#𑁋 ⸢ swear on the breath that i breathe. ╱ arc. aftermath. ⸥

[essentiamortis]

@trustforged liked for a small starter

"how are you adjusting back to camp life?" she's standing in the doorway of cabin nine - bony fingers running along the edge of her stygian iron dagger. elizabeth means him no ill will - she just missed her blades.

[essentiamortis]

elizabeth groans, slumping back against the booth. arms cross over her chest, "i'm not trying to pay you off or anything like that. don't you dare compare me to the olympians. i was simply referring about the pizza." she gestures with her hand towards the register and subsequently the owner. another sigh as she crosses her arms once more. the icy tone in ethan's voice send a chill down into her bones and she's thankful for the warmth of her jacket. she'd turn it back to its original form of her father's old cloak but felt it would be in poor taste.

her anger flares - a clear sign of it being the purple flames within her eyes. she knew making amends with those she hurt would never be easy - the fates would never be that kind to her. they already allowed her to have a wonderful childhood within her father's domain. everything else - like earning ethan's forgiveness - she'd have to prove herself worthy.

"i am telling you the TRUTH, nakamura." his last name comes out more as a growl. "dadd-" she stops herself, clearing her throat. "my father only wanted information on what kronos' was up too. i never spilled any of your secrets to him. he'll uncover all of them once your soul resides in his domain. he'll pull your darkest secrets from the depths of your subconscious - secrets and more that you never once realized was there. anything you or the other demigods, luke's included - i never once whispered them into any immortals' ear." her eyes lock in with his before she continues, "that i swear upon the river styx and with the fates as my witnesses." the thunder booming around them outside as the oath was sworn.

elizabeth uncrosses her arms, leaning against the table. "as you say - i do own it. once again - that wasn't the plan father and i had." she throws her hands up, falling back into the worn cushion, "but no, nico had to convince him to fight." and she so wanted to be the one that declared hades and persephone as the new king and queen of the gods.

"do you know why i choose to use one of my father's epithets as my last name?" aside from it being the one that he used as his last name when he pretended to be a mortal man named henry klymenos. "it means 'notorious' and 'renowned'. i briefly considered using aidoneus but i decided to go with something that connects me with both hades and persephone. 'τότε ας είμαστε διαβόητοι ' - then let us be notorious. is what she said before eating those infamous pomegranate seeds." she chuckles silently to herself. oh, how often she asked to be told that story again and again - not demeter's hymn but their beginning in their words.

"as for the camp situation - cut your losses. no matter what cabins they build - things won't change. it might seem like things are changing for the better on the surface but it's just a bandaid fix. gods break their oaths all the time and they don't get punished for it. history repeats itself time and time again. the children of the chthonic deities should stick together. i don't care if what i have to do to be granted your forgiveness but i also accept the realistic possibility of that never happening. you can hate me, curse me all your life long - i'm still going to care about you and the others. i'm always going to do my best to look out for you all. just as i continue to do for luke and his legacy and mother."

Ethan scowls darkly. “Appease me, huh? Like you can just pay me off to forget what happened? Do some quests and win my forgiveness? Like the Olympians? Yeah, sure, Elizabeth. Appease me. That’s totally how this works.” 

His appetite is rapidly waning, so he puts his arms on the table in front of him, signaling for Monty to hold off for now.

The other demigod seems to be giving them space, blessedly. 

“Don’t apologize. Just commit to it, Klymenos.” The son of Nemesis cocks his head. “You think I care what you told them about me? No, Elizabeth, it’s not about that, and it’s never been. See, I can make peace with the knowledge that whatever people say about me behind my back will bite them in their asses later, courtesy of my own mom. Lie about me? You’ll see the consequences for that eventually. Spill my secrets? Better not have any of your own.” He drums his fingers on the table. 

“See, I don’t need to be afraid of whatever you blabbed about to your dad; what I need to fear,” his fidgeting stills, and he splayed out his hands on the table, leaning forward to make sure she’s looking him in the eye, “Is what else you could lie to my face about. What else you could say that I’ll believe like an idiot. You played me for a fool, Klymenos, and I don’t let go of shit like that easily.”

He sighs, leans back against his seat. Doesn’t break eye contact. “But I don’t wanna see you groveling, either. Own it, Elizabeth. You did betray us. And I betrayed the camp. Think they’re gonna see me as a trusty ally ever again? Of course not, and they’re right for it. Now, whatever you’re doing here on the surface, maybe you should go do it.”

[d-z20]

What We Have Left

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: After surviving the Witches' Road, you and Agatha find solace in caring for each other as you navigate the aftermath—her haunted by nightmares and you recovering from near-fatal injuries. (canon-divergence)

Warnings: physical hurt (R), emotional hurt (A), comfort

Words: 1.4k

A/N: Another request fic :) It took me so long to figure out how Agatha and Reader could survive without taking away from Agatha's character arc so it's as close to canon as possible.

AO3 | Master List

After the chaos of what happened with Rio and Billy, you don’t know exactly how you survived. The last thing you remember is the weight of magic swirling violently around you, the air crackling with danger. Agatha had been ready to sacrifice herself, a final act of redemption that would have consumed her completely. But something had shifted in the moments before her fate was sealed—your desperate magic, unpredictable and wild, surged in response to her intent. In a flash, it felt as though time bent, reality warping around you both. A surge of energy, as if the universe itself had decided you were both not yet finished, had pulled you from the brink of destruction.

But it had also sent you flying backward. 

You’d crashed into a jagged outcrop of stone, your already fragile body sustaining more injuries. A deep wound had opened along your side, nearly severing you in half, and your chest felt like it was caving in with each strained breath. It wasn’t just exhaustion; it was the real fear that you wouldn’t make it. You were too close to death, the darkened edge of your vision creeping in, when Agatha’s hand in yours had pulled you back from that final brink. You weren’t sure how, but it felt like she was holding you together in those final moments before you slipped into unconsciousness.

—

Your injuries keep you from being able to get upstairs, so you spend your days and nights on the couch trying to recover. Agatha promises to stay close, swearing she’ll sleep in the armchair beside you. But every night, you wake to find her pacing instead, her movements restless and agitated, her silhouette framed by the faint light above the stove.

The house is quiet tonight, save for the rhythmic sound of Agatha pacing in the next room. The soft creak of the floorboards betrays her unease, a subtle sound that feels much louder in the stillness. You know the routine by now—she doesn't scream out or cry, but she can’t seem to stay still. She’s trying to outrun something, her breath coming quicker, hitching in the air as though there's a monster that won’t let her rest. The nightmares are worse tonight. You can feel her anxiety through the walls—a tension in the house that makes it hard to breathe.

You lie back on the couch, a thin blanket draped over your legs, shifting carefully to avoid pulling at the bandages wrapped around your ribs. The dull ache is persistent, a reminder of what the Road has taken. What it has demanded.

“You’re awake.”

Her voice startles you, and you turn your head to see her standing in the doorway. She looks dishevelled, her hair wild and her lips chewed raw. Agatha Harkness, once a picture of control and sharp wit, seems smaller these days. Her sharp, calculating eyes are clouded now.

“So are you,” you reply softly, watching as she crosses the room and lowers herself into the chair beside you.

She looks at the floor, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater. “I didn’t mean to wake you. The dreams... They’re worse tonight.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing hers gently. “You didn’t wake me. Couldn’t sleep from the pain anyway.”

Her eyes flick to your bandages, her gaze lingering on the blood seeping through them. Her face tightens in frustration, but there’s something darker beneath the surface—a flicker of panic in her eyes. Her hands tremble as they hover near your side, as though she wants to help but is afraid to make things worse. She’s breathing faster now, her chest rising and falling with each uneven inhale. “You’re still in pain.”

“It’s manageable,” you lie, though you know she can see right through you. She always does.

Agatha stands abruptly, her movements sharp. “Let me change the dressing. It’ll help.” She doesn’t wait for you to agree, disappearing into the kitchen and returning with the first aid kit.

She kneels by your side, her hands surprisingly gentle as she helps you sit up, unwrapping the bandages with practiced precision. Her fingers linger on the jagged cut running along your side.

“This one’s healing slower than the others,” she mutters, more to herself than to you.

You wince as she cleans the wound, but you keep your focus on her face. Her brow is furrowed, her lips pressed into a tight line. She is concentrating, but you can see the tremor in her hands.

“Agatha.”

She doesn’t look up. “Almost done.”

“Agatha.” Your voice softens. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Her hands still. For a moment, the only sound is your breathing, uneven and shallow. Then she shakes her head. “It was, though. I led us there. I put you in danger.”

“And we both survived,” you counter. “That’s what matters.”

She finishes rewrapping the bandage in silence, her hands lingering on your side before pulling away. She sits back on her heels, staring at the floor.

You reach for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She hesitates, her eyes flickering toward the window as if searching for an escape. But then her gaze softens, and she looks back at you. “I see them, you know,” she says quietly. “In my dreams. The ones we lost. Lilia, Alice, Mrs. Ha—Sharon... I see them; I hear their voices.”

Her voice cracks, and she quickly looks away, but not before you catch the glint of tears in her eyes.

You lean forward, wincing as pain flares in your ribs. “They don’t blame you, Agatha. None of them do.”

“How would you know?” she whispers, her tone tinged with bitterness. “You can’t know.”

“Because I know you,” you say firmly. “And I know you did everything you could.”

Her expression crumbles, and for a moment, she looks so much younger, so much more fragile than you’ve ever seen her. The indomitable Agatha Harkness, finally undone by the weight of her own guilt.

You cup her face with your hand, your thumb brushing away a tear that slips free. “Agatha,” you murmur, your voice soft. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

“And what about you?” Her eyes open, sharp and searching. “You’re the one who nearly died, and you’re still acting like you have to take care of me.”

“I want to take care of you,” you say simply.

“I’m not sure I deserve it,” she murmurs, her voice cracking. Her hands shake slightly as she tugs at the hem of her sweater, the fabric clutched too tightly in her fists as if trying to steady herself. She won’t look at you, but you can see the tremor in her jaw. It’s a subtle thing, but you know that she’s fighting against something much bigger than just guilt. There’s a panic beneath it, a fear that maybe she can never escape what happened, that the person she is now—the one who’s failed so many—is someone who doesn’t deserve forgiveness, or love, or even peace.

“Too bad,” you say with a weak smile.

Agatha’s hand comes to rest over yours, holding it against her cheek. “You’re a stubborn witch,” she says, a hint of her usual wit breaking through.

“Takes one to know one,” you reply, your smile growing.

For a long moment, the two of you stay like that, the silence between you no longer heavy but filled with something softer.

“I didn’t actually know what I wanted from the Road,” you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them.

Agatha’s eyes open, and she looks at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What do you mean?”

“I thought I wanted knowledge,” you admit. “Or power. Or maybe to finally understand myself.” You hesitate, searching for the right words. “My magic’s always been... all over the place. Never strong enough in one area to fit anywhere. Protection spells don’t hold long, potions are hit or miss, divination’s a disaster... I thought the Road could give me something to make me belong.”

“And did it? Since Billy’s maybe made it real and all that,” she asks softly.

You nod your head. “Yes. It gave me you.”

Her breath hitches, and for a moment, you think you’ve said too much. But then she leans forward, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss so gentle it makes your heart ache.

It isn’t a kiss born of desperation or passion. It’s something quieter, something fragile. A shared promise that, no matter how broken the two of you might be, you’ll face it together.

When she pulls back, her hand lingers on your cheek. “I don’t deserve you,” she murmurs.

“You do,” you say firmly.

For a long moment, she’s silent, her lips pressed together as she absorbs your words. You can almost see her mind racing behind her eyes, calculating the weight of your reassurance. Her expression shifts just slightly, and for the first time since the Road, you see a flicker of something like peace in her gaze—a brief, fragile relief that she doesn’t have to bear the whole world’s weight on her shoulders alone. It’s like she’s finally starting to believe it. Then she exhales a shaky breath and stands, pulling the blanket up to cover you more securely.

“Get some rest,” she says softly. “I’ll be here.”

“And you?” you ask, catching her hand before she can pull away. “Will you sleep?”

Her lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile. “Maybe.”

“Liar,” you tease gently.

She sighs, her thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I’ll try. For you.”

She stays by your side that night, her hand clasped in yours as you drift into a fitful but comforting sleep. Whatever the Road has taken from you, it has left this: a bond forged in fire, unshakeable and enduring.

[fortheloveofwonderland]

No Distance Left to Run | Part 2 | S.R

Previous Part | Next Part

Chapter Summary - On Rossi’s wedding day, Spencer discovers something that could change everything. You are still reeling from the aftermath of your confession and from events that transpired with your husband a few days prior.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / BAU Fem! Reader

Category - friends to lovers | mutual pining | angst with happy ending | smut minors DNI

Warnings - spoilers for 14.02 Starter Home, 13.23 Believer, 14.01 300, 14.14 Sick and Evil, very brief mentions of therapy, burns, abusive relationship, drinking, typical case related stuff, allusions to sex, hints at cheating, swearing, prison arc, abuse statistics, violence, arguing, tears, strangulation, hints at sexual assault.

WC - 9.7k

Part 2 - Never Have I Ever

Present Day

You inhaled deeply until your lungs couldn’t physically hold any more air. You held your breath while you counted to five in your head. Then you slowly exhaled the breath through your nose. You repeated the action three more times.

It was a tactic your therapist had forced upon you, to employ when you were feeling overwhelmed. At first you’d thought it was dumb, not believing the simple act of breathing could help bring you back from the brink. But time and time again you were proven wrong. 

Once you had calmed your rattled nerves you went to pick up the glass of wine from the coffee table. As you leaned to get it, your shirt sleeve rolled up a few inches, the pink scar on your forearm almost in the perfect shape of the state of Florida, caught your eye. 

That’s what Luke had told you in the hospital while the doctor was debriding your burn. 

“It kinda looks like Florida.”

“Excuse me?” 

“The wound. It looks like the shape of Florida.” 

His strange comment had made you laugh and it had taken your mind off of the pain of the doctor scraping debris from your wound. You supposed that had been Luke’s plan.

Before you picked up your glass you found yourself running your fingertips over the scar. It had been a long time since it caused you any pain, physical pain anyway. The residual mental anguish was yet to vanish entirely. It wasn’t the only scar adorned on your body, but it was the one that was the hardest to hide. 

In those days Spencer had taken the brunt of your anger. It hadn’t been deliberate, you didn’t mean to take your frustrations out on your best friend. It was almost a miracle after the way you’d treated him that he still called you his best friend. 

You pushed him away during that time, because if anyone was going to get to the bottom of what was going on it would be Spencer. He knew you so well, sometimes you thought he knew you better than you knew yourself. And he’d already started piecing together the truth that day in the Guymon police department. 

Maybe if you’d told him sooner he could have helped. Maybe if you’d just been honest with him that day when he asked, things wouldn’t have gone on for so long. 

“Did Jared do this to you?” 

“What? How can you even ask me that?” 

“That wasn’t an answer. You’re deflecting.”

“I didn’t think a dumb question warranted an answer.”

“You’re doing it again. Did he hurt you?” 

“Stop it, Spencer. Just stop it, ok? Stop it.” 

You were a strong, independent and fierce woman. You didn’t want to admit to your best friend, or anyone for that matter, that your husband was abusive. 

Was abusive. Past tense. 

You couldn’t fight back at home because it would make things so much worse, so instead you took your anger and your pain out on the one person who had done nothing but care about you since the moment you’d met him. 

And despite what you put Spencer through, he’d never once turned his back on you. This time however, you might have gone too far. 

You finally picked up the wine glass and sunk back against the couch cushions. You’d really messed up this time. You’d messed up with Spencer before, plenty of times, but this seemed worse somehow. 

After all these years you had absolutely no right to tell Spencer how you felt about him. You’d always known he was in love with you and you’d had ample opportunity to tell him you felt the same. 

Too much time had passed, too much had changed. He’d been single almost the entire time you’d known him, with the exception of Maeve. You’d had plenty of time before you met Jared to tell him how you felt. 

But now for the first time in the fifteen years you’d known him he was in a steady relationship. Max was sweet and uncomplicated and she seemed to make Spencer happy. 

They’d been dating around four months now and things seemed to be good between them. When he’d introduced her to the team, he’d been beaming, happier than you’d ever seen him. 

“Guys, this is Max. My…girlfriend.” 

No one even had a suspicion he’d been dating someone before he brought her along for drinks with the team just over a month ago. No one had a clue. 

“Girlfriend?” JJ spoke to everyone's confusion. 

“Yeah,” he blushed slightly, wrapping an arm around Max’s petite shoulders. 

“How long has this been going on for?” Emily smiled around her glass. 

“A few months.” Max answered for him. 

“After all these years the kid is still so hard to read.” Rossi chuckled. “It’s very nice to meet you, Max. I’m Dave.” 

You’d merely stood and stared as one by one the BAU agents introduced themselves to the slight brunette, meanwhile Spencer smiled proudly at her side. 

It wasn’t until later on in the evening Spencer found you outside the bar, leaning up against the wall and staring at the starry night sky.

“Hey,” he tentatively approached you. “You’ve been awfully quiet tonight.” 

You wanted to shake it off, to tell him you were just tired or something. But for some reason you couldn’t bite your tongue. 

“You remember when I got engaged?” You frowned at him, unable to hold back.

“Uh, of course I do?” His brows furrowed, not sure where you were going with this.

“I told you that I owed you more than having to find out at the same time as the rest of the team, that I should have told you first.” 

Spencer sighed with a slow nod of understanding. 

“You’re annoyed that I didn’t tell you about Max.” 

“Bravo, genius.” You scoffed.

You were a little on the rogue side of tipsy. Had you been more sober you wouldn’t have dared bring this up. 

“Well as I told you when you got engaged, you didn’t owe me anything. The same way I didn’t owe you anything.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s different and you know it.” You spat. 

“It's no different.” He shook his head. “You left. You walked away. You made it perfectly clear that it didn’t mean anything to you so finally I met someone else.” 

“I never said it didn’t mean anything.” You scoffed, he was putting words into your mouth.

“No you’re right, you didn’t.” He stepped closer to you. “You didn’t say anything. For six months you haven’t once brought it up and I didn’t either because I didn’t want to look like an idiot. But you just left without a word and then you acted like it never happened. So I met Max and considering you’ve barely said two words to me in the last half a year, I didn’t think I needed to explain myself to you.” 

A tear escaped your eye as you pictured the way Spencer had looked at you that night and then the way he’d looked at you today. 

He’d been well within his right not to tell you about Max after what you’d done. He was right, you’d left and you’d never mentioned it again. You had tried to pretend it never happened because realistically it shouldn’t have happened. 

But it had and there was no changing that. Just because you wouldn’t talk about it didn’t make it any less real. And now for over seven months you had tried to forget it ever happened, but there was no forgetting. 

You sipped your wine and wiped your eyes before any more tears could fall. You heard the floorboards overhead creak with soft footsteps. You held your breath and listened intently as they crossed the room. 

You heard a door open gently and then the same footsteps on the landing. Another door opened and closed. A few minutes later you heard the toilet flush followed by water running in the sink.

You continued to hold your breath as the door opened and closed again and the footsteps headed closer to the stairs rather than back towards the bedroom. 

You downed your glass of wine as the footsteps started down the stairs towards you. 

***

Seven Months Ago

You gravitated down the hall without recalling telling your feet to do so. It was like a magnetic pull, as though you didn’t have control over your own movements. 

The case had taken the team to Varnville, South Carolina on what had initially looked to be a cold case when a mummified body was discovered in a wall. Rossi had gone on ahead to review the case and upon discovering a wealth of other bodies, dead between twenty years and one, the rest of you joined him.

You’d been worried about Spencer for weeks now, ever since his ordeal with Ben’s Believers and Benjamin Merva. He still had some residual bruising peppering his otherwise alabaster skin, as well as a scar forming on his lower lip. 

He’d tried to put on a brave face, mostly for Penelope who was suffering from PTSS from the abduction. But you knew Spencer well enough to know he wasn’t dealing with the aftermath as well as he liked to pretend. 

After Emily had called it a night and sent you all back to the hotel at around two am, you hadn’t been able to sleep. And somehow your body had moved without your meaning to do so, out of the room and down the corridor until you were standing outside of another door and knocking on it. 

You knocked quietly in case he was asleep but somehow you knew he wouldn’t be. You heard some shuffling from inside the room and then footsteps padding closer.

He opened the door and didn’t look at all surprised to see you. He’d changed out of his work attire and wore a pair of dark green flannel pants, a plain white t-shirt with his signature mismatched socks, one yellow and one red. Even after all these years it still shocked you a little to see him out of a suit and tie. 

“I’m fine, Y/N.” He offered you a meek smile, clearly knowing why you were here.

“Can I come in?” You asked gently. 

He swiped his tongue along his bottom lip before rolling it between his teeth. With a sigh, he nodded and held the door open for you. 

“You’ve barely talked about what happened.” You spoke as you were closing the door behind you. 

“That’s because there isn’t much to say.” He shrugged, moving across the room and leaning up against the desk. 

“Merva nearly killed you.” You swore if you squinted your eyes you would be able to see the knife still pressed against his Adam’s apple. 

“But he didn’t kill me. And I’m fine.” 

“If we were a second later Spence-”

“But you weren’t.” He chuckled, cutting you off. “You made it in time and I’m ok.” 

“It’s ok if you aren’t. What you went through was traumatic. You don’t have to pretend to be fine for me, Spencer.” 

“You’re a hypocrite.” He rolled his eyes, his tone changing sharply. 

“Excuse me?” You frowned. 

“How many times have I asked you if you were ok only to have you pretend you’re fine when your husband was abusing you?” He spat out, pushing himself away from the desk. 

Your back went rigid, your shoulders squared. You ground your teeth furiously. 

“Wow, thanks for making me wish I hadn’t bothered to check in. I was only trying to help and you go and throw that in my face?” You shook your head in disappointment. 

“And I was only trying to help you!” 

“I didn’t need your help!” 

“So you were just going to let him use you as a punching bag forever?” He scoffed. 

“It’s complicated and you know it.” You folded your arms to protect yourself. From what you weren’t sure. 

“It shouldn’t be.” He shook his head. 

“I didn’t come here to talk about Jared. I wanted to make sure you were ok but clearly that was a mistake.” You spun on your heels back towards the door and started marching towards it. 

He exhaled noisily, raking his fingers through his hair. 

“I’m not ok.” He confessed, his tone sounding as though it pained him to admit. You slowly turned back to him. “I haven’t been ok for a long time. It’s been a really bad few years.” 

“You’ve been through a lot.” You nodded, cautiously stepping back closer to him. “I don’t think you ever really got past your incarceration, everything that happened with Cat.”

“I didn’t.” He admitted with a shake of his head. “I know all the right things to say to a therapist so they would reinstate me. But I’m barely holding it together. Prison and Cat, Mr Scratch and then the Believers. It’s been a lot.” 

“It’s ok not to be ok.” You whispered, reaching him now and placing your hands on his shoulders to try and ground him. “I haven’t been there for you the way I should have been.”

“You’ve had a lot going on yourself.” He sniffed. 

“It didn’t stop you trying to be there for me. Instead of helping you, I’ve been pushing you away.” 

“It’s ok.” He shrugged. 

“No, it’s not.” You shook your head. “I’m sorry that I…I wasn’t strong enough to walk away from him.” 

“Strength had nothing to do with it. You’re without a doubt the strongest woman I have ever met.” He told you frankly, his own hands moving to cup your lower back.

“I married the wrong man.” You whimpered, glancing at your left hand on Spencer’s shoulder and the silver wedding band on your finger. “I knew it when he proposed to me. I knew it when I was walking down that aisle. And you knew it too, you were just too polite to tell me the truth.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded stiffly. “You did marry the wrong man.” 

A silent understanding passed between the two of you, the kind of understanding that existed only between two people who knew each other inside and out. 

And when he leaned in closer and his lips brushed against yours, it felt right. It felt like the most normal thing in the whole world. 

It continued to feel that way when he deepened the kiss, nearly fifteen years worth of feelings coming out in a single kiss. As he held you close he whispered against your lips, “after all this time? Always.” 

And you finally understood what he meant. 

It felt so normal that you didn’t question it when he led you towards his bed and started helping you out of your clothes. 

***

Present Day

The weight of what you’d done didn’t sink in until you woke up in the morning, curled up against your best friend's naked body. 

Spencer was sleeping soundly, his messy hair splayed out against the hotel pillow, one arm lightly draped across your hips.

You’d managed to creep out of his hold, redress and sneak out of the room before he woke up. And you’d just acted like nothing ever happened. You pretended like you hadn’t slept with your best friend. 

The footsteps on the stairs got closer and you exhaled, trying to clear your mind of thoughts of the past. 

The last thing you should have done was sleep with Spencer. No, the last thing you should have done was confess your love for him during a hostage situation. But sleeping with him had been a close second. 

But he was right, you’d walked away that morning and never looked back, buried your head in the sand and effectively shattered his heart by pretending it didn’t happen. 

You’d told him that night your marriage was complicated. He could never understand. He couldn’t understand because he’d never been married. He would also never understand the complexities of the situation because not only wasn’t he married, but he didn’t have children. 

“Mom?” A croaky voice came from behind you, right on cue. 

You plastered on a smile and turned slowly in the chair to see your daughter rubbing her tired eyes. 

“Hi sweet pea, what are you doing up so late?” You kept your voice quiet as she padded over to you. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” She fell to the couch next to you, immediately curling against you and resting her head on your shoulder. 

You wrapped an arm around her, using your other hand to smooth her messy hair back from her face. 

“When did you get home?” She stifled a yawn. 

“A few hours ago. It was a bad one.” You kissed her head. 

You didn’t make a habit of bringing cases home with you, but eight year old Adeline was far too smart for her own good. You often wondered where she got it from. 

She was her mothers daughter through and through, so much like you it often scared you. Looking into her eyes you sometimes felt like looking into a window to the past. 

She was the absolute light of your life, the first time you held her in your arms you thought your body might burst with the amount of love you felt for her. 

She nuzzled closer to you, yawning once more. 

“I missed you, mom.” She mumbled. 

“I missed you more, baby girl.” You closed your eyes and tried to revel in the feeling of your daughter in your arms. 

As she got older these moments would inevitably be few and far between. 

For a while the two of you sat like this, despite the late hour. Mother and daughter lost in their own little world. After a time you heard another door open above you and more footsteps padding down the stairs. 

A few moments later a messy haired and bleary eyed little boy appeared in the doorway. 

“Can’t sleep either, buddy?” You smiled at him. 

“No,” he pouted with a shake of his head. 

“Come on over.” You patted your lap and did as he was told. 

Finley was three years his sister's junior although almost as tall as her. He was equally as astute at Adeline but shared his looks with his father. 

He was the more sensitive of your two children, he wore his heart on his sleeve whereas Adeline was better at hiding her emotions like her mother. 

The five year old plopped himself down in your lap and you cradled him with your other arm. 

This was as close to a perfect moment as had ever existed. These two children were the best thing you’d ever done with your life. 

The love you felt for Adie and Fin knew no bounds. And no matter how many times Jared hit you, burned you, scarred you, you’d always be grateful to him for giving you your two incredible children. 

Despite the way he treated you he’d never laid a finger on your kids. He loved Adeline and Finely, he was an amazing father. It was just a shame he couldn’t be an amazing husband too. 

Maybe he’d always been a little controlling, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. It got worse when he lost his job. Adeline was five and Finley was two. Jared became quick to anger, lashing out at you with his words. 

It started so small you barely noticed it. He’d felt his control slipping in his professional life after being fired and so he tried to regain it at home. 

The first signs had been when he started getting angry when you spent time with Spencer. He got jealous and would yell that he didn’t like how much time you spent with him. 

So you tried to limit your interactions with your best friend for the sake of your marriage. When you did manage to see him you always lied to Jared and told him you were with JJ of Penelope or Emily. 

The first time he hit you was when you arrived home from Mexico after Spencer’s initial arrest. You’d told him it was just a normal case when you’d hurriedly left in the middle of the night but eventually you’d had to tell him the truth.

The kids were asleep when you got home that night and you found him in the kitchen, a glass of scotch on the counter next to a half empty bottle.

“It’s bad,” you sighed as you dropped your purse to the counter. “We managed to get him extradited but he’s been detained. I can’t imagine what he’s going through.” 

“Maybe he shouldn’t have been so stupid as to go down to Mexico without telling anyone. If you ask me, he deserves it.” Jared scoffed, raising the glass to his lips. 

“He deserves to have been drugged and accused of murder?” You frowned at him. 

“How do you know it's an accusation? For all you know he murdered that woman.” He shrugged.

“Spencer did not kill Nadie Ramos. Spencer couldn’t hurt a fly.” 

“Urgh, there you go again.” He rolled his eyes, sipping more of the scotch.

“There I go again, what?” 

“Spencer this and Spencer that. Jesus, he’s all you ever talk about.” 

“Well that’s not true.” You rolled your eyes.

“Are you calling me a liar?” Jared slammed his glass on the counter, eyeing you wildly.

“No, that’s not what I said. I think you're exaggerating.” You felt yourself tense at the way he was looking at you. 

“I told you I don’t like you spending time with him.” His jaw was set in a firm line.

“I work with him, Jared. I have to see him. And one of us needs a job…” You spoke the last part under your breath but of course he heard you.

“Excuse me?” He spat at you. 

“It’s been months, Jared. My salary alone barely covers all our bills.” 

“You think I’m not trying? You think I like being out of work, being a fucking stay at home dad? This is my worst goddamn nightmare, Y/N!” He raised his voice and you flinched a little. 

“Your worst nightmare is spending time with your kids?” You cocked an eyebrow at him.

“That’s not what I meant.” He scoffed. “The only good part about this is spending more time with them. But I am climbing the freaking walls. You’re never here and that was fine when I was working too because I didn’t notice so much. I am going stir crazy, I feel like I have no purpose, no control.” 

“Of course you have a purpose.” You softened a little, rounding the counter towards him. “Those kids adore having you around all the time. Your purpose doesn't need to be tied to your professional identity. Just enjoy this time with them, you’ll find something soon enough.” 

You placed your hands flush on his chest and tried to calm him. You could feel his heart beating erratically beneath his shirt. 

“I love you.” He sighed, placing his own hands on your hips. 

“I love you too,” you smiled, getting on your tiptoes and kissing him. 

He wrapped his arms firmly around you, holding you in place. For a few brief moments everything was wonderful between you. And then your phone rang. 

You stepped back from his hold with a smile, pulling the device from your pocket. 

“It’s Emily, I should take this.” You nodded before turning your back on your husband. “Hey Em, is everything ok?” 

Emily proceeded to tell you that the FBI had effectively turned its back on Spencer, not willing to provide him with their legal services due to the fact he left the country without telling anyone. She told you about her old friend Fiona Duncan whom she was hoping would take on Reid’s case but it was ultimately a long shot. 

You took it all in, feeling sick to your stomach that the bureau would turn their back on him like that. Emily informed you Fiona was going to meet with Reid in the morning.

“I’ll meet you there, I need to see him.” Your voice shook a little.

“Ok, I’ll see you in the morning, try and get some sleep.” She replied. 

“You too.” You hung up the phone and when you turned back to Jared his face was entirely bright red. 

“You’re not going to see him.” He spat through a clenched jaw.

“He’s my best friend, Jared. He’s scared and alone right now. I need to see him.” 

“You will do what I tell you to do, woman.” 

“Uh, I will do what my team needs me to do. Thank you very much.” 

Suddenly he advanced on you, shoving you roughly back up against the wall. And when he smacked you hard around the face you felt your whole world crumble. 

Tears immediately filled your eyes, your cheek stinging from the contact. He quickly stepped away and turned back to his scotch.

“I did that because I love you.” He whispered around the glass of alcohol.

Every time he hurt you without fail he would follow it up with some kind of comment like that. You’d lost count of the amount of times he said the likes of, “you know I’d never intentionally hurt you,” or “I’m sorry that you think I hurt you.” 

By the time he poured scalding oil on your arm you’d grown used to it. You’d simply resided yourself to the fact this was your life now. 

You thought maybe when he’d eventually gotten a new job he would calm down, go back to being the man you fell in love with. But he never did. 

The Jared Haines that beat you, forced you into bed when you weren’t in the mood, yelled at you until you cried, wasn’t the same Jared Haines you’d married. 

You may have married the wrong man but you’d do it all over again for Adie and Fin. 

“I love you kids so much, never forget that.” You whispered as you held them tighter trying to stem your tears. 

“Love you too mommy.” Fin snuggled closer. 

“Love you mom.” Adie agreed. 

***

“There you are, boy wonder, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Garcia tottered over to him the second he walked in the room. 

“I’ve literally just walked through the door. What’s up Garcia?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. 

“I need to…” she glanced away from Spencer, to the petite brunette holding his hand. “Max, hi. Can I steal your boyfriend momentarily?” 

“Sure, go ahead.” Max laughed, letting go of his hand. 

Spencer bowed his head and kissed her cheek before Garcia was roughly grabbing him by the wrist and dragging Spencer behind her. 

The grand ballroom was decorated beautifully and tastefully but he barely had a chance to take it in before Penelope had accosted him. 

He’d arrived earlier than necessary in case Rossi needed any last minute help for his big day. But he hadn’t even made it to the bar. 

Penelope pulled him outside onto a large patio area where staff were setting up tables and fussing over centrepieces. 

“What is going on?” Spencer asked her, smoothing out his shirt once she pulled them to a stop. 

“Have you spoken to Y/N?” Her eyes were a little manic beneath her thick framed glasses. 

His stomach coiled into knots. Her panicked tone and frantic eyes immediately worried him. 

No, he hadn’t spoken to you. Not since you’d confessed your love to him yesterday. 

“No.” He shook his head. “What’s happened?”

“I know I’m not strictly a profiler but I like to think I’d mastered the basics. But I had no idea.” Garcia was spiralling. 

“Had no idea about what?” Spencer was desperate to get it out of her. 

“Well, when she first RSVP’d for today she only sent back three invites.” 

“Ok?” Spencer frowned. 

“Her, Adie and Fin.” 

“So Jared must be working.”

“That’s what I thought.” Garcia nodded.

“But?” Spencer asked slightly frustratedly. 

“You know me, I like answers. I like having all the facts, just like you.” She started pacing. “So, I asked her about it and she was super vague.” 

“Vague how?” Spencer watched her march up and down. 

“She said Jared wouldn’t be around, which is innocuous enough I hear you cry. But it didn’t sit right with me. It didn’t feel right.” She sounded exasperated. 

“Penelope,” Spencer stepped in front of her so she couldn’t keep pacing and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Please spit it out.” 

She huffed loudly and somewhat childishly. 

“Spence, I did some digging.” Her face paled a little and Spencer was suddenly terrified by what she might have found. 

“And?” He swallowed, lowering his arms to his sides. 

“I found a police report from five days ago. DC Metro was dispatched to 184 Calvert Street after an eight year old girl called the cops when she heard a gun shot.” Garcia’s face paled as she spoke, so did Spencer’s. 

“You…but I…” he swallowed, wobbling on his feet. “That’s Y/N house.” 

“Duh,” Penelope rolled her eyes. “Adie called the police when she heard the gun go off. In her statement she told them that she found her dad with a gun in his hand and his other wrapped around her mom’s throat.” 

Spencer’s colour somehow drained even further as he glared at Penelope. 

“Y/N got shot? But she was at work the next day. I remember it was the day I got back from teaching.” His heart rate increased dangerously so. He felt it beating all throughout his body. 

“According to the reports no one was seriously hurt. The bullet hit the wall. Bruises on her neck could have been covered by make-up.” Penelope tried to calm him before he got too worked up. 

“And Adie saw it?” 

“Oh that poor sweet angel. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.” 

“Fin?” Spencer swallowed

“Was in bed. You know what a sound sleeper he is.” Garcia smiled sadly. 

“So what exactly happened?”

“The police arrived pretty fast, looks like within a few minutes. Adie, being the smart cookie she is, informed the police dispatcher that her mom is an FBI Agent so they were quick on the scene. From what I’ve managed to piece together, Jared wrestled her gun out of her holster and shot at the wall. Adie heard raised voices, and an argument ensued and he got Y/N up against the wall by her throat.

Cops took them in for questioning, he was arrested but given the chance to post bail for which he couldn’t afford and Y/N, thank god, did not pay it. So now he’s in jail awaiting trial. If he’s found guilty he could be looking at anywhere up to twenty five years for attempted murder.” 

Spencer closed his eyes, ruminating on every single one of Penelope’s words. He should have known it would come to this. He should have tried harder to get you to open up about what was going on at home. 

It never should have gotten this far. 

“Fuck,” he shook his head, opening his eyes again. 

“Why don’t you seem all that surprised by this?” Garcia had her eyebrow cocked.

Spencer looked past her a moment, out across the lawns beyond the patio. He’d tried so hard to convince you that you could trust him, that he could help you. 

He should have tried harder. Goddamnit he should have tried harder. 

***

2019

It had been a long time since Spencer had gotten a chance to spend any real time with you and he tried to make the most of it despite the fact your head was clearly elsewhere. 

He was sure he knew what it was that was going on. Ever since he’d seen that burn on your arm he’d been sure of it. But no matter how many times he tried to talk to you about it, you always denied it. 

You’d gone to the movies and for coffee but you kept checking your phone every few minutes, clearly distracted by something. 

You’d been quiet, you’d been quiet a lot lately. He’d hoped getting to spend one on one time with you would help you open up. 

He’d done all the talking, rambling at times because you wouldn’t engage him with more than a few words at a time. Even when he’d asked about the kids you’d simply replied, “yeah, they’re good.” 

Tucked away in the back of the coffee shop you checked the time again, tapping your fingers on the table. 

“Am I keeping you from something?” Spencer finally asked, a hint of frustration in his voice. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I just told Jared I’d be home by four and I don’t want to be late.” 

“You have a curfew now?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snapped. 

“He doesn’t trust you to spend too much time with me, is that it?” Spencer leaned forward on the table. 

He saw something flicker behind your eyes before you tried to disguise it by taking a sip of coffee. 

“He does know you’re with me, doesn’t he?” Spencer narrowed his eyes on you. 

“He…I…no.” You shrugged. “He thinks I’m out with Penelope.” 

“You’re lying to your husband about who you’re hanging out with?” 

“He doesn’t…he doesn’t like you.” You confessed. 

“You’re a grown woman, Y/N.” He scoffed. “He tells you who you can and can’t hang out with?” 

“It’s not like that.” You huffed. 

“And if he found out you were here with me, what would he do?” Spencer leaned even further forward, like he might pounce across the table at you. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” You wouldn’t meet his eye. 

“Would he burn you again?” 

“Stop it.” You spat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Or would he just hit you? Bruise you?”

“Stop it.” 

“I’ve seen the bruises, Y/N! No one is that clumsy, least of all you.” His eyes turned sad as he reached across the table for your hand. It broke his heart the way you flinched. “Why won’t you let me help you?”

“Because it's not that simple.” You growled. “I’m begging you to leave this alone, Spencer.” 

“Y/N if he’s abusive just say the word and we can have him arrested.” 

“Spencer, I have children. It’s not just black and white.” 

“Does he hurt them? Does that asshole hurt my god children?” Spencer squeezed your hand. 

“Of course he doesn’t.” You hissed. “I would never let him lay a finger on them. If he ever touched my kids I would kick his ass to the curb.” 

“But you’ll let him hurt you?” He shook his head. 

“Spencer, marriage is complicated.” 

“Oh please, like I couldn’t possibly understand.” He rolled his eyes. 

“I have two kids who worship the ground their father walks on. He is an amazing dad, Spencer. I don’t want them to grow up without him.” You snatched your hand back from under his. 

“But you want them to grow up without you?” He frowned. “Because that's how this is going to end. Do you know four thousand women die every year at the hands of an abusive spouse? The presence of a gun in the house increases the risk of homicide by five hundred percent.” 

“And out of those four thousand, seventy five percent of those victims were killed whilst trying to leave their partner.” You spat back. “Do you not think I’ve thought about that? Spencer, just leave this alone. It’s none of your concern.” 

“I can help you.”

“No, Spencer, you can’t. And if you tell anyone about this, I will deny it. And without me willing to press charges, you’ll only make things worse. I am begging you to leave this alone.” You got to your feet. 

“You expect me to just sit by and watch while he hurts you?” He whined a little. 

“I’m asking you to just let it go. Please. I’ve got it under control. Stop trying to be a hero.” 

He couldn’t do anything but watch you go. And he hated himself for not doing something to help you. 

***

Present Day

“I knew he was violent. I knew he was abusing her. I could never get her to do anything about it.” Spencer admitted, shaking his head at his own stupidity. 

“He’s hurt her before?” Penelope pouted. 

“Yeah.” Spencer nodded sadly. “More than a few times.” 

“Do you think he’s ever hurt those poor sweet children?” Penelope’s lip quivered. 

“No, she said if he ever laid a hand on them she’d leave.” He inhaled sharply. “Fuck, he’s in jail.” 

“He surely is, boy wonder.” Penelope grabbed him by the bicep. “He can’t hurt her again. Don’t blame yourself, giant brain. This isn’t your fault.” 

“I could have stopped it.” He raked his fingers through his hair which he’d spent hours sweeping neatly back off of his face. 

“No one could have stopped it.” She squeezed his arm. 

“I could have. If I’d just been honest with her all those years ago.” 

“Honest about what?” Garcia’s eyebrows knitted together. 

“She asked me…” he trailed off and swallowed thickly. “She asked me when she got engaged, and on her wedding day, if I thought she was marrying the right man. I didn’t answer her. I should have. I should have told her he wasn’t the man she should be marrying.” 

“You couldn’t have known then that this was going to happen. Reid, you can’t beat yourself up over this.” 

“You don’t get it.” He shook his head, dislodging his arm from her firm grip. “I should have told her he wasn’t the man she should be marrying, because the man she should have married is me.” 

Penelope’s mouth fell open and her eyebrows furrowed deeper. She eyed him curiously, like she was trying to complete a complex puzzle and he’d just handed her the missing piece but she had no idea what to do with it. 

“You…? I don’t understand.” 

“I have been inconceivably in love with Y/N since the first moment I met her. For fifteen years. If I’d not been so scared of telling her, maybe she would have never married that asshole.” He shook his head in frustration. 

Penelope opened her mouth to speak but before she could, someone else did. 

“Wow,” the voice cracked and Spencer spun quickly towards the sound. 

“Max,” he drew his lip between his teeth. “Max I am so-”

“Don’t.” She shook her head. “I heard enough.”

“I’m sorry.” He shrugged, not knowing what else to say. 

“Yeah, me too.” She spat, turning on her heels and rushing back in the direction she’d just come. 

As she fled, she almost ran right into someone but kept her head down to shield the fact she was crying. 

You stumbled a little on your heels as you narrowly avoided Max, one hand on each of your kids backs as you guided them outside. 

You looked over your shoulder Max and then between Spencer and Penelope. 

“What did I miss?” 

***

Five Days Prior

The house was deathly silent when you entered through the front door a little after eleven pm. You knew from past experience silence in your home was never good. 

You’d just arrived back from a case in Lewiston, Maine where women were being killed in houses believed to be haunted. 

It had been long and gruelling, cases without Spencer usually were. Since prison and his agreement to mandated leave days, things hadn’t been the same on the team. 

He was due back tomorrow and at least that meant the cases might move a little faster. 

You dropped your go bag on the floor by the door. The kids would be asleep and you were sure you would find your husband in the kitchen with a drink in his hand. 

You knew this would be bad. You were prepared for it to be bad. You’d unclipped your holster but didn’t put your firearm in the safe like usual. You weren’t taking any chances. 

Before leaving for Maine things had reached breaking point. You’d been getting Adeline ready for bed, tucking her in when she’d startled you by grabbing you by the arm. 

She proceeded to push your cardigan down one arm, revealing a large purple bruise on your shoulder, spreading down towards your collarbone. But it was her words that shocked you more. 

“Daddy did that, didn’t he?” 

“Wh-what?” You were quick to pull your sleeve back up. “What makes you think that, sweet pea?” 

“I saw him. I saw him shove you. And it’s not the first time.” 

It transpired your extremely smart eight year old had been privy to her fathers dark side. She regaled you of how many times she’d witnessed Jared pushing you around, screaming at you until you cried. 

She’d concluded by telling you she wouldn’t be sad if you left him. And maybe that was all the impetus you needed. 

You stayed with Jared, put up with his violence for your children. You’d always told yourself as long as it didn’t affect them you could stay. 

But now it had affected them, Adie at least. And that was the final straw. 

You’d packed a bag before you left for Maine. You’d planned to wait until Jared was at work and you and the kids were going to stay with David Rossi. 

You didn’t tell him why and thankfully he didn’t ask. But you felt the most safe at his home, given all the security you knew you and the kids could stay there until you figured out your next move. 

But before you had the chance, Jared figured you out. 

This morning you’d received a text from your husband with a photo of your bag and the simple question: where the fuck do you think you’re going? 

As you slowly headed towards the kitchen, you were reminded of a conversation with Spencer last year in the coffee shop. 

“Do you know four thousand women die every year at the hands of an abusive spouse? The presence of a gun in the house increases the risk of homicide by five hundred percent.”

“And out of those four thousand, seventy five percent of those victims were killed whilst trying to leave their partner.”

Your heart rattled in your chest and you felt your stomach coiling into tight knots. One way or another tonight was going to be the end, whether because you made it out of the house or because Jared killed you.

Your hand hovered above your firearm as you crossed the room towards the kitchen. You pushed open the door and held your breath. 

Your bag was in the centre of the kitchen island, Jared looming over it, a glass of scotch in his hand. When he saw you, he downed the contents and slammed the glass so violently on the counter top it smashed in his hand.

He didn’t even seem to notice. 

“Jared, before you say anything I-”

“Shut up.” He spat, not raising his voice. Not yet. “You don’t get to speak. Planning on leaving me, huh? What was the plan, Y/N? You take my kids away and you think I won’t come after them? You think I’d let you get away with taking my kids?” 

“I don’t want them to grow up with a father who is a bully.” You stood your ground, hand still hovering over the butt of your gun.

“I’ve never laid a hand on them.” He snarled. 

“But Adie has seen what you do to me. I don’t want them to have to witness that. What kind of example am I setting for my little girl if I let a man push me around?” You clenched your jaw.

“Adie isn’t a bitch like you.” He started towards you slowly. “She wouldn’t need a man to put her in her place.” 

You refused to show him fear. If this was where it ended you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Just let me go. Let us go.” 

“Please,” he scoffed. “So you can go and play happy families with Reid?” 

“It’s not like that.” You rolled your eyes. 

He got closer and you found yourself backing up. 

“I wasn’t born yesterday.” He advanced on you until your back hit the wall and he was towering over you. 

“This has nothing to do with Spencer.” You tried to insist, fingers brushing your gun. “The fact of the matter is, I don’t love you anymore, Jared. Not like I used to. How can I love someone who treats me the way you do? I’ve let this go on long enough. You’ve hurt me too many times.”

Out of nowhere your tears started to fall, thick and heavy as they rolled down your cheeks. You hadn’t even realised you were going to cry. 

“Only because I love you, sweetheart.” He smiled menacingly at you. 

“I put men like you away for a living. I shouldn’t have fallen victim to this.” Your eyes clouded with tears, you could barely see him and they felt like they burnt as they rolled down your cheeks. 

“You need putting in your place sometimes. You’re too sensitive.” He raised his hand and wrapped it tightly around your bicep, squeezing so hard you knew he’d leave yet another bruise. 

“Please let me go.” You whimpered, unable to keep up your strong facade. “Please?” 

“Baby, I will never let you go. I love you, we belong together.” He let go of your bicep and his hand moved to your face. 

He gripped your jaw in his hand, forcing his lips on yours. You tried to push him away with one hand while the other wrapped around the butt of your gun. 

“Stop it!” You cried while he kissed you. “Stop it, Jared!” 

He tore his lips away from you and looked at you through dark eyes. Then his gaze wandered. You felt the exact moment he noticed your hand on your gun. 

“You gonna shoot me, Y/N?” He scoffed. “You’d kill the father of your children?” 

Spencer’s words rang clear in your head. 

The presence of a gun in the house increases the risk of homicide by five hundred percent. 

As you went to draw your weapon his large hand was on top of yours, squeezing your fingers into a vice like grip until you howled in pain and your hold on the gun faltered. 

He managed to wrestle the gun free of your holster and draw it. He pointed the barrel right at your head for a brief moment before shifting its aim slightly to the left and pulling the trigger. 

You screamed as the gun went off and the bullet flew past your face and into the kitchen wall. He refocused it on you while you trembled with sobs. 

Spencer was right. This is how I’m going to die. 

“Please, Jared. Put the gun down. You don’t want to do this.” You held your hands up, trying to keep your breathing measured. 

It wasn’t as though it was the first time you’d had to stare down the barrel of a gun, but it didn’t make it any less terrifying. Least of all because it was your husband pointing it at you. 

You were trained in negotiating with psychopaths but all your knowledge went out of the window. All you could think about was how you were going to die and that the kids would no doubt have to find your body. 

“Please. Think of the kids. Think of Adie and Fin. Please don’t let them grow up without a mother.” Tears continued to roll down your cheeks at an alarming rate. 

Jared scoffed, gun still levelled at you. 

“You were going to let them grow up without me! You were going to leave and take them away!” He yelled. 

“I won’t, I swear. Just put the gun down and I promise we won’t leave. We can still be a family.” Your body trembled viciously as he took a step closer to you. 

“What does he have that I don’t?” He growled at you, moving closer until the gun was pressing against your forehead. 

“Wh-what? Who?” 

“Spencer!” He spat. “You’re sleeping with him aren’t you?” 

“Of course I’m not.” You shook your head, the cool metal jabbing into your skull. 

“Liar!” He used his other hand to grab your bicep again, making you wince. “Tell me the truth!” 

“One time.” You sobbed. “It happened one time.” 

Jared’s eyes turned darker but he lowered the gun to his side. His jaw pulsed as he clenched and unclenched his teeth. 

“I’m sorry.” You cried. “I'm so sorry.” 

“You fucked another man?” He hissed. “And you wonder why I don’t like you being around him!” 

His free hand raised and you flinched thinking he was going to hit you. Instead his palm came down against your throat, lightly at first. But it wasn’t long before he was tightening his grip, fingers digging into your neck while he put pressure on your trachea. 

The gun hung from his other hand and you felt it knocking against your leg. Maybe you could take him off guard, grab it while he was focused elsewhere. 

“You were going to leave me for him? Have him raise our kids?” He squeezed and you choked, fighting for air. 

“N-no.” You whimpered. “It wasn’t like that.” 

“Do you have feelings for him?” He used his grip on you to slam your head back against the wall. “Do you love him?” 

“Yes.” You confessed, unable to stop the word leaving your lips. And then you stupidly followed it up with, “he’s ten times the man you’ll ever be.” 

Jared snarled and his grip got firmer, his large hand able to wrap almost the entire way around your throat. His fingers dug painfully into your flesh while his palm constricted your breathing.

“You fucking bitch.” He spat. “If I can’t have you, no one can. I’m doing this because I love you.” 

You closed your eyes, unable to fight for those breaths you so sorely needed to refill your lungs anymore. Instead you resided yourself to it, knowing nothing you could do or say would make this better. 

Jared was going to kill you. 

You started going light headed, as he shook you by your neck, violently choking you. It wouldn’t take long before your lack of oxygen caused you to pass out. 

You thought of your kids. You pictured little Fin and Adie being raised by this man. What would become of your two happy children if they lost their mother this way?

You thought of Spencer and the night you’d spent together and how you should have told him how you felt then. Or how you should have told him how you felt fifteen years ago. Life was painfully short, you shouldn’t have wasted a minute not being honest about your feelings. 

You felt yourself ebbing towards unconsciousness, knowing it was only a matter of time. Maybe it would have been better to let him shoot you, at least it would have been faster. 

Somewhere in the house you swore you heard a door open. But your head was hazy, you barely registered it. You just prayed your children wouldn’t witness this. 

And then everything happened so fast. 

A voice entered your ears, male, not one you recognised. But you couldn’t work out what they were saying. 

“Sir, step away. Put the gun down.” 

Then the grip on your throat loosened and you were able to gasp for air, your shaky legs barely holding you upright. 

You clutched your chest, using the wall to balance yourself. You blinked several times to focus your vision.

Two uniformed officers, DC Metro insignia on their breast pockets. One male, one female. The man held a gun, the woman was slapping cuffs on your husband's wrists. 

“Ma’am?” The man holstered his weapon, stepping closer to you. “Ma’am I’m Officer Joseph Leakes, this is my partner Officer Maddie Burnett.” 

You nodded but closed your eyes, a wave of dizziness washing over. You stumbled on your feet and then you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

You flinched involuntarily and opened your eyes to see Officer Burnett now in front of you instead of Leakes. She was smiling softly at you, she had kind brown eyes. 

Right, I’m a victim of domestic violence, don’t let the man touch me. Good call, you thought in an absent mind. 

Burnett led you over to a chair at the kitchen counter while she exchanged a glance with Leakes who was tugging your husband by the cuffed wrists towards the door. 

“It’s all a misunderstanding!” Jared tried to fight the cop off. “Tell them Y/N! Tell them it’s all a mistake! They got it wrong!”

You simply blinked in response. 

A glass of water was in front of you somehow and Burnett was still smiling at you. 

“Mrs Haines?” She asked softly. You shuddered.

“Never…never changed my name.” You shook your head. “Y/N, please.” 

The officer nudged the glass of water closer to you and you wrapped your shaky hands around it. 

“Are you ok? Do you need medical attention?” The kind eyed cop asked now. 

“No.” You slowly raised your glass to your lips but before you could sip you put it back down again. “M-my kids? Where are my k-kids?” 

You glanced around the room, needing to see your beautiful children and make sure they were ok. 

You felt a small hand on your arm and blinked rapidly to try and clear the fog from your brain. 

Your eyes met your daughters and you quickly threw your arms around her. 

“Adie!” You sobbed. “Oh baby girl.” 

“It’s ok mommy.” She sniffled, burying her head against your chest. “It’s ok. He can’t hurt you anymore.” 

“You have a very brave little girl.” Burnett spoke somewhere from over your shoulder. “She called 9-1-1 when she heard a gunshot.” 

You pulled back from the embrace and cupped her little face, staring intently at her.

“Did I do good, mommy?” She looked up at you through her large eyes. 

“Oh sweet pea,” you choked on another sob, throwing your arms back around your daughter. “You did so good.” 

***

Burnett took your statement once you were able to focus your mind again and she also took Adie’s statement. Fin, gratefully, slept through the whole ordeal. 

A CSU tech arrived later and took photographs of your neck, of the bullet lodged in the wall and collected evidence from your gun. 

Before leaving Burnett told you Jared would be detained. He would most likely be offered the chance to post bail. 

When he’d lost his job, finances had been tight. You’d tried to squirrel away what you could and opened a separate bank account in your own name during that time. Burnett informed you that if your money was in an account solely in your name you would have the choice whether you paid his bail or not. If the money remained in a joint account he could access it to foot the bill.

First thing in the morning you were going to transfer all of your money over to your own bank account and ensure Jared didn’t have the opportunity to come back and finish the job he started. 

She said she would do everything she could to help you keep Jared away, she even left you her personal cell number. Unfortunately you knew all about the way in which the state of Virginia tended to side with men in these instances, despite physical proof. 

Once Burnett left you spent several hours on the couch with Adie in your lap, stroking back her hair and rocking her like you did when she was a baby. 

You had no idea the kind of trauma this would cause her, you would no doubt have to look into getting her therapy before what she’d seen went untreated. You’d been seeing a therapist yourself for the last year on and off due to your anxiety which had been brought on as a result of Jared’s tempered mood swings. 

You’d speak to Adie about it another day. Right now you were content in holding your daughter. 

Eventually she fell asleep in your arms, you were grateful she was able to. You carried her to bed and kissed her forehead when you tucked her in. You checked on Fin before heading towards your own bedroom. 

Stepping inside that room everything caught up on you. The bed in which Jared had forced you into more times than you could count, the subtle dents in the walls where he’d thrown things at you. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror on the dresser. Your neck was covered with a fresh array of bruises, red and angry and in the distinctive shape of fingers. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d had to cover marks and blemishes with make-up, but this would be harder than most. 

And out of nowhere your legs gave way and you crumbled to the floor as a new fit of sobs wracked your body. 

It felt like the world's longest night and it was only just the beginning. It was going to be an arduous uphill battle if you were to keep Jared away from you and protect your kids. 

But you didn’t have the strength to think of any of that right now. You curled up in a ball and sobbed on the floor of your bedroom for what felt like hours. 

Without really thinking, you found your cell phone still in your pocket and your fingers moved of their own accord as you brought up your contacts, dialled his number and put the device to your ears.

You counted the rings. Eight in total. Eight rings before it clicked over to voicemail and his outgoing message flooded your ears. For a moment it provided you comfort. But then you started sobbing all over again. 

“Hello, you’ve reached Doctor Spencer Reid. I can’t come to the phone right now. Leave me a message and I will get back to you.” 

@andiebeaword @muffin-cup @dirtytissuebox @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @people-whatabunchofbastards @justreadingficsdontmindme @spencer-reid-wonderland @thebloomingeagle @frostandflamesfanfic @pixiehex1985 @release-your-sweets @mavel-fan-for-life @megan-mars

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 26

Hello, and we have got to the end of the massive arc that culminated the last four chapters.

I also wrote this part before 24 and 25 because I couldn't figure out how to write Eddie having a hard time on tour, but the aftermath flowed from my fingers.

Also as a reminder this story is finished, I'm just posting on a regular schedule. This story is the longest fanfic I've ever written. Topping out at 58165 it's definitely longer than 50K fic I wrote for NaNoWriMo last year (Sandman, never finished or published.)

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24 Pt 25

****

“You’ve been sitting on that sofa for an entire week,” Wayne growled. “Steve has called three times, your bandmates at least a dozen times each. Hell, boy Miranda has been calling concerned. So want to tell me what’s fucking got you so twisted?”

“I was given a choice out there on the road,” Eddie said, twisting his rings around his fingers. “Stay in Indy and play small time gigs for the rest of my adult life or go to LA and get an album and the chance at super stardom.”

Wayne sat down next him. “Sounds like a big decision to make.”

Eddie leapt to his feet. “That’s the problem. That’s what makes me so angry how fucking easy the choice is.”

Wayne cocked his head to the side. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate again, boy. Start talking.”

Eddie started pacing back and forth. “As much as I loved playing for so many people, I didn’t like that I could only connect with a handful of them and not even the good kind.” He rubbed his chin angrily. “I didn’t like how tired we all were. It was set up, sound check, play, break down and move on to the next fucking town. And that wasn’t including all the parties, interviews, and all that other shit.”

“That does sound exhausting, Ed.”

“I didn’t like how easy it was for them to tell me to drop Gareth as drummer just because he had trouble adjusting to the increased volume. The price of fame they said. Like it was so simple to throw away almost two decades of friendship for the sake of adoring crowds and hearing our music on the radio.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Wayne said softly. “They didn’t...”

“Oh they absolutely did,” Eddie raged. “I didn’t like how they thought that because me and Steve’s relationship was new that I would be able to find someone better. Someone who liked metal, someone who would be down for the ride.”

Wayne furrowed his brow. “That doesn’t sound like good advice.”

Eddie grabbed his hair pulled at it frustration. “The last straw was when they offered to let their tattooist to finish my back tattoo, because while my artist was good, theirs was better.”

He stopped abruptly and turned to face Wayne. “I picked Steve to do my tattoo on my back because he was the only one I trusted to make it meaningful. To understand the symbolism of making something of yourself when everyone is rooting against you. I made the decision before I fell in love with him and now that we’re a couple– and for them to just dismiss him like that? It made me so angry.”

“So what’s the problem? What’s got you so twisted around the bend?”

Eddie took a deep breath and let it out slow. “I’m fucking furious because I always thought that when fame and fortune came knocking I would throw open that door and march right through it. But now? Given the choice? I’m slamming the door in its face and walking away.”

Hot tears ran down his face. “And I don’t know why.”

He dropped to his knees and began to sob.

Wayne stood up and put his arms around his nephew’s shoulders, gently pulling him to his chest.

“Did that band you were traveling with say that?” he whispered into Eddie’s curls. “Because if they did, I swear to god I will burn every record and CD you have of theirs. Don’t think I won’t. I’ll delete them off your phone too.”

Eddie chuckled weakly. “No, no. They were kind. It was everyone else we met. Agents, managers, roadies, groupies, the people around Metallica every day.”

Wayne nodded.

“I was just constantly bombarded with hateful messages and the constant running at one hundred percent...” he whimpered. “I don’t want to do it.”

“Have you told your band that?” Wayne asked.

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t dare to. I was the one that was gung ho about the touring and everything. How do I tell them I don’t want to leave the comfort of Indianapolis and home?”

“Kinda like that,” Jeff said from the doorway. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against the frame. Peaking around him was Miranda with a concerned look on her face.

Eddie scrambled to his feet and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m sorry I’ve been a brat.”

Jeff took three giant steps forward and hugged him fiercely. “You’re not being a brat. You’re scared and trying to figure it all out on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? We’ve all been worried sick about you. But Steve especially. I’ll call all the boys down for a chat and you call Steve, okay?”

Eddie nodded.

He dialed the number he knew by heart.

“Baby?” he asked, unsure of the reaction he was going to get. He deserved to be yelled at. Cursed at. Broken up with. He’d hurt Steve the most with this little temper tantrum he’d been having.

“Eds?” Steve breathed. “Sunshine, are you okay? Wayne said you hadn’t been eating well or sleeping much. Say the word and I’ll be there in a heartbeat.”

Eddie’s lip began to quiver and tears spilled out of his eyes. “I need you. More than anything.”

“I’m on my way,” Steve said fiercely.

Eddie looked over at Jeff.

“Tell Steve Brian will swing by and pick him up.”

Eddie nodded and relayed the message back to Steve.

“I’ll be at my apartment,” Steve said. “I’ll have Robin arrange my schedule, don’t you worry about thing, baby.”

“Mm’k.”

“I love you, Eds.”

Eddie closed his eyes and breathed in the warmth of that simple phrase. “Love you, too, pretty boy. Come quick.”

“I promise.”

*

Steve piled into Brian’s car. It was the newest, having bought it right before they got picked up by Metallica. He had finally saved up enough money to replace his beater.

Gareth and Gethin in the backseat. Gethin had come up to Indy to watch his twin’s apartment while he was gone and just ended up staying. He was currently looking for a job so that he could move in with Gareth full time.

At least that what they said on the trip down. The twins and Brian were intent on filling the air with talk and Steve let them. He let them fill him in on the tour and everything that had been going on since they’d left.

Steve couldn’t be for certain, but it sounded like that touring hadn’t been fun for anyone. Even after a week of rest, he could still make out the circles under their eyes and how hunched over they were with just sheer exhaustion.

A feeling Steve felt all too well.

Gethin was pressed against his twin’s side and was rubbing his neck soothingly.

Steve looked at Brian.

His face was set, hard and unflinching. He was going to make the drive to Hawkins as fast as he could and still avoid the cops.

Steve was grateful Brian was driving because he didn’t think he would have made the distinction to avoid breaking the law. He would have gunned it and flipped off any cop that tried to catch him.

After awhile, Steve was getting the oddest feeling that Brian was used to speeding down this stretch of highway because there were points where he would slow down for a few miles and then speed right back up.

Soon enough they were pulling up to Wayne’s trailer and piling out the car.

*

Eddie sat on the sofa with Jeff and Miranda on either side of him, just hugging him.

Wayne was busying himself in the kitchen, getting ready to feed the hoard that was about to descend on his home.

The door opened up and Brian, Gareth, and Gethin all stumbled through the entryway. Eddie was on his feet in an instant, Jeff and Miranda not far behind.

And then the trio at the door parted and there stood Steve. Looking just as tired and worn as Eddie felt.

“Stevie?” Eddie asked, taking a step toward him uncertainly.

Steve threw open his arms and Eddie ran straight into them. They wrapped their arms around each other and just sobbed.

“I’m here, Eds,” Steve murmured into Eddie’s neck. “I’m here. I love you so much.”

Eddie lifted his head and kissed him hard. “I love you, too. I regret leaving you behind, sweetheart. It nearly killed me. Every song I wrote was about you. About missing you. I don’t even want to leave you ever again, I can’t.”

The silence that followed that statement was deafening.

Steve led Eddie back over to couch and sat them both down. “Tell us everything, babe.”

And so Eddie did. He told them everything. Everything he had told Wayne, everything that had been weighing on his mind since they started touring. It all just came out in a flood.

They all listened patiently.

“Why didn’t you tell us you felt like that while we were on the road?” Gareth asked. “I knew what they were saying about me, but I also knew you guys wouldn’t drop me. If you had me about that I would have been able to reassure you that I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Eddie flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t know how to bring it up, it was so vile, man.”

Jeff gave his hand a squeeze. “Well, I think that you did a bang up job telling us now and that’s what really matters.”

“Someone offered to ship me out to LA and record an album,” Eddie finally admitted. “Not the band, just me. I told him that I wouldn’t go without you guys and he laughed in my face. Told me to cut the dead weight and be a star.” He dragged his hands over his face.

“But there were other offers. Good ones. Ones that included the band, well most of it, anyway. Always under the proviso that Gareth be replaced either on tour or all together. They didn’t want to make any accommodations for him even though there is a drummer with one god damn arm!”

“So the options are,” Brian said, “stay in Indy doing what we’ve been doing, only better because of the money we got for doing this tour. Go to LA without Gareth. Go to LA with Gareth but only as a studio musician and take some person we don’t know on tour with us. Does that sound about right?”

Just then Gareth’s phone went off. He looked at it with a frown. It wasn’t a number recognized so he let it go to voicemail. He pulled it up after the notification popped up.

He listened to message with wide eyes. “Hey guys, I think we have another option.” And he played the message so everyone could hear.

“Hey, Mr Hughes,” the tinny voice said through the speaker. “This is Murray Bauman, I’m music producer, we spoke in Las Vegas. I think I have the perfect deal for you boys. You were telling me that touring was really hard on you and that if there was an option you wouldn’t do that. I know you weren’t speaking for all your band, but I could tell that they would do anything for you, all four of you being such good friends.

“So the reason for this call is that I own a small music company in Bloomington and boy do I have a deal for you all. You would make a record through us, we would sell and distribute the record, keeping a portion of the sales, of course. But you wouldn’t have to tour. You have a steady gig as I understand it. If your fans want to see you play, they’ll know where to find you.

“But give me a call, we’ll hash out the details. My phone number is 555-555-2080...” and then message beeped, signaling the end of the voicemail.

Eddie looked down at the phone and then back up at Gareth. “Oh.”

Gareth grinned. “We don’t even have to take his offer, but I vote we listen to it. Brian can bring Cecil.”

Brian nodded. “He’s only got a semester left of law school, but I’ll have him brush up on his contract law to be on the safe side.”

Jeff raised his hand. “All in favor of hearing Mr Bauman out raise your hand?”

Eddie, Brian, and Gareth’s hands shot up.

“Sounds good,” Jeff said. “You call him back and set it up and if it doesn’t work out we can vote again.”

Brian shook his head. “Nah. I think if it doesn’t work, we stick to Nightmare Holes. We took a swing at it and if it’s a miss then we tried. I thought I wanted the touring and everything that came with stardom, but like Eddie I learned I wanted the romanticized version of it. I’ll be happy playing in front of our friends for the rest of our lives.”

The rest of the band nodded.

Soon everyone getting up to go back to Indy, but Steve stayed behind, he would go back up with Eddie in the morning. They had things to discuss that went deeper then the band.

****

Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

I told you I would fix it.

Also a little BTS, the reason in my head for why things went wrong on tour but immediately righted itself when Eddie and Steve met up again? Steve still has Eddie's lucky pick. ;)

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

[essentiamortis]

"not to me. you will always be the oldest. you are rhea's first born. the first of the olympians - the one most like grandma rhea." elizabeth would never refer to any of the six olympians as the children of kronos - they were only the children of rhea.

she'd do anything to forget about the past year with kronos using luke's body as a meat suit. if only an exorcism would've worked on a titan but the fates know she tried. her cold hand tightens around the warmth of hestia's. "i felt all of their deaths. it feels like a part of my soul broke when ethan and luke finally died. daddy wanted me to stay on olympus for the following meeting but i couldn't." her voice cracks and her body shakes with each breath she takes in.

"they've both said they are proud of me but i still feel like a failure. i thought i could save them."

"There is in this family, my dear." Hestia was simultaneously the oldest and the youngest of the Olympians, most forgot that since the goddess felt most comfortable in the form of a thirteen year old girl.

"It will take time, you were under cover for so long, believe me I let your father know how displeased I was he was having you spying for him." Hestia reached for Elizabeth's hands warming them between her own.

"Have you spoken to your father or stepmother about how you're feeling?"

[essentiamortis]

@multiversalshenanigans sent a raven : "Elizabeth, Darling. Are you almost ready?" (from Persephone)

physically, she's READY. mentally, elizabeth feels like a lost cause. the king of olympus demanded - or requested as her dear father put it - a meeting with the demigoddess. how interesting she is. a child raised amongst the dead, hidden from the eyes of olympus. more importantly - hidden away from zeus and poseidon. she'd rather endure another year of dealing with kronos and his mind games than to set foot upon the marble floor of that throne room. no - to even catch a glimpse of that place felt like a cold dagger plunging into her already shattered heart.

elizabeth is dressed in the dress that persephone had laid out for her. she runs her fingers down the light grey leather on her shoulders to the dark-laced bodice. she opted to have her auburn hair down - thankful that javier had ran a brush through it that morning. for the first time - she felt like her old self but numb from the grief.

"yeah, mama. i'm ready."

[isa-beenme]

Solo Dad Rhys!!!! Fluff piece!!!

AHAHAJAJAJSKSKAKAIAIA I LOVE RHYSAND SO MUCH

I'm sorry for giving a villain arc to Feyre but HEY history needs to happen okay?

Nyxie baby cutie boo making his first appearance in my blog, welcome babyyyy

My mind just went FUOOOOOON once I imagined the story, I SWEAR I was riding my bike when I thought of this and had to stop middle way to my house just to think it better

Yes I changed the lyrics of Wait For It to fit the history, and yes I invented a whole bunch of shit about velaris WHO CARES

KEEP SENDING REQUESTS I LOVE DOING THIS

Wait For It

In the breathtaking realm of the Night Court, the stars gleamed like diamonds in the obsidian sky, casting their ethereal glow upon the majestic city of Velaris below. Amidst the grandeur of the court, Nyx, a cherubic young boy of ten, with unruly dark curls and captivating violet eyes, eagerly awaited his Wednesday night escapade.

Nyx's parents were once deeply in love, but Feyre, burdened by a restless heart, had returned to her once fiancee, Tamlin, High Lord of the Spring Court, after giving birth. In the aftermath of her choices, she had bitterly slandered Rhysand and his family, a web of lies that entangled them in trouble. Despite the turmoil, Rhysand only devoted himself to raising Nyx, juggling the responsibilities of both a powerful High Lord and a dedicated father.

But Nyx had a little secret, a sanctuary that filled his heart with joy amidst the chaos. Every Wednesday night, he would give his father an innocent lie, claiming to attend "extra classes" while secretly venturing to the grand theater of Velaris in the bursting heart of music and arts of the Rainbow.

The first time it happened was pure coincidence. The grand theater of Velaris hummed with the anticipation of the evening's performance. Nyx had just learned how to winnow and having his father's mischievous spirit, he went after the wave of emotion that spread everywhere he went, sneaking into an empty booth Nyx sat in awe, waiting to witness the lady everyone affectionately called "Starlight" take the stage once more. He wore a dashing little suit, feeling every inch a proper gentleman as he eagerly anticipated the show.

As the curtains rose, Nyx's eyes widened in wonderment as "Miss Starlight" appeared, bathed in the spotlight's embrace. Her voice, like a thousand twinkling stars, filled the theater, capturing hearts with its enchanting melody. She actually portrayed a character named Starlight, who reunited the story of Velaris and told it in a song, bringing the city to life and giving it a soul she shared with on stage.

When the final notes of the performance echoed through the theater, the audience erupted in thunderous applause. Nyx, who had been clapping with glee, could hardly contain his excitement as he jumped up from his seat. He knew that he had to speak to her, to let her know how much he adored her singing. With determination in his heart, Nyx slipped away from the public side, weaving through the crowd until he reached the backstage area. His little heart pounded with nervous excitement, but he couldn't let fear hold him back, he knew this was his chance to talk to the performer.

Peeking around the corner, he spotted her, still dressed in her celestial attire, chatting with some of the crew. Nyx took a deep breath, mustering all the bravery a seven-year-old could have, and stepped forward, clutching a small bouquet of flowers he had summoned from his auntie Elain's garden.

- Um, excuse me, miss Starlight? - He called out softly, a touch of shyness evident in his voice. The lady turned, and a radiant smile graced her features as she noticed the adorable little boy approaching her.

- Why, hello there - She said warmly, going down on her knees to meet his eyes. Her sparkling dress made a pool of diamonds shine around her, making her look even more like an angel - And who are you, young man?

- I'm a big fan - He whispered in shyness, hands sweating as he offered her the bouquet and she took it.

- Is my big fan's name Nyx, I suppose? - She asked as if it was a secret, Nyx's eyes widened in surprise.

- You know my name? - She chuckled gently and offered him a hand, one he gladly took in.

- Of course, I remember you. You've been coming here with your father to see the renewal, haven't you? - Nyx's cheeks flushed with delight, feeling like he was known and seen by someone special.

- Yes! I love music, and I loved, even more, your singing, Miss Starlight. It's like true magic! - She laughed, even then she sounded like she was made of music.

- Well, thank you, Nyx. That's such a lovely compliment - She replied, touched by his sincerity. Nyx pointed to her bouquet, a bit shy when she held it close to her heart.

- These are for you. They're from the Night Court's garden - He proudly said and she smiled even more.

- Thank you, sweetheart - She said, looking at the flowers with gratitude - They're beautiful, just like you - His heart swelled with joy at the praise, and a wide grin spread across his face.

- Can I, um, watch all your performances, Miss Starlight? - Her eyes sparkled with warmth and affection.

- Oh, absolutely! I would be delighted to have my biggest fan in the audience at every show - Nyx beamed, feeling like the luckiest boy in all of Prythian.

- Yay! Thank you! - He ran to hug her, taking care to not step in her dress or ruin her hair which had sparkles that shined like the stars he loved to see. As their conversation continued, Nyx's initial shyness faded away, replaced by a blossoming friendship. The lady shared stories of her love for music and the theater, and Nyx listened with rapt attention, hanging on to her every word.

From that day forward, Nyx became a regular presence at her performances. He would sit in the front row or in the same booth when he didn't feel like gaining attention from the citizens, his eyes alight with wonder, as "Miss Starlight" sang and danced with grace and passion. And each time the curtains fell, she would come to greet him, and they would share heartwarming conversations that left Nyx feeling like he had found a kindred spirit.

Their bond grew stronger with each passing performance, and Nyx's admiration for "Miss Starlight" only deepened as the years passed. Their friendship was a radiant star in the young boy's life, casting a luminous glow on his days in the Night Court. And every time he watched her on that mesmerizing stage, he couldn't help but feel that he was in the presence of true magic. There, he would be enchanted over and over again by a sweet and lovely lady, her voice as mellifluous as the Night Court's nocturnal symphony.

It took years for Nyx to finally come up with a good and durable excuse for his lack of presence every Wednesday night, sometimes even missing dinner with his family when his favorite singer invited him to dine with the rest of the cast that presented the show. Unknown to Nyx, in one of his hidden escapes, his father was making his way across the city. Under the veil of night, the streets of Velaris were bathed in a silvery glow. High Lord Rhysand, cloaked in shadows, followed the path toward one of his favorite restaurants.

While he passed through some of the streets he met Nyx's teacher walking next to the River. Curious as to why she was there he trailed her discreetly, observing her every move with a mixture of concern and curiosity. As the lady entered a quaint restaurant, Rhysand waited a moment before stepping inside. He chose a discreet corner, keeping his features hidden from curious gazes. The restaurant hummed with soft conversation and the clinking of glasses, creating a cozy ambiance.

After what felt like an eternity, the lady emerged from the restroom, looking elegant and serene. Rhysand steadied himself, deciding it was time to confront her.

- Excuse me, miss - As she walked past his table, he spoke in a low, steady voice. She turned, her eyes meeting Rhysand's, and for a moment, he saw a glimmer of recognition. However, she quickly masked it with a polite smile.

- Yes, can I help you, my Lord? - Her face was calm, too calm for someone that was supposed to be with somebody else's son and not at a restaurant having a date.

- I believe you've been teaching my son, Nyx, for the past few years - Rhysand began, maintaining an air of formality.

- Oh, Nyx - She replied, her eyes brightening with fondness - Such a charming and talented young boy. He's been attending my classes for a while now, yes.

- I must apologize for any misunderstanding, but I can't seem to understand why you are here if he was supposed to be in class right now - The lady's expression faltered, and she seemed to grasp the seriousness of the situation.

- I... I don't have formal classes with him on Wednesdays, per se. Nyx has been coming every Saturday afternoon for his lessons - Rhysand became desperate for a second, and his heart clenched with worry for his son's safety.

- So he's been lying to me - He said, his voice tinged with disappointment. The lady's eyes softened with understanding.

- I'm sorry if I inadvertently became part of his secret. I never knew he was hiding the truth from you - His ears pricked at her words, curious as to why she didn't seem any sort of nervous

- What do you mean by "hiding the truth from me"? Do you know where he is? - She seemed confused for a second, before a smile plastered on her face.

- Everyone in the streets of the Rainbow knows where the little prince goes on Wednesdays, we all assumed you and your family knew too. It's not uncommon to find him walking down the city with the actors that play in the theater - His eyes softened at hearing his son was safe and his citizens were somehow taking care of him - I'm sorry for not noticing your lack of knowledge on his where being.

- You have nothing to apologize for - Rhysand replied, his tone gentler now - I appreciate your honesty. I was just worried for his safety once I saw you here.

- He's safe with the crew, they are lovely people to be around, I actually befriended some of them, there's nothing to fear - the lady assured him, her sincerity evident - He's such a joy around them, and he's genuinely passionate about music and theater. You need to listen to him talk about his "Miss Starlight" and detail every new performance of hers - Rhysand couldn't help but feel a hint of gratitude toward the lady for cherishing his son's company. A smile graced the lady's lips, and a sparkle danced in her eyes - He's a remarkable young boy, and it's been so sweet to hear him talk about this lady, you should probably meet her and thank this female for making him so happy. He's always so enthusiastic.

- I'm planning to talk to him about this - Rhysand said, his voice tinged with gratitude, though - But I would like to be informed of any action by him, apparently there are a lot of things I don't know about. Thank you once again - As she nodded with a small smile Rhysand quickly winnowed to the Town House, calling an urgent meeting with his family.

The Night Court's Inner Circle gathered in a quiet corner of the luxurious house, their faces reflecting concern and curiosity. Rhysand sat at the head of the table, his heart heavy with worry for his young son, Nyx. He had discovered Nyx's secret escapades to watch "Miss Starlight," the lady whose performances had captured his son's heart, and now he needed advice on how to handle the situation. Mor leaned forward, her brows furrowed with worry.

- So, he's been going to watch performances instead of attending classes, is that what you just said? - She asked, concern lacing her voice.

- Yes, and he's been lying about it for a while now, years probably. I didn't find out until this night when I found his teacher in a restaurant, and I'm not sure how to address it without making him feel ashamed - Rhysand nodded, his voice tinged with regret.

- He's a curious child, Rhysand. He probably felt the need to hide it because he thought you'd disapprove - Amren, always the pragmatic one, spoke up.

- I can understand why he'd be drawn to her performances. She's a true star on that stage - Cassian chimed in, his face thoughtful.

- And she's been wonderful with Nyx - Azriel added quietly - I've seen her interact with him after her shows, and the way he lights up in her presence is undeniable.

- Wait, wait, wait, both knew he was going to her performances and none of you thought about telling me? - His brother's expression fell at their mistake, slowly looking at each other before looking at their High Lord again.

- Maybe? I mean, we saw him on the front row once and when we made sure he was safe we left him there - Cassian explained first, exchanging looks with the shadowsinger.

- We were waiting for him to tell you - Azriel closed the conversation, looking at the ground in shame.

- Hold on, the actress we are talking about is the one who played Edwina in "Whimsical Serenade"? - As Cassian and Azriel eagerly agreed, their faces lighting up, Morrigan laughs hard, finally understanding the whole situation - Of course! It all makes sense now! Even I lied to you once to go watch her performance with Elain. I didn't notice Nyx there, though.

- Isn't she the one who plays Rhysand in "A High Lord's Duel"? - Amren jumps in the conversation, and Nestha's eyes widened at the mention - Holy shit, she is amazing. It actually scared me how well she incorporates Rhysand in the scenes with Tamlin.

- If so she is the one who plays Eliza in "A Heartfelt Symphony" - All of them agreed to her statement, starting a discussion about her talent and performances.

- Let me get this straight, all of you watched her at least once? - As the Inner Circle discussed Nyx's infatuation with "Miss Starlight", as well as their experiences with her, unbeknownst to them, the young boy himself stood at the doorway, eavesdropping on the conversation with a mix of fear and guilt. He knew he had let his father down, and he dreaded facing the consequences of his actions.

Before Nyx could retreat, Mor's keen senses detected his presence. She glanced towards the door and smiled warmly at him.

- Nyx, come on in. We were just discussing your little adventures - His little heart pounded in his chest, but he knew he couldn't hide anymore. Nyx took a deep breath and stepped into the room, his violet eyes meeting his father's concerned gaze.

- Nyx - Rhysand began gently - We know about your visits to watch the shows at the theater. Why didn't you tell me the truth?

- I didn't want you to be angry with me, Papa. I love her singing, and I didn't think you'd let me go if you knew - Nyx's shoulders slumped, his voice small.

- Nyx, I'm not angry with you. I just want to know the truth. You don't have to hide anything from me - Rhysand softened, understanding his son's fear.

- Plus, we all know about her. You're not the only one who's watched her perform, little one - Mor grinned, her eyes twinkling mischievously. Nyx's eyes widened in surprise, and he looked around at the Inner Circle, finding nods of agreement from each of them. The knowledge that everyone knew and still supported him brought a smile to his face.

- You guys have seen her too? - Nyx asked in awe.

- Of course! We had to make sure you weren't getting into any trouble, boo - Cassian chuckled.

- Papa, please come with me to the next show. She's amazing, and I think you'll like her too - Nyx turned back to his father, his eyes earnest.

- Yes, Daddy, Miss Starlight is the best in the whole wide world - Nestha chuckled before earning a warning glare from the High Lord.

- All right, Nyx. I'll go with you, and we can enjoy her performance together - Rhysand's heart swelled with love for his son and his genuine enthusiasm.

Nyx beamed, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. He knew he could trust his father, and having him there by his side meant the world to him. And so, with the support of the Inner Circle and his loving father, Nyx felt a newfound sense of confidence. He had learned that honesty and trust were the building blocks of their family, and he was eager to share the magic of "Miss Starlight" with the one person he loved most in the world – his Papa, the High Lord of the Night Court.

As fate would have it, one week later they arrived at the theater, Rhysand's heart pounding in his chest with a nervousness he hadn't felt for years. He let Nyx guide them to one of the booths that held an upper vision of the scenario, his son kept gazing at the stage with an enchantment that seemed to hold a spell over him. The performance began, and a whole bunch of songs were being presented that night. The musical was called "The Whole World of the Night Court", each actor portraying a different city of his territory, telling its story in the form of a song.

The lights turned off again, and Nyx started to shake completely in his chair with excitement. As the grand theater's velvet curtains parted, a hushed anticipation swept through the audience. A spotlight illuminated the stage, and there she stood, "Miss Starlight," bathed in a celestial aura, ready to weave her magic once more. Rhysand sat straighter in his seat, his heart fluttering with both curiosity and the enchantment that surrounded the mysterious lady, a sudden uneasiness taking his body.

As for Nyx, his wide violet eyes were shimmering with excitement, his small hands gripping the edge of the plush seat. He was eager to share this moment with his Papa, to introduce him to the magic that had captured his young heart. Her, interpreting once again her character Starlight, began to tell Velaris stories to the public as if it was her own, eyes shimmering at each word. Suddenly the orchestra began to play a mesmerizing melody, and the lady took a deep breath, her voice tinged with emotion as she began to sing. The soulful notes of the piano accompanied her melodic voice, setting the stage for the tale she was about to tell.

- Theodosia writes me a letter every day; I'm keeping the bed warm while her father is away, He's on the human side in Prythian; He's trying to keep the colonies in line; But he can keep all of Prythian; Theodosia, she's mine - She sang, making a clear reference to the firstly High Lord that idealized Velaris as a gift to his wife, Theodosia. This fact made Rhysand even more aware of the spectacle.

- Love doesn't discriminate; Between the sinners and the saints; It takes, and it takes, and it takes; And we keep loving anyway; We laugh, and we cry, and we break, and we make our mistakes; And if there's a reason I'm by her side; When so many have tried; Then I'm willing to wait for it; I'm willing to wait for it.

With a glance at Nyx, who was completely enthralled by the performance, Rhysand knew that this lady had the power to touch hearts and ignite imaginations.

- My grandfather was a fire and brimstone preacher; But there are things that the homilies and hymns won't teach ya; My mother was a genius; My father commanded respect; When they died, they left no instructions; Just a legacy to protect - At that she clearly meant the legacy every High Lord had to carry to protect the city, himself being one of the many that had to sacrifice a lot to keep the secret - Death doesn't discriminate; Between the sinners and the saints; It takes, and it takes, and it takes; And we keep living anyway; We rise, and we fall, and we break, and we make our mistakes; And if there's a reason I'm still alive; When everyone who loves me has died; I'm willing to wait for it; I'm willing to wait for it.

As the chorus echoed through the theater, Rhysand felt a connection to the song's message. He understood the yearning for something that might be just out of reach, and it resonated deep within his soul.

- Wait for it, wait for it, wait for it, wait - The quiet intensity in her expression held the audience captive while the back vocals reached their peak, and Rhysand found himself captivated as well, unable to look away.

Her voice rose, reaching heights that seemed to touch the very stars, and as the orchestra swelled around her, Rhysand could feel the passion in every word she sang.

- I am the one thing in life I can control; I am inimitable, I am an original; I'm not falling behind or running late; I'm not standing still, I am lying in wait - He understood it as a way of saying how every city thrived and Velaris kept being a hidden city towards the other courts - Nightmare's face is an endless uphill climb; He has something to prove; He has nothing to lose; Nightmare's pace is relentless, he wastes no time; What is it like in his shoes?

Nightmare was one of the characters previously introduced in the show, representing the Hewn City and their politics of participating in every decision, especially by being the formal representation and the known image of the Night Court.

- Nightmare doesn't hesitate; He exhibits no restraint; He takes, and he takes, and he takes; And he keeps winning anyway; He changes the game; He plays and he raises the stakes; And if there's a reason he seems to thrive when so few survive; Then, goddammit, I'm willing to wait for it; I'm willing to wait for it - Her voice went to a soft breeze, tickling Rhysand's soul as she rose her voice again for the final chorus - Life doesn't discriminate; Between the sinners and the saints; It takes, and it takes, and it takes; We rise, and we fall; And if there's a reason I'm still alive; When so many have died; Then I'm willing to - Her eyes met his in the middle of the public, a sense of understanding passing through them, an unspoken love for their court and the child both of them unknowingly raised together. She was still looking him deep in his eyes as she smiled and repeated the final phrase - Wait for it.

The final verse carried an air of determination, of embracing the journey and whatever it may bring. As the last notes reverberated through the theater, the audience erupted in applause, their hearts touched by the lady's stirring performance. Rhysand glanced at Nyx, whose eyes shone with a mixture of awe and admiration.

- That was amazing, Papa! Did you like it? - Nyx asked, his voice brimming with excitement.

- Yes, my star, I loved it. And I'm glad you brought me here to experience it with you - Rhysand smiled, his heart full of love for his young son and the lady who had brought so much joy into their lives.

Amid the ending performance with a song that reunited all of the cast together, the lady glanced up and met Rhysand's intense stare once again, singing some of the parts to him, in that fleeting moment the music seemed to draw them closer, and when she smiled bright and big and bowed to him in the end, his heart skipped a beat.

The final notes of the fun goodbye to the cast proportionate filled the air as the audience erupted into thunderous applause again. Nyx's heart swelled with pride, knowing that his Papa, the High Lord of the Night Court, had enjoyed the mesmerizing magic of "Miss Starlight's" song, just as he had. He couldn't wait to introduce them properly. As the crew took their final bow and the curtain fell, Nyx tugged on his father's hand, his excitement evident in his wide, sparkling eyes.

- Papa, come on! Let's go meet her! - He exclaimed, practically bouncing with enthusiasm. Rhysand chuckled at his son's exuberance, happy to see him so thrilled.

- All right, lead the way, little star - He said, following Nyx as they made their way backstage.

Behind the curtain, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement as the crew congratulated the lady on her outstanding performance. Nyx's eyes searched for her, and when he finally spotted her amidst the commotion, he pulled his father towards her.

- Miss Starlight! - Nyx called out, his voice filled with adoration. The lady turned, her eyes lighting up when she saw Nyx approaching with Rhysand in tow. She smiled warmly, her gaze moving from Nyx to Rhysand.

- Hello there, both of you - She greeted them, her voice as sweet as a lullaby. Nyx beamed, proud to have his father by his side.

- This is my Papa, the High Lord Rhysand. Papa, this is Lady Starlight, High Lady of the musical theater - he said, introducing them with a touch of pride.

- It's a pleasure to meet you, My Lord - The lady said, offering a graceful curtsy - Nyx has spoken very highly of you. I couldn't wait to finally meet the father of my biggest fan - Rhysand couldn't help but feel a hint of curiosity as he looked at the lady before him.

- Likewise - He replied with a genuine smile - Your performance was extraordinary. I've never heard such a captivating voice. And please, call me Rhysand, or Rhys - Her cheeks flushed with a blush of delight, and she bowed her head slightly

- Thank you, Rhysand. I'm honored that you enjoyed it - Before Nyx could contain his excitement, he interjected.

- Papa, you should ask her out on a date! - He shouted to his father, jumping up and down in place as he looked at both of the people he loved the most in the world (not that he would ever admit it next to the rest of his family). Rhysand blinked, surprised by Nyx's candid suggestion. He exchanged a glance with the lady, and a soft smile played on her lips.

- Is that so? - He asked, humor dancing in his eyes. Nyx nodded enthusiastically.

- Yes! She's really nice, and I know you'll like her. And I really want to call her mommy. And I'll change my name to Nyxie Starlight, and we'll be a family - Rhysand couldn't help but chuckle at his son's matchmaking efforts. Nyx, in his characteristic innocence, suggested they should marry soon so that Rhysand could be Mister Starlight, Nyx's mind forever intertwining her character's name with her true identity.

- Well, if it's alright with you, Miss Starlight, I'd love to take you out for a date - The lady's smile grew, her eyes shining with amusement.

- I'd be delighted, Rhys - The blush that covered her cheeks made Rhysand's heart flutter in a way he hadn't felt, even when he was with Feyre.

Nyx reveled in having both his beloved daddy and his adored Starlight in his life, and Rhysand found solace and bliss in a love he thought he would never experience again.

As they exchanged information and chose a day and place, Nyx couldn't contain his excitement, thrilled that his plan had worked. He knew that this lady had brought so much joy into his life, and he wanted nothing more than to see his Papa happy as well.

As they bid their farewells and left the theater, Rhysand felt a sense of warmth in his heart, grateful for the magical night he had shared with his son and the enchanting lady they now knew as "Miss Mommy Starlight." And as they looked up at the starlit sky above the Night Court, Rhysand knew that the adventure they had embarked upon was just beginning, an adventure filled with love, music, and the serendipitous magic of young hearts.

They embraced the magic of their fate, as their lives intertwined like a dance, creating a tale of love that would be whispered through the ages in the immortal lands of Prythian as the most magically musical love story that ever ran through history. Or the most disgustingly cute, as Nyx would proclaim, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

[blackcatruse]

𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢��

Story Synopsis: In the aftermath of the Tokyo Civil War Era, three gangs rose to the top: Kanto Manji, Rokuhara Tandai, and Brahman. These powerhouses have been locked in a stalemate, which only serves as temporary peace. In order to truly control Tokyo, one gang has to obtain all the money, power, and status. You’re a runner for a gang affiliated with Brahman, trying to claw your way out of debt that was never yours. The deals you make turn a significant profit, but your string of luck is starting to fray. When a deal goes south, you have no choice but to work with the infamous Haitani brothers. In exchange, you were promised freedom, but as you work the jobs with them, you begin to realize that the shadows hold something larger at play.

«prev. ❃ next» ❃ m.list ❃ ao3

pairing: r. haitani/fem!reader ↳ she/her, fem descriptors, nickname ❃ chapter synopsis: Enemy territory is a perfect, totally acceptable place to do business, right? The Haitani brothers don't think so, even if you do. word count: 1.4k chapter cw(s): swearing, physical violence, drug mention, death mention a/n: okay so, this is... loosely attached to the three deities arc. canon is just a suggestion, but because it's a stupid ass suggestion, i have elected to ignore it. i also threw in a ton of OCs, more than i was expecting too, oops. was not beta read & minimally edited. beware possible ooc

Being on enemy territory wasn’t on your to-do list for a Friday night, but the deal was important and the man you were supposed to be meeting said it had to be done here. Your boss said to do whatever you could to make it happen because it would make a huge profit. So here you are, decorated by neon pink and purple lights. The floor of the club was filled with moving bodies and reeked of sweat and alcohol. The thumping bass of the music vibrated the ice in your drink. Goddamn, if you weren’t annoyed. It was already nearing midnight and you hadn’t seen a lick of the man you were meeting. You couldn’t leave, but you also didn’t want to be seen here. You tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible, but you had already shooed away a few men that tried to hit on you, offer you a drink, or try to get you on the dancefloor.

You glanced down at your phone with a frown. There were no messages to be seen. Taking another sip of your drink, you scanned the sea of people writhing in the black lights. Maybe you should just go outside.

“What’s a pretty thing like you sittin’ all lonely?” A heavyset man plopped into the booth across from you. He smelled like a liquor cabinet.

You put on your best smile. “I’m just waiting on someone.” You stared over the man’s head and immediately saw the mule you were looking for. “Actually, he just got here. Sorry, got to go!”

Cursing men under your breath, you got up and weaved your way to him. His tattoos and piercings lined up with what you were told. You didn’t know his name, just an alias. But if you were being honest, you didn’t give him your real name either. The music made it almost impossible to speak without yelling, but when you came into his field of vision, he stared intently. You held up four fingers. He nodded and jerked his head towards the door.

Outside was far colder than the inside of the club. Your leather jacket did little for you. Both of you were in a narrow alleyway, underneath a flickering streetlight. Neither of you spoke, but you broke the silence. “Yon?” you asked.

A smirk, followed by, “Ah, so you’re Suzaku’s little Lotus.”

“Has your boss considered our offer?”

“Straight to the chase, I like that in a woman.”

If you were going to start a fight, you would inevitably lose. This monster of a man probably had a good eight or nine inches on you and at least a hundred pounds more muscle. You settled for a slight tick in your jaw. “You know that we’re experts at trafficking all sorts of things,” you said. “Running your drugs and dirty money would be a simple task.”

“Don’t you think Wuxing is getting a little greedy? You aren’t even a big name, just a subsection of Brahman. You have no negotiating power,” Yon scoffed. “Boss says he would consider it if you dropped your fees, then we could make something work.”

“Our rates are considerably lower, especially considering your gang isn’t well known either. You wanna get footing around here? You work with us.”

“Ambitious, aren’t we?”

“You know just as well as I do that money is power. Imagine how much money we could make you by running your goods through Shinjuku.”

“We’re not sure that profit will outweigh the costs. We’d rather run it ourselves in that case.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Brahman would never let you. They’d wipe you out in a second. But if you work with us, Brahman doesn’t know what we’re up to. We cover our tracks and we turn enough profit that the higher ups are willing to turn a blind eye.”

“Tell you what, we’ll think about it some more. Let Suzaku know he needs to send someone else other than his prized Lotus.”

With that, Yon turned and left. You knew this was something that could go south, but you figured the temptation of money would be enough. No, Yon was too smart for his own good. You should’ve met with someone dumber, but Yon’s boss started strong out the gate. Dammit. What were you going to tell Suzaku? Your string of luck with deals was running out, and it wouldn’t be long before he decided he was through with you.

You punched the brick wall next to you hard, ignoring the pain that seared down your arm. How had everything in your pitiful life come down to this? You could be at a university now. You could be on the path to an honest living, but no. That was never going to happen. There was blood on your hands that would never come off. It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to in order to survive, but you couldn’t stay afloat much longer.

Damn your brother for getting tangled up in business with Wuxing. You could’ve had a normal life, but he had to go and fuck everything up for you. His debts were suddenly your debts when the leader of Wuxing decided your brother was worthless. Not only that, but your brother had tried to sell you like some kind of broodmare. At that moment, you realized that the older brother who was supposed to protect you didn’t care about you at all. You didn’t flinch or look away when the bullet went between his eyes. You didn’t feel anything except white hot rage.

You could have had a normal life. Instead you were making back alley deals and running money, drugs, and weapons. All to pay off a debt that would never truly go away.

Hefting a sigh, you glanced at your skinned knuckles. Yeah, that was gonna sting later. Well, you’d deal with everything tomorrow. You had a meeting with Suzaku. You’d tell him you weren’t successful, get the shit kicked out of you, and try again later.

“Well, well, what do we have here? A little mouse straying into enemy territory?” A deep voice behind you startled you, but before you could make a run for it a rough hand grabbed the collar of your jacket. You were lifted slightly off the ground and you couldn’t kick at your attacker.

Shit. You knew better than to panic and instead shucked off your jacket as quickly as possible. You hit the pavement with an unceremonious thud before sprinting away. You can’t say you didn’t try, but you really should have anticipated the person that tackled you. Before you could even process what was happening you were on the ground, your right arm prisoner and your upper body pinned by a pair of legs. Goddammit. You really were in trouble now.

“She’s fast, bro,” a voice said, you could almost hear the shit-eating grin.

You couldn’t struggle, but you heard the nonchalant footsteps. There was a painful tug on your arm, but you refused to scream. You didn’t want to meet in Minato ward for this exact reason, but Yon insisted or else the deal was off completely. Why, for the love of any deities that existed, would he want to do business where Rokuhara Tandai ruled? Especially when the gang had the S62 generation among them. Getting caught would basically be a death sentence, though, you supposed it was your fault for lingering too long.

You tilted your head up to see a tall, lanky silhouette outlined by the streetlights. A baton twirled in one of his twin braids. You were familiar with your captors. In your line of work, you’d be stupid to not recognize the Haitani brothers. There was Ran who loved beating anyone senseless by any means necessary, and then there was Rindou, who would trap you and break any limb he caught.

Another jerk of your arm had you gritting your teeth, but you wouldn’t give in. You’d had worse. They wouldn’t get the pleasure of your fear.

The tip of the baton touched your face as Ran leaned down to get a closer look at you. It trailed down your cheek almost sensually before it went underneath your chin. “I would really hate to mar such a pretty face,” he cooed.

You heard something crack as Rindou pulled harder. Tears welled in your eyes, but your lips stayed sealed.

“Wow, you’re tough,” Ran remarked, sounding rather impressed. His boot came down on your face with a sickening crunch. Stars danced in your vision and blood gushed from your nose. You still didn’t make a sound. You’d had worse beatings, and you didn’t want them to have any satisfaction. So you spit your blood at the older Haitani, and that’s the last thing you remember before blacking out.

Thanks for checking out my self-indulgent little story! I hope you enjoyed. Have a great day <3 I had wanted to post this earlier, but life got in the way and then i wanted to make a fancy banner, but i didn't have the skills so i asked a friend to do it (she did awesome). the concept was mine, but the art is hers lol

Please do not reupload, translate, or steal my work! If it isn't here or on my ao3, it's not me!

Can't wait? Ao3 has more chapters posted!

Banner Credit: @/cafekitsune

[essentiamortis]

the daughter of the dead reaches her hand out, touching the younger girl's cheek. "hospitality is ingrained within us. you, especially, given whom your mother is." she removes her hand, allowing it to fall back into her lap. "that is kind of you and much appreciated. i have been finding solace by lady hestia's hearth here lately, haven't i?" a rhetorical question. "i won't be staying the night but perhaps a few hours. i could use the time away from apollo's obnoxiously bright sunshine."

the daughter of the hearth has only heard stories of the battle of manhattan, & the circumstances surrounding it. she remembers the misguided news coverage -- the claims of a storm, the images of something that was certainly not a storm. but that was some time ago. curly head tilts, gaze drifting back to the other. "i-if ... um. f'y-you'd like. you could, um ... st - stay in th' h-hes-s-stia c-cabin, for a n-night r't-t-two. k-kitt-ty c'n be ... c-c-calm-ming." not to mention the warm, serene energy that pours out of every inch of space. annette just wants to help.

[deep-sea-gigantinism]

i decided that i have so many x-files fics that i should create a masterpost!

My AO3

One-Shots

- “a night like this”

Scully should be writing her reports on what they’ve found so far in Bellefleur, but Mulder invites her out for a run. She decides she could use some time away from her computer screen.

- “to the ends of the earth”

After the arrest of Donnie Pfaster and Scully’s subsequent breakdown, Mulder takes her back to his apartment so that she can stay the night.

- “when the night was full of terror and your eyes were filled with tears”

Dana Scully has just returned to work and is tired of being seen as fragile. The only problem is, she herself is afraid to wade back into the waters of her everyday life, but luckily, Fox Mulder is here to give her a push.

- “at least most things”

It’s Mulder’s birthday, and it’s also a Friday. Scully is intent on making dinner for him, but things don’t exactly go as planned.

- “as all things do”

Mulder is back in his apartment and has no idea about the depth of the emotional wounds from his abduction. When he starts to fall apart, he calls Scully.

- “that if i go outside i’ll see a tractor beam/coming to take me to where i’m from”

She notices that sometimes, mostly after he visits his mother or tends to his father’s estate, Mulder very slightly drops the ‘r’s’ in some of his words, despite being closer to Connecticut than to Boston out on the Vineyard. It’s a little quirk that she never brings to his attention, as if she somehow selfishly hopes to prolong the phenomenon by extending his unawareness. Day by day, however, his accent is eaten away by time spent in D.C., but Scully would hold it in her mouth like a last breath if she could.

Multi-Chapter Fics

- “even in the sigh of the headlight sea, your tears were salty ocean”

Dana’s year of healing after her near-death experience during redux ii and a character study of her and Mulder in the aftermath of the cancer arc.

- “smoke signals”

The ghosts have finally left Mulder alone. They haven’t gone far, though, and Scully swears she can feel their hands around her throat. Mulder and Scully spend a week at his father’s house in Martha’s Vineyard to bury the past in the yard.

- “you know i dreamed about you / for twenty-nine years before i saw you”

a one-shot collection that examines the mulder’s and scully’s of every universe

[themculibrary]

Sick Tony Stark Masterlist

and the tough guys tumble (ao3) - CSHfic, VSfic steve/tony T, 18k

Summary: “You’re not getting better, are you?” Steve asked, reaching out to stop him.

“No, I’m not.”

What-if in which Tony doesn’t just simply reboot to get rid of the Harvester at the end of Captain America and Iron Man: One Night in Madripoor.

Arc Tremors (ao3) - MountainRose T, 125k

Summary: Tony's light had flickered out in the aftermath of the fight with the Chitauri, but his team was there and, hey, he'd just been to space, give a guy some slack. The next morning they accepted, but when he collapses weeks later, they're not going to let him brush it off again, and neither is JARVIS.

Babysitting Clint Barton (ao3) - SailorChibi steve/tony, clint/phil T, 7k

Summary: Clint came to terms with his daddy occasionally babysitting Tony a long time ago; sometimes it was even fun. What's a lot less fun was admitting that he might need a babysitter when his daddy's away too.

It helped a bit that Tony was feeling just as sick and little, even if he refused to admit it until he wet his pants while sneezing.

emergency contact (ao3) - whumphoarder G, 4k

Summary: It’s not that James disliked his roommate, it’s just that they didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.

Or, in which fifteen-year-old college freshman Tony Stark needs a ride to the ER and James Rhodes is too responsible for his own good.

In the Company of Friends (ao3) - DarkestSight (Daylight) T, 6k

Summary: Tony wakes up feeling like crap and finds himself longing for the time he lived alone and it was a lot easier to get a simple cup of coffee.

i think he knows (ao3) - twenty3 tony/stephen T, 7k

Summary: “You’re going to be fine,” he repeated. “But I need to give you something that’s going to make you even sicker. Your body needs to purge the spores, so you’re going to get sick to your stomach. A lot. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, but I swear to you, it’s going to get better. Do you understand?”

All Tony really understood was he was sick, and Stephen was going to help him.

He didn’t really need to know anything else.

“I trust you,” Tony replied.

Tony gets sick after a mission. Stephen takes care of him. Rhodey notices a few things.

it only hurts (when i breathe) (ao3) - Ocean_Born_Mary steve/tony T, 6k

Summary: Tony could see the mass of scar tissue built up around the reactor, could see the little pieces of shrapnel in his lungs, and he wondered, even now, how he was able to Not-Breathe so well with his heart and his ribs and his lungs all squished out of place.

Me through Him to You (ao3) - sahiya bucky/steve/tony T, 18k

Summary: “You’re sick, you need someone to look after you. This mission could take a couple of days, and I want you in one piece when I get home.”

Tony sighed. “Why do you care?”

Steve’s mouth twisted unhappily. “I hope that’s the fever talking.” He stepped closer. “When I get home,” he said, so quietly that Tony didn’t think even the nosiest of their nosy friends could hear it, “we’re going to talk, all right? Until then, please let Bucky look after you. Consider it me looking after you, through him.”

moderate to severe (ao3) - reona32 steve/tony G, 7k

Summary: Jarvis just thinks Sir would rest better in his own bed. It goes downhill from there.

of rescues and rashes (ao3) - Codee21 tony/stephen T, 2k

Summary: When Tony Stark-Strange doesn’t come home from an Avengers meeting one day, Stephen gets worried and decides to go after him.

Of course, what would a rescue mission be without a screaming toddler?

One of Those Days (ao3) - kerravon G, 21k

Summary: The arc reactor, despite being a technical marvel, is quite invasive. There have to be side effects to its presence in Tony's chest beyond the now-resolved Palladium poisoning. The team are about to find out just how debilitating it can be. This would be easier if Tony didn't feel the compulsion to hide the fact that he's sick. Misunderstandings all around, especially given Stark's reputation.

presenteeism (ao3) - Veldeia steve/tony T, 9k

Summary: Tony thinks piloting the armor remotely while letting the others believe he’s wearing it is a good plan, until he realizes he’s not hung over, but actually quite ill.

Steve thinks something’s off with Tony today, but he has no clue what that might be, and since Tony says he’s good to go, they’ll proceed with the mission anyway.

(Basically, that trope where Tony is sick but is too stubborn to admit it, with a slight twist. Fill for my Stony bingo prompt “armor”.)

shut up (ao3) - InkDippedFingertips tony/stephen G, 1k

Summary: Tony is sick and Stephen had his own way of handling him.

sick days (ao3) - aven_garde bucky/steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Tony gets sick and Steve and Bucky take care of him. Cue worried cuteness.

thank god for natasha romanov (ao3) - roguewidow97 G, 1k

Summary: Tony gets a migraine before the Maria Stark Foundation Gala but tries to power through anyway. Natasha helps him when he can’t.

the arc ain’t all that (ao3) - MountainRose bucky/steve/tony G, 4k

Summary: Tony doesn’t know why they make such a fuss.

the new (new) normal (ao3) - copperbadge steve/tony T, 9k

Summary: Tony has a thing about germs. Steve understands it a lot better after seeing him sick. Though he could still use some help understanding why he’s so annoyed that Rhodey’s the one who got to bring Tony soup….

the tchotchke cha cha (ao3) - Arukou steve/tony T, 7k

Summary: What started off as one impulse buy souvenir snowballs into a constant flow of knickknacks from all over the world, and Steve is starting to wonder if it’s more than just Tony being nice.

urgent matters only (ao3) - humanveil tony/stephen T, 1k

Summary: “The internet says he’s dying,” Peter says, glancing at his phone screen and skimming the search results. “Something about ca—”

“I’m not dying,” Tony interjects, cutting Peter off before he can finish. “It’s just a headache.” He sits up, sends a glare toward the kid. “This is why you’re banned from Google.”

you’re not dying (ao3) - tonystarkssnipples steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: Steve comes home and finds a sick Tony curled up in bed.

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Warnings/Tags: mention of blood, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, female/afab reader, healing quirk, sexual tension w Dabi, implication of non-con (not by Dabi), Muscular is a creep, Dabi gets a new fit, aftermath of UA training arc

Author's Note: TIME FOR SEXUAL TENSION. All my homies hate Muscular, FUCK him. He gave me bad vibes during the UA training arc, so I’m trashing on his character. Handing Dabi a few W's before he gets couple L's. Also I'm feeding you guys a long chapter so buckle the fuck up. Warning: Muscular is a creep and implies noncon.

Word Count: 7.8K

Link to AO3

Chapter Seven: I Really Hate This Guy

You ended up recovering just fine after eating and sleeping your dizzy spell off. By the next day, it was as if nothing had happened at all. As far as you were concerned, nothing did really happen. Your memory of the incident was fuzzy. You knew that you pushed yourself too far and fainted for a moment, but what came afterwards was a complete blur. It must not have been too much of a disaster, considering you awoke in your bed without any bruises. You reason you must have simply fallen into your bed. You just hope you didn’t cause Dabi any trouble. Little did you know that Dabi was the one who caught you, brought you snacks, and made sure you were okay before leaving you to rest. 

Your morning goes by quietly as you freshen yourself up in the bathroom. There’s not a sound in the other rooms, meaning the others are either still asleep or away on missions. With your morning routine done, you exit the bathroom and enter the hallway. As you are heading to your room, you notice Toga’s door is cracked open. Curiously, you creep forward to her door and quietly swing the door wider. The hinges softly groan, causing you to hold your breath and cringe. But when you release your breath and press on, you notice that it’s empty. She must be out on a mission. You swallow thickly, feeling some anxiety rising within you. Now is the perfect time to snatch a knife. You glance over your shoulders, checking to make sure the hallway is clear. If you’re gonna go through with this, you can’t have any witnesses. When you realize the hallway is clear, you make your move. You quickly, but quietly, stride over to Toga’s desk and pick out the smallest switchblade you see. Your heartbeat patters in your ears and your hands shake as you take the knife and tuck it into your waistband. Not wanting to risk being seen and questioned, you make your leave, immediately heading straight to your room. 

You relax a bit once the door is shut behind you. The hard part is over, the next step is to hide it away. You let your back rest against the door as you chew your lip and weigh your options. As far as you’re aware, no one except Dabi or Toga have ever set foot into your room. Which means, almost any place that’s out of plain sight and hard to quickly get to would be a good place. After a few more moments of contemplating, you settle on a discrete location and stow it away. You hope you’re now one step closer to freedom. 

You steady your wildly beating heart by taking a few breaths, assuring yourself the stashed knife would not be found. It’s important you get your emotions under control, your shaking hands and nervous demeanor would raise suspicions, should you let them show. You’re unsure of how many minutes have passed before you finally calm yourself. What you do know, however, is that you’re fucking starving. It’s time for you to head downstairs. 

You leave your room and quietly make your way to the kitchen, checking to see if the bar is empty along the way. Despite how quiet the base is today, you’re definitely not alone, as your eyes catch a glimpse of Shigaraki and Mr.Compress conversing together in the bar. Looks like your escape route is guarded again, not that you’d have any way out anyways. You expected as much, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less disappointing. Still, you have to hold onto hope that someday they will slip up, either by allowing you enough time to attempt at picking the lock, or being stupid enough to leave a key behind. You’re not sure how likely that is though, given how most of them warp in rather than using the front door anyways.

You move on from the bar and onto the kitchen. The cupboards are surprisingly well-stocked, despite Shigaraki seemingly not generating much income. Villainy doesn’t normally pay the bills very well, after all. You wonder if there’s a mysterious benefactor helping the LOV behind the scenes. Whatever the case is, you certainly don’t mind if it means you get to eat. You fix yourself a quick breakfast and eat in peace, feeling partially amazed by just how mundane your day is going so far. This has to be the most boring day you’ve experienced in captivity.

You’re premature in your thoughts as the semblance of tranquility is shattered by a commotion in the other room. Judging by the voices, it seems the others are back from their mission. When there’s a mission, there are usually injuries too. You wash your empty bowl in the sink and head to your room, figuring that they’ll be looking for you there. As you head to the stairs, you meet Dabi in the halls. 

“I’m assuming you’re back from some sort of mission?” You ask him. 

“Yep,” he confirms. 

“Any injuries?”

“Not this time, it was just recon work.” 

“Looks like your staples got snagged though,” you point out. His fingers shoot to his face, touching the area and then feeling the blood stain his fingers. “It looks like they’ll need to be replaced.”

“Yeah, seems like it,” He agrees. “Didn’t you mention once that you had some?”

“They’re in the first aid kit,” you verify. 

“You mind bringing them over to my room?” 

“Yeah, I can do that.” You leave to fetch the necessary medical supplies, digging through what you have in your kit. Although he didn’t outright request it, you grab disinfectant, gauze, and a medical stapler.  You never really paid it much mind, but through your sifting, you notice he gave you equipment that goes well beyond amateur first aid. There are even suturing tools and nylon threads. But conveniently, nothing you could use to your advantage.

‘Where does Shigaraki even get all this stuff,’ you wonder. It’s weird, you think, how Shigaraki managed to get his hands on professional medical equipment. You think back to those sets of locked doors and the hospital-like smell you saw, once before. There’s gotta be something weird behind those doors, to warrant Shigaraki’s secrecy and for him to have all these medical supplies. 

Not wanting to keep Dabi waiting any longer, you shake the thoughts from your head and scoop up the necessary supplies. You head over to Dabi’s room and knock on the door. He calls for you to come in and you oblige, opening the door and shutting it behind you. You realize just how different his room looks in the light, as when you helped him to his room that night, everything was shrouded in darkness. You’re able to see just how bare his room is. There’s not many personal belongings in his room. In fact, his room isn’t much different than what yours looked like when you first arrived. Though, there is one thing he added.

You didn’t notice that one night, but there’s a mirror on his dresser, likely for this very reason. He leans over and looks into his reflection, eyes focusing on the bent staples. Unceremoniously, he yanks out the staples and then holds the area together with his free hand. You can’t help but stare at the scene, mouth agape. It’s no wonder Shigaraki wanted a healer, this man is incredibly wreckless with his personal health.

“You should really disinfect that first,” you chide. 

He shrugs. “Kinda hard to do with just one hand, I’ll pass.”

You sigh and twist off the cap from the disinfectant, pouring it onto a gauze. Looks like you’ll just have to take it upon yourself to clean the wound. You sidle up to him and snake your arm in between his. Your hand replaces his and supports his cheek. He lets you take over and watches your movements through the mirror as you dab the area with the gauze. 

“There, that should do it. Can you hold this again for me? I’ll get the stapler,” you request. Your hand brushes his as he holds himself together once more. You retract from his space, walking over to toss the sullied gauze into the trash before retrieving the stapler. It’s when you go to approach him again that nervousness starts to settle in your mind. Wait, how the fuck do you do this? You’ve never really done this before. Inserting staples is where your medical knowledge tapers off. He seems to notice your uncertainty, as he motions for you to hand over the staples. You oblige, feeling a bit relieved. Inserting staples is not something you’re entirely familiar with. Given the state of his body, he’s much more accustomed to it than you are. He uses the stapler and rejoins the flesh without a wince.

“Do you have any burns today?” You ask. He shakes his head. 

“No, I didn’t use my quirk,” he explains. “Wouldn’t mind you taking care of this, though.” He gestures to the scar underneath his eye, the same one that just got the staples replaced. 

“Yeah, sure thing,” you agree. You figured he might ask such a thing, it seemed painful. 

“You’re always standing when we do this. Here, sit,” he encourages, tapping on his desk nearby. You suppose he’s right, but you wonder what warranted such thoughts. You’d hate for this to be the case, but you wonder if it has anything to do with your fainting yesterday. With no other place to sit except his bed, you acquiesce to his request and hop onto the desk. He stands in front of you and you notice it’s a bit hard to reach his face without bending forward awkwardly, on account of your thighs getting in the way. You part your thighs to make it easier, allowing him the space to come closer. 

His hands are splayed on either side of your thighs, bearing some of his weight as he leans down to your level. You try to focus on the task at hand, attempting to avoid thinking too deeply on how his hips feel in between your thighs. It’s proving to be a hard task. You try to steady your breath before your hand touches his face, beginning the healing process on the skin. 

His warm fingers deftly brush against the skin of your thighs. The featherlight contact pulls a slight shudder and quiet gasp out of you. He must notice this as he lets out a light-hearted, airy chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re cold already,” he teases. Your skin erupts into goosebumps, obviously felt under Dabi’s fingers. His voice takes on a more husky tone when he speaks again, “Do I have to warm you up so soon?”

You’re not sure if he means to, but his words seem flirtatious. The implication makes you even more flustered. You clear your throat before speaking, trying to cover up your obvious nervousness. “N-no, I’m fine. Just a random shiver is all.” 

You internally cringe at your own stuttering. It’s obvious he’s picked up on it. Dabi hums in response, eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. “If you say so.” Heat rises in your cheeks. You huff out of frustrated embarrassment. He wasn’t entirely certain before, but judging from how you don’t recoil at his touch and how flustered it makes you, he’s confident in what he heard at the door now. Magne was right. You are attracted to him, you just don’t know the feeling is mutual.

Truthfully, he’s not sure what to do with this knowledge. This is uncharted territory for him. All he’s been focused on is his grandiose plan to ruin Endeavor. Fawning over someone was pointless and distracting. Besides, after what happened to his body, he thought his appearance was too unsightly anyways. It was better for him to abandon the idea altogether, lest he gets rejected and tossed aside all over again. But after hearing you don’t think he’s repulsive, what the fuck is he supposed to do now? It’s not like he learned what to do from his father. He knows he feels attraction towards you, though. Until he figures out the rest, he’s content with sneaking touches and stealing glances. The rush you give him is just too addictive to pass up. 

“Th-there, that should do it,” you shakily say. He hums in acknowledgement. Your eyes meet his, only to notice that he’s much closer to your face and looking at your lips with narrowed eyes.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask, nervousness clear in your voice. 

“Your lips turned blue last time, just doing my part to make sure you don’t fall on me again,” he replies. 

“And are they blue now?” His hand cups your jaw and his thumb just barely grazes your bottom lip. Your heart begins to quicken at the gesture. 

“No,” he answers. “Looks perfect to me.” He makes eye contact with you and you can’t suppress the way your mind hangs onto those words. 

He’s inches away from your face, close enough to see every detail of your face. His eyes momentarily dart to your lips, an action you don’t miss. You swallow, feeling the butterflies swarming in your stomach. It’s your turn to glance at his lips. You can’t help but wonder how his lips would feel against yours. When your gaze meets his, you feel your breath hitch upon realizing he was watching you. His pupils are dilated and his eyes are lidded. To him, yours look the same. 

His heart is thumping in his chest, much like yours is. The feelings between you two are wordlessly understood, demonstrated by how you’re both locked in place, frozen within this moment in time, as the tension crescendoes at an all-time high. Your resolve crumbles as you wish for the dam to finally break. He is the forbidden fruit, and consequences be damned, you want a taste. He seems to lean in closer, his breath fanning your lips. Instinctively, yours part. His eyes flutter closed and you do the same. The moment is rudely interrupted as a voice calls from the door.

“Dabi, y/n, the two of you are needed downstairs,” Kurogiri formally informs. Your eyes immediately snap open. To say his voice startled you is an understatement. You’re thankful Dabi’s door is still shut, at least. Kurogiri is not the worst person to discover the two of you like this, but you’d much rather not be discovered at all. 

Dabi lets his forehead fall against yours and begrudgingly opens his eyes, gazing at you with a soft expression you’ve never quite seen on him. He seems to hesitate before pulling away from you, battling the desire to just kiss you quickly. He locks eyes with you one more time and lets out a sigh, one that is mixed with disappointment and frustration. His fingers card through his hair, an attempt to soothe the tension he feels. He parts his lips to speak and tiredly drawls,“Alright, we’ll be right there.” 

You slide off of the table and the two of you walk together downstairs, neither of you mentioning that close moment. Everyone appears to be gathered in the bar, with Shigaraki standing near the door next to an unfamiliar person. The stranger has a hulking figure, with large, rippling muscles over his entire body. He appears to have an artificial eye on the side of his face marled with a deep, large scar. The eye is unlike anything you’ve seen before, as it exposes some of the ocular muscles and does not aim to look very natural. 

The rest of the LOV is waiting for an explanation as to why this stranger is in the bar, seemingly approved by Shigaraki. Dabi and you stand tucked in the back of the crowd, behind Toga and Magne. Toga glances over her shoulder, catching sight of you and Dabi. She gives you a Cheshire Cat grin. “What took you two so long?” Toga teases in a hushed whisper. 

“Healing stuff, you know, the usual,” you offer in explanation. Your voice must not sound confident, as she seemingly picks up on your lie. 

“Right, sure,” she giggles, knowingly. You’re thankful Shigaraki begins to speak, interrupting that interaction and saving you from more embarrassment. 

“This is Muscular, he will be accompanying you all on the mission tomorrow. Get your introductions out of the way now, I don’t wanna hear you were all too busy chatting to pull off the mission,” Shigaraki commands. “Talk about your quirks or something, you need to know how to use each other to our advantage.” 

“Does this include me?” You worryingly ask Dabi. 

“No, this doesn’t involve you. You and Shigaraki are staying behind,” he assures. You sigh in relief. 

Shigaraki leaves his place next to Muscular and takes a seat on the bar, barking at Kurogiri to make him a drink, the action silently encouraging the others to get on with their introductions. Toga takes the initiative to approach Muscular first and bounces over to him. She seems excited to meet new people, and therefore Muscular, despite the unspoken nervousness that seems to build in the room.

“Hi, I’m Toga!” 

“Your quirk, what is it?” he interrogates, seemingly completely uninterested in the casual small talk Toga was attempting to initiate. She pouts at his disinterest. It’s hard to hear where you are in the bar, but you swear you hear her mutter a ‘so rude’ under her breath. 

“I can become someone else if I drink their blood. The more blood I drink, the longer I can look like them,” she explains. Her voice has lost her usual enthusiasm, replaced with a cordial but curt tone. 

“Does that mean you can take on other people’s quirks?” 

“No, I can just look like them or sound like them.” 

“What happens when your timer runs out?”

“The facade melts off and leaves behind this gross clay,” she answers, grimacing at just the thought. This gives you more information about her quirk, something that you file in the back of your mind for later. The rest of the introductions go by as you hang back in the crowd with Dabi. Even Dabi seems slightly put off by Muscular, as he’s not in a hurry to approach him. Muscular ends up walking to Dabi, the crowd parting as he does so. Looks like the feeling is mutual amongst the rest of the LOV. 

“Dabi, I take it?” Muscular asks. Dabi answers a very unenthusiastic ‘yeah’ in response. To others, it sounds like his usual apathetic attitude, but somehow, you’re able to distinguish the difference. “So you’re the guy leading the mission.” 

“That’s right,” he answers. Muscular hums in acknowledgment, before his eyes meet yours. 

“Oh? And who is this pretty little thing? She looks too weak and sweet to be a villain, is this your pet or something?” The hulking man asks. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you or the questions he’s asking. You take a few steps back, hoping increasing the distance between the two of you would offer you some comfort. He must notice your attempt at backing away as he says,“Aw, don’t like me? That’s too bad. Not like that’s ever stopped me before though.” 

He licks his teeth and you tremble on the spot. This guy is fucking creepy and dangerous. Everyone else seems to notice your discomfort and the female members mirror it. Toga and Magne shift uncomfortably and tense up. Dabi shoots the man an annoyed glare, subtly slotting himself in the space between you and Muscular. 

“She doesn’t concern you,” Dabi coldly states. He diverts the conversation with an assertive tone. “Let’s go over the plan since we all know each other now, yeah? Everyone’s got their role in this mission. We can’t afford anyone screwing it up.” You take the opening as your cue to leave, and flee upstairs. On your way up, you glance at Shigaraki, trying to gauge his reaction to ensure you’re permitted to leave. He uses the hand not wrapped around his glass to wave you off, silently allowing you to bolt. 

Meanwhile while you’re upstairs, Dabi is going over the plan. He’s rather short with everyone. Dabi’s body temperature is rising, his skin slightly steaming. Truthfully, he’s fucking pissed at Muscular for that little stunt he pulled. Who does he think he is? He’s unaware of the obvious: he’s pissed because Muscular threatened you specifically. It’d be a cold day in hell before he lets someone hurt you, especially like that.

 Muscular continues to test Dabi’s patience, as he interrupts the discussion to ask, “So what quirk does that pretty little thing upstairs have?”

“She can heal people with her skin!” Twice gleefully answers. His tone shifts to a more whiny tone to seemingly chide himself for revealing your quirk. “Don’t tell him that!” The answer seems to satisfy Muscular, as he doesn’t interrupt the plan again, allowing Dabi to give careful instructions and cool off. After all the information is laid out, Shigaraki beckons Dabi to come over. 

“Dabi, Kurogiri has just informed me that my Master intends to loan us a Nomu for this mission,” Shigaraki states. 

“A Nomu? That’s one of those artificial soldiers you mentioned once before, isn’t it?” Dabi asks, with interest. Shigaraki confirms, before divulging in more details. 

“They’re trained to only respond to their commander. We’re setting it up to only take orders from you,” Shigaraki starts. He begins to go into detail about the quirks it has been fitted with and all of its resistances. Dabi glances over during his conversation with Shigaraki only to find Muscular is nowhere to be seen. There’s a pit forming in his stomach at the realization. 

“Give me a minute, I gotta go check something,” Dabi interrupts. Without even waiting for Shigaraki to respond, he heads off in the direction of the stairs. 

“Come back here, we weren’t done,” Shigaraki complains. 

“Fuck off, it’ll only take a second. It’s not like the plan is happening anytime soon.” Shigaraki huffs in response, grumbling under his breath and beginning to scratch at his own neck in palpable annoyance. Dabi heads up the stairs, searching for Muscular and you. His ears are able to pick up on a conversation, instantly focusing in on your voice. 

“Oh, um, sorry. I just healed someone else,” you meekly say, your apparent fear masked under the guise of politeness. 

“What’s that got to do with it?” Muscular asks with annoyance. 

“If I heal too much, my hands get cold enough for frostbite to set in.” 

“Oh? But isn’t your quirk healing skin?”

“What’s your point?” Your tone is much more guarded, steeling yourself for what comes next. You don’t like where this conversation is headed.

“I’m just saying it doesn’t have to be your hands. Just take off your clothes. I’d warm you right up, baby,” he purrs. You feel nauseous at his implication as pure fear seeps into your body. 

He’s making you really uncomfortable. This is one of the first times since your capture you’ve been genuinely worried for your safety. Shigaraki was intimidating when you first met him, but all it took to avoid his wrath was cooperation. But Shigaraki didn’t ever stoop this low with you, nor did anyone else. You’re surrounded by villains but this man seems like a true monster. 

Your pulse races as more anxiety rises within you. The large man inches closer into your space, slowly cornering you against the wall. You frantically weigh your options. Do you risk shouting for help and hoping you’re saved? Or are you going to screw your eyes shut and cope with what comes next? You really wish you kept that knife on you. Hiding it was a safe bet, but you could really use that advantage right now. 

“What are you still doing here?” You hear a familiar voice interject. Muscular turns his body to face the source, allowing you to see Dabi. 

If looks could kill, Muscular would probably be dead ten times over. Dabi’s expression even rattles you to your core, despite not even being the intended recipient. There’s this oppressing aura of intimidation surrounding him, only furthered by the cold and unhinged look in his eyes. You realize this must be what his enemies see. This is why many people fear him, but not you. 

“Just wanted to meet the healer you’ve been hiding from me. Is there something wrong with wanting to get to know everyone before the mission?”

“There’s no need, she won’t be going.”

“What a waste,” Muscular criticizes. He directs his next words to you, “Maybe next time.” With that, Muscular withdraws from your space and starts down the hall, glancing over his shoulder at you before he descends the stairs. Dabi’s eyes watch him as he leaves, not even risking taking his eyes off until Muscular is out of sight. Afterwards, he looks to you, noticing your very apparent scared state. 

“Are you okay?” He finally asks, his voice much softer towards you. “Did he do anything?” 

“Besides say some gross things? No, he didn’t get the chance to act on it,” you answer. Dabi’s brows are still furrowed out of concern for you and annoyance at Muscular.

“He doesn’t know which room is yours, so you can hide in there. I’ll let you know when he leaves,” he instructs. You nod and don’t hesitate to hide. You’re grateful for Dabi’s interruption. Imagining what would have happened to you had Dabi not intervened only serves to further rattle your nerves. You sit on your bed, tucking your knees against your chest and renaming as quiet as possible, so as to keep Muscular from figuring out where you are should he attempt to look for you. The silence in your room helps you come back down from anxiety and back to reality, though you can never fully relax, as your ears still pick up on what you think is Muscular’s voice downstairs. In an attempt to drown out his voice, you cover your ears with your pillow. It helps some, as a lot of the sounds downstairs are muffled by the cotton in your pillow. You let out some deep breaths, finally slowing your beating heart back down to a normal level. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you hear a knock on your door. Your steps are cautious and slow as you head to the door, carefully opening it and peering through the sliver of space to see who it is. You’re met with a wave of relief to see familiar purple scars and shining silver staples. You open the door wider, feeling safer not seeing Muscular. Dabi notices the difference in your demeanor and obvious tension leaving your body. It’s strange, he thinks, that someone could be relieved to see him. He doesn’t quite understand why the thought makes him want to grin. 

“Happy to see me?” He jokes with a smirk before sauntering in. It’s almost criminal how attractive he looks with his signature smirk. “You can relax, you know, he won’t be staying around here before the mission.”

“Oh thank god. I don’t like that guy,” you admit. He chuckles at your honesty. 

“I don’t either, but he is strong. We could use him, even if he’s stupid and rash. In any case, he’d make a great pawn.”

“So he’s not going to be a permanent member?” 

“I doubt it, he lacks real ambition. He’s probably just itching for a fight is all. I bet he’ll fuck off after the mission once he realizes we’re not constantly starting meaningless chaos,” he denounces, smirking while shit-talking about Muscular. It brings you some comfort to know that Dabi is both on your side and shares your distaste for Muscular. His expression turns a bit more serious and he adds, “I doubt he’ll be around you again, but for what it’s worth, I won’t let him try anything. If he tries anything, scream, and I’ll be there. I don’t care if Shigaraki needs him or not, I’ll fucking burn him.” 

Normally, you’d be socially obligated to admonish someone for saying they’d murder another person. But, in this case, you’re making an exception. “Thank you, Dabi,” you show gratitude. You give him a soft smile, before attempting a lighthearted joke, “I promise I’ll give him my best girl-in-a-horror-movie shriek.” 

“Atta girl,” he praises and laughs. The two of you part ways for the night afterwards, leaving you to get some much needed rest after the rollercoaster that was your day. Falling asleep isn’t as difficult as you feared it would be. You drift off to sleep, knowing that Dabi has your back.

The next couple of days pass by relatively quietly, at least, for the league’s standards. They seem to be gearing up for the upcoming outing, as everyone minus Shigaraki and Kurogiri leave one night. When they arrive, you notice that they’re now fitted with new equipment. Toga carries this backpack with clear tubes on her persons, and you’re able to notice the tubes connect to a rather large syringe. Magne now has a huge rectangular metal beam, one end colored in red while the opposite is blue. It’s a magnet, you realize. Dabi even received something new, as he’s wearing new clothes. His new jacket is black with silver cuffs at the half sleeves. There’s a stitching motif around the collar and along the split tails of his coat. 

You really hate how your first thought is how good he looks in it. It seems like their little mission was nothing more than a supply run, hence the lack of injuries on Dabi. Truly, you’re thankful for it, in more ways than one. With the way you’re feeling about him, you’re sure that any close encounter would result in you finishing what you started on that damn table. 

The day comes and goes. Night falling without any more commotion or contact with Dabi. It’s not until the next day that this pattern changes. There’s a knock on your door. Just like the last time, you slowly open the door, checking to see who it is. With no sign of Muscular, you swing open the door, allowing Dabi to step in. You expect him to take his seat on your bed like usual, only he doesn’t, and instead stands in front of you. You’re about to part your lips to ask what he needs, but he speaks first, answering your question. 

“We’re about to leave for the rendezvous point,” he informs. Neither Dabi nor the others usually let you know when they’re about to run off to do one of their missions. The fact he’s even letting you know makes you think that this one is significant, far more important or dangerous than anything they’ve done before. Thinking about what could happen makes you a bit nervous. 

“Do you think there’s going to be a lot of injuries?” You ask, approaching the topic with a careful tone. 

“If all goes well, it should be just the usual,” he answers. The ‘usual’ implies he’ll be the only one returning with the typical burns characteristic of his quirk. 

“And if it doesn’t?” You counter. Dabi doesn’t answer you. The silence cements the direness of the situation. 

Dabi looks at you with an intense longing you only saw a glimpse of that time you nearly kissed. He thinks about what would happen if he doesn’t get the chance to come back to you, what would happen if he got caught by the heroes. The thought causes an ache in his chest, but he won’t back down from the mission. He can’t. This is a stepping stone to his eventual goal. He’s sure that the LOV could bring him closer to his eventual target. He has to take the risk. And if he has to take this one, what’s another?

He steps closer to you and pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. The sudden gesture takes you by surprise, but you don’t stiffen out of discomfort. Rather, you seem to relax in his hold and almost lean into his touch. Still, you can’t help but acknowledge this seems out of character for him. 

“What’s gotten into you? Is everything okay?” The worry is clear in your voice.

“I just… wanted to do this before I go,” he explains. His voice is quiet and unsure, something you interpret as a result of his unfamiliarity with affection. Against your better judgement, you find yourself reciprocating, wrapping your arms around him. 

“Well you’re coming back, aren’t you?” you ask, your voice partially muffled by his jacket. He doesn’t respond immediately. The two of you reluctantly part but still hover in each other’s space. You look up at him, making eye contact. There’s this look in his eyes that you can’t quite place. He seems far away from you, despite being close enough to touch. 

“Yeah,” he answers. Somehow, you can tell he’s not entirely confident in his answer. Your stomach twists upon noticing, and you can’t help but feel a bit saddened to think of him disappearing on you. You’re beginning to question your sanity. Is Stockholm finally setting in? How are you going to feel about him when you finally escape? Will these feelings you have for him make you never wish to leave? He exits your room with great hesitation, leaving you to stand there in silence, reflecting on your burning questions. 

After a few minutes, you hear Shigaraki calling for you downstairs. You close your eyes and breathe in, steeling yourself for the incoming interaction with Shigaraki, before releasing your breath and heading downstairs. When you arrive in the bar, you find everyone has their equipment packed and are clustered in the open area of the floor. You cringe when you see Muscular in the far corner, but Shigaraki waves you over, unintentionally saving you from appearing available for conversation to Muscular. You approach Shigaraki, feeling a bit confused as to why you were requested here.

“I thought I wasn’t going?” You question, your voice raising towards the end in uncertainty. Shigaraki scoffs in annoyance.

“You’re not,” Shigaraki retorts. 

“But… then why did you…?” You trail off, referencing why he called for your presence downstairs.

“I’m not dumb enough to let you wander around on your own. You’re staying down here so Kurogiri and I can babysit you,” Shigaraki patronizes. You make it a point to not let Shigaraki’s words get to you anymore, considering he talks that way to literally everyone. 

“Invest in a nanny if it bothers you that much,” you grumble under your breath, before taking a seat in one of the bar booths. You rest your elbows against the table and place your chin in the palm of your hand, with an uninterested expression. With nothing else to look at, your eyes wander the crowd. Your subconscious takes the reigns and your eyes travel over to Dabi. He seems to have a determined expression on his face as he speaks with Twice. You wonder what drives him, what motivates him to do the things he does, how he continues to use his quirk despite how it hurts him. He’s never revealed much to you, or really anybody, what goal he’s working towards. It both fascinates you and terrifies you. Some part of you admires it, even, how he’s so driven that his own self destruction won’t stop him. 

You must have been staring and lost in thought for too long, as his gaze snaps to you. Your surroundings fade into the background and you feel frozen in place. The moment is interrupted as Kurogiri summons a warp gate in the corner of the room, the two of you diverting your gazes to the strange purple portal. Everyone files in, one by one, and slowly becomes enveloped into the gateway, transporting them to a location completely unknown to you. Dabi is the last to file in. He glances over his shoulder to look back to you. His eyes stay locked onto yours, his bright eyes partially shrouded behind the mist, all the way up until he disappears in the violet haze. You find yourself asking a million questions about their plans. Just what does Shigaraki have in store for them? What’s so dangerous about this mission? What does the league of villains hope to accomplish?

A few hours trudge by painfully. You’ve spent this entire time counting; counting how many times Kurogiri seems to polish the same spot on the bar, how many unopened bottles of expensive liquor are collecting dust on the shelves, how many scuff marks tarnish the shine of the wooden floor… The point is, there’s only so many things in the room. You’re painfully bored and running out of novel ways to entertain yourself. 

Meanwhile, Shigaraki spends his time playing on his Switch, carefully holding it with his pinkies raised up. It seems inconvenient, you think, to have to constantly be mindful of disintegrating everything you touch. You wonder just how many gaming consoles he’s gone through, how many he’s accidentally dusted with his quirk. Though, based on how heated he gets over his games, you wager that a lot of those instances may be more on purpose than on accident.

 Speaking of which, it seems like he’s reached a tough part of the game, as he groans at the sight of the flashing ‘Game Over’ graphic (which is his third time seeing the words, and yes, you’ve been counting that too). The gaming console is tossed aside. Shigaraki checks his phone and repeatedly taps his finger onto the bartop. You can deduce that he’s feeling impatient and waiting on something based on his mannerisms. Your ears strain to hear how he mutters in annoyance, mumbling about how everyone sucks at giving him updates. You can only presume he’s referring to the mission. Your boredom emboldens you, as you find yourself starting a conversation with Shigaraki while his attention is not grabbed by his handheld console. There’s always been one very obscure thing you’ve wanted to ask him. Now’s your chance to have this stupid curiosity settled.

“I have a question,” you say.

“It better not be about the mission,” he deadpans.

“It’s not,” you assure. He seems to relax a bit, until you add, “My question is much worse.”

“I swear to god, if you ask about-” he starts to rant, before you cut him off. 

“Do you ever wash your hand mask?” You gesture to your face, referencing the hand he always wears there. It’s obvious he’s taken off guard, even with his face being partially obscured by the covering. There’s a very tense silence. You interrupt the quietness, “So… I’ll take that as a no…”

“It’s a taxidermy,” he finally replies, no longer stunned by your unexpected question. 

Well, that certainly explains why. 

It’s your turn to remain silent. 

“Oh,” is the most you’re able to muster. This situation makes you miss talking to Dabi, Toga, or Magne already, and it’s only been a couple hours. He notices you picking at your nails, something he sees as you trying to entertain yourself. 

“Are you bored?” He asks. 

“No, not at all. I love sitting here in silence. It’s riveting, really. You should try it,” you answer sarcastically. He sighs and you notice him scratching at his neck, probably agitated by your sarcasm. 

“Here’s the remote, entertain yourself and stop bothering me,” he orders, holding up the remote before tossing it at you. You manage to grab it before it either hits you or falls on the ground. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” you beam. He places his phone on the counter, screen down, and resumes playing on his Switch. You spend the rest of the night lounging around, enjoying the free access to the league’s tv without the other members vying for control of the channels. Against your better judgment, you flip to the news, curious as to what’s going on in the world. You feel a bit disappointed not seeing anything about your disappearance on the news. The lack of coverage makes you wonder if anyone even noticed your absence at all. You try not to let it get to you and choose to busy yourself by watching increasingly odd gameshows. It helps a bit, as the bizarre tasks the contestants are forced to participate in gives you something else to think about. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed, and you’re about to doze off, until you’re startled awake. Kurogiri summons a portal, and out pours the rest of the league. You eyes quickly scan all the bodies, taking inventory of everyone. There’s Toga, Magne, Twice, Dabi, Spinner, and Compress. Muscular and a few of the other strangers are gone. What happened to them?

“The target?” Shigaraki interrogates. 

“Handled by your’s truly,” Compress ensures, with a grandiose flourish. His stagelike mannerisms are showing. 

“Toga, how much blood did you get?” Shigaraki adresses next. She holds up  the syringe attached to a pump, the same gear you see her leave with. The amount in the vial is remarkably small, with barely any blood present. 

“One person’s!” She cheerily answers. Shigaraki lets out a sigh that can only be described as a frustrated huff. 

“It’ll have to do,” he settles. “Whoever’s injured should go get healed first. We’ll talk about the rest of the plan afterwards.”

Dabi saunters over to you, accompanied by Compress following behind. Compress seems to be clutching his own shoulder, making you worry that a much more serious injury underneath his jacket. Your eyes scan over Dabi, not noticing any blaring signs of other wounds, apart from the usual burns on his hands and arms. Maybe you were worrying over him for nothing after all. 

“What sort of injuries am I working with?” You ask the two of them.

“Compress ate shit and got slammed to the ground. There’s gotta be some bruising. If not to his body, then his ego,” Dabi snickers. “Nothing out of the ordinary for me, though.” 

“Oh come off it!” Compress groans. “I’ll have you know I took that tussle with grace.” 

“In that case, I’ll start with Compress,” you decide, interjecting their bantering. You rise from your seat in the booth and motion for Compress to sit. You crack your knuckles before instructing, “You’ll need to remove your coat, I can’t heal through fabric.” 

Compress sheds his mustard colored coat, revealing an orange button down shirt underneath a black buttoned vest. You can’t but wonder why this man wears so many fucking layers of clothing. The sheer amount of buttons he has to undo makes the process a little awkward, as you’re left standing there, wringing your hands. After a moment or two, his torso is now bare to you. You can see blooms of purples and blues across his chest, no doubt from the impact. Your hands touch the bruises and your quirk activates. Dabi can’t help but grit his teeth at the sight and hover by your side. 

“Your hands are so cold. Will you be alright? I heard you can get frostbite like this,” he asks with a shuddering voice. Your hands move over to the last cluster of bruising on his chest, leaving behind even, porcelain skin in it’s wake. 

“Don’t worry about it, Dabi will warm me up,” you dismiss. There’s a sharp silence as you realize the accidental innuendo of your word choice. To your dismay, Compress picks up on it. 

“Oh will he now?” If he wasn’t wearing a mask, you’re sure you’d see his eyebrows raised in amusement. 

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that! He has a fire quirk, he can heat up his hands for Christ’s sake. Get your mind out of the gutter,” you defend. With no more bruises left, you cross your arms and huff. “And to think I took you for a gentleman, Compress.” 

“Pardon the crude implication, but your words made it easy to assume,” he feigns an apology through strained snickers. He rebuttons his clothes and shrugs into his topcoat, smoothing over the wrinkles with his hands. Compress rises from his seat in the booth. You expect him to run off, but he stands in front of you, and asks, “Would you forgive me if I showed you a magic trick?”

“If it’s a good one, I’ll consider it,” you bargain. 

With a sleight of hand, he presents to you a white azalea. “For your services,” he offers. You pluck the flower from his hand and twirl the stem between your fingers. “Harvested fresh from the Nagano forest.” 

“Hm… I suppose I’ll forgive you, just this once,” you offer, bringing the flower to your lips. Your gaze turns to Dabi as you address him next, “Lemme just set this down and I’ll heal you next, Dabi.” 

You turn to place the flower on the table, but the plant is stolen from your fingers, the motion expertly performed with the skill of a thief. You’re about to protest when Dabi tucks the azalea behind your ear, a gesture you weren’t anticipating, especially given how public this display of affection is. You’re too busy glancing at the crowd, searching for any signs of the others acknowledging what happened, that you fail to notice the side eye Dabi gives Compress. 

“I was worried you were gonna take it from me for a minute there,” you mumble while fiddling with your hands.

“Nah, looks better on you than it would me,” he contends. He slides into the booth and presents you with his hands. “Now, you ready to do this or are you too cold?” You shake your head and clasp your hands around his, firing up your quirk.

“It’s good to see you’re not too hurt,” you mention. 

“Yeah, the mission went well,” he explains. 

“Really, is that so?” you respond. You’re doubtful it truly went well, considering how there’s less members than what they left with. Not wanting to outright ask about what happened, lest you learn of abhorrent details, you decide on a more subtle approach. “It’s just… I notice there’s some people missing, is all,” you carefully mention, almost in a whisper. 

“Not the important ones. You trying to say you miss Muscular?” Dabi jokes. 

“God no, I’m glad he’s not here,” you’re quick to respond. 

“Besides, we caught a UA brat and the boss will convert him to our side. The kid will replace the others, once we let him out of the marble,” Compress boasts. There’s a sharp silence that takes over you upon hearing so and you halt all your moments. They kidnapped another person? What seems to be a child, at that? 

The look of disappointment that flashes on your face is something Dabi won’t ever forget. You seem to wilt at the information, contrasting the still-fresh flower tucked in your hair. “I see,” you murmur. 

They really put the kid in kidnapping, didn’t they?

[essentiamortis]

TWO MONTHS.

two months have passed since the battle and she's still as much of a wreck as she was that dreadful day. august 18th will forever haunt her. how she ran from the ruins of olympus back to the domain of her father. her screams had echoed through the darkness of erebus, how persephone followed after her, held her close on the black sands of the styx while she mourned the losses.

she felt like a failure. the words of her father and stepmother did little to comfort her. no amount of telling her she did good, fought well, of how proud they are of her. how well she did without revealing her true parentage instead focusing on the magic and skills she'd learned from hecate. even with the goddess of magic joining kronos; hecate hadn't revealed her secret for she cared about the demigoddess as if elizabeth was one of her own children. elizabeth felt as if she failed hecate and her demigod children too. alabaster wouldn't even speak to her and wished her dead. his words had cut her deeply and echo in her mind often.

"i'd rather be dead, myself." she states, choking back her tears. elizabeth shakes her head, "i don't want to be turned into anything. my parents wouldn't appreciate that, no matter if i asked for it or if it was in good intentions. i'm sure if they had their way; i'd be deathless like the rest of you. forever the princess of the underworld." her voice is quiet, lingering hauntingly like one melinoe's restless dead that follow her.

"i just need to be able to help my father with his underworld duties. i need to be able to look after those who survived the war, survived kronos' influence. i owe it to them but i can't keep on being this pathetic." her face twisted in disgust at herself. how many days and night had she spent wrapped up in her own grief and guilt. "i-i saw their death auras, i knew they were going to die. i tried to save them but all i do is fail...i failed them...all of them."

"Oh little one," Aphrodite began, heart sinking as she watched the youth fall to her knees. At the sight of Elizabeth grasping at her hair, Aphrodite clutches her hands together. Almost instinctively, years of maternal anguish cause her to aim a steady hand on to the girl's wrist. "You musn't do this to yourself. "

Once, a long time ago, she had fallen to the ground in a similar way and held the dying body of Adonis in her arms. She had begged the stars for her own death, for mercy upon her immortal soul and intervention from something BIGGER, something WISER or OLDER to save her from the misery of it all. It was a horrible pain to be an immortal and to LOVE a human deeply. Covered in the blood of the man she loved, she had screamed to the heavens, her voice shaking the halls of Olympus.

PAIN was part of it all, this she had come to know rather quickly.

"I could make it all go away." She whispered into the demigoddess's ear, a sad expression upon her eyes. "I could fill your body and soul with intoxicating ecstasy and joy. I could eliminate them from your heart COMPLETELY. I could rid you of memories and lace you with passion and let you loose upon the world to love and be happy and clueless about it all.

Or... I could turn you into a bird, perhaps a dove or a magpie, and let you fly wild and never think again about sorrow or the ones you loved... or anything at all..."

She tinted the air with lavender, a soothing and delicate scent that she had once used to lull Eros to sleep when he was still an infant. Aphrodite ran a hand through the girl's hair. "But I must say that to do that to you would be, in my opinion, a great cruelty. A heart, my dear, is a heavy burden, but it is also an incredible blessing. "

"It doesn't look like it now, but one day you'll be better. You'll be stronger, happy again, and grateful for having had the chance to live in the same lifetime as the ones you love." She smiled sweetly.

"You can decide, and I won't fault you for your choice... but I think you should LIVE."

[hellguarded-moved]

≥ INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM: @fanaticist ( "SOURCE" );

8. a kiss on an injury my muse (jo) gave to yours (ig) :)

" i will hear no more on this, " a palm was outstretched, forearm swept in a wide arc between the two of them— giving a certain feel of finality to the matter. even having taken a step back, gracing johan with one last glance, eyes trailing up and down the entirety of his frame, before he began to turn his back on him.

a mistake.

he didn't really know what he was expecting doing something like that. he always knew johan had a short temper and was prone to provoking aggression from the canid aswell. it often went unsuccessfully— and wasn't that part of ignis' charm, that seemed to draw the other in repeatedly? the constant need to push his buttons, see what worked, what would finally push him over the edge?

so showing his back to someone like johan, after having stood his ground and repeatedly refused to further feed into the argument— dropping his guard like so, came to promptly bite him in the ass. with large palm pressed to his shoulder blade, he gasped upon realizing his error.

but it was too late.

johan had always been bigger. stronger in some aspects, even if ignis could actually hold his own against him— but his powers hadn't been yet properly awakened, so if caught off-guard like so? shoving him into the wall was easy. effectivelly knocking the breath out of his lungs; this was different from the other times, that ended in rough kisses, wandering hands. had he cracked his head against the wall aswell? he couldn't tell how severe that was, but his skull was positively throbbing with dull pain as he stared up at the taller with a look in his eyes that he'd never yet shown to the one he called his best friend and maybe more.

fear.

it was fear.

fear that had caught him entirely in a daze, unable to do anything in the face on another who could only see red—— and not the pretty sparkle of his own ruby-hued eyes.

" where do you think you're going? you really that much of a coward, ignis? "

a ragged breath was exhaled, blinking rapidly in some attempt to collect himself. to not give in. " i'm leaving to give you some goddamn space to chill the fuck out, because you aren't the type to respect my boundaries! " he snapped, with an attempt to shove the taller away— ah, but he wouldn't let him. the brief baring of pointed canines went unnoticed, as now both hands were used to keep the hound in place.

anger began to creep in, replacing that initial fright.

" you're a real piece of shit sometimes, you know that, johan? " he sneered, turning his face away a bit.

shouldn't have said that.

one hand, now curled tightly into a fist, was reared back and hit ignis solid in the jaw. oh he could swear the back of his head was bleeding now. but, that wasn't even on the forefront of his mind— bottom lip had caught against a fang, splitting open raw and clean, faintly heated blood now gushing down his chin; dripping onto his collarbones and his shirt.

eyes were bleary in the shock of the aftermath, but the strange thing he'd noticed was that all that pressure put onto his body was suddenly gone. it took him another moment or two to actually concentrate, all of his focus going into keeping upright on his legs; a hand coming up to rub against his forehead, then sliding back through his hair in some semblance of alleviating the pain, helping him see straight again. " oh fuck... " a soft, pained exhale, likely unheard by another. the thumb of his hand dipped low, running through the blood on his chin, hissing at the contact. finally, did he lift his gaze in an attempt to find his assaulter.

his breathing came in short bursts, bloodied hands staining the wall he was using as support now. his vision swam, but he could make out the picture of his roommate, staring wide-eyed at him with hands trembling.

why did you do that? that's ig, you know him, you love him——

" ... ig? ig, i'm— i'm—— " the word 'sorry' caught in johan's throat; a coward of his own when it came to owning up to his own faults. seeing crimson drip down from the other's lip was a strange catalyst to dismiss the veil that obscured his reason earlier. tentatively, he approached his love, only to have the man extend a hand out towards him; palm open and lifted upwards, a silent sign to stop.

" don't... just... don't... " he whispered, voice lowering with each syllable. head was shook just as weakly; were those tears that had gathered in his eyes? feeling such heat in his mouth, feeling the blood building up, it... it brought back memories. he'd already carried scars of another once hurting him like so. and johan was the last person he expected to cause him to relive those memories— but maybe he should've known better.

but he didn't listen, of course he didn't. silly boy, always ruining everything you touch.

despite that, johan's touch was surprisingly gentle— a terrible and stark contrast to his behavior earlier, in the way he gently cupped at tanned features, only for those to go rigid in fear and discomfort. he wanted to kiss him, to make it better, to apologize——

" i said don't! " the slight raise in the demon's voice was so uncharacteristical of him. it was still far from yelling, but the severity was unmistakeable. " just... leave... please leave... " pained gaze dropped to the ground between them; he could see the rivulets of his own blood having nearly reached the floor at this point, dripping down the wall slowly. he'd make no more attempts to put space between them— if johan wouldn't let him leave, then maybe he would turn away himself, instead, if asked.

or maybe that was yet another mistake that ignis was making, putting so much faith into him.

[ao3feed-esperboys]

Did the Confession Now We Move on to the Future

Did The Confession, Now We Move On To The Future by 3 Vermilion Cats

It's over. The endless pining and uncertainty, Mob's powers going berserk with him having no say in the matter… it's all over. For now, he's more distraught about the former, but Master Reigen and Dimple are there with him as he sobs and sobs, feeling like a piece of fabric someone pulled out of a washing machine, wrung out and scrubbed the floor with, then put back in the washing machine with the most intense, long and high-temperature cleaning settings possible, finally pulled out to wring all the water out again, only then hanging him out to dry, leaving him exhausted and beat down, yet... feeling lighter.

The city is a disaster, and it's Mob's fault.

or:

After a teenager's mental breakdown almost destroyed the entire city, everyone deals with the immediate aftermath.

Words: 7590, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: モブサイコ100 | Mob Psycho 100

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Kageyama Ritsu, Reigen Arataka, Dimple, Serizawa Katsuya, Suzuki Shou, (Other characters mentioned but they don't do anything to warrant a tag)

Relationships: Kageyama Ritsu & Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo, Dimple & Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo & Reigen Arataka, Dimple & Reigen Arataka, Kageyama Ritsu & Suzuki Shou, Kageyama "Mob" Shigeo & Everyone, Reigen Arataka & Serizawa Katsuya

Additional Tags: Set During Episode: s03e12 Confession ~The Future~, Specifically in the time skip that happens, Missing Scenes, (Not really... I just want extra comfort and stuff right after the rampage), Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, I want Mob and Ritsu to talk about their shit even more than they do in canon and you can't stop me, Swearing, Reigen Arataka Can't Stop Adopting Child Espers, Was the Reigen and Shou bonding necessary? No. Is it here anyway? ...A bit., Parental Reigen Arataka, Good Sibling Kageyama Ritsu, Teruki's passed out for the brief time he's in a scene, I'm sorry Teruki stans, How Do I Tag, Caring Dimple, Human Dimple, what can i say, He's also Mob's dad Post-Divine Tree Arc, Hospitals, Technically Post-Confession Arc, Hurt Reigen Arataka, (And He'd Do It Again If He Had To), Crying, A lot, guess from who, Sibling Love, Found Family, I'm shocked that's not a tag I've seen anywhere yet?? It's basically all I breathe and eat, Not Beta Read, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Third Person Limited, Minor Reigen Arataka/Serizawa Katsuya, Like, One Joke, that's all, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Consensual Possession, (Live Laugh Love that tag), Reigen and Dimple get to be friends here ok, Reigen: Dimple... I'm dying, Dimple: Get over it and stop whining, Blood and Injury

Read Here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48244396