery” sign standing just inches away from the spill?” You couldn’t hold back your grin at your own comeback.

Namjoon couldn’t even look you in the eyes as he tried to come up with a retort, instead just choosing to exit your doorway and shut the door behind him. Jungkook was still laughing as he fell into your two-seater, his eyes squeezed shut as his nose crinkled.

You had the tiniest crush on him, too nervous to say anything, especially when you found out the two roommates were actually in a relationship. You loved the both of them, and you thought your crush was only one of attraction, not deep enough to warrant anything, especially ruining your friendship with them.

“Okay, Namjoon is probably going to take a little while, so why don’t I make you some dinner, and we watch a movie or something.” Jungkook had finally stopped laughing, catching his breath as he watched you get comfy in your recliner.

“You don’t have to stay with me Jungkook. I am fine.” You try to plead with him, embarrassed about your little panic episode in front of them. You hated when you had them, and always became embarrassed when people witnessed them.

“Nah, it’s fine! I love your home, it’s so cozy!”

By now, he was aware of where you kept everything, so he moved forward into the kitchen to prepare the pasta you always had for dinner, having taught him and Namjoon the recipe yourself, despite Jungkook being the only one allowed in the kitchen.

While Jungkook was boiling the water, his phone rang. Seeing who the caller was, he answered, a smile on his face as he glanced your direction, your eyes looking over your movies trying to pick one out for them to watch.

“Hey baby, how is she? You have no idea how badly I want to just cut Namjoon’s plan in half and take her now.” Jungkook hummed, listening to Taehyung talk, hearing Hoseok scold him in the background.

“She is doing okay, had a small panic attack but I was quick to use that deep pressure therapy like Jin told us about. It worked well and now she is picking out a movie for us to watch.” Jungkook whispered, hoping your attention was fully on movie-picking like it usually was when it was your turn. Taehyung groaned on his end.

“Uggh, I wish I was picked to be the neighbor. I hate only seeing her in the mornings.” The barista whined into the phone, his head resting on Jimin’s chest as his feet laid on Hoseok’s thighs.

Each of the boys were given places in your life, spread out over a couple of months so as to not blindside you. They needed to be as inconspicuous as possible, meaning each of them took positions that didn’t relate to one another, well, besides Yoongi and Jimin.

Yoongi took over the position as the Chief of Police when the previous one mysteriously disappeared after an arson case went wrong. While Jimin went through the academy and was assigned your partner when you graduated university. Your university advisor, Seokjin, gave you the application for the psychoanalyst position under Yoongi’s department.

Jungkook and Namjoon were chosen as your neighbors, given their innocuous nature and their already close relationship with each other. Taehyung had gotten a job at your favorite coffee shop, one you had been frequenting every morning since you started at the nearby university.

Hoseok was your mailman, already having an in at the post office to keep track of any incoming or outgoing mail that matched keywords that only the seven of them knew. This also gave the boys the opportunity to remain anonymous when sending you gifts and letters.

“At least you get to see her. She doesn’t even know my face.” Hoseok hit the younger’s legs, swatting them from resting on his thighs. He has been patient, waiting for the day when you would be theirs, properly anyways.

“Has she still not realized that any of us are her soulmates?” Taehyung couldn’t help but ask, looking at Jimin but also asking the question to Jungkook, who had been making sure he was properly following the recipe, knowing you wouldn’t eat otherwise.

“No, she has no clue. It’s as if she doesn’t even feel the tingles in her spine when one of us touches her.” Jungkook plated the pasta on the plate you use every night.

“Well, I for one, can’t wait any longer. Especially after dealing with that man in the cell. Ugh, he tried so hard to bargain for his life. I just laughed as Jin made him strangle himself.” Jimin spoke up, remembering the scene from the night before as he let Jin into the cell where Mr. Seo was awaiting trial.

“Well, I will see you guys later, we need to figure something out.” Jungkook quickly hung up the phone after saying his goodbye’s before moving to where you were now situated on the couch, the tv remote on the coffee table as well as the small placemat you had. You didn’t have room for a table or chairs so you had found a small placemat at your local thrift store that you used to eat dinner on.

“Now, what are we watching?”

-*-*-

“How is my favorite psychology student?!”

You jolted right out of your seat as you recognized the voice yelling across the floor, your desk shaking from the movement of you jumping out of your seat. You jogged across the floor, maneuvering around the numerous desks that were placed on the carpet of the department.

Seokjin had come to see you himself, a couple of days after Jungkook and Namjoon had found you mid-panic attack. He needed to see how you were doing himself but needed to discuss everything with his mates first.

“Professor Kim! It’s so nice to see you again! How are you doing? What are you doing here?” You were excited to say the least. Professor Kim was your favorite instructor when you were in school and was the one who helped you after your father had kicked you out, helping you get the job here and your apartment.

“Oh, I just came to see how my very successful psychoanalyst is doing. I heard you have been doing very big things here.” He smiled in your direction, knowing how his words irk you, you follow his predicted actions by rolling your eyes and scoffing at him, something that had him wanting to hold you to him and take your breath away, in more ways than one.

“Well, not doing anything successful currently, as I’m on filing duty. Mr. Min put me on temporary leave after our last case caused some issues.” You spoke as you walked back to your desk, gesturing with one hand to the seat in front of your station while you other rubbed against your neck, the bruising having just started to heal.

Jin eyed your neck, the anger he felt bubbling only furthering his belief in the new plan. Once Jimin had told him what had happened in the interrogation room, Jin had gone ballistic. Going as far killing the people being held in their “care”, using Yoongi and Jungkook’s toys as his own form of release. It’s not like they didn’t deserve it, Jin thought as he removed the fingernails from the person’s hand.

The seven were the, let’s say leaders, of the largest mafia group in South Korea, running most of the underground scene as well as having different persons in desirable government positions under their payroll. They each had their own roles, and Jin’s was intelligence, hence his undercover position at the university. His original position was surveillance, but once he recognized you as their last soulmate, everything changed.

“Ah, what kind of issues?” Jin hoped you trusted him enough to tell him how you got the marks he was eyeing, being blatantly obvious about his worry and curiosity.

You struggled for a second, not wanting to keep anything from the person you looked up to so much, but you didn’t know if your injury counted as part of the case, meaning, you didn’t know if you could discuss anything from the case.

In the end, you decided talking about your injury couldn’t hurt.

“I uh, got it during an interrogation gone wrong. I fit the suspect’s particular choices towards his victims, and he moved to quickly. He was only on me a second before my partner managed to get his hands off me, along with three other officers.” Jin’s fist turned white as he listened to you explain your incident, thanking Jimin for taking care of you.

However, your words only had him wanting to take you with him now, not wanting to wait a second longer, but alas, he knew their plan was fool proof.

“Well, I am glad you have such a good partner taking care of you.” He smiled down at you, wanting nothing more than to replace your marks with his own.

-*-*-

The coffee shop, Blue Horizons, was your go-to place in the mornings before work. It was only a short three-minute walk from your apartment building, and the coffee was amazing. The staff was friendly, and you even found yourself friends with the morning shift staff.

Walking inside, you sigh in relief, happy and content with the smell you had grown accustomed to in you time in the city. Sweet treats and coffee beans were always a pleasant scent, one you had grown up with and acquainted it with happy memories.

“Good morning, Y/n!” One of the barista’s, Taehyung, smiled as he greeted you, your normal coffee order already being placed in front of him from another barista, Sana.

“Good morning!” Placing your usual amount, plus a tip, on the counter, you smiled back before walking to your usual table. The small booth sat in the back of the shop, away from the entrance where most of the noise was situated. It started when you first discovered this plan, the perfect walking distance to the university without being too crowded. The perfect place to do late nights studying and looking over different scientific journals and studies.

“What’s got your head so empty?” You looked up to see Taehyung sitting across from you, his own drink placed in front of him. He looked at you intently, but you were used to it, figuring out that Taehyung was an intense individual early on in your time coming here.

“Oh um, just a case I’m working on, or was working on. Can’t discuss too much.” You tried hard to not look him in the eye, something you always struggled with.

“Oh, sorry. You just seemed a little in your head, didn’t even notice I was sitting here.” You watched as he tilted his head, a motion of curiosity, or worry, and took a sip of your drink. Nodding your head, you adjusted yourself in your seat.

“Please don’t worry, I am fine. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” You assured your friend, who had been switching his sight from your face to the bruises on your neck, only slightly turning yellow as they heal. It was a lie, though. Every time you moved your neck, or ate, your neck throbbed and you had a hard time speaking.

“As long as someone is protecting you.” His words were soft, even softer than the unfamiliar gaze he sent your way before moving back to the front counter. It unnerved you a little, his words sounding familiar.

The idea of protection was something that never made sense to you, never seemed to be something you received. You always protected yourself or attempted to, at least. The idea that someone could care enough about you to wish to protect you was simply…different. Not unwelcome, just not expected, and certainly not by anyone you knew currently. Maybe.

Discarding your empty cup, you exit the shop and head back to your apartment, sending a quick message to Jimin while you do. You needed to get the letter that came with the bracelet. Something was bothering you about the handwriting.

You were almost to your apartment when you were pulled into a pair of arms, something placed over your face as you tried to scream, you vision quickly going blurry as you struggled.

-*-*-

“How in the hell did no one see what happened!?” Namjoon yelled across the room, the ten or so people within shrinking under the force and meaning behind his words. He was furious with everything. You had deviated from your normal routine, something that never happened, and now was missing.

Once Jimin recieved your message, he rushed to your apartment, only to find nothing wrong, except for the bracelet Taehyung picked out for you laid neatly on your coffee table, a small note placed on top.

Protection.

What a silly concept when you don’t know who you are “friends” with.

I wonder if she knows what you are?

He automatically knew what happened, and grew enraged, almost kicking over your recliner in an act of anger. Someone knew exactly who you are to them and used it to their advantage. Someone who didn’t realize who they were setting off.

He called Namjoon, and while the others were trying to get back to headquarters, Namjoon called an emergency meeting with his inner circle, the people who he employed with watching over you when they couldn’t. And someone was going to pay for you going missing.

“You were supposed to keep an eye on her.” His voice was dangerously low, teetering into a growl as he looked everyone in the eye. Minkyun, one of the heads of surveillance, was shaking in his seat, the poor piece of furniture almost breaking under the force of his body being slammed down.

“Now Minkyun, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about this, would you?” Yoongi had pushed him deeper into his seat, his hand on his shoulder and nails close to ripping into his jacket.

Minkyun was visibly sweating as everyone else was dismissed, the seven remaining as he was placed in the middle of the room. Praying to every god in the universe so he could make it out of the room alive.

Jin was resting against the desk in front of Minkyun, watching his every move. Jin had been watching the man for months, ever since he spoke to you on your morning walk to Blue Horizons. That one meeting, and Jin knew something was off. And now, they were all aware of his betrayal.

“Where is she?” Minkyun looked towards Hoseok, regretting every decision that led to this point.

“I—I don’t know.” Jimin wanted to laugh at the man. His shaking was pathetic and warranted no sympathy from the men.

“Oh, c’mon buddy! Did you think we wouldn’t find out.” Jungkook and Taehyung actually laugh, only stopping when getting a look from Namjoon.

“You have about thirty minutes before the poison enters your bloodstream.” This has Minkyun’s eyes widening, his head shaking in disbelief. A shrewd smiling growing on Hoseok and Jin’s face as Namjoon spoke up from his seat.

“From then on, only five minutes will pass before you are dead, your blood becoming solid as it moves through your body. Now, I will ask this one more time. Where is our mate?”

-*-*-

Darkness.

That was all you could see. It didn’t matter that your eyes were open, or that they had adjusted to the dark room that you were being held in, your hands tied behind your back as your body was restricted to a chair. Either way, you knew what predicament you were in, your heart beating fast as you tried to see what laid in the room.

There was only the chair you were held in, nothing else in the desolate room. A door placed directly across from you, most likely so you would know exactly when someone was coming, a scare tactic that would do nothing.

You had known that this could happen, given your line of work putting suspects away, but you didn’t think it would actually happen. Looking down at your legs, which were one of the only things you could see, you saw the amount of knots in the rope, meaning your escape was non-existent. You could feel the same tightness around your back and arms.

Footsteps coming down whatever corridor that led to you broke the seemingly silent environment you had woken up to. Your breathing picked up in anticipation, knowing there was a huge chance that the person coming would be the one who took you.

The man who came through was well-dressed, with black leather shoes and a nice suit jacket. His smile was radiant and blinding as he looked down at you. Uncomfortable was not an accurate word to describe how you felt at his stare. His movement was slow, deliberate as he came closer to you, pushing against your personal bubble.

“My…you really are beautiful.” You recognized his voice, regal in tone as he spoke, but you couldn’t figure out where you had heard it before. His fingers moved to brush against your cheek, moving down to your jaw before you could move your head away. But the man took your defiance in stride, smirking at you.

“I am sorry about your neck by the way, Mr. Seo wasn’t supposed to become entranced with you. I cannot blame him though.” Your eyes narrowed in thought, but otherwise you tried to give nothing else away. So many thoughts were moving through your head, different cases connecting in an otherwise empty puzzle space.

“I mean, he was supposed to give you something more to think about, but you are smart, aren’t you. Figured him out very quickly.” The man kept talking, kept rambling about all of the cases you had solved within the past year, knowing facts about the cases that not even other police officers were privy to.

“You weren’t supposed to be going into work that day, you know? Your temporary leave was a gift, and one I couldn’t help but take advantage of. Except for the fact that your… impudent neighbors were waiting for you to get home. I had to do something.” He waved his hand around, gesturing to the room you were in.

“My darling, I had to do what I could to see you again.” He came closer again, his shoes squeaking against the floor as he grasped your cheeks in his hands, you could see his pupils blown wide, insanity and obsession glittering in them as he looked at you.

“I knew you were mine the second you smiled at me, in Professor Kim’s course. How you didn’t notice, I will never understand.” Everything clicked.

“Jiyoung?” You asked, trying to remember the name of the man who always sat by you in your Psychology courses. You never took the time to converse with your classmates, your concern with school was always your priority.

“I knew you would remember me.” His smile grew impossibly wider as his grip tightened on your cheeks, his fingers digging into the skin behind your ears.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I tried for a year to get closer, but your partner, Jimin, was vigilant. He never left you alone despite the cases demanding it. Nothing could get past him. Your boss was a hard nut to crack as well. They were getting close to figuring me out, taking you away from me again. I couldn’t let that happen.” You were in shock, tears threatening to spill as you realized the true depth of the situation you found yourself in.

“And don’t forget the oh-so-perfect Professor Kim himself. He got to you before I ever could, made sure he was your advisor so you always spent free time with him. Not to mention getting you the job and housing you reside in currently.” Disbelief was covering your face, your mind whizzing trying to see how you didn’t notice anything.

“please.”

“And then, when I tried to see you at the police department, I was intercepted by Jimin, told to leave or he would arrest me. Did you not tell him about our relationship? Did you not tell him of our past?” Jiyoung was yelling now, his hands gripping your shoulders and shaking you, loosening the rope across your abdomen keeping you to the chair.

“But none of that matters now. They’ll be gone soon and you and I will be able to be together without interference.” You were pleading with him now, knowing it wouldn’t work but you didn’t know what else you could do.

“My darling soulmate. I finally have you.”

Soulmate?

Those things were seen as rare, seen as something of myth. Only few people feel the resounding soulbond which consists with the returning of souls together. With countries and even cultures separating souls, soulmates were uncommon and hard to figure. You don’t remember feeling any of that with Jiyoung, and your spine definitely didn’t tingle anywhere near his soul.

You had felt those tingles but chalked it up to your sensory issues whenever they came up, given they happened around multiple people. Multiple people within a soulbond were unheard of and seemingly impossible. The idea of you having a soulmate didn’t occur to you, given how you are, and how you act around others.

People found you weird, or stoic. Unfeeling even. You never said the right thing and always noticed everything. You were unable to keep your mouth shut when the situation called for it and ruined most of the friendships you had.

“Jiyoung, you are mistaken. I don’t have a soulmate.” Your head lolled to the side as the force of impact had you losing your breath. Your skin burned as he moved his hand back to his side.

“Don’t. Say. That.” You could see his hands fisted to his sides, knuckles white as he turned away from you. “You just haven’t felt it yet. That’s okay. I forgive you.”

His smile returned to his face, as if you didn’t refuse his claim. He moved to come to you again when a scream was heard from somewhere lower, maybe a floor down from where you were now.

“Excuse me for a moment, my darling. There seems to be an incident occurring. I will be right back.” Two footsteps towards the door had him stopping, the door being kicked open as someone stood on the other side.

You couldn’t see who stood there but could make out the silhouettes of two individuals. Jiyoung startled, before moving to stand behind you, pulling you, while still in the chair, so you leaned back into his body.

“Get back! You had your—” A loud noise cut you off, your ears ringing and your vision hazy as you looked ahead, one of the men holding something in his hand while the other moved forward to catch you before you fell backwards. You couldn’t grasp any sense of reality as your head rang, not even realizing Yoongi who was holding you, or Jin who was untying you from your bonds.

“She looks pretty out of it, Jin, I think she is going into shock.” The person on your left spoke, his voice quiet as you stared ahead. The more they talked, carrying you out of the room, the more your vision swam, and the closer you came to passing out, black entering your vision.

-*-*-

When you woke up again, you were laying on a soft blanket, a number of pillows behind your head. You blinked a couple of times as you tried to clear your vision, only to see the face of Jimin lying next to you, his lips open as he breathed, his warm body close to your own. He seemed… angelic as he slept, something you have yet to see in person.

You didn’t understand how you got here but were grateful nonetheless to be out of that chair. Thankful for the two men who rescued you.

“Hmm, good morning.” Jimin’s lips moved, his voice raspy from sleep as he opened his eyes. You were frozen in place, wondering how long he was awake. You had so many questions, so many thoughts that you didn’t know what to say. But somehow, you managed a sentence.

“What happened?” You could see Jimin’s reluctance, to tell you or how to say it, you didn’t know. A sigh left his lips as you looked on, feeling his arm wrap around your back and pull you into him. You were still frozen, not expecting this from your partner of years.

You never felt any indication of this type of feeling from him, your relationship always cordial and even friendly. The tingles up your spine indicating the usual sensory feelings you get when he touches you, not unwelcome but entirely confusing.

“He took you.”

The door to the room opened before you could say anything, the other six moving inside as you turned your head. Jimin nudged his head into the space your neck and shoulder created, nuzzling into your neck.

“How are you feeling?” Your professor, Mr. Kim spoke up, looking you up and down for any sign of discomfort.

“How…” You looked from man to man, unsure of how any of the men knew each other. In your mind, all of them came from different and separate aspects of your life. Each of their places were close together, Namjoon and Taehyung holding hands while Jungkook leaned against Jin. None of it made sense until you looked down at Jin’s hands.

You remember where you had seen the handwriting from the note. The handwriting that was covering all of your dissertation notes, the handwriting that stared back at you every time you came to work, a “congratulations” card standing in front of the picture holding the two of you on your graduation day.

“It would have been easier to find you if you had worn the bracelet.” Someone you hadn’t seen before spoke up, the man was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand resting near your foot.

“Hoseok spent a lot of time putting trackers in the gems.” Taehyung’s stare was intense as always, but this time, everything felt different. Your eyes stayed on Jin, connecting the dots.

“Was everything a lie?”

“What are you talking about?” His gaze was even, calculated as he watched you sit up, Jimin moving with you as he clung to you.

“The job, the housing. Even the coffee shop.” You gesture to Taehyung, who had the instinct to drop his gaze. At the indifference Jin showed, you sighed, tired of the game he was playing.

“I recognized your handwriting.” Jin’s eyes flashed for a second, his gaze moving to Namjoon. The two communicating silently as you watched. Your back was now on fire, the tingles not stopping as Jimin’s hand moved to pull you even closer to him.

“When Jin found you, a new student walking into the psychology department, he was shocked. We all thought that we were alone, that we already had a complete soul. But he felt the tingles, felt the burn in his soul to match with another.” Namjoon’s tone was different than when he would talk to you, telling you about his new favorite restaurant or a new blanket he bought for their bed. It was a voice you didn’t recognize.

“He told us, and we made a plan to keep you safe. Our line of work isn’t the safest, but you quickly became everything to us. Jin was able to become your advisor, Yoongi managed to replace the previous chief who disappeared after a case, and we were quick to put Jimin through the academy and assign him as your partner.”

“Jungkook and Namjoon were chosen to live as your neighbors, their seemingly nice and innocent demeanor would be a good thing. Taehyung became a barista as a point of contact between the university and your home, as well as your home and the department. While Hoseok took over for your mailman, able to make sure nothing sent to you would be detrimental.”

They all moved closer as Namjoon told you everything, centering you in their circle as moved further back into the pillows behind you.

“Once Mr. Seo put his hands on you, we knew we needed to do more to keep you safe. We couldn’t allow anyone else to harm you. However, we weren’t quick enough to apprehend Mr. Kim, and we are sorry we weren’t quicker in finding you.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out, your brain trying to push through their words and make sense of them. You pushed your hair back and out of your face, moving away from Jimin before he could pull you back.

“But you are our last soulmate. You are ours and we are sorry we couldn’t protect you.” Mr. Min—Yoongi spoke up, causing you to shoot your own head up.

“No, don’t be sorry. You saved me and I thank you for that. I um, I’m thankful that you found me.” You were quick to try and dispel their guilt, not noticing the smirks on Hoseok and Jungkook’s faces. You were playing right into their plan. They wanted you to want to stay with them, to realize that they could keep you safer here, with them, than without them. That you were better off with them.

“Please, for us, please stay here. You know us, have known us for years. You know we would never hurt you. We are your soulmates, and now that you know, the best thing is to be together, for everyone’s sake.” Jimin pleaded with you, using your weaknesses to his advantage. You felt safe with him, and he knew that.

“No one like Mr. Kim will get to you again.” That was when you broke. All of your emotions coming back to you, your body beginning to shake as you sob.

“Oh hey. Come here love.” Jin moved in, bringing you into his chest as he cradled your head into his neck.

“I was so scared.” Another hand came up and rubbed your back, another pushing the hair out of your face so it didn’t get in your eyes or mouth as you cried.

“You are safe here.” The words had you nodding, realizing how safe you would be in their care.

“Plus, you have plenty of soulmates to cuddle with.” Jungkook piped up from behind you, knowing how much you love to cuddle which caused you to let out a laugh.

-*-*-

Namjoon, Jin, and Taehyung were in the office, working on safety measure to take with keeping you in the house.

“Well, it seems like Mr. Kim did us a favor.” Jin murmured, his hand flipping the pages in a book on torture positions. Namjoon hummed from his spot at the desk, his fingers typing on the keyboard in front of him as he worked on a new security measure.

“What are you talking about hyung?” Taehyung questioned, trying to make sense of how Mr. Kim kidnapping you led to their favor.

“Because, my love, it made our darling feel significantly unsafe, and with her knowing she feels inherently safe with us, and by us confirming our soulbond, she trusts us.” Putting his book down, Jin moved to sit on Taehyung’s lap, the younger wrapping his arms around Jin’s waist.

“She won’t want to leave us, no matter her level of independence. She will become dependent on us to feel safe and secure, ensuring her stay with us.” Namjoon added, not even looking up from his task.

The younger nodded, now understanding the significance. His lips moving to trace down Jin’s neck, leaving his own mark on his mate’s neck.

“She is finally ours.” Jin moaned out, Taehyung’s hand now rubbing small circles on his thigh and moving closer to his clothed cock.

“Ours.”

#bts #bts au #bts mafia #bts mafia au #bts yandere #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts poly au #bts poly!#bts x reader #poly!bts x reader #angst #major angst #dark themes

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rimunagenius · 1 month

Text

Wish You Were Gay

ღ Pairing: Josette Maskin x AFAB!Straight!reader

ღ Word Count: 2k Words

ღ Warnings: RPF!! angst, hardcore pining (jojo obv), internalized homophobia, unrequited love, crippling jealousy, both preferred pronouns are used for Josette in this fic!

ღ a/n: This is based off Billie Eilish’s song ‘wish you were gay’ and I feel like i actually became a fucken poet with this. I’m sorry for the amount of therapy bills imma have to pay after this really sad fic…but also i feel like this is the perfect pining and unrequited love trope song that billie wrote imo.

ღ

ღ "Baby, I don't feel so good", six words you never understood

"I'll never let you go", five words you'll never say

Jo had this reacurring dream that you'd be here. In her bed. With her. Happy.

Everytime, you'd look to her and smile. Your one dimple on your left cheek more prominent as you layed on her chest. She'd stroke your hair, a matching smile plastered on their soft pink lips.

Josette would then say how they wished they could stay like this forever. You and her. Together. Finally happy. You'd smile, cheeks warming a soft pink, before your arms wrapped tighter around her waist, legs tangling together creating a perfectly entangled mess.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll never let you go."

That's usually where the dream ends. Waking up to cold sheets, no you by her side. Poorly dimmed room setting the precedent that her life feels just a little more empty without that part of you in it.

ღ I laugh along like nothing's wrong, four days has never felt so long

If three's a crowd and two was us, one slipped away

"Bye, you'd guys would make a cute little old lesbian couple!" Katie laughed as she watched you and Jo bickering over something so tiny. Naomi nodding their head in agreement, a small chuckle escaping their lips.

You laughed, a weird feeling settling in your stomach. You'd never even looked at Jo that way. So why would others think the opposite of you? You had a boyfriend.

Jo had noticed the look you gave her. Your joking and feigned annoyance over the small tussle, now shutting down the unserious side of you. It was because Katie had made a lesbian joke when you were straight, right?

Could you never think of her in such a way that when a joke is made, you get uncomfortable? Jo didn't want to over analyze so they laughed, albeit it was dry and short. A small pang in her chest, she wiped the tip of her nose, taking a deep breath and started to scroll on her phone.

She only had a day and a couple hours left to endure of this painful 4-day getaway friends trip. They just wanted it to be over.

ღ I just wanna make you feel okay

But all you do is look the other way

"Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay, baby?" Baby. She knew she should stop calling you that. That's something she's only ever heard him call you. Nicknames like that weren't reserverad for someone like her in your life.

"I'm okay, I could just really use a hug right now." You sighed, tears starting to well up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around her neck, her arms finding place on your waist.

"What do you need? Let me make you feel better, yeah?" Josette pulled away from you, her arms going from either side of your upper arms, to lifting your chin so you could see her. So she could look you in your pained eyes once, to see that she never wanted them to look that way again.

"Hey, you called me?" Jo recognized his voice anywhere. Your boyfriend. Of course. She should have known he'd be the first one you called. They should have known that whatever was bothering you, whoever made you cry, what ever you were struggling with, the burden was yours to carry and his to help.

How naive of Jo to think that maybe this once, you'd actually want her. Need her, to help you.

ღ I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay

I just kinda wish you were gay

The more Jo had thought about yours and hers relationship, the more she thought about just up and leaving. She hates to admit that she spent a good amount of time every now and then wondering what her life would be like without you in it.

She knew what she felt was real, she knew you wouldn't ever give her a shot. The friendship was great. Blissful. But what could she possibly stay for if whenever she was around you, the crippling feeling of longing and yearning to feel you and know you completely; all of you, was something so impossible?

The way she felt...the way she wanted you to love her. It was so strong that she prayed that you'd soon realize that maybe he wasn't the right man for you and what you needed was her. A woman.

She wished you were gay. She wished it was her you longed to be with. To feel their skin. To know them so deeply and romantically that whatever you did, you did it because you loved them. Not him.

It was wrong. It was wrong that she wished your healthy relationship that made you happy, would crash and burn like her mind, heart and soul, whenever you walked into a room. How she prayed for impending doom on two happy people so she could be the one to make you happy. It was selfish. It was wrong.

You weren't gay, but god, she wished you were.

ღ Is there a reason we're not through?

Is there a 12-step just for you?

Our conversation's all in blue

11 "heys"

Ten fingers tearin' out my hair

Nine times, you never made it there

I ate alone at seven, you were six minutes away

Josette knew the only thing holding this friendship together was her. She didn't have to stay, have to be here. She didn't need to make herself feel this way.

You had him. You spent most of your time with him, most of your guys' plans cancelled or postponed because he needed something.

As a silent lover, she watched as you made time for him. Showed up for him. Yeah, you showed up for Jo too, but never with as much love and passion as you had for him. You did actually, but just not the kind that Josette wanted. You chose him. She just wished you chose her instead.

This was no different. You had plans to meet up for lunch. This nice cafe, in the middle of both your residing areas and it was all going to happen at 2. Soon, the first five minute of waiting turned into 15. Then to 30. Multiple messages sent to you waiting for an ETA.

You responded in seconds with a short response of a emergency on his side of the family. Jo sighed, the dull and aching feeling rising in her chest again.

They had to stop thinking swooping you away from him was going to change the fact that you weren't into girls. Jo had known you caught on.

Maybe this was her punishment: All the forced proximity and trying to change something already set in stone, was rejection by the one person she sought acception from. This was you pushing her away. God how could she be so stupid.

Jo was never going to change your mind, maybe this was the only way you could tell her without breaking her heart. Letting her eat alone...be alone.

ღ How am I supposed to make you feel okay

When all you do is walk the other way?

I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay

I just kinda wish you were gay

When you started having problems with him, Jo heard about it. To Jo, it seemed that she was only here for you when he wasn’t. That wasn’t even true. It’s just the way her mind chose to see it, to be able to cope with the rejection she took in an absolute way.

She shouldn’t have let these feelings get in the way. She was setting herself up.

Josette couldn’t fathom loving anyone else with her whole being. It’d take a nuclear act of god to get her to stop her life from circling around you. The purgatory that was loving you when you couldn’t love her the way she wanted you to, was something she’d take over anyone else. The constant suffering was worth it.

You always ran to him for your romantic needs. But Jo’s heart had always ran back to you. She knew you knew. You just know she could never act on it without you setting up a block. So you did it all the time when you were around her.

Maybe in another universe or lifetime, she’d get to have you and experience different parts of you the way he did.

ღ To spare my pride

To give your lack of interest, an explanation

Don't say I'm not your type

Just say that I'm not your preferred sexual orientation

You may have looked at your boyfriend with heart eyes and the most romantic, endearment and adoration and with Josette, you looked at her the same.

Platonically binded by both your caring souls, like mindedness, and mutual interests. She was your soulmate in bestfriend form. You had certainly thought that if you had liked girls, or if Jo had been a boy, you’d love to love her in more ways than one.

But she wasn’t. Something about you two, together in this lifetime, was something that felt wrong. She was always meant to be your bestfriend. Nothing more. Josette had understood that.

She understood that it’s something you had grown up to understand was something that wasn’t socially accepted, atleast by your family. So she understood why you couldn’t pursue something romantic together.

She felt that maybe you did love her, maybe even felt the attraction, but she just wasn’t a man. The idea was unsettling to swallow at first—but it appeased her brain to know that it could happen…if the circumstances were different.

ღ I'm so selfish

But you make me feel helpless, yeah

And I can't stand another day

Stand another day

The longing was weighing down. The burden of carrying such a strong but passionate love for someone who couldn’t physically return it was starting to fuck with Jo.

She knew it was selfish to pray that you’d change your mind about your sexual orientation. To pray that you have always been that way but wanted to hide it. She prayed for any possibility that’d allow you to love her how she wished you did.

But she knew it’d never work. No matter what she said or did, nothing was going to change your mind.

She knew that; they couldn’t stand this anymore. It was becoming too much for her. The attachment and attraction blossomed more than she could’ve imagined. She needed to stop. Needed to forget you. Needed someone else.

But she couldn’t do that to you. Her body and soul couldn’t allow it. She couldn’t stand to breathe the same air as you if you weren’t breathing it together. How could she form a new connection and love someone so deeply when every part of her had already belonged to you.

Together. Together. Together. It’s all she’s ever wanted.

ღ I just wanna make you feel okay

But all you do is look the other way, hmm

I can't tell you how much I wish I didn't wanna stay

I just kinda wish you were gay

It was on her face, in her eyes, everytime they looked at you. You couldn’t bare seeing Jo in it so deeply and you couldn’t return it. You never wanted someone to break Jo’s heart.

It just never occurred to you that you were the one doing it. Everytime they looked at you, they always thought the same thing.

“I just wish you were gay”

Repeated like a never ending song in her brain. Everytime she was with you, she wanted to confess the feelings that she’s been carrying ever since you guys met. It was overwhelming and heartbreaking but a privilege.

Jo would rather you break her heart a little more everyday than anyone at all. She’d settle for the possibility of her possibly being able to change your mind about girls than forget the way you made every inch of her feel.

To feel love in the most absolute way. It was a privilege to love someone like you. So it was either she had to repeat the mantra in her mind and just go on about their day, pretending everything was fine, or not have you at all. She’d choose the first one everytime.

Cause she knew…in another life, you two would have it all. You be running to her. For anything. Whether it was for comfort or romantic endeavors. She’d be the one you’d choose.

You two would be together.

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amber-sekio · 2 months

Text

Oneshot -Killing Butterflies

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Ships: Aether x reader ; Childe x reader ; Childe x Zhongli

TW: Aether x reader ; reader x Tartaglia ; Tartaglia x Zhongli (if you squint) ; Major angst ; character death ; hurt no comfort ; Aether loves reader, reader loves Tartaglia, Tartaglia loves Zhongli ; reader dies ; implied death ; gn reader-no gender is given to reader

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This is a whole bucket full of angst so have fun lol. Also, for context i would recommend reading this post of mine. Anyways enjoy reading! (*^▽^*)

Aether couldn't bear to see you like this. To watch you through yourself at him when he no longer loved you. It was pitiful really. How you begged for him to stay. You were attached to him while he moved on. Tartaglia didn't hate you, he simply didn't love you anymore. Tartaglia moved on and fell in love with someone else; his best friend. You couldn't do anything about it but simply accept what had happened. Though you could never move on from him as he had done.

And so Aether watched as you fell deeper into despair. He tried to lift you up, to show you how much you were loved and that you didn't need Tartaglia to feel loved, that there was someone else who loved you dearly. You were too blinded by your sorrow to notice how Aether thought of you.

As much as Aether wanted to do more for you he couldn't and so he let himself be a shoulder to cry on for you. Hoping. Praying. That one day you would see how much he cared for you.

You had been going to Aether nearly every day for about a week just to cry. He was your dearest friend after all. Until one day you stopped.

Aether thought you simply needed a bit of space to get over your heartache.

That was a week ago though.

It had been two weeks since he last saw you, and he was getting worried.

He stood outside your home, knocked, telling you it was only him and that he was worried because he hadn't saw you in two weeks.

Silence

He knocked again.

Nothing

He wasn't fond of entering without your permission but he had to make sure you were alright. He needed to make sure.

He went to open the door to find it was unlocked already, though it wasn't uncommon for you, it seemed to unnerve him for some reason. Your home was dark, the curtains were all closed and no light was on. The lack of light only made him worry more. You always had light in your home whether from open curtains or candles lit at night so for your house to be so dark in the middle of the day was worrisome. He walked around your house looking for you until he came to your room.

The door was closed and at first it seemed deadly silent from within your room as it was in the rest of your house. He stood there silently until he heard what sounded like a sob come from within your room. He opened the door to find you curled in on yourself in the corner of the room on your bed.

"Y/n are you-"

However you were surrounded by butterflies.

Red butterflies.

Blood Red butterflies

"Aether?"

He knew what was happening. He had seen this before. A friend from another world had died the exact same way, but he hadn't heard of it happening on Teyvat. He didn’t think it was possible here. He didn't want to believe it.

"How long has this been going on for y/n?" Aether inquired while walking over to your side.

"A-about two weeks now," you paused, taking a breath. "Aether do you know what's wrong with me?"

The look in Aether's eyes told you the answer to your question. It hurt Aether to see you like this, to hear you sound broken. It seemed that at the very least the disease wasn't well known in Teyvat if at all.

You didn't have much longer. It was obvious with how pale you were and the number of butterflies around you. Most people barely survived a month with the disease. Typically the victim died within three to four weeks of obtaining it. So it was easy to tell you would be dead soon.

He stayed by your side, tending to you as you slowly grew weaker and couldn't perform simple tasks let alone even walk. The only time he left your side was to inform Tartaglia of your condition and what was going to happen as well as ask Albedo if he knew anything of the disease.

Aether was told that while it did exist in Teyvat, it was extremely rare.

The moment Aether got back he was immediately by your side again.

You died in his arms five days later.

He laid you down on your bed as the butterflies landed on and around you to rest peacefully alongside with you.

Aether sat on the ground next to your bed, closing his eyes only to start coughing. He looked at his hand only to be met with flowers.

Red flowers.

Blood Red flowers.

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I've come to realize that while I'm not the biggest fan of reading angst, I sure do love writing it.

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thehusbandoden · 9 months

Text

I'm Sorry -Shigaraki Tomura x Reader

Hehe totally~ wasn't giggling evily while writing this >:))

Okay yeah- I was- I'm sorry for your pain

But only a little bit >:3

Was gonna save this for some time when I'm in a block, but I finished this in 10-15ish minutes and really liked it so I'll post it now~

Hardcore angst. But there is some sweetness in there :') | 627 words | I'm sorry- but also I'm giggling evily >:3

Warnings!: flashbacks of a recent argument, crying, major death, blood, heart break, and losing a close one. Let me know if I miss any <33

Cold enveloped your body as you made your way down the darkened street, shivering as wet raindrops trailed down your exposed arms.

You couldn't feel the cold through the blinding pain of your heartache, wishing desperately for all of those harsh words to be but a dream.

As memories of your horrid argument filled your mind your body heaved with sobs, knocking you onto the cold pavement.

"Will you just shut up y/n! You're so annoying- just stop."

"I already knew you were useless, you don't have to state the obvious."

"If this is love I don't want it! This is ugly, vile, and utterly disgusting!"

"I used to dream of love. But now I know that it's useless."

Flashes of your angry Tomura filled your mind, distracting you from the real world. From your surroundings.

Stopping you from noticing the oncoming traffic. And the fact that you were right in the middle of the road, on the ground where the oncoming cars wouldn't notice you.

You were ripped out of your horrid thoughts by a voice. A warm voice. Tomura's voice.

Pulling your gaze upward, your breath hitched in your throat at Tomura's form, tear streaks running down his face.

"Y/N LOOK OUT!" He yells, rushing towards you.

But it was too late.

Your fate was already decided.

And that's when the pain hit you, leaving you gasping for air that wouldn't come, wouldn't soothe the aching pain in your lungs.

Gasping for air, you panicked as it wouldn't come, wreathing about, desperately hoping for air to fill your lungs and save you from this pain.

And then the stinging went away, and air filled your lungs as you gasped desperately pulling the air into your lungs with a desperation only a dear death experience could bring you.

"Y/n! Y/n please!" That warm voice called, heavy with sorrow.

Blinking open your eyes, you were met with the sight of your Tomura shaking you, sobs racking his being as he begged you to open your eyes. There were people surrounding the two of you, and more than one on their phone, speaking into the device urgently.

"To-mura" you cough, blood spewing out of your mouth and onto your beloved.

"Y/n- baby- I'm so so freaking sorry- please- don't hate me!" Tomura sobbed, holding you flush against his chest.

"I-I'm sorry too" you cough, spewing out even more blood.

Looking up at your broken Tomura, you reached up to pet his cheek, and that's when it hit you. Searing pain throughout your xentirex body.

Crying out in alarm, you coughed out more blood, causing Tomura to panic.

"Baby- baby please. Please! Please don't leave me!" Tomura cried, holding you against him with one arm and putting preasure on your abdomen with the other, xprayingx that you would surive until the sirens got here.

"Baby- my love- y/n, please please stay with me." Tomura begged kissing your lips to try and help ground you.

And it did help. It kept you sane as you kissed him back, savoring his taste as he kissed you deeply, wishing for this moment to never end.

But you both needed air, and you were in so much pain, and the darkness was so tempting.

"I.. love you." You whisper, smiling up at your beloved one more time before you let the darkness consume you.

Tomura's heart stopped as your body went limp in his hold, moving no more.

"Y-y/n.. y/n open your eyes.. y/n.. Y/N WAKE UP!" Tomura screamed, digging his face into your neck, despereatly inhaling your scent, knowing that this may be the last time he smelt it.

"Y/n no.. no please don't leave me!" Tomura cried, sobs wracking through his being as he desperately tried to revive his one and only true love.

~~~~

Bakugou's part is coming out tomorrow morning~!

(series here)

Shigaraki's masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

Reblogs help spread and therefore support my work, but any support is appreciated <33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

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hotch-stufff · 2 years

Text

Tired

Gif by Hotchannah

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Warnings: angst, crying, stress, hurt/comfort, soft Hotch, mention of child case!

Description: The stress of your job becomes overwhelming and you can’t handle it anymore. Your husband is there to take care of the aftermath.

A/n: just a short little blurb :)

——————————————————-

You shut the door with a silent thud before turning and sliding down against it. Your head lay in your hands as you feel the tears gather in your eyes.

When was it enough? How much more could you bear? Could you witness?

This last case had become too much to handle. Children. They reminded you much of the three little ones you had at home. Your husband could clearly tell something had been wrong, but you remained professional and didn’t let your façade falter.

You couldn’t be weak. Not in your job. Not with lives on the line. You had to stay the strong, stoic Agent everyone thought you were.

Of course, strong, stoic agents don’t hide in their offices to cry.

A knock on your door interrupts your thinking. You beg the person to go away, but the knocking persists.

“Honey?” That familiar soft voice floats through the door. “Everything okay?” You take a deep breath and steady your voice. You wipe your eyes, and stand, before unlocking the door and facing your husband.

“Hey.” Your voice sounds foreign. “I’m fine. Just a little tired is all.” He nods, but you know he sees past it. He can see the wetness of your cheeks, the circles under your eyes.

“Honey-“

“Aaron, please.” You smile weakly at him. “I’m fine.” He nods, now wasn’t the time to talk. He promises himself he would try later. He squeezes your hand before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Let’s head home, okay?” He asks, and you nod before he walks back to his office to grab his stuff.

You let out a sigh and then go to gather your own things. The rest of the team had left already, leaving just the Hotchners in the office.

Before long you were heading to the parking garage and loading into the passenger seat. You face the window the entire ride, the heavy weight of Aaron’s palm on your knee. He doesn’t move his hand, a silent comfort.

Walking through the house feels as though it’s in slow motion. You say goodbye to Jess as she hugs you, but you feel as though you are underwater. Three pairs of footsteps flood your ears as your children run down the stairs to see you, and you feel a bit of energy return.

“Mommy! Daddy!” You place a smile on your face, although upset, your kids never fail to make you feel loved. They all start talking about their days at the same times and you smile as your crouch down and pull them all close to you.

“Mama! Too tight!” Jack exclaims and you huff a laugh. Addie and Rowan giggle at his complaining as they all move onto hugging their dad.

“Alright my loves, bedtime.” They all groan but begin their walk upstairs, giggling along the way. You smile softly and feel hands wrap around your stomach. A kiss is placed on your neck. Just a soft press of his lips. His nose pokes your cheek and he presses another kiss there.

“Head on up, I’ll lock up and get the twins and Jack to bed.” He murmurs, another kiss placed on your cheek.

“Are you sure? I can-“ he cuts you off as he turns you and places one more kiss, this time on your lips.

“Go sweetheart. I’ll be up soon.” You nod without another word and head upstairs. Trudging down the hallway, you smile slightly at the sound of you children brushing their teeth and giggling. You head to your room and sit on the edge of the bed, not enough energy to do anything else.

You stare down at your lap. Your hands seemingly more interesting than the room around you. What felts like hours, but only minutes later, Aaron walks through your bedroom door.

“Y/n?” His voice fills your ears and you turn to him, your face frozen. His eyes soften and he walks to you, helping you stand. “Let’s get changed, okay?” You nod and he begins undressing both you and himself.

He hands you one of his T-shirt’s and the gesture makes you smile before you climb into bed. He turns out the lights and climbs in next you.

He pulls you close, a hand on your waist. His breath fans your face, and the silence fills the room.

“Honey?” He says and that’s all it takes. The floodgates open, and your tears fall.

“Aaron.” You gasp his name and he pulls you in closer, your head is resting on this chest, sobs shaking your body.

“I’ve got you.” He murmurs, placing kisses to your head. “I’ve got you sweetheart.” The crying doesn’t stop for a while. Not until you feel as though you have cried every tear in your body. Not until your chest is tight, and your breath is coming out in soft pants.

“Aaron, I can’t…” you trail off and he sits the both of you up so he can see your face better.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? What’s going on? I’m here, I’ve got you.” He says. His concern blooms through the look he gives you, and a pang of guilt surges through you.

“I’m…” you struggle to get the words out and he rubs your arm soothingly. “I’m tired Aaron, I’m so tired. I can’t keep doing this job. When is it enough? When does it stop?” Aarons heart clenches at your words. He didn’t know you were struggling this much. Of course there is always stress from the job, but this, was much more than he expected. He feels a pang of guilt at his neglect, but pushes it away in favor of comforting you.

“What can I do sweetheart? What do you need?” He presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“You. I need you Aaron. I’m so damn tired. I just need you.” He nods and brings you back in. He holds you all through the night. His arms shield you from the feelings you have refused to face.

You just want to stay like this. Stay in a place you can be strong for your husband, for your kids, your colleagues, the victims.

“Let’s take some time.” Aaron says after awhile. “Get away from work. Take the kids, go on vacation, sabbatical. Whatever you need. Let’s just get away.” You nod into his chest.

“Okay.” You say.

“If you want to leave. Honey, there is no shame in leaving. It’s okay if it’s too much.”

“Why can’t I push this away, who can’t I not feel.” He pulls away slightly so he can look into your eyes.

“Because you’re good. You’re too good for this world.” He leans in and presses his lips to yours in a comforting kiss. Your heart bursts with love at the affection your husband shows you. It still amazes you to this day how he always knows the right thing to say.

Although it’s gloomy in the moment, and there’s a lot for you to work through, you know with someone like Aaron Hotchner by your side, you’ll be okay.

—————————————————-

Thanks for reading <3

#imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #angst #reader insert #criminal minds #fluff #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x reader #major angst #comfort #hurt/comfort

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d3adlyromb3ar · 26 days

Text

✰ sinking lily pads

— synopsis. he thrived in the sorcerer world, she was forced into it. how could two people that strayed so differently from each other become so close?

— pairing. gojo x oc!fem!reader (main), toji fushiguro x oc!fem!reader

— word count. 5.1k

— contents. mentions of child abuse, neglect, abandonment, angsty asf, injuries, blood/gore, depressing thoughts, dissociation, mentions of death, jjk violence/fighting

— notes. first post ♡

series masterlist

✰ chapter one. moon dair

March 10th, 1999

The young girl had been gripping her Father’s pants, the fabric balling up in her tiny fist as she observed the group of people standing in front of her. All of them glaring down at her, some faces scowling, some with sinister smiles. She shivered underneath all their gazes, the pounding of her heart the only thing she could hear. The conversation above blocked out by her own fear.

“We are holding up our end of the deal, now it’s time for you to do the same.”

The girl’s Father sighed in relief, muscles untensing as he realized that his family were finally free. Finally safe. Well, at least the family he cared about. His gaze shifted down to the shaking girl beside him, his eyes narrowing at her tight grip on him. He reached down, gripping the girl’s hand and peeling it from his pants. The girl whimpered, trying to reach for him again, but he had crouched down and held her shoulders. Keeping her a safe distance away from him.

Despite her glossy eyes, the way her bottom lip quivered– he stared at her with no emotion. No words were spoken at first, only the sound of heavy breathing as the young girl searched desperately into her Father’s eyes for an answer to the end of this nightmare.

“Do you love this family?” He asked her, his stare intimidating as to warn her that there was only a right answer.

The girl switched from eye to eye, her heavy pants filling the moments of silence. It was a simple question, one that could be easily answered. Of course she did. Despite the years of abuse, the torturous nights of correctment. Her heart would have room for her family, something that she couldn’t control. Even in the moment that she realized what her Father was doing, she still had room in her heart for him. For her Mother, her siblings. Everyone.

“Yes Father.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was loud enough for him to hear.

“Then you’ll make us proud. You’ll do this family right by doing your part.” He told her, leaving no room for her to interrupt.

Your part.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had the girl jumping, forgetting that there was an audience. Sneaking a glance to her left, she shrunk into herself at the stares from the group. Her Father didn’t say another word to her as he stood upright, grabbing her shoulder and shoving her to the groups feet. The young girl didn’t have time to react, didn’t have time to utter a sound as she was already being gripped by the strangers hands.

The whole ordeal, she hadn’t shed a tear. Her lash line desperately collecting them, holding them back as she tried to keep it together. Her strength vanished though the second she saw her Father’s backside getting farther away, the way he didn’t look back once. Despite her sick assumption that he wouldn’t turn around, she kept her eyes unblinking– watching his form all the way until he was no longer in sight.

It was then, the first tear was finally shed.

She felt paralyzed in a weird position. She wasn’t sure whether to do it for herself, prove to herself, that she was worthy— that she could make her family proud. She also didn’t know if making her family proud would even matter by the end, clearly evident that they had left her and were never going to come back for her.

Had things really come down to it? Where she had to be the one that carried the burden of this impossible task, this wild deal. Was she really the one that could bring her family peace?

But at what expense, her happiness? Was she a filler for everybody else’s lives?

What was her purpose? She wondered.

Was her only purpose, proving to only the ghost of her family now— that she could do it?

The room she was kept in was dull— blank of any personality. The rationing of food was little, but she learned quickly not to complain to take anything that she got. The air was always thick with tension like she had to tiptoe around these people— these strangers.

It wasn’t often when people would speak to her, days going by without anybody even recognizing her existence. I guess in a way she was glad for that, as she also learned quickly that too much attention ended in bad endings.

Despite her age, she knew full well that she was being used for something greater than she could understand.

She had known that she was different all her life, her family, mocking and reminding her every day that she wasn’t like the rest. Rather than reassurance, she was taunted for it— for being different. For being powerful.

For that, she was powerful— one of the most powerful that would ever walk the Earth. Though, she didn’t know it yet.

It was on a rainy Tuesday after she received her minuscule lunch— that she recognized a young boy around her age sitting on a bench outside. Immediately he had peaked her interest, as she recognized, he was letting the rain drench him without a care in the world.

Who was he? She wondered.

The lack of children that wandered this place, it added to the magnetic pull she felt towards him— she had to know him.

But despite her curiosity, she stayed put in her room, only watching him from her window.

The boy was pale, jet black hair covering his head. She could tell he was built, which was odd, considering he was only a child— just like she was.

She was curious as to what his face looked like, what his expression was. But all the times that she would see him outside, sitting on the same bench, whether it was raining or sunny— she never got a decent look. Perhaps that was the push that she needed— the push to seek him out one day.

She had lost track of what day it was, her chaotic mind and her thoughts, taking up all her headspace.

It was fairly a nice day when she wandered outside, and, despite her allowed to do that— she was tense and on edge. She waited to be punished for doing absolutely nothing wrong.

A bad habit perhaps.

She didn’t try to quiet her steps as she approached the boy on the bench, giving him sound queues to know that she was approaching. She wondered if he heard her approaching, giving that he didn’t care to turn to investigate.

The closer she got, the more evident it became that he was lost in his own thoughts.

“Go away.” The boy mumbled, surprising the girl with how gentle his voice sounded.

Her curiosity ignored his comment, deepening her interest with him.

The boy must have sensed her lack of understanding, as he turned to see her rooted in the same spot. It was his turn to furrow his brows in curiosity, studying her watchful gaze.

He known of someone new arriving, wondering deep down if she had come willingly— or rather than. But he hadn’t found himself to care enough to seek her out— meet her. He assumed she’d be like the rest that had come and gone, never to leave their trace again. All while he stayed trapped here. But despite his inner voice telling him to walk away, he spoke to her again.

Her silence was intriguing.

“You’re new here.” He stated, not needing her confirmation.

The girl nodded, ignoring his discomfort and taking a seat on the bench next to him— but sitting far apart, almost falling off the edge.

The boy noticed her effort to not touch him, and whether it was because she was hesitant of him— or rather trying to respect his space. His heart couldn’t help but beat a little faster, kind gestures foreign to him.

“What do they call you?” He asked.

She thought for a moment how odd of wording it was to ask for one’s name.

“Moon dair.” She whispered, her tone unsure.

The boy tried to smile, but found himself exhausted to do so. All he could manage was a nod of recognition.

“Cool name,” he commented, “I’m Toji.”

Toji.

The corners of her mouth turned up slightly, happy to finally put a name to the boy.

The boy watched her face light up, and he wondered what the cause of that was. Did he dare ask? Did he care?

“You’re quiet.” He said instead.

She made no reaction that his comment bothered her, suppose she was quiet. It wasn’t often she was asked to speak, or that she was spoken to. With her family, she was practically a ghost. Even now in this foreign environment, she didn’t feel the need to talk– nor did she feel like she should.

“I’m not used to it.” She admitted quietly.

Toji furrowed his brows, studying her expression as he noticed her small smile had vanished.

“Not used to what? Talking?” He asked.

She nodded, shrugging her shoulders– fiddling with her fingers in her lap.

“That’s weird.” He said, not caring about his bluntness.

She frowned this time, crossing her arms.

“It’s not my fault.” She defended herself.

Toji chuckled, surprising her with the sudden sound.

“Hey, that's the loudest I’ve heard you yet.” He joked, running a hand through his hair.

She rolled her eyes and tried to hide her smile, admitting to herself that it was kinda funny.

It was quiet for a bit, the relaxing ambience of the outside calming the two. The wind caressed their faces, as their hair floated in the breeze.

It was a comfortable silence, they both thought.

It was the silence that gave Moon time to get lost in her thoughts.

“What are you doing out here?” She asked quietly.

Toji turned to her with furrowed brows, and despite his confusion– his expression was gentle. She could almost get a read of him, the longer she looked into his eyes. He seemed… tired.

“I didn’t know sitting here wasn’t allowed.” He uttered.

“You are, I just see you out here a lot,” She stated, “Guess I’m just curious.”

Toji chuckled again, and he wondered when the last time he laughed so much– let alone crack a smile.

“Oh, you’ve been stalking me?” He joked again, chcukling again when he watched her cheeks flush red in embarrassment.

“N-no–I just– my window looks out to this bench so… I’ve seen you here before. A lot actually.” She stumbled over her words, trying not to seem creepy.

It was too late though, she realized how weird her words sounded.

While it was entertaining to see Moon so flustered, he couldn’t keep torturing her.

“It’s quiet and calming here,” He told her truthfully, “A little escape from… things.”

She listened and tilted her head at the end, the vague answer peeking her interest even more.

“Escape from what things?” She wondered.

Toji looked away from her this time, instead focusing on the trees swaying from the wind. Truthfully he didn’t care too much about the view, he was just afraid that she’d see the answer within his eyes. He noticed her observant gaze immediately, and despite him oddly trusting her already– he knew better than to disobey his family.

“Family drama.” He told her instead, risking a glance at her.

Despite his unsure tone, she seemed to believe him and took her turn to gaze at the trees. He noticed her face losing its light, the mention of his family hitting a nerve within her.

Why? He wondered.

“I’m sorry, I get it.” She said instead.

Toji leaned forward and tried to get a good look of her face, and he was shocked to find such a vulnerable expression upon her features.

While his family drama wasn’t a complete lie, he felt a little bad that she was trying to relate.

“What happened?” He asked, curiosity eating at him.

She took a deep breath before facing him again, but her eyes couldn’t hold his gaze for too long. He noticed.

“I’m here. That’s what happened.” She whispered, relaxing her awful situation once again.

Toji didn’t quite understand what she meant by that, but also found himself staying quiet as he felt bad. He didn’t want to push her, and didn't want to upset her further.

Why do I care? He thought. Odd.

“Toji. Come now.” A stern voice called from the building doors.

She watched as Toji stiffened up at the sound of his name falling from the man. She couldn’t help her own body tensing up, feeling like she’d been caught doing something– when it was the complete opposite. She was doing nothing wrong, so why did she feel ashamed for sitting here.

Toji sent her a look that she couldn’t understand in the moment, and watched as he said nothing else and left. Walking with his head down into the building, avoiding the harsh glare from the man.

All too soon, she was left alone with her thoughts. Gazing at the trees, it didn’t feel relaxing anymore– and she wondered why.

It felt colder all of a sudden, the wind biting into her cheeks. The bench felt harder, more uncomfortable than before. It wasn’t relaxing at all– but why now?

All these thoughts quickly got overpowered, the only thought running through her mind being Toji. He was the first person to recognize her existence, to show even a sliver of kindness. It was nice to finally talk to someone, without worrying about their judgmental stare.

She didn’t know why she missed him as much as she did, she had just met him.

It was easy to grow attached to the nice things in life when surrounded by bad. She figured.

Where did you go Toji?

8 years later…

The feeling of her lungs burning, begging for untouched air was the first thing that came to her. The rubble of the fractured wall weighed down on her, her legs trapped underneath destruction. She whined in frustration, her mind hazy– her body exhausted.

9 lives was an incredibly powerful technique, letting her cheat death even in moments where she shouldn't of. But of course, with the good always comes the bad. The outside perspective only saw the person coming back to life, but to her– it was the most excruciating feeling she’d ever experience. Yes, she would be alive once again– but she was forced to feel her body heal. All the hurt she endured to lead to her first death, she could now feel reversing– she almost wished she could die at this point. Her enemy hadn’t realized she had the 9 lives technique, unaware that the cause of her death would happen to them as well– a mirror defense.

Slowly she was able to crawl out from under the rubble, using her growing strength to lift the wall off of her body. Her lungs squeezed painfully, gulping in the dusted air– desperate for breaths. Her body wracked with violent coughs as she was on her hands and knees, hunched over and retching blood clumps out of her system. It was quite a nasty technique– but it was rare that anyone was around to witness her healing process.

8 lives left.

The realization wasn’t as rewarding as she thought– quite the opposite. She was closer to her permanent death that she knew would eventually come. Her eyes stayed unfocused on the ground in front of her, her nose burning and her throat tightening with the harsh reality of it all. Although she was immortal to an extent, the mental toll of dying didn’t lessen as she hoped it would. She was stuck in this odd transition, her mind not catching up with the truth that she was indeed still alive. She didn’t feel connected to herself, she felt as if a part of her soul had truly been destroyed– as if a piece of her was left behind.

Her phone buzzed within the rubble, the distorted sound snapping her back to the present. She reached under a piece of the fractured wall, pulling her phone out to see who was calling.

Gojo.

The name lit up her dull features, before the phone gave up– the screen shutting off. She didn’t have time to answer, letting the broken phone fall back into the rubble. Not letting herself give him another thought, she stood finally– doing her best to guide her way out of the destruction. She knew he’d be confused as to why she didn’t answer, but she didn’t care– not right now.

To her, the relationship between Gojo and herself– it was confusing. Despite her obvious distaste for the man, he continued to stick around. She thought he was incredibly annoying, getting on her nerves quicker than anyone she’d ever met before. She couldn’t stand him, just the thought of past teasing and mocking he had done, it had her blood boiling. She learned quickly that her efforts to push him away– they were pointless. It was evident that he didn’t listen to a thing she said anyway. Her pleads for him to leave her alone were practically said to deaf ears.

Taking a deep breath, she felt frustrated with herself. Although she had just promised to not think about him– that's all she was doing. Even when he wasn’t around, he still managed to bother her. She didn’t like being so hateful, but after everything she had been through– she refused to let herself get close to anyone ever again.

She also couldn’t deny her raging jealousy she had for the white haired sorcerer. She was jealous of his upbringing, the way he had everything he ever wanted growing up. How he was born from riches, living in luxury to this very day– never worrying about the struggles to survive.

She continued walking, in no rush to make it back home. She didn’t want her peers to see her so disconnected. She was alive and well now, body healed– no evidence that she had ever gotten killed.

So why did she still feel dead inside?

“Why the sad face?” Geto’s voice had startled her out of her, not realizing she arrived back at the school. “The mission was successful, was it not?”

He sat all relaxed on the stairs, where he usually was after a long day. She assumed it was to watch the sun set, she really didn’t know.

She nodded, making her way over to him and sitting down on the stairs near him— but careful to not sit too close. Geto narrowed his gaze, always wondering why she did that.

“Then why the long face?” He pushed.

She sighed, letting her elbows rest on her knees— holding her face in her hands.

“Just tired.” She mumbled through her palms.

Geto hummed, but wasn’t buying it.

“Seems like you’re always tired, hm?” He pointed out.

She raised her head from her hands, glancing over to him with a really look.

“Maybe I’m just a tired person.” She came up with.

Geto just stared at her, slightly offended that she would think he’d believe these lies— and trust him. He knew she was a terrible liar— the worst actually. Yet, she continued to try.

“You know, it’s okay to not be okay.” He started, his features softer. “You don’t have to be so strong all the time. You’re still a person underneath being a sorcerer. You’re allowed to feel.”

Geto’s words had struck within Moon. She knew he was right but she didn’t want to admit that to herself. Sure, she could show how she was truly feeling underneath the act— but then she’d be vulnerable. Weakness only ends up with people getting hurt. She couldn’t do that.

She wouldn’t.

“I appreciate whatever you’re trying to prove here, but like I said— I’m just tired.” She told him, standing up and leaving to her room.

Leaving Geto on the stairs, missing the concerned look he sent her as she walked away.

What’s happening in that head of yours Miss Dair? He thought hopelessly.

She knew it would’ve been too easy to make it back to her room without anymore interactions. She had thought she did however, until she heard the all too familiar voice calling out for her.

The sound making her ears ring, the exhaustion causing any noise at all to make her wince.

“Look who’s found their way back home.” The white haired sorcerer called out.

Home.

It was funny to her that he referred to this place as such. Was it? If so— why didn’t she feel the same way?

She hummed in response, digging her hand in her pants pocket, searching for her keys.

“Heard the mission was a success. I’m impressed really, thought you would’ve struggled a bit more.” He told her, trying to get under her skin.

Instead of feeling offended from his words, she wondered how the hell the word spread so fast that she completed the mission. She had just gotten home— the only person she told and not on purpose, being Geto.

“Geto told you that, huh?” Moon asked quietly, not really interested in an answer.

“Told me, maybe I asked— who knows. All I know is that you’re alive and well.” He shrugged his shoulders, walking closer to her until he was at her doorframe.

One thing about Gojo: he didn’t respect personal space. Boundaries? Didn’t know it.

Her fingers finally grasped her key ring, pulling it out and swiftly unlocking her door. Without giving him another glance she entered her room, moving to shut the door with her foot— but of course Gojo snuck in before she could shut him out.

“Gojo, I’m tired— don’t want company right now.” She mumbled, throwing her bag down and shimming off her jacket.

He tilted his head down, letting his eyes peek over his glasses that sat low on his nose.

“Hmm, why does it feel like you’re trying to get rid of me?” He wondered, already knowing the answer.

Throwing down her jacket, she made her way to the small kitchen area— pouring herself a glass of water. Not realizing until now that her throat was incredibly dry, aching dully.

After taking a moment and letting the cool liquid soothe her throat, she glanced back to the lanky man.

She was caught off guard when she was met with such a concerned look. She only got a quick glance of his furrowed brows, the way he was almost studying her— that was until he straightened back up, putting back on his teasing expression.

“What are you thinking about Nines?” He wondered out loud.

Nines.

A causal nickname that didn’t hold its true meaning anymore. It was then Moon wondered when she should tell him— or anyone for that matter, that she now only had eight lives left.

She chewed on her bottom lip, getting stuck in her head. Should’ve been an easy question to answer, but her mind wasn’t kind.

Gojo of course noticed, he noticed almost everything about her. The tics she’d fall to when stuck in her head, the way she could almost forget someone else was in the room with her. Her micro expressions that she thought nobody saw— he did. He always did. Even then, he found her the hardest person to read— thus why he was always asking the question.

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” He asked again, quieter— more sincere.

She ignored his attempt at flirting almost instantly, knowing he would try again and again to get some kind of reaction. She saw nothing significant about the pet name— he did it with practically anyone.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” She whispered, turning her glass upside down and placing in the sink.

His six eyes followed her movements, glancing back up to her eyes.

“I asked didn’t I?” He teased, but frowned when you still hadn’t cracked a smile.

Not that you ever did anyway— but every now and then he could.

One thing that Moon despised, was being vulnerable in front of others– especially Gojo. Although there was something about his aura that made her want to lay everything out, really tell him that she was suffering in the hell that was her head– confess everything that kept her up at night. The doubts, the horrors that plagued her when she closed her eyes. But if she was anything– she was stubborn. She wouldn’t allow the words to pass through her lips– not without difficulty that is.

“I…” She started, staring at a random spot in the sink, “I don’t know.”

Moon heard the familiar sound of glasses folding, the metal scraping the sides of his pockets. Glancing up, she was met with the incredible glow of his blue eyes. She had to take a deep breath, blinking rapidly to avoid getting hypnotized. It was often she’d get lost in his eyes, the way they could almost speak for themself. If Gojo didn’t have words to speak– his eyes certainly did that for him.

“Ah, but you do know. You’re just really bad at this whole… talking thing. Wouldn’t you agree?” He called her out, blunt as ever.

She couldn’t bring herself to care– or be offended by any means. He was right, as always. She thought quickly that maybe that’s another reason for her hatred for him– he seemed to know her better than she knew herself.

She hummed in agreement, walking past him to get to her couch. She felt exhausted the longer she stood– needing to sit down to relax her muscles.

Gojo eyes her figure, all the way to the couch– before moving to follow and taking a seat next to her.

Moon thought suddenly, the eight lives that she had left. Surely, Gojo deserved to know. Not because of his worry for her well being– because yeah right. The right that he know strictly professional– she worked with him. It was important he knew.

The white haired sorcerer sat, body facing her– waiting patiently and quietly for her to speak. For someone for easily labeled as annoying– he was pretty silent at the moment. Only because he was so lost in thought, trying to figure Moon out if she wasn't going to talk. That was why he often found himself mute, too focused to strike up conversation.

“Eight.” She whispered, finally breaking the silence.

His blue eyes examined her expression, trying to understand such a vague statement. His brows pulled together, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips.

“Huh?” He wondered, “Nines, what are you tal–”

“You need to stop calling me Nines.” She told him, her voice louder than the last time she spoke.

For a moment she watched his face grow more lost, his expression confusion. But with the long look at her pain stricken face– he knew almost instantly what she meant. His body suddenly tensed, and his hands felt colder. It was odd that the first emotion he finally felt was anger, his hands tightening into fists. His eyes narrowed at her, his jaw clenched tightly– almost positive she could see the flexing from her spot.

He adjusted himself, leaning forward with his elbows supported by his thighs, still facing her small form.

“So what the fuck happened on the mission?” He growled out.

She swallowed, and stared at her hands down on her lap. She didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes– and she knew she would. His eyes were so expressive, it might as well be written in them.

“Things happen, you know that.” She defended, still staring at her lap, “I have The Nine Lives Technique for a reason.”

Gojo kept quiet, his teeth grinding together in attempt to keep his true thoughts inside. He nodded his head, despite him not agreeing or being okay with this situation.

“Answer this for me then,” He started, his voice still stern, “Were you ever gonna tell anyone?”

She looked up finally, surprised when she saw nothing but concern painted in his eyes– despite his angry expression. She felt guilty knowing her answer, but her intentions weren’t to hurt anyone– she just didn’t think anyone would care. She didn’t think anyone should care.

She shook her head, too tired to voice her response.

He lowered his gaze to his lap now, seeming to get lost in thought for a moment before he glanced back up– the anger slowly vanishing from his features.

“Are you okay?” He asked, taking Moon by surprise with the sudden switch up.

She glanced from eye to eye, swallowing through the thickness in her throat. She waved a hand to herself lazily.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” She whispered.

Gojo was silent after that, her tone so unsure it made him uneasy. Yes, he saw her sitting in front of him– seeming to be in perfect condition. But it wasn’t the physical aspect that he was worried about.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” He pointed out.

Moon narrowed her eyes towards him, hating the way he was trying to pick apart her brain. The way he was trying to pretend he cared so much. She couldn’t be easily fooled like that— not anymore.

She’d give him this, he was very convincing.

“I’m fine.” She rushed out, her voice tired yet stern.

Gojo couldn’t help the roll of his eyes, not understanding just how bad someone could be at lying. Despite her efforts, she’d never be able to lie to him. Almost everytime she did— he never asked her why she thought she had to lie.

He could feel the familiar twitch in his cheekbone, the frustration moving its way to his face.

“Get some rest… Nines.” He mumbled, walking to the door without another glance in her direction.

Moon opened her mouth to say something, but found herself silent until he had disappeared through the door. The familiar click of the lock and then the eerie silence of her room. The only sound being her slow breathing.

The sorcerer confused her with the amount of effort he put in to see her, talk to her. She couldn’t understand how someone could be so drawn towards someone else that clearly had a distaste for them. Did he see the signs?

She knew she was being difficult at best— but it was only the way she grew up that had her acting as such. She’d never let anyone hurt her ever again. People couldn’t leave her life, if she never let them in.

The thought should’ve been comforting, but it never was.

— ending notes. feedback is appreciated 🤍

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ask-mobile-iterator-project · 11 months

Text

welcome to my iterator OC's ask blog! ヾ(ˊᗜˋ*)

⚠️warning: there is a good chance of seeing heavy and disturbing subject matter and emotionally distressing content! please proceed with caution!

rules and info under the readmore!

specifically I want to bring light to specific upsetting themes I will tag:

abuse

manipulation

depictions of trauma

depictions of mental illness

more that may be revealed as the story progresses (and i understand what stuff to tag ;;; i will do my best!!)

potentially sensitive and upsetting content will be tagged with "upsetting content" along with specific tags if applicable

I have so many thoughts about SLS, and I thought it'd be fun to make unraveling her backstory kinda interactive with you guys! I may post comics unrelated to asks expanding on her backstory at points ^_^

I think being able to interact with her is really fun...

Rules:

please don't send question lists or several asks in one submission- split them up please!

no rp asks - I am not sure how to handle other people's OCs and I don't want things to derail too much;; sorry!

no character changing magic asks

you can give her items but...please be reasonable ^^;;

please nothing suggestive or nsfw

i can reject anything im uncomfy with

If I don't answer your ask, it doesn't necessarily mean it broke a rule. Please be understanding! I may just not know how to answer it, or be too busy, or have already answered it, etc

Tag Guide

this post will be tagged with all of these for your convenience!

#ask sls: answers to asks

#ooc: out of character. admin stuff

#non-canon: for sillier stuff or things that are definitely not canon.

#fanart: reblogs of fanart (i would be overjoyed if you made fanart!)

#moon's art: posts/reblogs of my own art of SLS, unrelated to asks.

#sls worldbuilding: asks/posts that contribute to the worldbuilding of sls's universe.

#sls lore: asks/posts that contribute to sls's lore.

#sls characters: asks/posts that relate to other characters in sls's story.

#minor angst: asks/posts that contain minor angst, or have hints of angst.

#angst: asks/posts with angst

#major angst: usually paired with upsetting content, but hey why not have three levels of angst anyways.

#upsetting content: see above section about warnings!

#backstory post: not ask related. just for lore hehe

Inbox Status: Open!

#starlight symphony #sls #iterator ask blog #iterator oc #rain world oc #rules #sls reference #ask sls #sls lore #sls worldbuilding #sls characters #minor angst #angst #major angst #upsetting content #backstory post #ooc #non-canon #moon's art

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northsoulss · 1 year

Text

a dream

pairing : neteyam x gn!reader

content warnings : descriptions of blood, gore, injuries — there’s A L O T. angst, a tad bit of fluff but not a ton, kissy kiss (a few in fact!), death(not neteyam i promise), mentions of the reader crying(a lot.), no use of y/n — replaced with “___”.

let me know if i missed any warnings!

synopsis : (in this fic neteyam is alive and the whole story of the sully family moving to the metkayina clan never happened. this is a few years after the first RDA attack when neteyam is 15-ish. he and the reader are 19+ in this fic.) the RDA returns and it feels you are living through hell, but neteyam pulls you through it, like a sturdy rock in the choppy waves, preventing the waves from sweeping you away.

a/n : hi i reallllly wanted to write angst for this so this is primarily just a practice for it bUT i promise there is “fluff” hehe - im not that evil i promise😗 also IM STARTING PRE-U NEXT WEEEEK!! so probably won’t be able to post so pls have this

the forest was a mess. bodies everywhere, sky people and na’vi alike, all tainted in the same red colour. you let out a war cry as you killed a dreamwalker, tossing their body to the side with a grunt. the RDA had come back in an attempt to avenge their fallen, killing many villagers and warriors in the process. this was all entirely uncalled for, and it was extremely painful to see so many young na’vi killed by the likes of them. as you were about to head back to the home tree, a piercing scream tore through the battle field, one of an ikran. you twisted around anxiously, seeing your mother’s ikran in front of you. uh oh. “alaksì? where is mother?” you ask, seeing the ikran’s panicked state, you start to feel nervous as well, for your mother never leaves her ikran alone.

“take me to her.” no more words were needed as it took off immediately, almost too fast to catch if not for your own ikran.

after landing, you arrived in an open area, with bodies littered on the floor like dead mice. however, one of the bodies stood out, for the body had the same necklace you made for your mother when you were a child, its orange and green beads now an awful colour.

“mum.”

it felt as though time froze in that very moment, leaving you to be the only person able to move. all the noise around you became muffled, all the screams, all the gunshots, war cries, everything became silent. your heartbeat was the only thing you heard, the rhythm slowly increasing in intensity like a song the clan would sing during festivals.

you ran towards her, squatting down beside her where she laid motionless, her pupils dilated and dazed. “this has to be a nightmare,” you thought, not realising hot tears began spilling down your cheeks. you turned her body over to check for injuries, and found your answer. a clean hole through the centre of her chest, blood splattered around the wound.

“no, no, no, wake up!” you shook her body, but to no avail. her limbs were limp and cold. it was weird. she looked at peace and yet you only felt grief and remorse. so you screamed. you screamed, and screamed, and screamed until your throat became hoarse. it was not enough, for your mother died with no one around her. she died a lonely death. she suffered alone, and you were not there in her last moments.

you looked over her body, feeling nothing but searing hot pain being delivered fresh to your doorstep. how could you have missed her death? how could you not be with her before she died? eywa, how could you be so cruel?

“please, oh great mother. tell me i’m dreaming!” words could not describe how loud you had yelled, how much sorrow and weight was in your words.

despite your heartbreak, you could not have a moment of peace with her. footsteps were heard behind you, slow and creeping ones, ones with shoes.

you spun around to be faced with an avatar, a dreamwalker. “you. did you do this?” you bared your teeth, tail whipping around rapidly. the avatar had a smirk on her face that you wanted so badly to slap off.

“hmm, did i? poor thing.” the avatar pouted in false remorse, wiping away non-existent tears on her face. she then took gun that was behind her, aiming right at your face. at that moment, you felt no fear, all you saw was red. bloody red. you lunged at her, taking your knife out and plunging it into her chest, in the same place your mother suffered. the demon was surprised at your aggression, seeing that she did not fight back one bit and actually tripped backwards.

“this. this is for my mother.” you take out the knife, and plunged it back down again, twisting it with anger. loud gasps were heard from the dreamwalker, but you paid no mind, only focusing on causing the most amount of pain possible to your mother’s killer.

“how could you do such a thing, demon. how could you end my mother’s life?” you spat, crying out in agony. you beat the avatar’s chest, firsts curled so tight it was bound to leave cuts.

soon, the face and body of the avatar became slack, and you removed your knife from her chest. you left an big enough cavity to be able see the slowed beating of the demon’s heart, one big enough to quell your desire for revenge. you took your bow that was slung over your arm and gave the body one last beating, swatting her face, which left a nasty red gash.

dropping to your knees, you let your feet sink into the ground, wishing eywa had not spared you like how she did not spare your mother.

even more footsteps went unheard by you, for your grief had nearly consumed you whole.

“___?”

neteyam.

you turned around to see him standing there, his own body bloody, but with few cuts of his own. you have never been more glad to see your mate now. he ran to you and knelt down to your level, cradling your face in his hands, his warm touch spreading throughout your body. he turned your face side to side, checking for any cuts or bruises. he scanned your body as well, his worry filling your heart with warmth.

“oh, neteyam.” you threw your arms around his neck as sobs had your body shaking, his hands coming up to rest on the back of your neck and on the crown of your head.

“shh, it’s okay, its okay. i’ve got you now.” neteyam’s eyes scanned the perimeter, finding the extremely blooded dreamwalker, and your dead mother. it clicked immediately in his mind — he would have done the same if it was his own, maybe doing worse than just carving a hole in her body. he squeezed your body tighter, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck, feeling your tears soak his chest.

suddenly, your head shot up, startling him. “w-where is my father?” you say between shaky breaths and tears, your eyes searching his for an answer.

he sucks his teeth before sighing, saying, “your father is back at hometree, however, he is severely injured and has one bullet wound on his leg.” he watched relief flood into your face, but more tears followed suit.

it pained him to see you like this, your usual joyful features were now ones that were filled with pain, your eyebrows knitted together and your mouth contorted into a wide frown, lips quivering and shouting; asking eywa how she could do this to you. his heart broke with you, his eyes watering as well, but he had to be strong. he had to be strong, for you.

neteyam’s own bullet wound to the chest was a testimony to his strength, but he was only able to survive it because you were there, and you were strong. for him. losing your mother the same way you almost lost him really rubbed salt to the wound, numbness soon taking over your features.

“___, my strong heart.” he hooked his fingers under your jaw and lifted them up, using his thumbs to wipe away the wetness on your cheeks. he pressed his hand to your chest, feeling your beating heart, feeling it speed up as he touched you. he gave you a sad smile, before lifting you up gently. giving you a kiss to the temple, you relished feeling; his hands on your back, on your waist. he grounded you when you felt unstable, the moon to your sun.

“let’s bring your mother back, yeah? let’s bring her home.” home. oh how that word sounds foreign now, for she was your home. you only nodded, walking over to her body with neteyam and carrying her up, and began the journey back home.

when you returned to the home tree, you brought your mother’s body to the tsahik’s hut. opening the flaps, you saw mo’at attending to your father’s body, head hung low and face contorting and bunching in discomfort. feeling someone’s presence, he looked up, joy flooding into his face seeing that it was you who entered. however, his smile faltered looking over your numb features, the blood splattered on your face, and your mother’s body beside you, unmoving.

“my child,” he beckons you over with a wave of his hand and you went running, nearly crashing into mo’at in the process.

“father,” you cried out, feeling his arms circle around you. your face felt hot and wet again, leaning deeply into your father’s embrace.

seeing the whole thing, mo’at could only sigh, her hand resting on your back and rubbing it comfortingly, hearing your wailing and sniffles echo throughout the hut. her other hand pat neteyam’s head affectionately, saying to him indirectly, “thank you for bringing them back safely to their father.” neteyam nodded and brought his hand to his face, covering the quiet tears that came down. your mother treated neteyam like one of her own children, and it hurt to see her go like that, without you by her side. sensing this, mo’at gripped his shoulder, soothing his grief.

you did not notice, but neteyam had stepped out of the hut by the time you finished conversing and grieving with your father. when you exited the hut, you were in complete shock. slowly, the seeds of the spirit tree descending upon you both as you stood next to him. one by one, they landed everywhere — one on your’s and neteyam’s head, and the rest scattered on your bodies. a cool gust of wind then blew by, soothing your aching heart and soul.

“i think that was her, neteyam.”

“i think so too, yawne.” he wrapped his arms around your shoulder, pressing kisses to your cheeks and a lingering kiss to your lips which you gladly reciprocated. breaking apart, you rested your forehead against his and ghosted your hand over the scar on his chest. feeling your fingertips along his skin, neteyam feels a shiver run down his spine. he takes your hand and places it to his lips, and clutches it to his chest again, this time with his hand over yours.

“we will be okay, my love,” he gave a quick peck to your lips again, smiling at you tenderly.

“i think so too.”

#avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #atwow #neteyam #avatar #neteyam x reader #neteyam atwow #neteyam avatar #atwow fluff #atwow angst #atwow neteyam #neteyam fluff #neteyam angst #MAJOR ANGST #some fluff #mainly angst tho.#hehe #northsoulss

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whereianonymouslypostfics · 1 year

Text

Too late

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~0.6k

Summary: Wanda loses you

A/N: This is more of a ‘what if’ than a drabble. Yes, it’s the silver springs y/n and Wanda, but it this is not canonical to their overall storyline. If that is confusing, yes it is and I’m sorry. Basically just don’t get too caught up in this. I just wrote it because I was depressed. Our fav couple is not gonna separate. Part 1 of 2.

Warnings: Heavy angst, character death, blood

Wanda’s ears are still ringing painfully as she drops down on the ground beside you. She ignores the way the broken glass from the window cuts into her legs as she reaches out for you where you lie beside Boone.

“Y/n.”

She’s breathless from the terror she feels at the sight of your bloodied shirt and the large puddle forming beneath you. You groan in pain as you’re pulled into your wife’s arms, but you don’t say anything as you try to focus on Wanda as the chaos around you fades into the background.

“Wands.”

You feel your breath catch and a pain in your chest makes you cough. Wanda watches with tearful eyes as blood splatters against her already ruined shirt. She clings to you desperately as she takes a deep shuddering breath.

“It’s okay, Y/n. You’re okay.”

You both know she’s wrong, but you don’t have the energy to argue with her. Your entire focus is on continuing to breathe and keeping your eyes open so you can see your beautiful wife watch you worriedly.

Your arm shakes as you try to reach out for her, and she adjusts her grip on you so she can take your hand with a hopeful smile.

“I’m sorry, Wands. I-.”

You trail off as you try to catch your breath to no avail. You taste the blood that’s filling your lungs as you shake your head and tears start to fall down your cheeks. You weakly squeeze her hand as you consider the real possibility that you won’t be walking out of here.

“Shh, it’s okay, detka. Don’t-don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Wanda’s voice breaks as she holds you tighter, and despite the pain that blooms in your chest you take comfort in her embrace and try to turn more into her so she becomes your entire focus. You smell her perfume among the strong stench of blood, and your tears start to fall faster as you take a shallow, watery breath.

“I- I don’t want to go.”

Wanda’s crying harder now and she immediately shakes her head as her vision is flooded with tears. She refuses to let you go to wipe them away and she just continues to shake her head as she holds you impossibly closer.

“I know, I don’t want that either. I—I need you.”

You grow limp in Wanda’s arms and you cast your gaze to the side to see where your dog is still lying beside you. You look away because your wife is crying and you have always hated to see that. You know there’s not much you can do about it this time and you try not to let this failure overwhelm you.

“Promise me…you’ll try to be okay.”

Your eyes are fluttering as you lose the ability to keep them open, and you miss Wanda sob miserably as she shakes her head. She can’t fathom a life where she’s okay without you, but she has a sinking feeling she won’t have to wonder for long.

“I will. I’ll try, I promise.”

You seem to accept this and you smile weakly before forcing yourself to open your glazed, unfocused eyes. You meet Wanda’s green ones and you try to commit them to memory. You never want to forget what they look like, how beautiful they are.

“Love you.”

Wanda’s holding you so tightly it should hurt, but you barely feel anything as you start to slip away.

“I love you too. I always will.”

Wanda leans in to kiss your forehead, and when she pulls away a few seconds later she realizes that you’re gone. Wanda loses sight of you through her tears, but she knows she’ll continue to weep long after you leave her arms.

Part 2 | Masterlist

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #silver springs #silver springs drabble #silver springs au #mob au #major angst #death

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writtenonreceipts · 1 year

Note

Am I slightly evil? Yes. But that’s besides the point. I would love a what if Aelin was actually pregnant in Empire of Storms. DRAMA! ANGST! OH NO MAEVE! 🫣 do ur worst. Literally.

Thanks for sending this in!! <3 It's been a while since I read the book, lol. My reread came to a screeching halt a little while ago. SO! Some points will not occur as they did in the book because i have no memory. Anyways...canon au/divergence. Partial EOS/KOA rewrite.

find my other works here

READ ME--Warnings: torture, brief allusion to sexual assault, pain, violence, discussion of miscarriage and death. ANGST. you've been warned. Maybe happy ending???

~6.4k words

.*.*.*.*.

Until the Bitter End of Eternity

First, there was darkness. Thick and heavy and enough to make the entire world disappear. It was a darkness that slipped not just across her eyes but into her mind. Even when she tried, she couldn’t remember what day break looked like. She couldn’t remember the way the sun scraped over the Staghorns or gleamed across the sea. She couldn’t remember the shade of green that soothed her soul.

Second, there was pain. Hot as it burned on skin and bore through flesh and into bone. And she knew her pain. Her life was a continuous cycle of torture, of broken bones and skin. She had endured it all over and over. But this…this was a fresh hell.

Third, there was terror. Sharp in the way it drilled one thought repeatedly over and over into her head. Dry in the way that it leeched everything else from her.

Aelin had no choice but to feel each of these things. She had no choice but to let each thought and each feeling and each idea encompass her. Because it meant that she was alive. And to be alive was to be one step closer to returning to her mate (her mate, was that even possible?) and to be alive meant that the little flutter deep in her belly was real.

Perhaps she should regret not telling him. Instead, she'd told Lysandra. Begged Lysandra for help, for support, for confirmation. And her friend had assured her it would be fine. Assured her she was strong enough. Assured her that she would support Aelin if a certain choice needed to be made.

She should regret not having one more moment with Rowan, one last taste of hope that they could be together. A family.

"Well, well," a lilting voice permeated the darkness. And even when Aelin opened her eyes, even when she tried to seek out the light, there was nothing. "Niece, I thought you were stronger than this. But your fear. My, my. How did you ever gain a following? You're so close to falling apart, aren't you?"

Aelin dragged in a breath, the tang of iron and mold coating her tongue and burrowing in her lungs. A chill ran across her limbs, licking up any remnant of sweat. It took far too long to remember the coffin. She was trapped. Entombed. Locked away to be be saved for death. Maybe she’d pushed it too far back in her mind. Maybe she’d tried to give herself some sort of protection.

But it came racing back now in the desire to reach out and throttle that cruel little voice that echoed through the silence.

"No witty words? Fireheart?"

Bile rose in Aelin’s throat as the moniker crossed Maeve's lips. The cruel fae queen was trying to rile her up, trying to make Aelin betray herself. She swallowed the acid down.

Breathe, she thought. Just breathe.

"Don't worry,” Maeve continued, "I'll be gentle. For now."

And that cruel fae queen began the torture she’d always promised.

...

The coffin was cold. Impenetrable. And Aelin was acutely aware of the empty recesses to her magic.

It made her feel lost, distant, utterly remote from everything and anything. As a child and into her young adult years, she'd repressed her magic so much that she'd convinced herself she'd never had it. She’d convinced herself that it was a mere fantasy made up by a poor little girl struggling with reality. But after learning what it was and how to control it, she'd truly understood what it meant to be that wildfire she was so often called.

For a wildfire was more than just a force to be reckoned with.

And now, encased in iron and darkness, her skin burned in desperation. She needed to burn. She needed to feel again.

She didn't know how long she remained in that coffin. It could have been hours; it could have been days. It could have been millennia.

And the one thing that should have been a comfort, that small flutter of life in her womb, was only another cruel thing to use against her. Because just by existing, that life was the cruelest torture the gods had given her.

Aelin managed to brush her hand over her belly. Given the limited space of the coffin, it was a bit awkward, but it comforted her. It gave her just a little bit of hope, even for just the bare moment she gave herself. She had to be careful. She couldn’t let Maeve know. She couldn’t let her guards know.

As soon as they did, they would use it against her. And she couldn't bear what that would entail.

After what felt like years locked away with her own mind, there was finally the sound of rattling chains and grating stone. And then a strike of light fell across her face making her flinch. It had been so long since she'd been touched by light. So long since she'd felt it so freely on her skin. She didn't like it. She didn't trust it.

The coffin opened with a heavy groan and cool air rushed over Aelin, brushing her limbs, her face.

It tasted like salt and wood and death.

She didn't have time to adjust to it when large, calloused hands took hold and yanked her from the coffin. Aelin couldn’t keep her feet as she was set on the ground. She tried. She tried to hold onto that pride that had once so securely owned her. She tried to find that fire that once burned within her. She tried. But it wasn't enough.

Her feet slid on cold marble and her body fell against the outside of the iron coffin. She didn't have time to relax against it though. The cruel hands were back, digging into the flesh of her arms and forcing her to her feet.

Aelin bit back a moan of pain at being forced to move, to walk. She hadn’t been able to stretch within the coffin and her body had grown so used to not moving that even this motion nearly sent her to her knees.

But the male beside her wouldn't let her fall. He was quiet with his harsh eyes and beautiful face turned forward. The only acknowledgment she had that he was aware of her was the way his fingers clung to her skin.

She looked there, his tanned skin a contrast to her own. She could already see the bruises that would come from this. She could already taste the blood that would coat her tongue when Maeve would inevitably have him beat her.

Once she might have tried to tease him. Endovier hadn't broken her, Arobynn hadn’t either. Would she really allow Maeve the dishonor? The little flutter of life in her belly was all the answer she needed.

No. Aelin wouldn't be broken not for the possibility of hope and the image of a boy with his father's pine green eyes. Or maybe a girl with long silver hair that would dance among the forest with flowers in her hands.

What little strength she had went to shielding her stomach and protecting the innocent life. There was no guarantee that this would work for long, no promise that she’d carry to term, not with what she'd already been through and would continue to suffer.

It would take a miracle. And Aelin was sure she’d used all hers up.

Maeve would drag her within an inch of her life. And this little soul would face it too. Bile rose in Aelin’s throat as she thought about that.

The male beside her yanked Aelin to a stop just before the great doors that would lead to Maeve's throne room.

"The queen desires an audience," the male said, his curling blonde hair falling into his eyes. Aelin thought she recognized him as one of Rowan's Cadre.

She met his gaze and lifted her chin, ready to accept her fate.

...

The blood on her lips never stayed dry for long.

Even in her dreams, when she managed to sleep, Aelin was covered in red. It dibbled between her teeth, stained her gums, tainted her lips. Iron and salt were her only companion.

Her dreams never varied.

They were filled with images of forests wide and free. They sang of vast skies and warm burning suns. They hummed with magic that kissed her skin. But most importantly there was Rowan.

Rowan with his commanding presence. Rowan with his cold eyes and hard demeanor. Rowan who was her salvation and hope. Rowan who she could never quite keep close enough. No matter how she tried to chase after, to reach him, it was never enough. He would remain just out of her grasp and Aelin would be alone until her mind spiraled to the edge of an abyss of black.

Alone.

And then she would wake. And Maeve would beat and abuse her again. Again. Again.

Each time she would tell Aelin to give up, to release her magic, to allow Maeve access to her mind. Maeve sought to destroy her and Aelins will was chipped away.

Everyday Aelin would hold on though. She would think about that life within her, that perfect innocent life that she would hold onto. That life that would be a perfect mix of her and Rowan. That life that would live to know peace and hope.

So when the whips came out and the chains rattled on the stone floor, Aelin let her mind return to the darkest shadows of her subconscious that had given birth to Celaena. And as Cairn whispered threats into her ear and his hand were rough and cruel upon her skin, Aelin remembered where she had been and how far she had come.

Even as leather bit into her back and ruined the tattoos that marked her life—Aelin’s mind stayed locked.

Even when she would let out the inevitable scream—Aelin’s heart stayed strong.

Even when her nails tore and tears streamed—Aelin’s will stayed firm.

And when her body was torn and bruised and she returned to the coffin that wouldn't let her die, Aelin found herself staring at that male who led her to her daily torture. He was harsh and cruel and vile. The only thing she could think was that she would delight to see his blood on her hands.

When he didn’t whip her, Cairn would take a knife to her skin and carve into her flesh. Often it was useless strikes and cuts. Other times there were words. Aelin would watch the blood drip down her skin and pool on the marble of the throne room. It was strange seeing such things etched into her skin. Strange to have them burned into her eyes. Stranger still to feel the way the blood oozed in tracks along her arms. Her legs. Her back.

It was wicked and cruel and the male delighted in it.

Every time he drew blood his lips were at her ear. Do you like that, little princess? When her breath would stutter in her lungs he would draw a finger along her jaw. Let me hear you beg, bitch.

Maeve would always heal her though. She took away the marks at the end of a week. What fun was it when the subject of your ire was too cut up to feel anything?

Still. Aelin didn’t beg. She didn’t plead. She only stared forward at the male across the hall who brought her here on his queen’s order.

Fenrys never did speak to her. Only blink. Only blink and offer the barest hints of pressure as his fingers left her skin and delivered her to her prison once again.

...

She remembered the first time she wanted to die.

It was when she was in Arobynn's care. He had shown her how to slit a man's throat from a myriad of positions. This being when she was trapped beneath him. His hands would wander and he’d carefully arrange her just the way he wanted.

He taught her the best way to hold the knife. The best angle to cut. He called her his good girl and praised the chaos she would cause. And then he threw her to the wolves.

As she stared into Maeve’s eyes one day she imagined she could see Arobynn there. The cold delight, the deadly precision, the lack of empathy and care.

Aelin was in a mask of iron. A headpiece that covered her face so only her eyes could see slits of light and color. There was a mouthpiece she was forced to clamp down on with spikes that tore her tongue and the soft flesh of her cheeks and gums. Iron and faebane forged together that caused tears and blood to roll down her face.

Aelin didn't know how long she'd been held. She didn't know how long she'd been directing her magic to protect her baby. From what she could tell there'd been no growth. She was sick often enough that maybe, maybe, maybe it was okay. But she could have lost it and would never know what had finally done it. Only that she hadn't been strong enough.

She was strung up in chains and the iron mask deep in the recesses of Maeve’s palace. Had been for long enough that she stank of piss and vomit. She hadn’t been able to help either occurrence.

As her mind wandered from consciousness to dreams, she fought to focus on something other than the darkness, the pain, the terror. She tried to find something to hold onto. When she tried to think of the babe—it nearly sent her into hysterics. After all, she likely killed the child by submitting to this torture. She wasn’t strong enough to hold off the true pain and agony. She couldn’t protect herself so how, how could she protect that innocent life?

She came to herself as the door of her cell eased open. Aelin snapped to attention, ignoring the pain that tore through her body.

In the dull light from behind the door she could make out the shape of a male. Aelin pulled away even as the brackets around her wrists dug into the worn and tender flesh.

It had to be Cairn. She knew it did. He’d told her many times over that one of these days he’d come to her. He’d break her. He’d see her on her back as he—

“Aelin.”

A soft voice. Far kinder than what she’d expected.

Aelin blinked through tears and the fog surrounding her mind. Through the slits of the mask she could make out the face of Fenrys Moonbeam.

“We don’t have time,” he murmured.

His hands went to the chains at her wrists, making quick work of the locks. As the chains fell away, Aelin collapsed forward. Fenrys caught her easily, his strong arms supporting her as he took care of the chains at her ankles.

“I can’t get the mask,” he said, “not strong enough. Aelin. Look at me.”

A shudder of pain rippled through her. Her tongue cut on one of the spikes in her mouth and blood trickled down her throat. She gagged.

“Aelin,” Fenrys said again. “You have to run. I can get you to the woods but from there you’re on your own. Do you hear me? There is only so long she will be distracted.”

His words slowly pieced together in her mind. Run. Escape. Freedom.

A hand dropped to her abdomen. She couldn’t help it. She wouldn’t apologize for it. And maybe, maybe there was something there.

“Run.” she managed to spit through the iron gag in her mouth the rutted mask around her.

Fenrys wasted no time in leading her through the dungeons.

He supported most of her weight even when she came to herself. They were practically flying down different pathways and channels. Soon, the dank stench of excrement and blood dissipated and was replaced by something sweeter, fresher.

“Almost there,” Fenrys murmured into her ear.

Aelin barely managed a hum in response. She was too busy trying to find one more ounce of strength somewhere in her bones.

A light appeared at the end of the corridor they were moving down. So small, Aelin almost missed it. But the faster Fenrys moved the closer the light came. It was real. So real that in a few hundred yards they came to a grate that led out into freedom.

Fenrys ushed Aelin through the bars but didn’t follow. His fae eyes gleamed in the shadows and she could feel a preternatural power roll off of him.

“Run straight to the trees,” Fenrys told her. “Don’t stop. You cannot stop. You cannot give up. Not yet. He’ll find you; do you understand? He will find you.”

Rowan. She thought. She could only blink her response before Fenrys was shoving her out into the daylight.

It was so different from what she remembered. It wasn’t silent or still. Rather, there was a wind rustling in the trees, a bird in the distance. She could feel cold moss beneath her toes and a dampness in the air of a coming rain.

It was clean and pure and—

Run.

Her knees buckled at the first step. Her legs forgot that they knew this motion. She tried again with another step. Another. Another. Step upon step upon step that would take her directly into the trees.

Her bare feet dug into the detritus of the forest floor. Leave and sticks and dirt kicked up beneath her frantic scrambles. It didn’t help that her vision was so limited with the mask. She could hardly see one step in front of her, let alone two.

It was taking her too long to move. She knew it. She could feel a shift in the air.

What had Fenrys done to provide a distraction? Had anyone else helped him? She had no idea what would have been enough to drag Maeve away from the castle, away from Aelin when she was so close to breaking.

Somewhere behind her, she heard a scream. A roar, really. Something loud and violent that send a shudder through the forest.

Cairn. It had to be. She, his little play thing, was gone. He would come find her, she knew he would.

Aelin pushed herself forward. A tree nearly tossed her off balance but she kept moving. Quicker now. One step in front of the other as her knees picked up. There were far too many brambles and roots to keep her trajectory straight, but she didn’t stop.

She couldn’t stop. Not with one hand cradling her stomach that she swore was rounded just a bit. She hadn’t completely lost her mind, had she?

She couldn’t stop as her senses filled with clean air and fresh upturned earth. All around her, the forest was coming alive with fluttering wings and scampering paws. This was where she belonged, wasn’t it? Wild and free.

She ran.

She ran until her body was begging for relief. Until she could feel the wounds along her body burst and new blood rolled down her frame. Maeve hadn’t healed her for this week yet.

The blood would make it easier for Cairn to track. It would be easier for him to hunt her down and finish what he’d started.

Each of her nerve endings lit up as though they were on fire. All across her body, she felt as though she were disintegrating back into that pathetic ball of utter shame. She couldn’t even run properly let alone get herself to freedom without help. She was—

There was a shift in the air.

It was sudden and stark on her skin. She felt as though she’d stepped into a wall of ice as a chill wrapped around her, curling into every curve and angle of her body. She knew that feeling. She had felt it on many occasions before. Back when she’d been a flickering flame on the verge of burnout and he’d been there to ground her.

Aelin gasped for air desperate for a taste of the world around her.

Rowan. Pine and snow and sweet sweet relief. Rowan. Rowan. Rowan. Aelin stumbled in her frantic run. She could smell him. He was so close she could feel him and his strength and as desperation rolled through her, Aelin found her magic slowly unfurling. It quivered within her as it slowly rolled forth.

Rowan.

Rowan

Rowan.

She kept running. Running until she heard something in the trees around her. Running until she could smell magic in the air. Running until she burst into a clearing, stumbling to her knees. All the strength she’d put forth was eaten up. Her body so tired, her mind so numb. She didn’t know if she could go any further. But she could feel him, so immersive and familiar.

Aelin.

Her name whispered through the trees, light and cool.

Aelin,

Her name rang with desperation as it shuddered among the surrounding trees.

“Aelin!”

Her name was fierce and strong coming from the one person she'd thought about most in the last few months. Aelin managed to look up as Rowan fell to the ground in front of her. Even on his knees, he was massive. His broad frame blocked out anything from view as his magic pulsed between them.

“Aelin,” he whispered. Strong arms came around her as though they could offer security or protection.

Aelin shuddered in Rowan’s grasp as she tried to pull away.

“Off. Off. Take it off.” She demanded. Her fingers scrabbled at the metal mask over her face. Blood dribbled from the corners of her mouth and pain landed through her, but she didn't care. All she cared about was getting that damned mask off.

“It’s alright, Fireheart,” Rowan murmured. “Look at me. Look at me, love.”

In her frantic scrambling she’d twisted in his grasp and was now facing him. His green eyes found hers and for the first time in so many months, Aelin could breathe.

“Rowan,” she gasped. The metal mouthpiece scraped against her tender skin. All she cared about was Rowan before her.

His hands were gentle as they ran along the seam of the mask and Aelin’s neck. He kept talking to her in a mix of the old language and common tongue. She didn’t know what he was saying—couldn’t focus on anything but his hands—but it was the soothing lilt of his voice that kept her grounded.

She didn't know how long it took but soon the metal fell free and she could feel cool air on her face and tears tracked down her face.

A sob escaped her as she slumped against Rowan. His arms tightened around her as he murmured sweet assurances in her ear.

The relief didn’t last long.

Not as a new figure emerged from the trees. Aelin didn’t have to see his face to know who it was. She could smell her own blood on the long blade in his grasp.

Aelin dug her fingers into Rowan’s arm, the hard muscle unyielding as he slowly shifted her away from Cairn.

“Two little lambs,” Cairn crooned, “all ready for the slaughter.”

…

Rowan Whitethorn was a warrior. Three hundred years of life on this earth had turned him from a simple boy in his father’s land to a fae that yearned for the hunt.

He was not afraid of it. Nor was he averse to it. He respected the way of war and the blood that would be shed.

At least until this very moment.

Aelin shuddered in his grasp as she flinched away from the sight of Cairn. Aelin who was strong and capable and the most powerful creature he’d known shuddered. Rowan felt his body tense as he stood, gently leaving Aelin kneeling on the ground.

This male had touched her, had hurt her. And he was going to regret it.

“Cairn,” Rowan growled.

Magic thrummed in his bones and sang through his blood until it was all around him. He could feel power rising up from the deepest wells of his being, the very places he swore he would never touch.

Cain on cocked his head to the side as a predatory smile stretched across his mouth. “I think I’ll enjoy killing you, Whitethorn. And when my hands are covered in your blood I’ll take your little bitch and fu—”

Rowan attacked.

He drew the sword strapped to his back and a smaller knife strapped to his side and burned. His ice magic felt hot at it wrapped around him, urging him on. In a scant few steps, he was lunging for Cairn.

The other male hadn’t been expecting this. He fell back one step but it was all Rowan needed. He went for the exposed belly, swiping with his dagger. Cairn barely dodged and retaliated by drawing a knee up. Rowan threw him back with an icy snap of wind. The force of it threw Ciarn against a tree.

A resounding crack echoed through the forest as Rowan stalked forward.

Cairn struggled against the magic that held him. Surprise was written clear on his face. The fool either hadn’t remembered what Rowan was capable of or thought his pathetic alliance with Maeve would somehow save him.

Rowan would relish in the scent of blood that day.

…

Aelin didn't know how long it took or how it actually happened, but soon she was gathered in Rowans arms and he was running with her through the forest.

She could still smell the stench of fire and burning flesh on the air. She could still see the way Rowan moved towards Cairn with his weapons raised. She could still hear the last of Cairn’s screams on the wind.

Rowan had held nothing back in his attack. He’d taken his time to carve into Cairn’s flesh, to draw out as much pain and misery as he could.

Aelin could only watch. Watch and thank the gods for what Rowan was capable of.

Now, they eventually came to where Aelin’s growing army was camped, but she could hardly notice or care about the numbers that were gathering. All she could do was fall against Rowans chest and let him watch over her.

Even when Lysandra and Elide came to help bath and dress and treat the wounds that marred her skin. It was hard to do while stool as sentinel growling when anyone moved too close or too quick.

But Aelin couldn't bring herself to really notice or care. Not when Elide’s gentle fingers wove her damp hair into a braid and Lysandra rubbed oils and lotion into Aelin’s raw skin.

She couldn't hold back the flinch when Lysandra brushed her belly as she pulled a tunic over Aelin’s head. Lysandra froze remembering that night on the ship when Aelin told her she was with child.

"Aelin," Lysandra whispered. She hovered close, eyes darting to where Rowan glowered.

"What?" He demanded. "Is something wrong? Do we need Yrene?"

Aelin squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe it was better if Yrene came to tell her that her worst fears had been realized. But she couldn't bring herself to say the words. Even as Rowan's magic enveloped her, Aelin couldn't look at him.

"Sleep," she rasped. "I just want to sleep."

Maybe she'd be able to disappear into the darkness that had been her only companion. Maybe she'd be able to forget for one moment—

In an instant both Lysandra and Elide were gone and she was back in Rowan's arms. His nose was buried in her neck, arms tight around her.

"You're safe, Fireheart, " he told her. "I promise. You can rest now. Put down your magic, love. It's been flaring for too long now."

Aelin buried her fingers in his tunic until she found his bare flesh and she could feel him beneath her. Was she still flaring her magic? She'd grown so accustomed to holding that shield up around herself that it was second nature even in her exhausted state.

“Rowan,” she whispered, his name a balm against her lips. “I’m sorry.”

He held her tighter against his chest. “For what?”

But she was already asleep.

…

There were hands digging into her skin. Determined hands that picked and prodded as they tore her apart. They ripped at the thin nightgown she wore even as she tried to pull and tug away. But no matter what she did, there was no escape.

One hand went to her throat, fingers tightening until she was struggling for breath. The other hand flexed across her stomach, the touch rough and cold.

“I’ll make you scream,” a voice said. It didn’t take long for her to place that cold, cruel voice. “And then you’ll kneel before me and beg for mercy.”

Aelin’s own scream finally pulled her from the nightmare. She thrashed wildly, desperate to get away from Cairn’s horrific torture.

“Aelin, Aelin.” Another voice, different. A new set of hands came over her, these careful in the way they held her. “Fireheart, you’re safe.”

A snarl tore from her lips, she couldn’t help it. All she could hear was Cairn’s laugh and feel the way his knife cut her skin. She needed to get away. She could focus on nothing other than the how small this tent space and how best she could escape it.

“She needs to calm down, Prince,” a soft voice said from her left, “for her own safety.”

Aelin whirled toward the voice just as a pair of hands went to her waist, firm as they tried to hold her still. They were too close to her belly that Aelin couldn’t help the defensive flare that rose within her. Her instincts took over as she grabbed one of the hands and twisted it away. A flicker of fire raced from her fingers to singe her captor.

They grunted but held on tighter. Ice met her fire and in a low hiss, the small flames burned out.

Blinking rapidly, Aelin looked up to meet the pine green eyes of Rowan.

“Rowan,” she whispered. Her flames disappeared as she took him in.

Yes. This was right. He had come for her. He had held her. He had decimated Cairn as though it were his right.

“Aelin.” Rowan stared at her unblinking. There was caution in his eyes as he regarded her, as though he were expecting her to lash out and burn him again.

The planes of his face were hard as stone as she took him in. He was ragged with bags under his eyes and stubble on his chin. But it was still Rowan. Her Rowan.

“You found me,” she croaked, her voice broken from the screams. You found us.

She released him, nearly pushing him away as everything came back to her.

Oh to fade back into that darkness that was always so welcoming and good to her. That darkness that she could sink into and let take over. If she could disappear, she could forget. She could forget the pain and the fear. She could forget the whips and the whispers. She could forget that she had certainly destroyed the one bit of happiness that was left for her in this world.

Rowan didn’t move as he watched her. But she did note the way his eyes did finally dip from her face down to her stomach.

No. No. No.

Aelin shrunk away from him. She couldn’t bear to look at him, couldn’t bear to tell him—

She remembered the other body in the tent with them. Aelin turned to see Yrene standing near the closed tent flaps. She had her hair pulled back with a scrap of cloth, her warm brown skin was flushed and the hazel of her eyes was dimmed from the last time Aelin had seen her.

Of course the healer was here. Why wouldn’t she be if Aelin was so broken and torn apart? And if Aelin had killed—

“Aelin,” Yrene said softly. She held out a hand in supplication. “Aelin, it’s alright. You’re still healing. I did the best I could for now.”

Bile rose in Aelin’s throat at the words. Still healing. The best she could. Her fingers wound into the front of her tunic. The walls she’d been trying to keep up were frail and weak. She knew she was hemorrhaging emotions and information directly for Rowan to pick up on but she was so tired.

“Tell me,” Aelin managed to say. She couldn’t finish the thought but when Yrene’s features softened, she knew she’d been understood.

At her back, Aelin could feel Rowan. He didn’t touch her, not yet, but he was there. His strong presence buoyed Aelin up as she waited for Yrene’s answer.

The healer nodded once before managing a smile. “Five months, your majesty. You’re malnourished and need to gain weight, but—as far as I can tell right now—the baby is fine. Small but fine.”

Aelin could only stare as Yrene took her leave and left the tent.

Small but fine. Small but fine. Small but—

“Rowan.” Aelin reached a hand back until she found him. He took her hand in his and pulled her back against his chest, his other arm tentatively wrapping around her. “I thought…I thought I lost it. I thought I wasn’t, that I didn’t—”

Her words were cut off as a sob rose in her throat. When her legs gave out from the exertion of the past five minutes, Rowan was there to catch her. He held her against him as they both sank to the ground, wrapped up in each other as Aelin cried.

Rowan only held her. His face was once against buried in her neck; his lips soft against her skin as he whispered something in the Old Language. She had longed for a moment like this for so long that she didn’t dare move. Instead, she held on to Rowan as her cries continued and eventually her body stopped shaking.

It was then that Rowan lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the small cot she’d been sleeping in earlier. He laid her down gently before curling around her. One of his large hands hovered near her stomach but he didn’t dare touch her.

“You knew,” he said, his voice was rough and worn. “You knew before Maeve took you.”

Aelin closed her eyes to the sight of Rowan’s own mournful gaze. He’d been crying same as her.

With a long breath, she took her hand in his and rested it on that too small swell. As soon as he touched her, Rowan’s body went stiff then slack, then a shudder nearly broke him apart. His hold on her tightened just barely before stopping. Aelin could feel the trembles taking him as he waited. She pressed his hand more firmly against her, holding him there even when he tried to pull away.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she bowed her head forward until she rested against his chin. “I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

“I could have lost you,” he said, breath fanning over her hair.

“I didn’t think it was real,” she said. “I told myself it couldn’t be. And then I was in that coffin and I knew. I knew what I had done. And it would be my fault if—if—”

She felt another wave of tears come over her and she stopped talking. Rowan gently cradled her chin in his hand, tilting her face up. She kept her eyes closed, unable to look at him.

“And when C-c, when he started to hurt me,” she continued, forcing the words through trembling lips, “I put all my energy into trying to keep it real, to keep the—the baby safe. But every day I thought that would be it, that would be the time I failed. I’d already failed you, so why not that life?”

Rowan’s hand flexed against her stomach and his lips grazed her forehead, her eyes, her lips.

“You’d never fail me,” he assured her.

Was he not hearing her or was she not speaking clear enough? “I didn’t tell you.”

“You said it yourself; you didn’t think you were,” he said. “And when was the time? Everything happened so fast.”

His voice trailed off and Aelin finally opened her eyes. He was watching her with an unreadable expression. Aelin felt her heart tug. She had imagined him so many times in her captivity. He’d often been a dim voice in the back of her mind, but he’d been there nonetheless. Sometimes it had been him and only him that got her through a day.

“Rowan.” She kept her hand firmly over his where it rested on her belly. “I’m scared. When I close my eyes, I swear I’m back there. And when I sleep? I already nearly burned you. How can I do this? How can I do anything of this? Not just a child, but a war? How can I be strong enough when I’ve fallen apart so many times already?”

"You're not alone, Fireheart," he said. His voice was so soft Alein almost thought she'd imagined it. She watched that hard, carefully crafted expression of his soften. "Not anymore. But if this is too much, if you don't want— "

Aelin squeezed his hand knowing what he was suggesting. He broke off and only watched her.

"I choose this," she said. "And I choose you, Rowan Whitethorn. "

He nodded once at her words before leaning in to kiss her.

His lips were soft against hers. Soft and gentle as he explored her again. And Aelin, desperate for that feeling and taste of home, kissed him back. Rowan rested his hands on her hips as she rolled on top of him.

From there, she quickly took control, her mouth moving urgently against his until she was pulling his lower lip, sucking gently but needful. Her hands were roving his body tugging at Rowans tunic, the buttons of his pants. She needed him. Needed every bit of him that she could get.

And when they came together with careful kisses and whispered promises Aelin found for the first time, she was able to banish that terrible darkness away.

They still had so far to go and so much to learn—but they would get there together.

.*.*.*.*.*.