#merciful god of sleep heal me now

[rimouskis]

oh also I twisted my ankle today and then proceeded to walk 11 miles on it. anything is possible #winnermindset #lovethegrind #itwasokayuntilisatdownandstoppedmovingandnowithurtsandhasdoubledinsize

[megalony]

Merciless Wrath- Part 2

Here is a follow up for my latest Emperor Geta imagine, this was requested by a lovely mututal.

I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

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Main Masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

Summary: Geta loves how timid his wife is when it comes to watching the Gladiators. But Hell rises when one of the fighters decides to shoot an arrow and hits the Empress.

Enjoy.

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Having an entourage of people crowding around him had never felt so daunting and irritating before. Geta used to love having people following him around like a shadow cast by the sun. He used to think it was encouraging and powerful to have people watching his every move and observing him like they thought he was a God walking amongst men.

But this was different. Geta didn't like having people crowding into the drawing room like this. He didn't like the nervous look plastered across the guard's faces. He didn't like the servants jittering from foot to foot, waiting to be told what to do and where to go. He didn't like people looking at him now because right in this moment, Geta didn't have any answers or orders for them.

He didn't know what to do when all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of betrayal and agonising fear.

Fear that he was going to lose the woman in front of him. The one who had taken his heart since the moment he first laid his eyes on her. She was the one with the pure heart of gold that was more valuable than any of the riches in Rome. (Y/n). (Y/n) was the purest soul here and now Geta was in danger of losing her.

If her wound didn't heal, if it got infected or she began to lose blood internally. If she didn't recover from this and Geta lost her, he would succumb to a worse state of madness than that which was slowly taking hold of his twin. Geta would be lost and the world would be at the mercy of his vengeance if he lost (Y/n).

With a deep rooted sigh, Geta pushed up from where he had been sat on the end of the sofa rather like one of the many marble statues that littered the palace. He couldn't sit in here any longer. He had to move, he had to do something, but he couldn't stray far from his wife. She needed him.

He turned around so he was crouched down beside the sofa (Y/n) was laid on. The healers had already explained things to him. They would be giving her more opium so she wouldn't wake until sometime tomorrow. Geta didn't like the thought of (Y/n) falling into an endless sleep, but her being asleep was the best way to let her body calm down and begin to heal, at least according to the best healers in Rome.

And by tomorrow the worst of the pain would have been dulled down by the opium and her body would have started to better itself. The pain would be bearable by the time she woke tomorrow. If indeed she woke from this at all. Geta prayed that she would; he couldn't imagine a scenario where she wouldn't.

With his knees pressing into the edge of the sofa, he hovered over (Y/n) and began to move her, little by little. He made sure both her arms were crossed safely and resting over her waist before he eased her head up from the cushion and leant her cheek against his chest instead.

"Sire?"

Geta spared a sideways glance towards the healers, all of whom were now watching him with a burning intensity in their eyes and confusion plastered across their faces.

"She isn't staying here." His snappy response had them all biting their tongues at any disapproval they might feel.

They weren't going to argue, they didn't feel able. And (Y/n) would have to be moved at some point, Geta was just moving her now rather than later. (Y/n) couldn't stay here in the drawing room, it wasn't practical and Geta wouldn't have her spending the next day or two laid on his sofa. If she was going to be induced into slumber by opiotes then she would do so in the comfort of her own bed in her own room. Where he could properly sit with her and keep watch over her.

Once her head was safely lolled against his shoulder, Geta slid his arms beneath her frame and eased her up into his arms bridal style, the same as how he had frantically carried her an hour earlier when he brought her here.

Only this time Geta felt much calmer. He didn't feel like each step he took was causing the world around him to crumble into dust. He didn't feel like he was running towards a bright light that was going to snatch his wife away from him. He wasn't rushing to find help or feeling her body go limp and lifeless in his arms.

This time, he walked with slow determination and his eyes constantly casting down to his beloved. It didn't matter that Geta could feel her softly breathing against his neck. He wanted- no, needed, to see that slow rise and fall of her chest. He needed to see her body working and be reassured that she wasn't about to stop breathing or suddenly slip away from him. He had to make sure she wasn't leaving him, for anything.

"Move." That one word was enough to frighten everyone in his path and have the guards slinking off to the sides to allow him to pass by.

Geta stormed out of the drawing room and began walking slowly down the hall towards the nearest set of stairs.

He could feel the entourage following behind him. Caracalla being the closest behind him. Followed by at least four guards with heavy steps and clattering swords against their hips just waiting to be used and weaponised against anyone. He was sure the healers were following too along with the few servants who had filtered into the drawing room to see if they could help.

Geta hated them all. He hated how they were following him as if this were some grand procession rather than him trying to take his wife somewhere else to keep her safe and rested and comfortable.

He hated that he needed them all to follow. He hated that he needed the healers close by in case his wife took a turn for the worst. And how he needed the guards to ensure no one else tried to harm her like this. And his brother's presence to keep the last bit of sanity he had. And the maids and servants to be nearby to tend to his wife who was now motionless and unconscious in his arms.

He didn't want them following, but he needed them all the same.

His eyes cast down to his wife once again as he began his ascent up the stairs. He could see how her skin was starting to swell even more now. It wasn't just the tenderness beneath the bandages around her chest. He could see swelling rising to her right shoulder making the skin tense and push against the bandages wrapped around her frame.

He hated the pale blue tinge to her parted lips that showed she had a lack of oxygen and possibly too much opium in her system than was really good for her.

And what hurt him more was the fact that it wasn't just one wound. It was two holes torn through her skin. It was a stitched up hole through her chest and one in her back too. It was the right side of her chest that was swelling and sore and meant she wouldn't be able to move her arm for a while.

And the fact that her dress had been stained and torn beyond repair irritated Geta even more. No one else but him should be able to cast their eyes on his wife's beautiful silky skin, and yet everyone in that room had seen her chest and had a dangerous view towards her cleavage when her dress had been pulled down to expose her wound.

Even now while she was laid in his arms with her golden dress stained dark rouge, the fabric was barely covering her chest. It was hooked over her left shoulder but pulled off her right arm to make the wound visible. Geta had readjusted the material half a dozen times already to make sure her cleavage was covered to spare her the indignity.

He didn't realise his nostrils were flaring and his breathing had turned ragged until he was almost towards their shared chamber and he found his chest heaving with frustration and unfiltered fury.

He didn't wait for anyone to open the chamber door when he got there. With it being partially opened, all Geta had to do was slam his foot into the base of the door and it swung wide open for him.

He stormed into the room, ignoring the sounds of dozens of footsteps following swiftly behind him.

He passed through the main room that they used as a joint study, a reading room that (Y/n) frequented more than Geta, and he blundered through into the bedroom.

The sight of the golden sunlight streaming through the open windows was irritating. Geta didn't like the dark orange glow as the sun was halfway towards setting behind the sand. He didn't like how warm and iridescent the room looked compared to how dark, cold and gruelling it should have looked after what had happened to his wife today.

But he ignored the bright sun in favour of rounding the side of the bed. He didn't want to set her down. He had been holding her for long enough that Geta simply wanted to keep her here, safe in his embrace until his arms snapped and his body dropped. He wasn't tired or aching from carrying her, rather the opposite. He felt himself growing angrier and more protective the longer she was in his arms.

He pressed his knees into the edge of the bed and carefully eased forward until he could set (Y/n) down in the middle of the bed.

Once she was laid down, Geta perched on the side of the bed with one hand pressing into the pillows so he could lean over her. And his other hand carefully began brushing tendrils of hair away from her face, one at a time while he took the time to glide his fingers across her cheek and along her neck.

He didn't like how motionless and unresponsive she was, this wasn't normal.

He bent forward to press a tender kiss against her temple that was flushed with sweat and radiating heat enough to rival the sun in the hottest days. His lips stayed against her temple for a few moments, maybe a few minutes, while he listened too the sound of her soft breathing.

When he finally lifted his head, he cast his eyes towards the doorway where two maids were meekly stood. They had their hands clasped together in front of them and their eyes cast down towards their feet, not wanting to intrude or face Geta's frustration if they had somehow overstepped any marks.

He trailed his fingertip along (Y/n)'s chin and down her neck before he sighed to himself and climbed off the bed.

He approached the maids with a look of distaste on his features and every part of his body shaking, seething with anger. But the way he took a slow, calming breath and silently pointed his hand behind him towards his wife showed a small air of relief as he tried to calm down just a little.

"Change the Empress and make her comfortable. I want that dress burned."

Both maids nodded their heads and finally dared to lift their gazes to look at their Emperor. He looked rabid and his expression was dangerous, but there was also something caring hidden within those eyes.

He wanted them to be careful when they looked after his wife. He wanted them to treat her as if she were something fragile that was about to break. He wanted them to touch her as if she were a petal, so delicate and beautiful and close to ruin if handled without care.

And he wanted that golden dress to be thrown on the fire and burned to ash and dust. Geta didn't ever want to see that dress again. He didn't want to see that dress or the blood stains that reminded him of what had happened, no matter if that was his wife's favourite (and his favourite) dress. It couldn't be salvaged and therefore it had to go so it didn't serve as a memory for the Empress when she eventually awoke.

Just as the maids went to walk past him, Geta reached his hand out and clamped his cold fingers around the younger girl's arm. He wrenched her closer and tilted his head down to sneer in her ear. "Be careful."

The young maid nodded her head frantically and tried her best not to burst into fits of tears. Not only had the Empress who the maid adored been hurt but now she was tasked with tending to her. The maid felt too inexperienced to be looking after the loving Empress who didn't deserve this kind of anguish. And she didn't want to do something wrong and be subjected to the Emperor's wrath.

Once they were both tasked with helping (Y/n), Geta left the room and closed the door behind him. He wouldn't have anyone trying to look in and spectate and watch. The only people going into that room would be Geta, the healers and the few servants who Geta approved. No one else would see the Empress while she was in this state.

An overwhelming headache crashed through Geta's temple and flooded his head behind his eyes when he approached the adjoining study and saw everyone crowding in. He didn't want any of them in here. They were useless and getting in the way.

"I don't need three of you. Out." His hand pointed menacingly towards the healers. He wanted the elder gentleman who had attended to (Y/n) in the drawing room. (Y/n) wasn't dying, Geta didn't need three healers stood twiddling their thumbs in here, he only needed one.

He wouldn't let that healer leave until (Y/n) was fully recovered. The healer could be set up in a room on this floor and he would be called on day and night if needed. The healer had already agreed to stay here at the palace and be ready to tend to the Empress, when and if she should need him.

Once they departed the room, Geta turned to look at the guards. "Why are you in here? My wife has been shot and you've been no help at all. Do you're jobs out there before I'm the one shooting arrows. All of you get out!"

His voice rose higher and higher until he was roaring so loud that his face turned as dark as (Y/n)'s stained dress and spit froffed from his lips. He waved his hand at everyone in the room. The guards, the servants and the maid. He wanted none of them in here.

The servants weren't needed. The guards didn't have to be in here; what were they going to protect Geta from within his own chamber? They should be out in the hall, patroling and making sure no one got up to this floor and got anywhere near the Empress. Standing in here watching Geta wasn't going to help or do anything useful.

Everyone rushed to leave, pushing and shoving one another until they were all blundering out of the door and only Caracalla was left in the room.

He looked disgruntled. He didn't know what to do with himself or how to settle because this had never happened before. Caracalla knew his presence alone would be helpful to his twin, in times of desperation and panic they always found and clung to one another. He wasn't going anywhere and the tender look in Geta's otherwise unhappy face told Caracalla that his presence was indeed welcomed and needed.

"She will be well?" Caracalla's words sounded more like a question than a reassuring affirmation.

He had grown fond of (Y/n). In his outbursts of anger, she had often soothed him and calmed him down. When he became disgruntled and confused, she gave him clarity and she treated him like a friend rather than a nuisance. And she was fond of Dondus.

Caracalla didn't want to lose her and he didn't want to deal with the broken pieces that would be left of his brother if he lost her.

Both their heads turned to look towards the doorway when it creaked open. geta was ready to shout at whoever dared to intrude and waltz back into the room, but he stopped himself short when he realised who it was.

General Acacius.

He had departed when Geta demanded they find the gladiator who had caused this mess. Hopefully his return meant they had found the man responsible. Geta wanted to make an example of him. He wanted to attack the man who had done this and unleash a new wave of Hell upon him.

"Emperor…" Acacius dipped his head in acknowledgement as he stepped into the room and stood before both Emperors.

Geta stayed standing, too riled to even try and sit down and hold himself still when all he wanted to do was trash the room until only broken pieces were left to resemble how he felt on the inside. While Caracalla remained unusually still, sat up straight with his hands fiddling with the belt around his middle to try and give some stimulation and stop himself from mooching about the room like a bored child.

"Did you find him? The one who did this?" If so, it hadn't taken them very long to find him. But then again, none of the Gladiators would have been able to escape the colosseum so it shouldn't have taken too much brains to work out which one had shot the arrow. Only one gladiator had been given the bow and arrow to begin with.

"We found him, and he's talking."

"Talking, what does he say exactly? Do not tell me he's boasting."

Geta's words were fuelled by anger and displayed how volatile he was. If the gladiator was indeed boasting then Geta would begin burning the city to show his rage. He would unleash torment onto his citizens and dismember every gladiator held within that colosseum if one had been boasting about harming the beloved Empress.

"No, no… he says he was paid to target the Empress." Acacius didn't want to be the one delivering this news. He knew how unstable both Emperors could be, especially without (Y/n) stood here to calm them and be the voice of reason.

And he knew this news wasn't going to go down well with Geta. It wouldn't settle well with Acacius if he found out that someone had been paid to try and harm and kill his own wife.

"Paid?" Gladiators often died in the arena, most succumbed to death than found their way out of the colosseum. Why would one take a bribe and accept money when his life wasn't guaranteed? Why be paid to do something so trecherous when he could be mauled to death the next day if he was chosen to fight in the arena?

"His family have fled Rome, probably with the money he was offered. He was paid and promised his freedom if he hurt the Empress… from what he says, someone wanted her dead."

Acacius did well to steady his frame and hold still when Geta lashed out. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back and steeled his frame, closing his eyes so he didn't have to bear witness to Geta's anger.

A horrible grating scream left Geta's lips as he reached out for the vase of flowers on the table beside the sofa. He launched the white and ocean blue vase with as much strength as he could muster, watching as it flew like a bird through the air before colliding with the far wall.

Pieces of dried clay splintered across the floor like the first fall of snow and a soul shattering echo vibrated around the room when the vase broke apart and the fragments bounced across the marble floor.

Flowers laid on the floor, some snapped, some in tact and most with their petals fallen and loose leaving them bare and effectively dead, melting into the puddle of water that soaked them up.

"Who?!"

Geta roared with all his might as his lips turned beet red and his eyes became bloodshot and narrowed. His hands trembled in tight fists at his sides and he felt like stomping his foot in anger when he didn't receive a response right away.

Who would do this to (Y/n)? Who would order her death and execute a plan like this? Why would they do this to her?

She was the light of Rome. Geta knew of no subject in his capital who held one ounce of hatred towards his wife. She was loving and fair to all and as soon as Geta announced his engagement to her, the people seemed to rejoice. Geta and Caracalla had gained numerous favour with the people by bringing (Y/n) to the throne.

"Macrinus." Acacuis could well believe the old Senate had been the one to do this. He was power hungry, he strived for greatness and power and control and Rome was next on his list to conquor.

He would do anything to get his way and he would bend anyone to his will in order to better himself. Macrinus was a man who had once been a slave, a man who fought for his life and scrambled his way out of the colosseum by the skin of his teeth and who had made something of himself. But he had gotten to the highest point he could. Macrinus couldn't further himself any more unless he used force and broke the rules to get himself on the throne and be the person with the most power and control in Rome. In the world.

Geta's expression changed from a look of fury to the look of a broken man.

One of their own Senates, someone who had risen through the ranks and who they trusted. Someone like that who had power and authority, had thrown it all away by coming up with such a devious, haneous plan to kill the Empress. Geta's heart and soul.

Geta wasn't a very well-learned man. He had spent more time learning about war and governing Rome than reading passages and poems and scholars. But he did remember one thing that had stuck with him.

You do not have a soul. You are a soul, you have a body.

He thought there was something justified in that, until he met (Y/n). Then he disbelieved. Geta truly felt that he was a body, a vessel and his heart and soul had been given away to (Y/n) to protect and nurture for him. He wasn't complete unless he had her by his side.

And Macrinus had tried to take her from him.

"Why?" There was clear fury boiling over in Caracalla's voice, even if he hadn't quite fit all the pieces together yet. He was still furious that someone they trusted had tried to sabotage them and harm (Y/n) in this manner.

"To get to me," Geta's voice was no more than a whisper and his expression stayed oddly blank as he seemed to stare down at the marbled floor. "To send me into a state of madness."

Acacius nodded grimly.

Marrying (Y/n) had redeemed Geta for all the bad things he had done, the people he had killed, the mercy he never showed to people and the harm he had brought to Rome for seeking new liberties for her.

But when he married (Y/n), it brought back a popularity to Geta and to Caracalla too. They were favourable in the public eye. (Y/n) was loved by the people and she had earned their respect, the people seemed to think she was a gift from the Gods, Geta's thoughts exactly.

The people saw how (Y/n) calmed Geta down, how she guided him and helped hima nd how good she was to him and for all of Rome. By killing (Y/n), it would cause Geta to spiral into a state of despair and he would become vulnerable to someone using his anger and tormented grief as a means to gain power and manipulate him.

Macrinus could easiky sway Geta to his advantage and use him to further himself if Geta was maddened with grief and on the verge of burning his Kingdom to the ground and wanting to lose himself in the process. Geta couldn't survive without (Y/n) and Macrinus had clearly worked that out. He knew how to play the game, but Geta wouldn't let this continue.

"There are to be no more games; I want this barbaric hound in the colosseum tomorrow. He will be executed."

Geta wouldn't allow any more games to continue. They had been scheduled all week but they would be cancelled now. No one should celebrate after what had happened to the Empress.

But tomorrow wouldn't be a game, and it wouldn't be a spectacle like the rest of the games. Tomorrow would be an execution for all of Rome to witness. They could see their traitor be punished for his crimes, for what he had done to their beloved Empress.

Geta turned on his heels, about to walk back into the bedroom but he paused after a second thought and glanced over his shoulder to look at Acacius. "Find Macrinus. He can join his barbarian in death."

***

A subtle shaking began to overtake Geta's body as he began to pace the length of the viewing box in the colosseum.

Everything was capturing his attention.

It had been only yesterday that the attack on (Y/n) had taken place and there had been very little time for the servants to clean up in here and make it look presentable once again.

They hadn't removed the chair. Geta could see the large hole in the exquisitely carved wood from where the arrowhead had lodged itself there. He could see the blood that had stained the lacquered wood in a large streak down the back and onto the cushioned seat. He could see the remnants of his wife's blood soaked into the stone floor in a puddle that couldn't be cleaned away. Not yet. Not without vigorous effort and a lot of vinegar and cleaning supplies.

One or two remnants of fruit were dried up on the floor from when Geta had snatched the cloth to use on (Y/n)'s wound and subsequently took the knife to cut her free from the chair she had been pinned to.

And clenched in his right fist, was the arrow that had been impaled in his wife yesterday.

Geta had spent all of last night lying awake, vigil by his wife's side with that wooden arrow resting on his bedside table. He stared at it when sleep evaded him. He praised his wife's sleeping body for surviving having such a horrible instrument impaled through her delicate skin.

He nursed her when she tremored and shook and broke out in a fever, he gave her more opium to keep her asleep and rested and he helped turn her every few hours to prevent sores and keep her circulation flowing.

And now he was here, back at the scene of the haneous crime with his brother and the General. Back to commit vengeance on behalf of his beloved.

He could see that Caracalla seemed too bewildered and unsettled to sit back down in his seat. His rightful throne. He couldn't sit there when only yesterday his sister had been punctured to her own throne by that arrow. Sitting down felt like he was setting himself up for the same fate or somehow dismissing what had happened to her.

Caracalla settled on standing at the corner of the royal box with his hands resting on the balcony so he could lean forwards and stare down into the arena. He didn't look too far, in fear of toppling forward or finding an arrow or a sword flying his way.

And at the back of the box stood Acacius, hidden by drapery. Both hands clasped together in front of him while he bowed his head in respect. He was here as a curtesy and for protection. But he wasn't sure what kind of reaction the crowds would give to todays events.

Finally, Geta stopped pacing and stepped forward towards the balcony so he could leer down and observe.

He hadn't been able to watch the fight. He couldn't watch that hound, that vicious, selfish gladiator who had shot the arrow now clasped tightly in his hand. Geta couldn't watch him try in vain to fight for his life that he surely knew Geta would not spare, not for anything in the world.

Nor could he look down upon Macrinus and see that deceitful, spiteful arrogant man fight like he used to when he was once a slave to Rome.

He watched them both fight well against five gladiators who were there simply to outnumber them and provide a show before the execution.

Geta had told Acacius not to tell Macrinus that today was his execution. He was invited to the palace last night and kept under watchful eye until dawn when Geta approached him and asked him why he would come up with such a scheme.

Macrinus as good as admitted what he'd done and that was enough for Geta. He let Acacius bring the scorned senate here, but he was under the impression he could fight his way to victory and be spared like before.

Well, not today.

A glimmer of glee mingled with spite lit up Geta's eyes as he stared down into the arena that had streaks of blood mingling in with the golden hues of sand.

Both the barbaric gladiator and Macrinus were now knelt in in the centre of the arena, their heads cast up towards the viewing box to see what their fate would be. It seemed the gladiator had already accepted that his punishment would be death; Geta could see that all-knowing, sorrowful look building in his eyes. Whereas Macrinus looked hopeful, and that made Geta's anger soar.

His hands pressed down into the smooth stone balcony and he leaned over to stare down at them with the arrow pinned between his palm and the stone.

"You took it upon yourselves to try and take Rome for yourselves. You tried to murder your Empress. The attack on her was planned and executed by your hands. Now all of Rome shall see your demise."

His fingers began to tap against the stone, but he moved his right hand over the edge and held the arrow. He knew the crowds wouldn't be able to see what he held and he knew both Macrinus and the gladiator would have a hard time distinguishing what was in his hand, but they would work it out. They would see the tip stained in blood and the thin wooden shape and they would know.

They would know that this was now Geta's token. This was something he was going to keep. It was going to fuel his anger, his fire and his rage and the protectiveness within him to keep his wife safe. And this token was going to be used to threaten anyone in Rome to keep them in line and keep them away from the Empress.

"The Gods have spoken, and you have enraged them. While the Empress lives, you cannot."

Lifting his hand, Geta stuck his thumb out and slowly twisted his wrist until his hand was angled down. His lips twitched into a sickening snarl and his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth started to grate and grind down against one another.

He would never let either of them live. He wouldn't allow them to live in Rome or be exiled to a nearby nation. They couldn't survive when they had almost robbed (Y/n) of her life. They had tried to rob Geta of his beloved, of his sanity and his heart and soul. That was an act that was unforgiveable and had to be punished. The price was their lives.

General Acacius stepped out of the shadows just enough to look at the scene as both men were impaled with arrows. More than five arrows each, into various parts of their body. The symbol they had tried to use to kill (Y/n) had now ended their own lives.

He was prepared. He was waiting to escort both Emperors out of the box and through the colosseum to get them back to safety. He was anticipating the crowds roars, their screams of anguish and terror as a highly praised Senate was executed without mercy.

But he wasn't prepared for the cheers.

The crowds were smiling. They were tossing rags and remnants of food and even stones down into the arena. They were throwing their fists in the air, their voices were overwhelming and surging and uplifting.

Almost no one in the colosseum was sad to see these men be put to death. They were cheering.

A toothy grin splintered across Caracalla's face showing off his golden tooth as he stepped forward, grinning and revelling in the cheers of their people. They were praising them for showing no mercy. This is what both Emperors had always wanted, the support of their people when they became ruthless.

something righteous bubbled up inside of Geta as he finally allowed himself to smile and bask in this victory that was his and his alone.

He tilted his head back, aiming his chin high while his fractured smile stayed splayed across his face and his narrowed eyes watched both men fall into the dirt where they belonged. He watched the life drain out of them as the blood soaked into the arena floor that would have to be swept and scrubbed and gritted with fresh sand to cover the leftover pieces of their deaths.

The crowds were clapping. They were all in agreement.

The people truly did love their Empress; they wanted to watch her attackers bend at the knee and pay the price for their crimes. There had been outrage in Rome yesterday when people heard and witnessed what happened to their beloved Empress. And now, only one day later, they were satisfied that their Empress was indeed alive and now she would be safe with these men put to death.

There would be no riots for what had happened here today, only celebration. Encouraging cheers and rounds of celebration that Rome's beloved Empress was safe and her attackers were no longer a threat.

***

Geta felt an overwhelming sense of love when he opened the bedroom door. It was the way (Y/n) looked at him when he walked in. With those big round eyes and that sparkle that had come back to them now she wasn't dosed to the heavens with opium.

It was the way she smiled when she saw him like he was the light in her life and she thought that Geta was the sun bringing her light and a source of life.

She still looked terribly unwell and unsettingly weak, but that smile was enough to bring a light to Geta's shrouded heart.

He watched as Lucilla and the maid carefully eased (Y/n) forward so they could help her sit up. Her right arm was laid limp across her lap, still able to move but not without significant pain. The healer had told (Y/n) the moment she became lucid that she should refrain from moving her arm until her stitches were taken out and her wound was fully mended.

Her hair fell in unruly waves around her shoulders and Geta noted to himself that he would brush her hair for her later, he knew she would hate to get knots and tangles.

The discomfort was clear on her face as she winced and shuddered, but once she was leant back into the pillows, (Y/n) stretched her good arm out and curled her fingers. Softly motioning for Geta to come over to her. She hadn't been properly awake or lucid this morning before he left, but Lucilla had taken residence at her bedside and helped nurse her for the morning. And she had filled (Y/n) in on what was happening today and what had happened at the colosseum this morning.

Both Lucilla and the maid excused themselves when Geta approached and they left the room, closing the door behind them to give the couple some privacy.

The moment he sat down on the bed, (Y/n) looped her left arm around the back of his neck and tugged him closer. She sighed contentedly when he tucked his face into her neck and the feel of each breath fanning across her throat was surprisingly soothing. Her fingers latched into his hair and her cheek nestled against the top of his head while Geta bound his arms around her waist.

He made sure to keep his arms low around her abdomen, not daring to even brush his skin against her wound in fear of inflicting any sort of pain onto her by mistake.

"How are you, my love?" His words were muffled against her throat but (Y/n) managed to hear him just fine.

"Okay now."

He knew what she meant, and it made him grin. She was okay now that he was back.

When he lifted his head from her neck, he kept one arm around her back while the other cupped her face. He brushed his thumb along her lower lip and down her chin before he kissed her. He tried not to devour her lips and nestled his nose against hers, letting her pull back for air rather than pushing her down and inhaling all the air from her lungs. He didn't want to overwhelm her when she wasn't well.

He scanned his eyes around the room once he pulled back and instead attached his lips to her temple where he could stay for seconds, minutes, hours if he wanted without overwhelming her or stealing her breath away.

The plate of dried fruits and bread were untouched and the pitcher of water was still mostly full. She hadn't managed to eat anything or drink very much yet, but there was still time. Geta would help her gain back her strength, he would nurse her back to health.

"Lucilla said this- this was planned." (Y/n) couldn't help but shudder at the thought of what had truly happened yesterday. "That Macrinus orchestrated it."

Some of the day was blurred, it felt like a feverish dream that was fading before (Y/n)'s very eyes. She could feel Geta's hands gripping her skin, she could feel the way his pulse seemed to pound through her skin too and the frantic tone of his voice telling her to look at him, stay with him, listen to him.

She could feel his hands on her burning skin, she could feel the tonic trickling through her system and making her fall into horrible dreams, even if it did take the horrendous pain from her shoulder and chest.

But knowing that everything that happened yesterday was deliberate hurt (Y/n)'s mind and crushed her heart.

She never thought that someone would stoop so low as to hurt her like that, to try and kill her because they knew Geta's love for her was so unconditional and widespread that he would simply cave without her. That they thought they could use her death to control her husband, it was despicable.

Tears were already glistening in (Y/n)'s eyes at the thought that just a few inches to the left and she wouldn't be here. A better aim, if she had sat at a different angle, and she would be in the chapel waiting to be laid to eternal rest with the Gods.

Geta tilted his head down when he felt something wet against his throat and his upper lip curled into a tortured snarl when he realised (Y/n) was crying.

He sat up straighter beside her, moving his hand around to cup the back of her neck while he began kissing her temple with fever. "Shh, shh it's alright my love. You're alright now."

He felt her left arm loosen from around his waist and he waited, intrigued, as she slid her hand up his abdomen until she had her hand clenched in his tunic in between their chests instead. She leaned into his touch, relishing in his words and kisses that were being peppered against her temple while she closed her eyes and tried to calm down.

He was right. (Y/n) was okay now, she was going to recover from this and heal and get better. She had been so lucky to escape the ordeal with her life when she could have easily passed away from her injuries. If Geta hadn't of thought and acted as quickly as he did, she wouldn't be here.

"He's no longer a threat to you. I've dealt with them both, and Rome rejoices."

"Thank you."

Geta tried to smile against her temple, but when he tilted his head to the side and peered down at her, he could feel his chest bubbling with that familiar sense of rage that kept getting out of control.

The maids had dressed (Y/n) in a thin nightgown that undid with strings at the front. Something very easy to remove for when they had to change the bandages and bindings around (Y/n)'s chest and so the healers could attend to her wound and check the stitches.

Right now, the gown was hanging off her right shoulder and it allowed Geta to see this mornings fresh bandages. He could see how her skin was still swollen and how the bandage had to be wrapped around her upper chest, beneath her arm and around her shoulder and collar bone to keep it tight and in place. He dreaded to think what her wound looked like.

When the wound had been checked in the early hours of the morning, Geta had witnessed. Partially to make sure (Y/n)'s modesty was preserved and so he could witness the damage. Swollen, discoloured skin. Tight stitches that looked far too harsh and degrading to be punctured into (Y/n)'s silky skin. Dried patches of blood glued to her skin where the wound leaked and oozed.

Geta was just waiting for it to become infected and for the healers to tell him his relief had been short-lived.

He had already told the guards that tomorrow, as long as (Y/n) was okay, he would be taking pilgrimage to pray to Juno, the Goddess and protector of women. Geta wanted to make sure the Gods understood that he was eternally grateful that (Y/n) had been spared, but he wanted to ensure her health. He wanted to pray to Juno to keep watch over (Y/n) and keep her safe.

If his prayers worked then Geta would never again think it stupid to pray at a Gods feet when he was the Emperor of all Rome. He would take pilgrimage and pray much more often if they watched over (Y/n) and Caracalla for him.

"For now, I don't want you anywhere near the Senates, none of them. And I need you to remain here in the palace, where you're safe."

(Y/n) nodded against his chest without really taking his words in at first, but when she realised what he was saying, she couldn't help but feel relieved. She didn't want anything to do with the Senates. She didn't want to attend any meetings or visit the Senates and engage in conversation, not when one of them had tried to have her killed and so many others could want to do the same to gain control over all of Rome and her entities.

If Geta wanted her to stay in the palace then that was what (Y/n) would do. She knew she was safe here with all the guards and servants, and she knew Geta wouldn't be leaving her side for a while yet. It was going to take time for her wound to heal and she couldn't move her arm too much until that happened. (Y/n) wasn't likely to go out until her arm was back under her control and she was no longer crippled with pain.

"I don't want you in the public eye either, until I'm assured your safety is guaranteed. I won't have this happening to you again. I can't lose you."

Geta felt (Y/n) hum against his throat and he bound his arm just a little tighter around her waist.

He couldn't have (Y/n) out in the public. The people of Rome might love her like she were a Goddess walking amongst them, but there might still be people out there who wanted to harm her.

Until the guards could guarantee that they could stop any other murderous attempt on (Y/n)'s life, Geta wasn't having her walk out of the palace. He was having her where he could see and protect her at all times.

Geta couldn't come that close to losing her again. Ever.

[anonymous-existences]

DCXDP prompt : 4? 5? Whatever.

Yk how we all collectively at some point in our minds Killed Amity Park and made Danny get Adopted by the Wayne's? You can't deny. Anyways this is not that— the only thing here is the Danny gets adopted by the Wayne's part with little additions.

Danny Fenton's Parents Jack and Maddie Fenton going to Jail for Obvious Child Neglect & Attempted Murder + Child Abuse(Vivisecting Danny). Danny and Jasmine are far too young for this. Dan and Dani are de-aged and are acting like Danny's Twin(Dan) and little sister ofcourse. It depends if Dan is there, cuz in most of my AUs he's redeemed but that's not the same for everyone.

Ages:

Dani : 7-8

Danny : 15

Dan : 15

Jazz : 17

Anyways Imma just...

Imma start this with a chapter like prompt because I don't know much on how to actually make a descriptive prompt and more of a go with the flow type of— yeah imma just write:

Danny held onto Jazz's arm as if it was his last line of Sanity, he hasn't been able to sleep due to nightmares of Jack and Maddie's Cruelty, Understandably enough Jazz had Danny in her lap clutched to her chest in her arms. Her Gaze hard and serious, ready to defend and talk without mercy to whoever talks to her that she didn't trust. Apparently Jack had a distant cousin, Bruce Wayne assigned as a God Father as well.

Jazz held onto Danny's hands sharing her warmth that contrasted to the cold temperate of Danny's body. He buried himself further into her chest yearning for more of her warmth shutting out the noises he's hearing as they sat in the courtroom. The judge soon in between the two billionaires, Vlad Masters and Bruce Wayne, the Judge asks softly, with their gentle voice to Jazz.

Jazz looks up her hardened gaze that seemed frantic and anxious immediately softening upon looking up at the trusted adult, "Tell me Jasmine, I will give you the option to choose." The judge finally says, "But—" Vlad tried to protest but was immediately shut down. Dan shifted uncomfortably and holding onto Danny and Jazz's arm desperately, also anxious. He does not want to be with Vlad. Dani was in his lap also trembling. The siblings are all anxious and Jazz is the only one they could trust to make the decision.

Dan looked up at Jazz, her eyes tainted with darkened eye-bags due to nightmares as well but she's staying strong for her baby siblings. ".... I choose the safest option..." Jazz started with a sigh, looking down for a moment at Danny who looked exhausted and reliant to Jazz's warmth. "I choose Bruce Wayne." She looked up with a determined gaze at Bruce and the Judge. "JASMINE—". Vlad started to protest and whipping his head to Jazz's seat.

Jazz felt, Dan and Dani flinch, Jazz grit her teeth, "Shut up Vladimir Masters. You are not gonna be me and my sibling's guardian. Never in my life will I let that happen." She breathes out, despite her form trembling a trusted adult placed their hand on Jazz's shoulder allowing jazz to relax knowing she and her siblings are protected. "Very Well." The judge merely says hitting the Gavel made of hardwood on the sound-block placed on the judge's table hence announcing the final decision.

It all went too fast, well too fast for the Fenton's to now new adopted Wayne Siblings, Danny and Dan stuck close to each other, Danny was exhausted and they could all tell by his constant groaning and almost accidentally scratching his not yet healed stitches especially the Scar of his attempted Vivisection. "Shhh...." Jazz just kisses Danny's hair and made them all lean on her body, Dan's Head on Jazz's Lap, Dani in Danny's Lap and Danny's head resting on Jazz's shoulder on the backseat of the car.

Jasmine Jade Fenton, now Jasmine Jade Wayne sighed in relief, feeling her body relax. She eyes the rearview mirror and saw Bruce who was driving them personally, His eyes was soft, a gaze that could only mean care and worry. Jazz stiffened for a moment and analyzed Bruce's Current body language, She could tell he was relieved. She guesses that being able to understand his emotions quite literally is being part of her liminality, being somewhat of an empath helps her understand other's emotions quickly.

"Hey... You guys comfortable back there...?" Bruce softly asked and Jazz nodded and smiled. "Yes... Thank you... Uhm... Sir Wayne." She responds, the hardness of her tone now long relieved as she's successfully kept her family away from Vlad. "Just call me Bruce.." Bruce smiled back and Jazz nodded with appreciation.

Jazz looked down over to her siblings, all fast asleep as they could finally relax their bodies. 'I won't let anyone hurt any of you...' she thinks to herself, tears welling softly down her cheeks. Quickly she wipes them off before Bruce could notice, she took a deep breathe and quivered slightly at the thought of the future.

[End of Prompt(?)]

Edit/Additional:Sam and Tucker are alive, AMITY is alive and ghosts are now in JL tracker but they've become much more peaceful and cooperative and refusing to state who their king is due to his request of "Animosity" (Danny? Or Dan— or Clockwork as a Ghost King Proxy)

I'm someone who adds Dash/Danny ship but here idgf— Sam helps Danny and the others adjust to Gotham(I'm thinking of my HC where she's actually a Gothamite) and Tucker being Tucker, the Tech Geek, emotional support and absolutely loves his PDA

That's all I could think of! This is probably an angsty type of healing, Identity Reveals, Found Family. Hurt/Comfort, angst with a happy ending(?), Familial Love/Platonic Love. :33 have fun with this prompt!

Please tag me if anyone finds a fic like this or someone writes a fic of this! >:33

[i-cant-sing]

Yandere Royal Gay AU pt 8

Part 7 is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more.

You didn't want to open your eyes.

You had woken up a while ago and realised you were back home when you heard your father's voice. He was singing to you, more humming than actually saying the words but... you recognised the lullaby. It was something he used to hum to you when you were sick or couldn't sleep as a child.

It was incredibly personal, one of the few memories that you cherished with him.

So why did he have to do it in front of Keigo?

It took every fibre in your being to not get up and strangle him while pulling his eyeballs out.

"You have a soothing voice." Keigo whispered from your side, brushing your hair with his hand, while you clawed the sheets from under the covers.

Dabi smiled, feeling perfectly content now that he had his most precious treasures in front of him, safe and sound. "How are you feeling now? Do your wings still hurt?"

"Not as much. Emperor Kai's healers did their magic. I'll be flying again in no time." Keigo sighed as he looked at you. "Its her I'm more worried about, Dabi."

"Why? Kai already healed any minor injuries she had-"

"Physically, yes, she's healed. But what about mentally?"

"What about it?" Dabi pushed, eyes narrowing. Keigo sat up straighter. "Dabi, regardless of what AFO did or that you saved her-" "we saved her, Keigo." "- right. Regardless, she... she will be affected by all of it. That was her mother's homeland, her people, and AFO was her grandfather. You and I both know Y/n isnt one to just- just hate anyone or hold grudges. She'll be crushed by AFO's death, or all those villagers deaths. I mean, you did see how she reacted to Tomura's death-"

"That's enough." Dabi snapped, voice barely containing the rage he felt. "You will never speak of those names again, Keigo. What happened to them, what I did to them- it was a kindness! A mercy compared to the punishment that they deserved and would've gotten if it weren't for Y/n being there."

"But Y/n-"

"We will take care of Y/n. You and me, together will help her forget about those traitorous bastards and everything will return to normal." Dabi closed his eyes, pausing before opening them again. "We are all that she needs, Keigo. Now more than ever."

The blonde smiled softly before moving off the bed and over to Dabi, the latter gently pulling the blonde into his lap, hands cautiously settling on the base of his wings.

"I never doubt you, Dabi." Keigo whispered as he kissed him. "I trust you with my life, and Y/n's." Dabi smiled against his lips. He adored how protective Keigo was over you, and he's the only one who is allowed to be possessive over you.

"I know, love." Dabi murmured, tightening his grip on the blonde's hips when he tried to move. "Where are you going?"

"Gonna make something for Y/n to eat."

"The kitchen staff-"

"-will mess it up,I just know it. Just let me handle this Dabi. I'll be back soon, hm?"

Dabi sighed. "Dont take too long." He watched him leave before turning back towards you, taking your hand in his as he resumed humming the lullaby.

He traced his thumb over your wrists, staring at it absentmindedly as his mind went back to the events of the battlefield, heart swelling up with joy at his victory over AFO and his entire kingdom. His lips quirked up slightly as he recalled the screams of the people burning.

They deserved it.

They deserved it and so much more for what they did to you, for taking away his one and only child and torturing you in god knows what horrendous way they came up with.

Isn't that why you looked so miserable and devastated at the battlefield?

Dabi's eyes flicked to your face, widening when they met your own.

You were awake.

"Y/n!" Dabi squeezed your hand before getting up to sit on your bed. Taking your face in his hands as he looked at you with concern. "I- are you okay? How are you feeling now?"

Hollow eyes stared at him, your mouth remained sealed shut as you looked at him. But just before it creeped Dabi, you blinked and then tears started to fall down your face.

Dabi immediately (but gently) pulled you to his chest, practically sitting you in his lap like a child, arms wrapping themselves around you like a warm cocoon to calm you down as he continued to look down at you with even more worry when great sobs racked your body.

"Y/n? Oh baby- its okay, its okay! You're fine." He pulled your face away from his chest, cradling your face in his hands as his thumbs wiped away the tears from your cheeks. "No one is mad at you. I am not mad at you, more concerned is all. When you went missing, I- I thought you were dead. I thought you were dead and it hurt, Y/n. It hurt me that you died hating your father, and I never want that. I just-" Dabi closes his eyes and sighs before opening them. "I dont blame you for your actions. You ran away because of me, and while that may not have been the wisest decision, I understand and... I forgive you. You were misled by people you trusted, and they paid for their actions. Now, I want us to start anew again. Put everything behind us and become a happy family again. You, me and Keigo, together against the world, hm? How does that sound?" You all but wailed louder at the mention of that whore's name, but Dabi just percieved it as you being overwhelmed and pulled you tighter against his chest.

With one hand rubbing circles in your back while the other was carded in your hair, Dabi kissed your temple, smiling softly as you cried hard into him.

"Its okay. Let it all out, Y/n. I've got you, baby. I've got you."

And I'm never letting go. Ever.

-

Dabi left once you'd calmed down, saying that he was going to inform Keigo that you were finally awake. You of course, would rather gouge out your eyes than meet that murderer, but that idea was thrown out the window when your nanny knocked on your door, Inko looking visibly surprised to see you awake.

She all but rushed over to hug you, tears falling from her eyes as she pulled away from you suddenly, bowing her head as she apologised for touching you. You smiled sadly before opening up your arms, and Inko hugged you again. She was allowed to drop royal protocol, the woman had practically raised you.

A few minutes later and you heard Keigo and Dabi walking in the hallway. You pulled away from Inko and told her to tell them that you were taking a bath.

"Please! Just tell them you drew me a bath, I- I-" Inko didn't need to be told twice as she ushered you towards the bathroom and quickly shut the door behind her, right in time for Dabi and Keigo to barge in.

"Where is she?! Where's Y/n?" Keigo asked, whipping his around for you, as if you'd be hiding somewhere. Inko bowed, greeting the two men, raising her head only to see Keigo looking at her impatiently and Dabi raising a brow at her.

"Well?"

"The princess is taking a bath, your Majesty. I had recommended it to help heal her wounds better-" She began lying, but Dabi cut her off.

"Let me know when she's ready. Dress her in soft clothes, I want her to be comfortable. You will take care of it, hm?" Dabi ordered, and Inko bowed her head in obedience.

"Of course, your Majesty."

"Come on, Keigo. She'll be back soon. Why don't you continue making her lunch? We'll all eat here." Dabi suggested, his hand on Keigo's back guiding him out of the room.

You sighed as you heard them leave, closing your eyes as it dawned that you had escaped facing Keigo but only momentarily.

Inko entered the bath, smiling apologetically as she knew that you didn't like Keigo.

"I'll draw you a bath, princess. Why don't you wait on the bed, hm?" You nodded, going to sit on your bed just as someone else knocked on the door.

You nodded at Inko and she opened the door to see who it was before harshly whispering at someone to leave.

"Who is it?" You asked, standing up. Inko looked back at you apologetically before pushing the door open and revealing-

"Izuku." You whispered. Your childhood best friend was wearing his Knight armour as he beamed brightly at you.

"Princess." He greeted. "May I come in?" He asked only to be whacked on his head by his mom. "Izuku! She's busy and besides, the Princess needs to rest-"

"Its alright, Inko. He can come in." You nodded, as the woman let out a sigh of relief before going back to drawing you the bath.

Izuku walked towards you and you motioned for him to sit down next to you on the bed. "Its been a while." He started. You hummed. "It has. And I'm sorry."

Izuku gave you a quizzical look. "What for?"

"For how I treated you before I left." You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers. "For snapping at you. That was uncalled for-"

Izuku grabbed your hands, his large rough ones engulfing yours. "You don't have to explain anything to me, Y/n." You shook your head. "I want to." You whispered, as your voice turned wobbly. "I don't want to lose- I cant- T-Tomura-" Izuku pulled you into a hug before your tears could fall. He patted your back and hushed you. "Shh, you won't lose me. I promise, I won't go anywhere."

-

You sat on your bed uncomfortably with Keigo and Dabi in the room. The maids had brought up a small table and chairs with food to your room, since Dabi thought it'd be best to dine here while you rest. You however, can't rest as long as that murderer is in the room.

Sure, Dabi killed your grandfather and killed many of the villagers, but you could see where he was coming from. Your father's reaction was somewhat reasonable since his daughter, his only heir, was kidnapped and he didn't know whether you were being tortured or dead. And you can see it however you want, but deep down you blame Keigo for AFO's death.

You blame him for the villagers deaths.

You blame him for your mother's death.

You blame him for Tomura's death.

"How's your soup?" Dabi asked.

"Its good." You said without looking up from your plate, just like the past 20 minutes. You can't bare to bring yourself to look up at him, unsure if your heart will break more at the sight of him whoring to your dad or if you'll end up raging and kill him on the spot.

"Of course it is. Keigo made it himself for you." Dabi locked eyes with the blonde, who blushed. "Dont you wanna say thank you?"

Here we go again.

There was a audible shift in the energy of the room. The tension could be cut with a knife, as Dabi once again forced you to interact with Keigo.

Keigo leaned towards the king. "Dabi, I don't think that's necessary-"

"Thank you." You said, finally looking up and directly at Keigo, a small courteous smile on your lips. "It tastes delicious. Thank you for going out of your way for me."

Keigo's mouth parted in shock, this was- this was the first time you looked at him with genuine respect- talked to him nicely. Even Dabi was surprised at your change in behaviour, he didn't expect you to actually be grateful, maybe spat out a forced thanks with a grimace but not this, not you actually finishing the bowl of soup.

"I- oh, it's no trouble. I'm glad you liked it." Keigo managed to say, looking at Dabi with confusion, but the king only grinned.

He was glad you were coming around, beyond happy that you were going to turn over a new leaf with him.

It's about time.

Just then, a guard came in, apologising for interrupting but requesting the king's attention for an urgent matter.

Dabi left, promising to return soon with letters from Enji and grandma Rei, and his siblings.

Keigo cleared his throat as the two of you were left alone. "Oh, you finished your soup! I'll give you some more- oh, where are you going?" He asked, watching you peel the covers away and get off the bed. "To the bathroom? Let me help you-" He moved to grab your hand but you snatched it away, before continuing to move to the bathroom.

You didn't close the door behind you, perhaps you wanted him to follow you if you fell or something. But when you got on your knees in front of the toilet bowl and locked eyes with him, Keigo knew he wasn't going to like what he was about to see.

In the next second, you had shoved fingers down your throat and gagged until you induced vomiting, emptying your stomach out.

Keigo rushed towards you, eyes wide in horror as he asked why did you do that. But you didn't answer him. Instead, you called out to Inko (who intentionally pushed Keigo away from you when she saw you on the floor, looking faint and out of breath).

"Princess! Are you alright? Should I get the physician?" You shook your head.

"No, just- just had some disgusting soup that made me sick. Could you- could you do me favour and get rid of it? I swear, just the smell of it in my room is making me lurch again." You commented while looking at Keigo.

Inko only nodded as she helped you back in bed before taking out all the food in your room, but not before asking Keigo to leave.

"My apologies, sir, but I think it'd be best to let the princess rest for now." She said, not sounding sorry at all, practically blocking his view of you as she stood in front of him, eyes staring into him boldly.

Had Keigo not been shocked by your actions, he would've had smacked her across the face for such blatant disrespect.

But Keigo left silently. He needed to process what just happened.

-

Two more weeks passed by, and you had received many letters from your loved ones and friends. Your father was still far too paranoid or perhaps it was his possessiveness that didn't allow you to have any visitors. The option of you stepping out of the castle was out of the question, even you knew that. But he could've let your grandparents see you, or even your friends who were actually there with him on the battlefield.

At least uncle Shotou was here. He sat by your side on a chair, while you were in your bed, back propped up against the headboard.

"They're all worried about me." You mumbled as you opened another letter. "I feel bad making them worry over me. Don't you think I should meet them to let them know I'm well?"

Shotou nodded. "I agree with you but your father still hasn't budged from his decision. He says that it's just not safe yet for you to meet people, and that you should still rest until you're better."

"But I am better! Any minor injuries that I sustained have healed ages ago." You whined. "Its just- its frustrating being alone in this castle!"

He tilted his head slightly. "You're not alone, Y/n. You have me, your father, the servants, the knights-"

"You know what I mean." You sighed. "Its okay if he doesn't want me too meet anyone else, but can't I at least visit... mum? I can go with him, or you, or even the guards- I just- I just need to see her! It's been too long."

Shotou heaved a sigh. "I had brought it up to Dabi, but... he said no."

You remained quiet for a few moments, looking down at your lap as your brows furrowed.

"He's mad at me." You mumbled.

Shotou's head shot up. "Y/n?"

You nodded, sniffling a little. "He's mad at me. That's why he won't let me meet anyone. That's why he won't let go see mom. He- he thinks it's my fault that I was with AFO." You bit your lip. "And it is. I did run away from him. But only because I was mad at him. I thought that some time away from each other would heal our problems. But... nothing changed. If anything, we're more far apart than we were before. He- he's punishing me. And people are getting hurt because of that- because of me-"

Shotou cut you off by holding your face and turning you to him. "Y/n, this isn't your fault. None of it is. And your dad, he's not mad at you. He's not punishing you. He's just- its just taking him some time to cope with all of this. You have to see where he's coming from, hm? He lost you- he thought you were dead. And now that he got you back, he's just- he doesn't want anything to hurt you, anyone to take you away from him again." He said, which made you cry even more and Shotou pulled your head to his chest, patting your back as your tears wet his garments.

After Shotou left your room, he went upto Dabi's office, hoping to convince him to let you meet Rei and Enji at least. But before he could knock, he overheard Keigo's moans and he immeadiately turned on his heel and left, hands clenching into fists at the thought of that disgusting whore.

He reached his room and sat on his desk, thinking of what to do to help you. Even if Keigo wanst there, Shotou doubts Dabi would've listened to him. So... if he wasn't going to do something, then maybe Shotou could help you?

You are the princess after all, the next heir to the throne. It is his duty to help you in whatever way possible.

Pulling out a sheet of paper, Shotou grabbed his quill and began writing away.

-

Keigo and Dabi laid in each others arms, Keigo's hand resting on Dabi's bare chest while the latter played with the blonde's hair.

"What's on your mind?" Dabi asked.

Keigo raised his brows and shook his head. "Nothing much."

"You should know better than to lie to your king by now, hm?" Dabi commented before asking again. "Come on, tell me."

Truthfully, Keigo was concerned over his last interaction with you. Why were you so hostile towards him? But earlier, in front of Dabi, you were so nice to him.

Keigo sighed, nuzzling closer to Dabi. "I'm just concerned about Y/n."

Dabi softly smiled. He liked it when Keigo worried over you.

"She'll be fine, Kei. She just needs to adjust to everything. Time heals all wounds." Keigo didn't reply and Dabi could see that he was still thinking about you. When you were gone, Dabi felt like this was the end of the world. He could only imagine the heartbreak Keigo was going through. They both loved you, and now that they had you back, their anxiety didn't go away completely. They still couldn't believe it, that you were still alive and well with them. In fact, the first night after they brought you home, Dabi didn't sleep a wink. No, he kept on checking in on you. Keigo, despite his injuries and heavy medication, was in a similar state.

"Why don't you go and check in on her? It'll put your mind to ease." Dabi offered, sitting up to pour himself some wine. Keigo nodded happily as he pulled away, kissing Dabi's cheek before wrapping a robe around him and scurrying out of the room, the king chuckling at the sight.

Even when you were a kid, Keigo often found himself watching over your sleeping form, something about it made him feel at peace. To see you safe and sound, in arms reach to protect you from any harm that should befall you... perhaps that's exactly what Keigo needed at the moment.

He made his way to your room, the guards at your door knew not to stop him- it was Dabi's orders. Keigo softly knocked on your door, waiting to see if you're still awake. After a few moments of silence, he slowly opened the door and crept inside.

There you were, lying on your side, tucked under the floral covers that reached upto your nose. Your hair sprawled out over the pillow, a few wisps framing your face under the glow of the lantern in the room. Your lips were slightly parted and Keigo smiled at how you looked the same as you did when you were a baby.

He walked closer and brushed the hair out of your face, and leaned down to kiss your forehead as his hands pulled the covers closer to you. He turned to leave but halted when he heard a whimper.

He looked at your face, which was now scrunched up as if in pain. Before he could do anything, you started mumbling frantically, your head moving side to side, your voice turning loud as your words became audible.

"No! No! Stop, Im sorry- STOP! STOP! STOP! KEIGO STOP-!" Keigo rushed to wake you up from your nightmare, only for your eyes to snap open as you began thrashing in his arms, pushing away from him as you began screaming for help, tears streaming down your face as you backed away so far that you fell off the bed, still shrieking for him to get away, just in time for the Dabi to burst in your room with your guards.

"DAD!" You yelled, your body shaking as he made his way towards you. "HE'S GOING TO KILL ME! HE'S GOING TO KILL ME!" You cried out, pointing at Keigo.

"Y/n, honey, calm down. He's not going to hurt-" Dabi tried to console you, taking your shoulders in his hands but you were inconsolable. He looked at Keigo, and the blonde saw the slightest flicker of doubt- no, accusation; an incriminating look in those cerulean eyes.

"I didn't do anything, Dabi. She was having a nightmare and-" he tried to explain himself, something he didn't think he'd need to do with Dabi.

"HE'LL KILL ME! HE'LL KILL ME! HE'LL KILL ME LIKE HE HE KILLED TOMURA!" You continued rambling on, tears streaking your cheeks, not taking your eyes off Keigo for a moment, as if afraid that he'd strike you at a chance.

Dabi looked at your face, concern arising at the raw fear in your eyes. Its only when a trail of crimson left your nose and your chest began heaving heavily did Dabi finally say the words.

"Keigo, leave."

The blonde took a step closer towards you. "No Dabi, I can help-"

Dabi snapped his head back at him and with unbridled rage in his face, he yelled at him.

"I'M ORDERING YOU TO LEAVE! NOW!"

Keigo's heart shattered at the venomous tone, and his face showed it. But right now, Dabi was more concerned about his daughter not having a panic attack or passing out. He could worry about Keigo later, you were the priority now.

You're the priority.

As Keigo left, Dabi picked you up and placed you back in your bed, promising to spend the night by your side. With the way your eyes remained wide open, he was worried you wouldn't sleep. But sleep finally overcame you as you were held by Dabi, your head lying on his warm chest, barely hiding the coy smile as he told the guard to inform Keigo that he won't be returning to bed tonight.

-

The next morning, when you woke up, you were still curled up in Dabi's lap. True to his word, he stayed with you the entire time, and it didn't seem like he slept much.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked, eyes slightly tired from the lack of sleep.

"I'm better, thank you." You whispered, getting off his lap. You looked up at him, brows knitting together as you tried to think of what to say next, or about last night. "I- last night... I-"

He waved you off. "We'll talk after breakfast. I think you're well enough to join us in the dining hall, hm?" You nodded as he got up and walked closer to you, cupping your cheek with one hand as he leaned down to kiss your forehead.

"My precious." He smiled before leaving your room, right in time for Inko to come in to help you get ready for breakfast.

Dabi returned to his room where he wasn't surprised to see Keigo pacing around, worriedly. From the dark circles and red eyes, Dabi figured the blonde hadn't slept.

"Dabi, I am so sorry-" He started but was cut off by Dabi wrapping his arms around him.

"Its okay. Not your fault." He sighed, pulling away to kiss Keigo on the lips. But the blonde wanted to still clarify himself.

"I didn't do anything, Dabi- she just- she had a nightmare and I was just trying to he'll her-"

"I know, Keigo. I know." Dabi stared into his scared eyes and his gaze softened. "But you need to understand that when I tell you to do something, you do it without question. Without a second thought. Y/n is- she's still a child, as much as she pretends to be a grown up, deep down all of these events have scarred her in way or another. We have to give her time and we have to help her, hm?"

Keigo only nodded before resting his head on Dabi's chest, wanting to be comforted as well.

"Let's eat, hm?"

-

The three of you sat on the dining table, eating in awkward silence. You and Keigo didn't meet each other's eyes, Dabi kept looking between you two, hoping one of you would finally start talking.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry-!" You and Keigo said together. You spoke again before he could (as you should, according to royal protocol. But everyone knows the King's favourite isn't one to follow rules.)

"I am sorry, for how I behaved last night, Keigo. I- I was having a nightmare and-" you sighed. "-Its not your fault. I reacted very poorly and I shouldn't have pushed you away or been afraid of you, I just- I just-" Dabi grabbed your hand and squeezed it affirmatively when he saw remorse in your eyes.

"Its okay, really. I didn't mind it, and I know it wasn't your fault either. But I have to ask... was the nightmare about me?" Keigo asked cautiously.

You looked up at him before looking away, eyes slowly welling up with tears. That was enough of an answer for him and Keigo could feel his heart drop at the thought of you being afraid of him.

"I am- I think I just need- I need some time to get used to you again..." you say.

Dabi hummed, giving a quick glance to Keigo who nodded begrudgingly as well.

"Well, now that this topic is over, I was thinking of sharing some good news." Dabi said, making the two look at him. "Since you seem to be in good health, I was thinking you could visit your mother. What do you think?"

"Really?" You whispered in disbelief.

Dabi nodded. "Of course, I'd be accompanying. Don't want you fainting or-" you cut him off by a big hug and loads of "thank you's".

He let you be excused so that you could get ready while Keigo watched him with a slightly hurt expression in his eyes.

"So... I shouldn't come with you two?" He asked in a low tone.

Dabi met his eyes and held his gaze before softening them. "I think some space between you both would benefit for her. After last night, I don't think she's strong mentally, Keigo. Her mother is a sensitive topic as it is... I can't risk her having another episode like last night."

Keigo stared at his plate before nodding, not meeting his eyes. "I understand. E-excuse me." He left the room.

Dabi knew being apart from you was the last thing Keigo ever wanted but... he could make him understand later. For now, Dabi needs to focus on you.

-

"Thank you." You said to your father who was behind you, holding the reins of his horse you rode on together. He insisted on sharing one ride, and you felt closer to him while he felt content now that you were in his arms, safe and secure.

"What for?" Dabi asked.

"Everything." You looked down at your hands and then ahead at the road. "For going with me to see mom. And for taking care of her grave. For last night, when you held me."

Dabi smiled and kissed the top of your head.

Soon you two had reached the castle and were getting off the horse when Shotou came out beaming.

"Someone is waiting for you-"

"Y/N!" Rei yelled as she dropped royal protocol and practically ran down the stairs of the entry door to hug you. "My child!" She began crying into your shoulder as her arms squeezed your form so hard that it almost began to hurt.

"Honey, you're going to break her." A familiar voice said, making you pull back from Rei.

"Grandpa!" You squealed as the older man caught you when you jumped, spinning you around as you buried your face into his neck, arms barely reaching around his broad shoulders.

"My doll, my little princess." He cooed as he kissed your forehead, his own eyes getting a little misty.

"Enji, stop hogging her." Rei smacked his arm.

He frowned. "Honey, I'm not hogging her-"

"Yes, you are!" Someone yelled as they yanked you out of his arms and into their own. "I've missed you so much, my baby!" She cried as she rubbed her cheek against yours.

"Hello, Aunt Fuyumi." You chuckled as you patted her arms to let go but she held you tighter. Fortunately, Dabi came to your rescue.

"You're hurting her, Fuyumi." He said as he pulled you away and behind him. Fuyumi gave him a quick bow and "Your Majesty." Before punching his shoulder. "I was worried about you! Would it have killed you to write back to me?!"

"I've been... busy." He replied. "Besides, I needed some alone time with my daughter before you came to hog her."

"I can't help it that she's my favorite neice!" Fuyumi defended.

"I'm your only neice..." you mumbled from behind Dabi. "Also, Where's uncle Natsuo-"

A loud crash was heard, making Dabi immeadiately turn and push you behind him. Of course, speak of the devil and the devil shall-

"I'm here!" Natsuo huffs as he gets off the horse he just crashed into some poor guards (their unconscious bodies are being dragged away).

He walks up the steps and quickly bows to his parents and Dabi before locking eyes with you and manically grinning as he lifts you up in his arms and spins around, making you chortle as you slap his arms to slow down.

"Oh youre a sight for sore eyes, you little brat!" He came to halt and you had to grab his arms to stabilise yourself. He pinched your nose, making you whine. "I'm never letting you go alone now! Gonna take you to battles with me, if I have to. Missed you too much."

You smiled sweetly at him. "I missed you too, uncle."

The Todoroki clan had decided to stay a week or two over at Dabi's castle, much to his dismay. Of course he doesn't like the fact that Enji and the rest of his family will be breathing down your neck, but Shotou convinced him to let them spend time with you here rather than whisking you away to Enji's kingdom where it'll be harder for Dabi to keep an eye on you (and not to mention the trauma he still hasn't recovered from since that was the place he lost you last time).

While you were being coddled and spending some quality time with the Todoroki clan, Keigo was finding ways to stay out of their way. He had initially greeted them when they arrived, but from their cold attitude and death stares, he'd much rather be ignored by them. And it's not like he or Dabi doesn't know how the royal family dislikes Keigo, so Dabi would often leave you with his family while he went to console his lover.

By the end of the week, as much Dabi wouldn't like to admit, you had looked much better and healthier since his family came. You looked happier, brighter. They were all having dinner together in the big dinning hall. Dabi sat at the head of the table, Rei to his right, then you and then Enji because of course your grandparents want you squished between them. Fuyumi, Natsuo and Shotou sat to Dabi's left.

"Baby you need to eat more! I could see your ribs from here." Rei said as she put another serving of food on your plate.

"But I'm full-"

"No, you're not. Now eat those veggies, I don't need your pretty hair falling out." Rei cooed as you begrudgingly followed her orders. She then narrows her eyes at Dabi. "You too Dabi, eat your veggies. Only drinking wine isn't healthy!"

Dabi hummed nonchalantly. "Yes, mom." He said, eyes trained towards the door. He sighed before beckoning a servant, whispering something to him. The servant nodded obediently and left.

"Aww, are you really going to eat veggies? What a good mama's boy you are." Natsuo teased, only to be whacked on the head by Fuyumi.

"Yeah, I'm having them bring more food." Dabi smiled.

A few minutes later, the hall doors opened and in walked-

Concubine Keigo.

The man who had been good at hiding himself for the better part of the week, was now walking towards Dabi. He bowed to him first, before bowing to the rest of the family. Even though his siblings masked their displeasure at seeing Keigo, his parents, especially Rei, made no such efforts.

She threw a nasty look when Dabi had someone bring a chair and seat Keigo next to him.

"You're going to eat with us?" Rei asked, not holding back the disgust in her tone.

"Mother." Dabi warned.

"What?" Rei shrugged, slicing her steak elegantly. "I'm just curious. I thought this was a family dinner."

Dabi's eyes darkened. "He is family." He looked at Keigo before bringing his hand to his lips, kissing it softly. "And if he wasn't before, he will be now."

The table had went dead silent as they all looked at Dabi, anticipating the bomb he was about to drop on them. Somehow, you already knew you were going to dread the news he was about to share.

"We're getting married."

And just like that, the curtain of happiness drops, your world shatters.

"I was going to wait a few more weeks before announcing, but since Y/n had been feeling better and you all came, I decided now would be the best time. I had proposed to Keigo long before Y/n was kidnapped-" you stopped hearing after that, you couldn't even if you tried. Your heart was beating too fast, too loudly for you to hear anything.

Is your father really going to marry Keigo? The man who killed your mother? The man who killed Tomura? Did Dabi even care about you anymore-

"Y/n?" Dabi called. Under the table, Enji held your hand and gave it a squeeze, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You looked at Dabi and Keigo, who were holding hands.

"Congratulations." You smiled. "When's the date?"

Everyone was surprised at your composure, Keigo who was holding his breath finally sighed in relief while Dabi looked proudly at you.

You've really matured.

"Well, we were thinking later this week, since everyone is still here. What do you say, Y/n?" Dabi asks, sipping his wine.

You hummed. "Very wise. Let me know if I could be of any help." The dinner soon ended, and you could feel everyone's eyes on you (except for Dabi and Keigo, they were looking at each other like they wanted to rip their clothes off).

Instead of joining the family in the garden for a walk, you excused yourself and left for your room. And only after you had closed your door did you finally let the tears fall.

How could he do this to you? How could your father marry that murderous skank? Was it to show you up? To teach you a lesson? It couldn't possibly be- because he loves Keigo, could it?

"No." You whispered harshly, as you sat on your bed. If this marriage happens, it'll put Keigo in a much powerful position, and it'll br far harder for you to take him down.

And not to mention, by law, you would have to bow down to him.

Concubines never get to be more superior than legitimate heirs, but since Keigo was already a favourite, and your lack of a quirk makes everyone question your legitimacy as a heir and a ruler, you have no doubt that Dabi will make you kneel to his slut.

Someone knocked on your door. "Come in." You said, fixing yourself.

It was Rei and Enji, concerned looks etched on their faces. Looking at them, you couldn't help the tears that welled up.in your eyes again.

"Oh honey~" Rei cooed with open arms as she hugged you, letting you sniffle into her gown.

"I- I'm sorry-" you tried to say, as you pulled away only for Rei to pull you closer to her. She sat on your bed and positioned herself in a way so that you could lay your head in her lap.

"You don't have to be brave anymore, Y/n." Rei said as she ran her finger through your hair. Your tears slipped down your face as you watched Enji sit on the foot end of your bed, taking your feet in his lap and rubbing your ankles.

"None of this is your fault, Y/n." Rei said. "I still want to go and yell at Dabi for even letting that whore sit with us, let alone marrying him-"

"Rei." Enji warned.

She huffed. "Your grandpa says that wouldn't be wise." She kissed your cheek. "How about you come with us? Hm? I can talk with Dabi and convince him to let you come with us until the wedding is over-"

"No!" You shook your head frantically. The last time you went away, your father proposed to Keigo. Who knows what that blonde will do this time when you leave. Take away all of your mother's belongings? Kick you out? Make Dabi question your legitimacy?

"I- I already told them I'd be here to help them. Besides, I shouldn't be away from my father on this joyous occasion. Really, I'm happy for him- for them." You wiped your tears away as Enji and Rei looked at you with pity. "I just- I just miss mom a little."

They stayed with you the rest of the night.

-

After the announcement to the family, Dabi had announced of his wedding to his kingdom. The news had gotten mixed reactions, they cheered and congratulated Dabi out of fear, while also throwing pitiful looks your way, hushed whispers about "poor princess Y/n". Good thing was that you spent most of your time in your room, so you didn't have to bear the embarrassment much.

You were standing in Dabi's office. He'd called you, and Keigo was there too. You didn't think it would be possible for them to be more closer and show more disgusting displays of affection, but here they are, shamelessly eating each others faces.

"Y/n! How have you been?" Dabi asked as Keigo got off his lap, giving a quick squeeze to his bum (you wanted to burn your eyes with acid).

"I'm well, thank you." You smiled, trying to contain the contents of your gut. "You asked for me?" Might as well come to the topic before they start doing more...stuff.

"Ah yes. Well, since the wedding is approaching, I wanted to ask if you'd like to be the maid of honour?" He said, shuffling through some papers- invites.

"You want me to be your maid of honor-?"

"Mine? No. I have Natsuo. I was asking if you'd like to be Keigo's, since he has no one to walk him down the aisle, Keigo suggested you. And you two are close, so it seems like a good idea, no?" He said in a tone that made it seem more like an order than a question.

How could he ask you that? Has your father lost his mind? Is he that horny to not give a shit about his own daughter?

You looked at Keigo, who was standing there with a chalice, his golden eyes piercing through you, a satisfied smile on his lips.

Of course, he'd convinced Dabi to suggest something as preposterous as this. Perhaps as a revenge for earlier.

"I think it'd be better if someone else stepped in. Perhaps one of the other concubines?" You offered. You'd much rather eat a bag of nails than let his filthy hands hold yours as you walk down the aisle.

"No, no. Keigo isn't close to any of the concubines. Besides, I think it'd show the rest of the world of our united front. Put all the rumours about conflict among you and Keigo to rest." Dabi said, deciding for you.

"Yes, your Majesty." You said, bowing as you left the room.

-

The next day was rehearsal day. The servants were working hard to decorate evey inch of the castle, making sure to prepare for guests from far and away, perhaps because Keigo told them that this was going to be "the biggest wedding of history."

You were standing in the church with Keigo holding your gloved hand. Just because Dabi said you have to walk him down the aisle, doesn't mean you need to touch him. The gloves were only the smallest barrier.

"Thank you for doing this for me." Keigo said as you both walked down the aisle towards Dabi. Every fiber of your being was screaming to rip yourself away from him.

"Anything for my father." Your lips formed into a tight lipped smile.

Ignoring your comment, Keigo asked you something even more cursed. "Have you thought of how you'd address me now that I'm marrying your father?"

Bitch. Skank. Whore. Pig. Murderer. Ostrich. Ass hat. Pile of shit. Slut-

"I have more important affairs to be concerned about." You said, dismissing the topic, but of course Keigo wouldn't let it go.

"Well, I have and I'd prefer if you'd call me dad or papa. Mama is also fine, but spare me the royal titles. I don't care for them and I don't want you to be formal with me. We're family now." Keigo said as you both reached Dabi who took Keigo's hand from yours, both leaning down to kiss your cheeks.

You wonder if his touch would still linger if you placed a hot iron poker.

You were walking towards your room, when you passed by your mother's. Opening the door, you saw Inko was there as well, going through your mother's closet.

"Princess!" She turned around, bowing to you with a gentle smile. "Look what I've found!" She showed you some dresses, your mother's beloved gowns, her tiaras, her jewellery.

"I was thinking that you could wear them on the wedding!" Inko said, as she pulled out a beautiful baby blue gown with jewels and sakura blossoms embroidered on it. "They should be of your size, bit I'm happy to make a few alterations to it if you'd like!"

You smiled as you tried on the gown, it fit you perfectly. "And if you pair it with this tiara and your mother's favourite ring!" She placed the white princess tiara on your head, along with the turquoise ring that had diamonds around it, with a gold band. "Your father gave it to your mother on their wedding night. Your mother adored this ring so much, she often said the turquoise stone reminded her of your father whenever he went away om wars." Of course it did remind her of Dabi, his eyes had the same colour as the stone.

"I'll wear this." You said as you admired yourself in the mirror, happy at how you resembled your mother. "Will you have them polished for me?" Inko nodded as she took the ring and tiara from you.

At least there's something you could look forward to at this awful wedding.

-

Guests had started arriving two days before the wedding. Few had been invited to stay at this castle, while others had rooms arranged for them at the other castles nearby.

You had insisted on at least letting your friends stay at the castle, but Dabi turned you down, saying something about security concerns. But he allowed them to visit you during the day.

"Katsuki!" You giggled as you hugged the barbarian king, who only lifted you up and twirled you around.

"Stop acting like a buffoon. Set her down, she's a princess, not a cat." Momo chided as she fanned herself. Katsuki only huffed as he set you down.

"Empress Yaoryuzu-" you started bowing but she hit the top of your head with her fan lightly.

"Forgetting how you're supposed to address me?" She asked, raising her brow at you. You sighed before giving a peck on her lips.

"Hey! What the heck that?!" Katsuki asked as he pulled you behind him. You placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him. "Katsuki, it's just a traditional greeting in her land."

"Yes, but I don't expect uncultured barbarians to understand what traditions mean." Momo snickered.

"Alright, that's it-"

"Enough!" You yelled at them. "I have bigger matters to handle than to stop you two from fighting like children. So if you insist on bickering, please do it outside of this palace and on your own time. Do I make myself clear?" You glared at them as they finally nodded.

The "matters" that you need to handle are about you making sure that when Keigo marries Dabi, he doesnt get to sign a contract that states all about Keigo's new powers and "governing" opportunities. You need to make sure that Keigo doesn't get more power than needed, that he doesn't get a superior title to you, the legitimate heir, and that he doesn't get to add a clause or two that would benefit him and harm you.

A familiar servant passed by you, gave you a nod. Of course, you had initially thought of finding ways to stop the wedding altogether, so you had a servant bribe some concubines and knights to flirt with Keigo, if only to arouse rumours and better yet, catch him in a compromising position.

But you knew that with the wedding approaching, Keigo would be more cautious than ever, and it's not like Dabi would take off the veil of love off his eyes to even suspect that Keigo is cheating on him.

You sat in the garden after returning from the office, asking your uncle Shotou if the contract for marriage had been drawn up. He told you no, that its still in the works and should be coming in tomorrow evening, and when he asked why you wanted to know, you'd made some excuse about wanting to see whether your father was going to have new stamps made with Keigo's face in it.

He only chuckled, but both of you knew Dabi wouldn't be above doing such an abomination.

"What're you doing here alone, bub?" Dabi asked as he sat down next to you. "Everyone's inside, waiting for you."

You smiled softly. "Just... needed some air. Nothing to worry about."

Dabi hummed as he gazed ahead at the tree line. "I know everything is happening so fast and is hectic, so I haven't had the time to talk to you but-" He looked at you and smiled with soft eyes. "- I want to tell you how proud I am of you. For being so mature, for handling everything with such grace. I know this news wasn't easy for you, but I am grateful that you have accepted Keigo and have chosen to be a part of my happiness."

Chosen? There was never a choice.

You leaned your head on his shoulder. "Of course, dad. I will always love you."

He kissed your forehead. "And I, you."

-

The next day went by blur, mostly because of the guests and servants running rampant. Momo and Katsuki were in the backyard, away from the party, and you only spared a few glances when they began to duel. You couldn't deal with them right now, not when you had to go and read the marriage contract before Keigo could sign it.

You were on your way when you heard Inko arguing loudly with someone. For a sweet lady like her, it's not normal for her to yell at anyone. So, you went to check out the commotion first.

"THIS IS NOT THE JEWELLERY PIECES I SENT FOR YOU TO POLISH!" Inko said furiously, slamming her hands on the table. You peeked at the man she was yelling at, recognising him as the royal jeweller. "WHERE IS PRINCESS Y/N'S RING?!"

"I- um- they-" the man stumbled over his words as you finally let yourself in.

"Your Majesty!" They both bowed, as you waved them off. "What's the matter Inko? Where's my mother's ring?"

She shot a furious glare to the man, who cowered. "That's what I'm trying to find out."

You stepped forward and looked at the man with a calm smile. "Where's my ring? Did something happen to it? Did you lose it?" You asked and you could only imagine Inko's murderous intent if the man said that he did lose it.

"No, princess- I didn't lose it! The ring- the ring it's with- concubine Keigo!" You face never dropped as fast as it did in that moment.

"What? How is this possible?" You interrogated.

"After- after I took your jewellery from Inko, King Dabi had called me in to display all of the royal family's jewels, including yours! When he left the room, he told concubine Keigo to pick anything he'd like to wear in the wedding ceremony, and- well- he picked the late queen's ring, saying that it'd remind him of the King's eyes." He explained helplessly, but you had already left the room, storming up the stairs to take back your ring.

You didn't even have to go to Keigo's Chambers as you found the concubine standing in the hallway, a drunk blush on his cheeks, and wearing something glimmerd in the dim halls-

Your mother's ring.

"Y/n! I've been looking for you! Come, come to papa!"

All sense of logic and manners went out the window as you stormed towards him and slapped him so hard across the face, that he fell.

Keigo hadn't even begun to recover from the shock of being slapped when you began punching him.

"WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!?" You screamed. "WAS IT NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU TO KILL MY MOTHER, TAKE HER THRONE, MARRY MY FATHER, THAT YOU HAD TO TAKE HER RING AWAY TOO?! THOSE ARE MY THINGS! THEY BELONG TO ME, YOU FUCKING SLUT!" You shrieked as Keigo tried to dodge your hits without hurting you.

His eyes went wide when you wrapped your hands around his throat and began choking him. "I'm going to fucking kill you! I'm going to end this for once and for all!"

"Y/N!" Someone yelled as they ripped you away from Keigo. "HAVE YOU FUCKING LOST IT!?" It was Dabi.

"YES!" You screamed. "I HAVE LOST IT, JUST LIKE YOU HAVE WHEN YOU DECIDED TO MARRY THAT FUCKING WHORE! IN FACT, I HAVE LOST A WHOLE LOT MORE THAN YOU! I HAVE LOST MY MOTHER BECAUSE YOU BROUGHT IN THAT FUCKING BITCH! I HAVE LOST MY GRANDFATHER BECAUSE YOU WERE BUSY SCREWING AROUND WITH THAT WHORE! I HAVE LOST MY ONLY FRIEND, BECAUSE YOUR MURDEROUS LITTLE SLUT DECIDED THAT I DO NOT DESERVE TO HAVE ANY HAPPINESS! AND I HAVE LOST MY MOTHER'S ONLY LEGACY BECAUSE YOUD MUCH RATHER GIVE IT TO YOUR NEW BED WARMER THAN TO ME!"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Dabi yelled, getting dangerously close to your face. "I WILL NOT TOLERATE ANYMORE INSULT AND DISOBEDIENCE FROM YOU! TOMORROW IS OUR WEDDING-"

"FUCK YOUR WEDDING! EVERYONE KNOWS YOURE GOING TO BE MARRYING A MURDERER AND ID MUCH RATHER KILL MYSELF THAN BE A PART OF THAT SHITSHOW!" Dabi went silent at your words, deathly silent. Then... he chuckled as he looked over his shoulder at Keigo who was already shaking his head, as if to stop him before he does something he regrets.

"Its about time she knows, eh?" Dabi said as he laughed.

"Dabi, dont-" Keigo started, but you cut him off. "Know what?" You spat.

Dabi looked at you, and his eyes held a cruel expression.

"Keigo didn't kill your mother. I did."

You couldn't- couldn't process the words that had left his mouth. So, you made him repeat himself.

"What?" You whispered. Dabi knelt down to your level, leaned closer to you so you could look into his eyes and see he wasn't lying.

"I. Killed. Your Mother." He said slowly, as if talking to a child. "I hated your mother, and the only reason I had been putting up with her for so long was because she was taking care of you. But one day, she thought she could threaten me by saying that she was going to leave me. I told her fine, signed the divorce papers and gave them to her. She wasn't expecting it, so she said she was going to take you with her. Now, that was something I couldn't allow. So, your mother decided to try to hurt me by poisoning you. When I found her plans, I confronted her and told her to either drink that same poison she bad for you or she was to leave tomorrow morning and never see any of us again. She instead chose to kill herself because she believed it'd be far more of a dishonour to return to her home as a divorcee and without child."

Tears slipped down your face. "N-No, you're lying. I saw Keigo-"

"Keigo tried to save her, but I told him no. I made him stop. The very thought of harming you was punishable. She deserved to die, and I had no sympathy for her when she dropped dead in front of me. I even had the antidote, but I chose to watch her die." Dabi said coldly. "All this time, Keigo had been covering up for me. He didn't say a word when rumors started, knly because he didn't want to have people see me as a murderer. He adored you, he's taken care of you, has quietly taken every insult you've ever thrown his way. And this is how you repay him?"

"Only Keigo and I have truly ever loved you. Your own mother wanted to kill you for her own selfish gains." Dabi said harshly as your world finally collapsed around you.

You couldn't say anything, do anything as you tried to make sense of his words, tried to find a way to that would tell you that he's lying. But you couldn't.

"GUARDS!" Dabi called. "Lock the princess in the hightower. Tie her to her bed, make sure she doesn't hurt herself or escape." He said before helping Keigo up. You couldn't protest as the guards dragged you to the hightower, didn't move a muscle as they tied you to your bed. All you could do was look up at the ceiling and cry mutely.

All these years, all this time, you'd been blaming Keigo, when everything that has ever happened to you was your beloved father's fault. The man you loved, the man you looked up to, the man you cherished... he had been the one who killed your mother?

The more you thought over his confession, the more you felt yourself age. By morning, you didn't have energy to even breathe.

The doors opened, you continued to look up at the wall, tears brimming your eyes.

Dabi walked in, and you didn't need to see his face to know he was still mad at you. No, the anger was practically radiating off him.

"You are to get ready and smile as you walk Keigo down the aisle. If you do something stupid, I will have your friends hunted down and killed. Do I make myself clear?" He didn't wait for an answer.

-

"Princess, please, at least eat something." Inko said pushing the slice of bread to your lips, but you didn't part them. Simply looking ahead in the mirror with a blank stare as the maids did your hair and makeup. "Izuku, she hasn't said a word since morning! I'm getting worried."

Izuku nodded and signalled the maids to leave. He turned your head towards to him and smiled warmly at you. "Y/n... princess, what's the matter? Tell me, so I can fix it, hm?"

Some things can never be fixed.

You didn't say anything, only looking at him with that hundred yard stare, and Izuku couldn't help but feel a little spooked.

He helped you walk towards the church where Keigo was already waiting for you. He was dressed in a white fitted gown that was sleeveless and backless, and had a fishtail. The dress itself had body chains made of gold and Ruby and sapphires sewed in an intricate pattern. And his veil? He didn't opt to wear one.

He looked at you and smiled kindly, although you couldn't really tell the difference at this point. "You look beautiful, Y/n." He held out his arm for you. "Ready to walk me down?"

You didn't have the energy or want to link your arm with his. Inko had to help you place your arm around his.

The doors to the church opened and the choir began singing hymns. The guests turned to look at you and Keigo, who was beaming as he looked at the end of the aisle where Dabi stood, a satisfied smile on his own face.

Your body felt weak, too weak and... different. You were dragging your steps, which fortunately no one could tell since they were hidden under your gown. At some point, it felt more like Keigo was walking you than you were walking him.

You weren't smiling at all. No, you still had the blank stare on your face, which luckily few people noticed since everyone was focused on Keigo.

"What's wrong with her?" Momo whispered to Katsuki as they saw your face. "Why does she look so... disturbed?"

"She must've seen your face." Katsuki remarked, although truth be told, he was also very concerned. Something felt off. Very off.

When you reached the end of the aisle, Dabi took Keigo's from you, and as rehearsed, they both kissed your cheek, but not before Dabi whispered-

"You forgot to smile. Behave."

Shotou guided you towards your seat in the front row, where you were sat next to your grandparents.

The officiant began the ceremony, but you couldn't pay attention to his words. All you could focus was on the turquoise ring on Keigo's hand.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Rei asked, a frown on her face. You didn't reply, opting to look at your father now.

Your father, your dad, the man you trusted more than anyone, the man who murdered your mother, who had murdered Tomura, who had murdered AFO, who had-

You couldn't breathe, you felt too warm, too hot, everything was burning inside you.

"You may now kiss the groom!" They locked lips, only breaking apart when someone screamed.

It took you a few seconds to realise that it was you who was screaming, only because-

Your hand was on fire.

By the time Dabi or anyone else reached you, your entire body had been engulfed in wild blue flames. Flames that were so hot and out of control, that neither Dabi or Enji or even Shotou could control them. Rei tried to use her ice, but it evaporated before it even came within 6 feet of you. The flames began spreading, making the guests panic and leave the church.

Shotou was the first one to piece it together. "Its her quirk!" Immeadiately, Enji and Dabi began giving you commands on how to control it, to calm yourself, to listen!

Dabi even tried to approach you, maybe if he were to touch you, you'd listen. But your fire was too hot, and you backed away anytime they tried to come closer, only screaming in agony as you burned yourself.

After 5 minutes, only when you fainted from pain and exhaustion did the flames stop. Your body... the aftermath made it beyond recognisable. Parts of your limbs were burned so badly, you could see the bone, while the rest of your skin had charred and burned well enough to know that no nerves will be working there.

Despite everything, you were still somehow miraculously breathing... barely. Dabi couldn't believe the nightmare he'd just witnessed, but his disbelief could wait as he gathered you in his arms and yelled at Shotou to get a doctor.

Everyone left the church, except for Keigo. He had dropped to his knees and was trying to wrap his around the horrible sight he'd seen. Be was trying to compose himself, trying to lie to himself that this... this was not his fault.

He knew he was wrong.

-

Dabi couldn't peel his eyes away from you, he needed to make sure that your chest rose and fell evenly. The moment it stopped- it wouldn't- but if it did, he needed to be there to resuscitate you.

Emperor Kai was fortunately right outside the church, waiting to be of assistance. It was a good thing he was from the land of healers, he was able to stabilise you.

While Dabi kept his eyes on your burned form, Kai opted to talk with Shotou. "It was her own quirk that brought out those flames, seemingly she got the dominant Todoroki quirk." He commented, glancing your way. "What she didn't inherit was the skin resistance to bare those very flames. She burned herself quite badly, and it doesn't help that the smoke from her own burning has damaged her lungs as well. She's still in a critical condition, I've done all I can. All we can do is wait and watch to see if her body can heal itself."

He also explained to Shotou that since its very rare to get a quirk at your age, that's why you couldn't control it. Kai reasoned that the reason your quirk did develop at that moment was probably because you were under some stress, maybe something had tipped you over emotionally, making your quirk appear so fiercely and harshly.

"Like an outlet, when we cry when we breakdown. She burned herself to release that stress." Kai explained.

Shotulou had walked him out of the room, only after ensuring that no one else was around did he ask that question.

"Her chances of survival... what are they?"

Kai's blank stare didn't give away the type of news he'd give. "Anything is possible, but it all depends on her body's ability to heal itself, her willpower to live. Medically speaking, I've done everything I can. Now, only she can save herself."

Can you save yourself, Y/n?

So... THOUGHTS????

And yall better fucking comment because I did not waste my entire fucking day on this when I COULDVE BEEN STUDYING FOR MY TEST ON TUESDAY FOR YALL TO BE DRY ASS.

Istg if I don't get interactions and comments and likes, I will make yall regret and kill characters left and right, AND REMEMBER THAT DEATH IS NOT THE WORST THING I CAN DO

[imistyou2]

Nipple piercings. c.sb

pairing: sub!Soobin x Noona!reader

warnings: nsfw under the cut. boobie worshipping. unrealistic piercing healing time I know yall but #forthesakeoftheplot um ya that's about it soobin juss luvvvs yo titties hahaha. Gyu cameo as alwaysss

summary: Soobin is sweet and simple as vanilla and you're like a bottle of hot sauce! To spice up your sex life, his dear dear Noonim surprises him with nipple piercings.

This is part 2.2, you can read it as a stand-alone too

series masterlist

-

Soobin's never been much of an experimental man. He likes to keep things simple and follow a routine. He's been contempt of that too, he likes to think. It is rather easy to figure out that the younger man likes to stay in his little bubble of soobin-ism.

Eat, play games, and talk to friends, now a new addition is hanging out with his noona dearest and then sleeping. Simple, clean, and neat.

This pattern is reflected in many aspects of his life, including his sex life. In the many months you have been involved with Soobin, you've taken note of his quirks. How his body trembles when he's about to climax, what overstimulates him enough to cry, that he has an oral fixation (with your tit's specifically) and so on and so forth.

It always brings in great pleasure to 'make love' (a replacement for using "fuck" since he apparently doesn't like using that) with him but who are you if not trying to rile up the pliant man till he weeps at your mercy?

So, you've been devising, and planning! You even startled yourself with how much effort you were secretly putting into getting to know about Soobin's kinks and preferences. Yes, the sex was exceptionally good but it was very much vanilla ice cream! A classic for sure but could be spruced up. Stumbling on his Twitter by accident was what you considered to be a sign from God himself that you need to do something to take it to the next level.

It was no surprise Choi Soobin is a boob man, he might as well have a huge poster hung up on his walls saying "I LOVE TIDDIES" or something. This man did NOT play about boobs. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday- call him jungkook the way he was gonna be loving that thang seven days a week. He was serious about worshipping your breasts like they were sent by a messiah to unlock spiritual awakening.

And so it happened, for the past 3 weeks you have been avoiding getting down and dirty with him. Instead, the time was passed with Cafe dates and late-night movie marathons. The lack of dick was slowly getting to you but you persevered none the less. Some quote about the fruits of your labor or something but instead it was his reaction.

Soobin returned back to his dorm after a long day, not even flinching when he see's you laying on his bed reading one his mangas.

"Hey Soobs, how was class?"

"Ugh, don't get me started, Noona. My TA is the biggest B-word ever! This internship is not easy."

"She's a bitch?"

"Yeah, thats what I said."

"No, you said b-word!"

"You know I don't like to cuss at women like that...", you giggle as you get up from the bed, swinging your arms around his neck to pull him in. "Okay Mr. Nice Guy, what can I do to make you feel better?"

"Maybe watch Jujutsu Kai-"

"I have a better idea. How about we have some fun...?" You say, spreading your legs ever so slightly to reveal your exposed thigh.

His eyes widen tenfold, head darted up with excitement, "Really! I'm thinking we play League of Lege-"

You roll your eyes, pushing him off of you, he lands softly to your side on the bed. "No- baby, fun!"

He looks blankly at you, not a single thought rummaging his mind. "You wanna get food or something, Noona..?"

Losing patience, you grab his hand folding the sleeves up to his elbow. You bite your lips with a smirk, he looked the best in white shirts for sure. You take his hand and guide it under your shirt, fingers ghosting over your bralette. Something small pokes through but Soobin doesn't say much. His attention was stolen away the moment you took his hand. "I wanna do this kind of fun. Soobie...don't you wanna make you noona have fun? Hm?"

He gulps, Adam's apple bobbing deliciously, nodding.

"Take my bra off, will you?"

"Yes, Noona!"

He struggles a little with the hook of your bra, you honestly don't blame him since you're without a bra around 90% of the time with him. He noted that today was one of the rare days you wore a bra. Once the bra finally came off, the cold air conditioning of his room hit your breasts, perking them up even more.

Suddenly, Soobin jerks back with a muffled gasp. A finger raising slowly, one hand cupped in shock, he points at the two barbell rods that are sliding through your nipples. On the two sides are heart-shaped gems. Soobin peers closer, almost in a cautionary way, and as his eyes narrow in on the gems, he can make out a distinct S letter in each of them. He blinks twice.

Your heart speeds up in anticipation, his facial expression unrecognizable. "S-surprise...?"

"Y-you got them pierced?"

"Yeah... Do you not like it? I thought you liked pierc-" Your expression drops.

"Mmmph-" he kisses you deeply, a soulful exchange. His fingers dig into the sides of your waist, rubbing circles. "I love it-I love it- Noona, how did you even know?"

You chuckle, relieved. "Hm..just have my ways!"

He raises his brow. "Okay fine, I asked Beomgyu for your twitter and basically did a little stalking from there."

His lips curl into an adorable smile as he pecks your lips again.

"C-can I.. Y'know... touch?"

"You can do alot more just touch, Soobie."

"Really? Do they hurt? I don't wanna hurt you, Noona."

"Aw, my baby. Always worrying for me. They're almost healed. You can have it, just be gentle." your fingers twirl around your nipples a little, hissing slightly.

"No, Noona that looks like it hurts..."

"I like the pain hehe." He has a scandalous look on his face before finally giving a kitten lick to your hardened nipples. He looks intensely at the gems. "What does the S stand for?"

Your eyes look away, face turning slightly red. "What the fuck do you think it means?" you yell out, a lot more aggressive than you had intended.

"I-I I didn't wanna assume.."

"Sorry, yeah no, um, wanted to surprise you Soobin. Do you like your initial on me?"

Soobin will melt. Fuck, he wants to turn into putty. He has more important things to focus on right now, your tits to be specific. "Noona...they're beautiful." His fingers pinch on a nipple very softly, you whimper as the bundle of nerves get played with again and again. The piercing has started to heal pretty soon but it still felt a little raw and fresh.

Soobin's pink tongue flashed as he licked meticulously all around your breasts, from the sides to the piercing. The cool metal hit his tongue and he will not deny that it was weirdly satisfying especially when contrasted with your warm body.

He is still yet to suck on your nipples, you can tell he's nervous to do so since the piercing is still so new. The sting of pain is there but it transforms into pleasure when you see it's Soobin who is doing all these things to you.

You never really thought you'd get turned on by pain but I guess you live and learn, Soobin definitely is.

The very obvious tent in his pants was an indicator of how much he really liked these piercings. "Fuck, so good yeah, good job baby, making noona feel so good. You like making me feel good?"

He looks up from in between your breasts and nods before continuing. He could spend hours on end here if you let him.

"Noona I could be here the whole day just making you feel good. I love you...r tits noona!" Your eyes roll back in pleasure and pain, whimpers coming out.

He slowly backed up, a thin layer of sweat covering his face, eyes admiring your breasts once more. You look down and gasp at what you see. Red and blue bruises everywhere, littered throughout the expanse of your chest. "Soobin! I told you to go easy on that"

He smiles sheepishly, scratching his neck in feigning innocence. "You know I can't stop myself with you Noona.." he nudges you playfully.

Oh he wants to play dirty, you'll show him dirty.

"You're on Choi Soobin. I'll make sure you leave this room crying." you claw at his sweatpants.

"AH!"

Outside, in the living room, Beomgyu sits with a stoic face, dark circles, and some noise-canceling headphones which don't seem to really cancel much noise at all, wishing that you guys gave him a heads up so that he didn't have to spend his whole afternoon listening to you two canoodle and do the dirty.

"fuck my life."

-

a/n: uneditied

hiiiiiii my pookies

a lil surpise chapter cuz ive been feeling extra good lately and my school work is going well. that being said, part 3 will be out in feb so stay tuned ill tag the people who wanted to be in the taglist from part 3 as well.

stay sexyyyy

[sarahisslytherin]

the hour of the wolf.

jon snow x reader

summary: your nightmares of king's landing follow you to castle black. jon does his best to comfort you.

contains: angst, talk of sa, ptsd, crying, hurt/comfort.

a/n: this one's bittersweet, also first jon and official got fic!

word count: 0.7k

Wind howled outside your cabin at Castle Black, the sound not unlike a ragged scream. You had heard screams like it, had heard them leave your own lungs on several occasions over the past years. You squeezed your eyes shut, praying for sleep to drag you away from your thoughts. But in the pitch black of your chamber you saw the face of every man who tried to hurt you, tried to put their hands on you. You squirmed and writhed and howled but they gripped you all the same. It felt real, too real. You choked on a gasp as you shot up in bed, the cold hitting you like a wall of ice. You were covered in only the thin layer of your smallclothes and the furs that blanketed the bed. You would find no rest here, at least not tonight.

You laid on layer after layer, preparing for the day ahead even though it was the middle of the night. But you had to do something, anything but lie there and relive the horrors you experienced in King’s Landing. You tugged on your furs as you left your room, the harsh northern winds paralyzing you momentarily. Your boots thudded against the wooden floorboards as you made your way through the corridors and down to the courtyard. 

There he was, cloaked head to toe in fur. His sable curls ruffled in the wind, snowflakes catching in them as they fell. Your friend from childhood, the first person you thought to run to once you’d escaped the claws of King’s Landing. Jon Snow. How he had held you when you arrived at Castle Black a fortnight ago, your eyes sunken and your skin pale. You had run to him with a fervor you hadn’t felt in years. You had wept onto his shoulder, nestled deep into the furs as he held you like he would never let you go again. And now here he was. Awake, like you, during the hour of the wolf.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice gravelly and laced with concern as he watched you trudge towards him through the snow. You shook your head in response. “I know the feeling”.

You came to stand beside him, observing the snow-covered railings. “Does it ever get easier? Sleeping, living?”

He was quiet for a moment, considering his words. “It does.” he decided. “The wounds heal over time. They become scars. You remember how you got them but they don’t sting the way they once did.”

You prayed he was right, prayed the gods would be merciful with you in a way they hadn’t for so torturously long. “I have tried to be strong, Jon. But I feel I can’t go on anymore. It is all-consuming. I lie awake at night and I see their faces.”

Jon’s whirled in your direction. You hadn’t spoken to him about what you’d suffered just yet, though he was dying to know. “Whose faces?”

Your mouth went dry. “Joffrey, Cersei, Meryn Trant, the executioner. Men who had taken me and tried to have their way with me. They flash before me when the world grows too quiet.”

Jon’s eyes did not leave you as you spoke. “If I had known, I would have put a stop to it.”

“How would you have stopped it?” you snapped, glaring at him in a way you knew deep down he did not deserve. “There was nothing you could do, nothing I could do.”

Jon came up close to you now, a gloved hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You are strong. Six hundred men here and you might be the strongest of us all. Aye, we might be able to cut down our enemies, but none of us would have endured a fraction of what you did. You are as much a warrior as any man here, do you hear me?”

A single tear slid down your cheek, and Jon was quick to wipe it away. “I hear you.”

“If anyone touches you, calls you a name or so much as looks at you a certain way- you come get me, and I’ll take care of it. Understand?” he pleaded with you, and when you looked into those deep brown eyes of his you wanted to cry.

“Thank you, Jon.” you whispered, burying yourself in the crook of his neck as he cupped the back of your head. He shushed your quiet sobs with all the patience in the world, placing a ginger kiss on your temple.

“I love you.” you sighed into his ear. It was the first time you had ever spoken of the sentiment you knew existed between the two of you. And you decided to breathe life into it with words. “I have always loved you.”

“So have I, love.” he choked out as he held you flush against him. “You’re safe now. Try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You knew you would sleep easier in the hours to come, but for now you just held onto the one thing in your life you knew you could trust.

tagging: @velvetcloxds @oweninadaydream @spxllcxstxr @shemisseshome

[iliketangerines]

HEYYYY!!!! I'm new to your blog and might say I love your work. Anyway, I was wondering if I could make a request for the Lin Kuei Brothers. This one is kind of dark but hear me out.

Okay so what if the Liu Kuei Brothers are obsessive over the reader and so they kidnap her and all that stuff. But then, after years of abuse, she snaps and somehow kills one of them (any one, feel free to pick) and it isn't pretty either, it's completely brutal and disturbing.

I'm sorry if this sounds crazy but I just had this random thought and was like "sure why not?".

all ours pt.2

a/n: my god the jet lag is hitting me. also, i do NOT condone this behavior in real life

pairing: bi han, kuai liang, tomas vrbada x afab!reader

warnings: dead dove do not eat, some violence at the end, yandere behavior

you stare at the child in your arms, face blank as he latches onto your nipple, and you don’t feel anything for your own baby

perhaps in a time long ago you would’ve loved to have your own child, but all you can feel is an empty void of nothing as you stare down at your baby boy

beside you stands Bi Han, looking at his son with his cold eyes, and he mutters underneath his breath how his son will be a great grandmaster

you’re sure that Kuai Liang and Tomas will come by at some point to come and congratulate on yours and Bi Han’s child, but for now, it’s only Bi Han in the room with you and your son

he names the baby by himself, giving you no say in the matter, and a small tear falls down your face as you watch your son’s peaceful face

all your choices and will had been stripped from you, even your choice to name your own baby that you had kept for nine months and then birthed

but you stay silent, afraid of what Bi Han might say if you try to protest against his choice, so you just murmur that the name is beautiful before closing your eyes

you hope that you can fall asleep again soon to escape from this cruel world

when you wake up, your baby isn’t in your arms and a shock of panic rushes through you at the missing weight on your chest

if Bi Han found out you lost the baby, you were sure you would be spared no mercy, but then you spot Kuai Liang in the corner, holding the baby with one arm while his hand traced the sleeping baby’s features

it would be a scene of beautiful domesticity if it weren’t for the fact that Kuai Liang turns back to you, eying you up and down despite the exhaustion in your body

you hadn’t even fully healed and already Kuai Liang wanted his own child, and the assassin walks over to you and hands the baby back over to you, citing that a child needs time with their parent

he pets your hair, kissing your forehead, and says that you look beautiful as a parent

and then Kuai Liang says he can’t wait to be a parent as well, with you birthing him his own child, girl or boy he doesn’t care

you give him a small stiff nod before looking back at your child who opens his eyes blearily and gives a big yawn

it’s almost cute except all you can see in their brown eyes and black hair is Bi Han’s face and how your son will be trained and taught to be like his father

a feeling of anger brews in your stomach at that thought, your son will be raised to be just like his father, cruel and cold and evil

you bring your hand up to your son, and his own small hand lifts up to grab onto your finger, wrapping around it and cooing at you

and then you see it, a tenderness to his gaze and an innocence to the evil of the world, like you were all those months ago

you couldn’t let your son be like his father, you wouldn’t let Bi Han and Kuai Liang and Tomas make him like them

you would get out, even if you were killed, not only for your son but for you, to get closure on what happened in the outside world after your disappearance

for now, you would lay in wait and continue to be their obedient pet until you can get out

the days pass as you heal in your bed and thankfully, Kuai Ling doesn’t try to pull anything, just playing with your son every so often and cooing at him

Bi Han is stuck to your side like glue and making sure you’re confined to the bed to heal faster, and you feel like you’re starting to meld with the bed

Tomas doesn’t hold the baby, rather he just stares at you in wonder as you hold and breastfeed your baby

you spend the days with your son, feeding him, bouncing him, burping him, and anything that required you to stand up, Bi Han would force you to sit back down and would take care of it

as much as you hated it, Bi Han was an attentive father and partner, and Kuai Liang and Tomas were great uncles and partners that bent to almost every single one of your needs

but you didn’t dare to try and take advantage of their obsession with you, not until you watch Kuai Liang and Bi Han squabble over something trivial

Kuai Liang’s weapon hands dangerously low by his side, and you can see frost forming on Bi Han’s hand

you weren’t completely sure as to who Kuai Liang and Bi Han were, but you did know that they weren’t the best at communication and that Bi Han kept his secrets but not his anger

and so, you started to form your plan, listening and watching to the words that Bi Han would relay to Kuai Liang as you sat in the corner of their meetings, holding the baby and rocking him

you had to follow them around the entire time anyway, always needing to be in one of their sights especially after the birth of your son

mostly, you just attended their meeting and watched them train, never cooking or cleaning, and they left you as their partner and breeding whore

you previously hated how you had nothing to do before, but you gained a sudden appreciation for it as you noticed each nook and cranny of the compound

the exits and the connections of the winding pathways suddenly were a lot more interesting to you, and you had time to think about them

you started keeping a close eye on your surroundings as you followed one of the assassins around the compound, and your plan to escape started becoming clear

and you kept a close on Kuai Liang and Bi Han, the slight aggressions between the two of them and the minor disagreements

Tomas didn’t seem to side with either of them in a preferential way, so he was a loose nail waiting to ruin your plans

but you could deal with him later, and for now you focused your efforts on widening the divide between Kuai Liang and Bi Han

it started with some innocent small comments about nothing, trying to trick them all into thinking you had accepted your place as their partner in the Lin Kuei

and then slowly you started to plant seeds in Bi Han and Kuai Liang’s head, about how each of them wanted you all to themselves

in the meantime, you spent a lot of time with your son to try and get him to bond with you the most, and you were hesitant to hand him over to any of the assassins

they chalked it up to parental instincts, and you gladly took advantage of it to make sure your son spent the least amount of time possible with them

and finally, after almost a year of planting ideas in their head, the plan was almost at fruition, Tomas away on a solo mission and tensions high between Kuai Liang and Bi Han after finding out you were pregnant with Kuai Liang’s child

Bi Han had grown obsessive over you, needed to keep you all to himself, and he saw Kuai Liang’s child as a direct threat to his hold over you

and so, you sat at the entrance and made a passing comment to Bi Han about Kuai Liang while rubbing your stomach, and you saw something in his eyes shift

he stalks over to Kuai, ice in his hand sharp as he attacks his own brother, and you grab onto your son and pick him up into your arms as you watch them start to fight

they spittle insults and threats at each other, weapons drawn as they start to try to kill each other, and you take it as your cue to leave when you see blood spill onto the ground

you wind through the small backways where no one patrols, and you pick up the bag stuffed into one of the abandoned closets

finding one of the doorways, tucked behind some shrubbery and foliage, you shove open the door and crawl in with your son, willing him to be silent

it’s a quiet dirty crawl to freedom, the sound of your and your child’s breathing fills the tunnel as you make your way through

but finally, your hands bump into something hard, and you push and prod at it until you feel something give

you push and push and see the light of the outside world as you keep on going, and finally, fresh air floods the tunnel

you dig your way out desperately and start walking as briskly as you can away from the compound right behind you

it towers over you, large and imposing, but you were out and that was all you needed

you start walking, you cannot stop until you reach some sort of civilization, and so you start your trek to freedom

inside of the compound, Bi Han stands with blood dripping down his knife and Kuai Liang howling in pain on the ground

a scar stretches across his face, his eye now gone and spilling blood onto the stone floors

the grandmaster would kill his brother, hands twitching at the thought, and he looks to your spot to show you how he kills for you

and you’re not there anymore

[just-shairahhh]

The Way I Couldn't Love You

~ A "The Way I Loved You" story continuation.

Summary: Will you and Eddie get a second chance at what you lost? Or will the history tear through everything you had once built together?

Note: This post is a continuation of the story, "The Way I Loved You".

"And there you were, years later. Again. Sobs breaking through your chest. Again. Sending tremors in his heart. Again. Except this time, Eddie Diaz knew who they were for. "

Everyday. Every single day of the first year since you moved away, you imagined in your head what it would be like to see Eddie again. A thousand scenarios swirling in your mind, tentacles of the nightmare you had to live through every day, creeping into your broken heart and imprisoning it in a tight grip, as you lay there. In the same dark corner. For hours. Until sleep showed you some mercy and reeled you in. Everyday.

Anger. Hurt. Betray.

You’d imagined it all. It was as if you could picture his stormy, hazel eyes pierce into you, the storm brewing in them upending your life all over again. And then you stopped. Squeezed your eyes tighter and stopped. You could feel the bile rising in your throat at the mere thought of seeing hatred in the eyes that had only ever looked at you with love. Pure, selfless love. No, it was too soon. You can’t see him yet. So you picked up your phone from the corner of the sofa you had slammed it in and replied to your sister’s text in a single word, “No”. And that was the hardest thing you had ever had to write, which was funny because once in a Spell-Bee competition you thought, “Embourgeoisement” was hard.

Your sister’s question did not leave your mind for the rest of the day, though. Or the coming week. Or the months that followed.

“Eddie was here again. Asking for an address or a contact. Said he really needed you. And that everything was falling apart. He looked worse than before, y/n. Should I send him your address?”

What did he mean everything was falling apart? Is he okay? Are his parents hurting him again? You tried to shut the voices out. You'd be back home on the next flight if you let them come in. Plus, he had Shannon now. He would be okay.

"I am sorry, Eddie. There's nothing more I want than to be right next to you. But if I fall again, I won't be able to get up. I can't. I need to heal. I really, really need to heal. I cannot live in this pain anymore. I am so, so sorry". You whisper into the night as you snuggle further into your pillow.

.....

“I don’t want dinner, mom! Leave me alone. Please.” The last word already more breathless and shakier than you’d like.

“That’s too bad. Cause I got you your favourite; that disgustingly sugary sweet abomination in the name of coffee” Eddie said as he entered through the door and made a very disgusted face as if someone had asked him to take Tabasco shots. Someone had once, by the way. It was you. And he had still made a better face. “And Chef Eddie’s personally mastered craft, tacos and enchiladas.” He said, proudly smiling and throwing around chef kisses.

You gave him a blank stare. And a second later, he relented.

“Fine, my abuela made them. God, woman. Lighten up. You broke up with an el tonto. I always warned you he was an el tonto. Not even a real man. Maybe you were a bigger idiot. But eh, what’s done is done. I’d say we celebrate”.

And just like that, at the mention of Josh, fresh tears broke free, replacing the now dried ones.

"Hey, hey, hey. I am sorry. I was kidding. Come here.” Eddie stepped in closer, about to engulf you in a hug.

But you pushed him away. “Go away, Eddie. Seriously. I don’t want to see you right now.”

“I will not, y/n. Not unless you eat. Your mom said you haven’t eaten anything for hours.” His light-hearted banter now long gone, a more assertive voice stepping in. You knew it meant that he was concerned but you hated when he took that voice with you. It was very different than the one he took with Shannon. That concern was always laced with a soft plea at the end or a light kiss behind her ear.

Shannon. Just her name, brought out the anger you’d been trying to hold in.

But you try once more to not let the agony engulf you. To not be the person you are about to become if Eddie does not listen to you. “Go. Away. Eddie. I will have the food when I am hungry.”

Eddie, however, was not having any of it. “Come on, here. Let me get this for you. If you try one –”

And that’s when you lost it and screamed at the last person you ever wanted to raise your voice at. “GO AWAY! WHAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND!” He tried to reach out again but you swatted his arm away. Hitting him on the chest once. Twice. Thrice. So he would just listen to you. Why is he not listening to you? He needs to go.

The long suppressed agony now letting itself out completely. Josh was not a good boyfriend to you. But he was a good friend before that. And when you broke up with him, you knew you’d lost that. This was all Eddie’s fault. He left you. All alone. And he went to Shannon. And you thought maybe, just maybe if you start dating, it will all go away? This... this hurt. All this pain. But it did not. But you knew. In your heart, you knew that it was not Eddie's fault. That he did loved you. He would do anything for you. Just not in the way you wanted. And that tore at you every day but that was not his fault. It couldn’t be.

And then you realise you that you are still hitting him. What are you doing? You stop as soon as you realise that and look up. There he was, your best friend. Taking it all in. Not saying anything. You feel so awful, so absolutely broken. And you feel tired. So very tired. So with a barely held sob, you slump forward, into his arms. Which were waiting for you, as if knowing. Waiting. Understanding.

So, you sob harder. Because that was the first day in all these years it had truly set in that Eddie would never be what you craved in him. You'd always thought one day it would all come back. That he would come back. But now you knew that he won't. He would always be here though. Just never yours.

But what you didn’t realise that day was Eddie’s heart was also breaking. If not more, then just as much as you. That was the first time he felt his best friend was slipping away and he was unaware. So very unaware of how much his best friend had loved this guy who broke her heart. He cursed himself for not understanding the gravity of the situation. What he didn't know was that, the sobs breaking through his chest, causing tremors in his heart were not for Josh but for him.

You didn’t notice the bandage on his knuckles for the next few days. You also didn’t notice that Josh Lawson was gone longer than the bandage had stayed.

And Eddie never told you either.

.....

“y/n?”

“Eddie.” You whisper softly.

You couldn’t recall how long you were spaced out for. When cold, familiar tears slid down your cheeks as easily as they used to, only then did you start to process the situation again.

“I- I... I have a few engine supplies to check. I should...” Buck slowly started.

No! Evan! What must he even be thinking? You slowly raise your eyes up at him. Expecting the worst. But his kind face only held understanding in them. He gave you a tight lipped smile before taking a few steps backward.

“Oh, this” you softly started and he followed your eyes and and looked down at the basket in your hands.

“Right.” He quickly took the box from your hand. “Muffins are my favourite! Ooooh, blueberry!” He gave you one last smile and walked back.

You still hadn’t looked at Eddie but you could feel his eyes follow you. With a deep breath, you somehow muster the courage to look up and nothing would have prepared you for what you saw.

You wished it was what you feared it all those years ago. You truly did. Anger. Fear. Betray. But he wasn’t any of those things. He was simply... lost.

Third Person POV:

There comes a time in everyone’s life when we lose something precious. A person, a memory, an object, a feeling; something we always, effortlessly considered a part of us. We would look everywhere, drive ourselves insane and would not know how to survive without it.

But then we learn. Slowly. Painfully. We grasp on how to survive without it and we start living again. But then one day, it turns up. But by then we don’t know how to feel. We have learnt to live with what we have lost but that doesn’t mean we have not felt incomplete in our existence. And just like that, we are back to the day we lost and we were lost. As clueless now as we were then.

Eddie Diaz was lost. He didn’t know how to take in what he had learnt to let go, now standing right in front of his eyes. The day that y/n left, she didn’t just take away his best friend, she took a part of him with her. A part that he had willingly given away to her to safekeep the first day he saw her across the fence looking at him with eyes that promised him the world. A part that was always meant to be hers.

A soft sob escaped y/n’s lips. Tears now freely slipping down her face. She had run this day through her head uncountable number of times. She thought it would all come back. The ghosts of her night and the nightmares of her day. The girl she used to be. But they didn't.

All that came back were the memories she had long buried down. But this time they didn't strike her like a snake, angry and hissing, it's fangs out, ready to poison her. This time, the memories hugged her like Eddie used to. Soothe her like Eddie used to. Make her feel understood... Like Eddie used to. And in that moment, all her doubts dissolved, and she knew that she had made the right choice when she decided to leave. Had she stayed back, she would have started hating Eddie, every memory she had of him and she knew that she would have started hating herself.

But she had still done Eddie wrong. She knew that. While her heart had healed for her, it also tore through her for what she had broken. There was no escape. Her only escape from everything life threw at her for the longest time, was now standing right in front of her; eyes wide, mouth agape and tears, years worth of tears threatening to spill through the barriers of his eyes behind which Eddie had managed to hide himself for a long time now.

"You're not in uniform" y/n whispered out. Her heart had started to spiral down several dominoes of emotions. And she could no longer think straight. Instead, she decided to focus on the patterns on his mustard yellow shirt.

"Yes, because my uniform totally should be your first concern after you just up and left the night of my wedding. While you're at it, why don't you go inside and check the logs to make sure whether I was on time for my shift or not?" Eddie replied.

What further pushed y/n down the ledge was the fact that Eddie did not shout, or scream or throw the words at her. He simply sounded... Defeated. Long gone was the boy who held fire in his eyes. Standing next to her now was a man who had seen it all fade away.

Soldiers. Friends. Humanity. His best friend. His Marriage. And maybe somewhere, himself. Or atleast the version of him that she used to know. She could not stand there pretending he had changed when she was the one who pulled away first.

So, she kept quiet and focused on the colours running checks on his shirt.

Brown. White. Blue.

"You left me, y/n. Why." He did not ask it as a question. More like a statement. As if he too, had gone through that one moment he found out y/n had left. For a very long. In a never ending loop. And when you do that enough, your mind starts to give you answers. Not the one you necessarily seek but the ones that bring out your worst insecurities. And there he was, her heart's closest confidant doubting all that he was, for himself and for her, on the basis of a single memory that turned both their worlds upside down all those years ago.

Brown. White. Blue.

"You told me you would be there for me forever but you weren't. During the worst trials of my life, you weren't".

She could feel his voice tremor slightly as he slowly stepped closer. A single treacherous tear making its way down his beautiful face.

Y/n's POV:

Brown. White. Blue.

"You told me you'd always be my by side. But maybe you didn't mean those promises enough"

Brown. White. Blue.

"Or maybe I wasn't enough. Your family obviously knew everything. And our friends did too, I'm guessing. Everyone content with your decision, happy for you. I felt it."

Brown. White. Blue.

"And there I was, the only one left in the dark. Driving around like someone took away a part of my soul. And guess what? That is exactly what happened".

Brown. White. Blue.

"And I waited. For the longest time. Because I couldn't have imagined my life without you. Because I loved you. And I thought you did too. So why?"

"It's because I loved you." You scream at him through the tears, each word that he had said, striking all the cords that you had yourself been stricken by before.

You looked up at him through your clouded eyes and knew, that still, he had no idea.

Well, what time like the present? Infront of a firehouse, where he works. Where you'd come to meet one of his colleagues. What would be a better place to share the most vulnerable, sensitive corners of your heart?

"It's because I loved you that I let all the hurtful emotions of a teenage heart tore through me but stayed by you when you needed to talk about your relationships. It's because I loved you that I stood beside you and fought against your family so that you could marry the woman you loved, when all I wanted to do was scream at you, ask you to not marry her. It's because I loved you that I left the people, the home and the family I'd known all my life so that I didn't end up hating you. Everything was always because I loved you. And it was because you couldn't love me back".

You fall apart, sobs wreaking through you but no sound making it out because you were pressed into his comfortable, warm chest. One hand tightly holding you, as if he still couldn't believe you were here, as if you would disappear if he let go. The other weaving through your hair. Like he used to do all those years ago, something he knew would always calm you down.

And there you were, years later. Again. Sobs breaking through your chest. Again. Sending tremors in his heart. Again.

Except this time, Eddie Diaz knew who they were for. As everything started to make sense to him.

"You know I loved you. I always did." He spoke softly into your ear. His voice heavy with emotions, trembling at every pause. His cheek pressed against your hair.

You could feel the realisation coursing through him and the guilt digging in his chest. It was Eddie. You knew him better than yourself on some things. The way he pulled you closer and tightened his arms around you, burying his face into your hair; told you enough.

"Yes, you did. But not the way I loved you. And that is so okay. I couldn't be more at peace. But that's now. That was not what was going on then. I needed to leave, Eddie. I am sorry. I really did. Every corner of that town spoke to me of us. I felt suffocated in my own home. I needed to be there for myself. I never meant to leave you. But if I hadn't, I would not have been able to be there for you either". You whispered back. Putting it all in your words. Hoping he would still get you like he always did.

He nodded. Just once. Softly.

"There's a chinese place down the block. I just got off duty. Wanna get some food? Maybe I will tell you about this y/e/c eyed beauty Buck couldn't stop talking about ever since he met her. I'm guessing that would be you?" Eddie smiled down at you. It wasn't a lot. But it was a beginning. Or the promise and hope of one. But where would you be today, had you not been living for the hope of it all.

"Actually, tell me about you first. And the very handsome Christopher. I know there's a lot to catch up on but spring rolls are a very good place to start. But then we are jumping right back to what Evan said about me." You smiled back as he led you to his car, shaking his head at you.

Things might not be okay for a long time maybe. It will take time and efforts. A lot of both. Some things you've to let time heal, others you have to work on for an even longer time. But it's efforts you're willing to put, maybe more than Eddie this time. And that's okay. Both of you are gonna be okay.

"Oh, you won't believe who I met in LA. And right on my first week. A little piece of shit we went to high school with. It was so annoying. Character development really is not for some people. Also, about Evan.... Uhmmm..."

.

.

.

[satoruhour]

THE JUST JANUS-FACED

a/n: please PLEASE read the warnings this is darker than what i usually write. this spiralled from me thinking about geto having a blood kink and then me being on my period and then me word vomiting into whatever this is / tagging only @getousex and @papersirens bc i feel like they will maybe like something like this? not sure if my other moots like dark content like this aahh

wc: 2.3k

warnings: DARK CONTENT, DUB-CON, descriptive piece, cult leader!geto, slight coercion, manipulation, stockholm syndrome, idolising, reader is mute for a bit, reader has a fucked up perception of love, christian religious references / parallels, corruption but reader is NOT a virgin, pet names, mentions of murder, clit stimulation, fingering, oral / cunnilingus, blood kink (?), power play, cum eating, size kink, period sex and oral, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut

cult leader!geto who unfortunately has had to kill fellow sorcerers before just for opposing his cause, so he knows what sorcerers’ blood smell like. it doesn’t make sense anatomically: how there’s less of a copper smell, sweet and more tangy, not that he’s tasted it before. but the memory of satoru’s dried blood had been seared into his brain, a crystal clear vision of him carrying riko’s body; one of the drives that leads him to change the world of jujutsu.

so why can’t geto get his mind off you and your terrified state, bleeding from your torso after you’ve been ripped from your village? he acts like he hadn’t just ordered his followers to rip the place to shreds, to banish any and every trace of non-sorcerers. he crouches down to look at your pathetic state, swiping a thumb over your bleeding lip, putting it into his mouth.

that’s the first time he recoils at the taste of non-sorcerer blood — after all, it’s your beauty that entrances him.

geto’s not too sure why he kept you, either, locked up in shackles so tight they make dents on your wrists, wound left to be tended only bit by bit every time suguru finishes his sermon for the day and comes back to his office.

the second time is after a terribly stressful day. his contacts were falling behind on collecting money, there were followers stepping out of line, nanako and mimiko unfortunately bothering him at the wrong timings. he loved his girls, but sometimes he needed time alone.

what better way than to spend it with his pet?

the gag around your mouth is growing increasingly saggy, weighing down from the saliva and geto bestows some mercy on you, removing the cloth and throwing it somewhere in the room. at least your senses were still there, hearing the loud plop! of the fabric on tatami mats, but you could only whimper when geto asks you a question.

god, you looked so dumb and stupid, geto could’ve just killed you easily, but he still hasn’t found out why you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. he would send you to hell after that, but for now he’d keep you until he knows.

geto coos at the whimper.

“what is it, sweetheart? spit it out.”

your brows furrow as you uncover the hand cupping your core. it was fairly red, a strong iron smell filling the place. it wasn’t from your terribly treated wound, no — you were so concerned with this you hadn’t realised it’s fully healed, “magically” — but rather, coming from your vagina.

you were menstruating. geto sighs, flicking his sleeves before heading out, and you think that’s the end of it. he was going to leave you bleeding out on the floor while your womb contracted and expanded uncomfortably? your thoughts are quelled a minute later when he returns and tosses you a sanitary product.

“go.”

but before you can run to the bathroom in the big temple he seizes your hand, licking a stripe up your palm. there’s obvious shock on your face, from the clear line on your palm made by his tongue and the way your blood smears on his lips. geto hums, and lets you go.

it’s not too bad.

the third is when you’re sleeping soundly on the floor, still in shackles that are visibly loosened. this is the next month where blood is being shed again, made less harrowing by the products geto swears he hates getting you, “reluctantly” refilling for you after nanako asked him not to take from her stash.

by now, you’ve mellowed, but you still rather have a tough time talking and articulating speech. he knew — it wasn’t hidden that your village was built on strong men, which also led to lesser people being oppressed, silenced. only speak when you spoken to, only leave when given permission. you weren’t a stranger to the harsh slaps that landed on your face.

it was only lucky that geto had already got such an obedient little plaything. you knew your place, having learned your place before, and you think maybe he might be your saviour, because the way he spoke was nothing like the men in your village. it was done with a lilt of the voice, a lyrical, melodic quality to it. his touches are gentle but firm, never rough and abrupt.

geto-sama knew how to treat lesser people like you.

that’s why when you’re whimpering again, geto knows just the right thing to get you to shut up (although, your cute sounds are maybe just what he might be looking for. should he kill you after he gets his keep? should he slit your throat? should he—)

he brings you to your feet a little forcefully, dispelling a curse to unlock your shackles and he pushes you onto the bed. you’re the centre of attention, suddenly, not used to being in such a big space: laid out on the silk sheets of the tatami bed. you felt dirty, tainted. you didn’t deserve to be on white, didn’t deserve to have your feet planted onto ivory, to have been cleaned time and time again by his workers. you didn’t even feel like you deserved to be kept in such a sacred place as geto-sama’s temple.

and yet, when you watch your saviour’s approaching, looming form, you can’t help think of how he’s taken care of you. the love he showed you was the closest thing you’ve ever gotten, maybe a little morbid by normal standards, but who are you to question your saviour? paired with that melodic, smooth voice and the cast of his hair down his back, maybe you were even attracted to your saviour.

that was a possibility, right? you can’t tell right from wrong any more but it doesn’t matter when geto slams his lips onto yours, kissing him back clumsily that he chuckles at your inexperience. even when you’re bleeding, you can feel your cunt throb and the feeling in your stomach increase — it was oh, so delicious, the same thing felt whenever he entered a room with that sick smile.

geto nudges you to remove your clothing, touches leaving blazing fires along your skin. he sighs when your breasts are on display, taking a nipple and swirling a tongue around it. so foreign, so good that you grab his other hand and he stops. ah, yes, you were still a monkey after all, no speaking when not spoken to — that translates to actions as well.

the lord resumes his ministrations, other hand reaching for your tits to massage the other, moaning into your chest before he kisses down your body. you panic, because aren’t you dirty? aren’t you bloody?

“let me relieve you, doll,” geto-sama was well deserving of being geto-sama. like how a lord should be, he is observant in seeing how your hand clutches your stomach on the first two days of your menstruation. what qualities of a lover— lord that is.

he coaxes you into removing your bottoms (“but geto-sama, my blood—”, “nonsense, leave it.”), peeling your underwear off you and the smell hits him almost immediately. the smell he’s friends with, that metallic tinge that hits his nose so disgustingly when he sees yet another act of unjust done by the weak, and yet when geto sees you spreading his legs for him, this hit of odour is nothing like the terrible scenes he’s caused.

no, he thinks that this is right and just, this is in the fates, this was the moment of justifiable pleasure received by a weak, lesser monkey only he could satisfy. he was your saviour after all.

but when geto’s tongue makes first contact with your cunt, he thinks maybe he was on the other side of the picture — him, as weak as a non-sorcerer, sentenced to the giving of pleasure to you.

geto moans when he first tastes blood, and then your slick, the combination more angelic than holy communion. he sucks on your clit and your grip could draw blood from how tight you clutched onto the sheets but you make sure your nails don’t dig in and bleed. geto-sama wouldn’t want that.

he flicks his tongue on your nub, large hands spreading your thighs apart with ease as the abuse on your clit is merciless. geto hums into your cunt, the lewd sounds of your blood mixed in with arousal just staining the room with a pungent smell of copper and sex.

geto gives no warning as he shoves a finger into you, your blood giving him easy access and in an instant the uncomfortable cramp in your stomach starts to subside. he was a god, you know, he’s your god, you think, but you aren’t sure if you’re stingy and self-centred enough to cage him for yourself.

a loud moan leaves you when he starts to thrust, not stopping the stubborn movements of his tongue.

“oh, what pretty noises,” geto drawls, mumbling into your cunt, “your little pussy is being real loud as well, huh?”

you whimper at the lewd language, always being brutally and cruelly targeted towards you in your village, and yet when they’re spoken so filthily and intently to you — you can’t help but nod.

“need you to tell me how bad you want it, pet.” geto teases, knowing you hardly speak, but it’s an invitation, right?

your saviour adds a second finger and a mewl escapes your mouth, incoherent babbles that sounded like gibberish. oh, you really were too cute.

“that feel good, ain’t it?” he whispers, licking his lips and spreading the taste of your blood around his mouth. he smiles at your second nod.

“then tell me. what. you. want.” the command is straight, now, and if it weren’t for geto going back to suckle on your clit alongside his two fingers pumping in and out of you, you’d cower.

“want—” you moan, the squelching noises of your pussy increase in volume and the sound of his palm making contact with his chin is sinful, dirty, exactly what you were.

geto loved dirty.

“want your cock in me, geto-sama.” so, you did know the words, heart pounding so loud it resonates in your head; you wonder how you manage to even say it so clearly, so confidently. where did those words come from?

“want you to fuck me, and use me, please, geto-sama.”

your god’s smile widens into a grin and he wastes no time removing his gojo-gesa, his robes, fishing his cock out from his underwear with one hand while the other continues to lazily move in and out of you. you stare like a dumb little dog, excitement obvious by how you clench around his fingers and bite your lip.

all monkeys were so fucking predictable. your village, your parents, yo—

geto is proven wrong again when he first slips in, blood spilling from your cunt that he doesn’t exactly care if it’s because of your menstruation or your tight little pussy being stretched so far to accommodate his fat, heavy cock, but the warmness of your cunt is just so goddamn divine, he has to take a deep breath to brace himself.

“feel better already?” he fawns over you, over the bulge showing in your stomach. it showed how deep he was in you, in your womb, and you clench again at the feeling of being filled up. geto’s hips start to set a pace, rocking into you with groans of his own.

“s-so much better, geto-sama,” the smile you give him is drunk, horridly in love with your saviour who did nothing but manipulate, but you could hardly care for the morals of this world when his pre-cum filled cock hits your spots so well. his pubes and hips that meet yours are coated with blood, the scent of it increasing the longer he uses your body like a fucktoy, a reverberating pap! pap! pap! of his balls slamming into your ass.

“pussy so fucking good—” geto cums first with a loud groan, filling your womb with his seed that’s viscous and hot, and the heat of your cunt doesn’t stop him from moving, flipping the two of you over and you’re screaming in the process, body jolting from the sudden orgasm. geto grunts as he feels you spasm around his dick, switching to a violent ram up into your pussy — you’re atop him now and you suffer the pussy drunk thrusts he gives you, one after the other into your dripping hole.

it’s so messy, so dirty and so fucking revolting, your bleeding cunt mixed with his cum forming strings that connect your pelvis to his, the soiled sheets of red and translucent below you — your god’s hips falter and still, cumming for a second time so quickly geto has to make sure he’s still the right person after this.

your eyes are way back in your skull, head tipped backwards onto his shoulder and outstretched for all gods to see, and yet, geto suguru was your one and only definition of divinity. a man of wisdom, charm. you’re jerking and gasping when you feel his cum spill out of you and you’re reaching that intoxicating high all over again, geto-sama, geto-sama, geto-sama, like a chant on your lips.

it was like worship in the common room, and yet this was different, entirely, because you were getting purified and corrupted all in one sitting, by geto-sama’s cock.

geto grins and smothers himself in your cunt once you’re climaxing and eats the blood and cum out of your pussy, oozing out right onto his tongue and the mixture of it is like a sick little concoction of sin and virtue — exactly what the two of you were.

good and evil, blessing and curse, god and devil. except, geto suguru wasn’t sure what title he fell under, any more.

oh, no, not when he had you.

pls, pls tell me if i missed any warnings! ty for reading ♡

[empyreanwizard]

about miquella's kidnapping, you know the charm only works if miq gets really close in your face (see heart stolen + freyja's account of being healed) and it doesn't do a 180° in your personality (the npcs in the shadow realm are there to show us how it affects them and we can see it didn't change their personality) what the charm does is: make you non-violent (see heart stolen) makes you forget bad things (see leda and ansbach remembering "cascading sheets of blood" after the charm is broken)

if anything, I'd say the charm would've made him more sane, take thioller for example he's completely obsessed with trina after the charm is broken, to the point where he tries to kill you after she talks to you

compare thioller's dialogue:

"i am her chosen, not you. only I can doze off in the sea of st. trina"

and

"only i am allowed to know. of your velvety sleep. its sweetly gentle embrace. so please, smile—for me, and only me." (st. trina's smile)

to mohg's dialogue:

"miquella is mine and mine alone"

both are possessive and obsessed. miquella's charm nullified thioller's obsession, and I have no reason to believe miquella can just pick and choose the side effects his charm will have.

my points on why miquella did not want to be kidnapped

1 - he wouldn't have cocooned himself for a long ass time like he did otherwise. and you know he was there for a long time because he's all skinny and covered in cocoon liquid stuff. and mohg wouldn't need to break open his cocoon like he did, he would just take it back to his palace

2 - miquella couldn't have known mohg even existed. he lived in the sewers his whole life, and miquella never went to the sewers. also, even if he did, he couldn't have charmed him there bc otherwise ansbach would never know to differentiate a non-charmed mohg from a charmed mohg .

3 - mohg is already a established kidnapper. from the "war surgeon gown":

"Bloodstained white gown of the war surgeons who were effectively mercy killers. Of the surgeons that were abducted by the Lord of Blood, none were able to tame the accursed blood. None but Varré, that is; though he was an exception."

4 - mohg had his own reasons to kidnap miquella. he wanted to build his blood dynasty and to become a lord, as ansbach says he was seeking lordship, and the consort of an empyrean is a lord by right (see dark moon ring description). miquella is the only empyrean available, as ranni is presumed dead and malenia already has a god inside of her (and he could never kidnap her), leaving only miquella who apparently doesn't have an outer god meddling inside of him, so perfect vessel for the formless mother

now, you're probably wondering "well if the mohg thing wasn't planned, who would be used as a vessel for his consort??" to answer that, miquella probably didn't know he needed a vessel in the first place, as the ">>>secret<<< rite scroll" is only found in the shadow realm, he couldn't have known about that thing while living in the lands between.

verdict: miquella was forced to switch plans after the kidnapping (can't complete anything he starts curse yadda yadda), mohg did not beat the allegations, and miquella got his revenge for being used (mohg was living/sleeping inside his corpse how do yall forget this???) by using mohg's corpse to house his promised consort's soul somehow (which is awful too, but that goes without saying)

remember, the story in the dlc is there to parallel his ascension to marika's ascension. in this case, the hornsent killed and tortured marika's people, and she responds by genociding and terrorizing the hornsent people. mohg used and abused miquella's corpse, and he responded by using mohg's corpse.

marika = miquella

hornsent = omen

I just think it's weird that so many people are running off with the assumption that miquella, who the dlc all but confirm has the body AND mentality of a child, was charming mohg out of malicious intent rather than self-defense. remember he was probably never trained to fight nor does he have the strength to do it, the charm is basically his self-defense mechanism.

I think the main issue is that if you disagree on even the littlest thing here, the whole narrative shifts, and that's why there's so many different interpretations and confused people.

this is all subjective and there's no reason to claim my interpretation is the correct one ofc but I do think I make a good argument.

[annikin-annotates]

Family Ties

Hi hello, good morning friends. I’m giving you a steaming serving of Ascended!Astarion x Spawn!Tav to soothe (or anger?) your souls. I hope you enjoy this one shot as much as I did writing it. With that being said, I’m not paying for ya’lls therapy bills. I don’t think this one is too traumatic, if anything, it’s tame.

TW: Gore, Recapping of the ritual, Ascended Astarion being his bastard self, brief mentions of birth and pregnancy, having to give up a child (for their own safety). 

Word Count: 2.6K

‘I’m doing this for you, too, you know. To make sure we are both safe, forever.’

She watched on in silent horror as the scene played out before her. “No, no. No healing sleep for you. Wake up!” Astarion hissed, as he ripped Cazador out of his coffin, his body splaying out awkwardly on the floor. 

“Get your hands off me, worm,” Cazador spat indignantly as he pushed himself from the floor to a kneeling position, still reeling from the force of being thrown. 

Astarion laughed heartily. “Hah! I’m not the one in the dirt,” his eyes darkened, a smirk curving the corners of his mouth, for the first time in two hundred years he held all the cards, he had the upper hand; and it felt good. He stared Cazador down, his body coiled like a snake ready to strike. “I am so much more than what you made me,” he looks to her, a silent plea in his eyes, “I can do this, but I need your help.”

There was no question that she would help him, she would have done whatever he had asked her to do, “All right, what do you need me to do?” she asked him, her fists clenched at her sides. Gods, she would have set the world ablaze if only to see him smile. 

“I need your eyes,” he paused for a moment, the air was so still around them that it was almost suffocating. “Use the parasite - link your mind to mine so I can see the scars on my back and copy them onto his.” 

“You would not dare!” Cazador seethed, though his voice betrayed him - that self-righteous air he had traded for something more human, fear. 

“I would, and I will,” his voice was laced with fury. Two hundred years of suffering surfacing, she could see it in the way his hands shook as they held the knife. His eyes softened as they found hers again. “Help me do this, please.” Astarion looked to her pleadingly, crimson eyes glassy and full of desperation - he needed this. He needed her. 

They recoiled slightly as their minds melded together, becoming one as the pain subsided and the world came back into focus once more. The weight of the dagger felt heavy in his hand, she could feel his fingers shifting nervously along the hilt. She could see Cazador from his perspective, cowering on the floor before Astarion, his hands raised in front of him; as if a pleading look would put the pain of the past to rest. 

She could feel how Astarion hungered for power, and it was all within his reach, wealth, power, freedom - it was intoxicating. She trusted him, trusting him was the right thing to do - helping him achieve the only thing he wanted was the right thing; if it was the right thing to do, then why did it feel so wrong? Why did standing idly by and watching a man be carved apart to feel the pain that he inflicted upon so many feel so wrong? 

And so the cycle would continue. 

—

He was not hers anymore, that much was clear; Astarion had changed beyond recognition. While yes, he looked like Astarion and most certainly sounded like Astarion, he was not him, not in the way that mattered. Loving gazes now traded for looks filled with hunger and thirst, for both more power and blood. The man she had fallen for on her unexpected journey was as good as dead, a colder - crueller thing having taken his place. No, the Astarion she loved was nothing if not merciful. 

For a time she had lulled herself with a false sense of hope that once the power became less novel, he would return to her. That his softness would begin to peek through again, he would smile again, that’s all she wanted. He had become a monster disguised as a dashing prince, but he was the very thing that mothers warn their misbehaving children about. The dark shadow that stalked pretty maidens and handsome young men down dark alleys, draining them of all they are - of all they could be. 

With the same hands that gave him freedom, he sentenced her to a fate worse than death, an eternity of servitude. The worst of it all was that she did it, she helped him with her own two hands, she allowed him to ascend. And when his greed came again, all hungry eyes and jagged teeth; she gave herself to him, and he took from her, hungrily and without mercy, the choices she could have made, ripped away. 

He hid her true position with flowered words, ‘My Dark Consort,’ his honeyed voice would whisper to her in the cover of darkness. The words sounded as wrong now as they did back then. Though she supposed it didn’t matter now, the die was cast and she had no choice but to lay in the grave she had dug. 

And what a grave she had chosen. 

She was glad she could not see herself in the mirror, what would she see? The sadness that clung to her eyes, or the bloodthirsty beast that now wore the skin of a woman long gone. She wasn’t sure she would even recognise the person staring back at her, a hollow husk of what she once was. She had sharper reflexes, eternal life and beauty, all the jewels and dresses she could want, and yet there was an ever growing emptiness that made home in her. 

What good was eternal life if you couldn’t live for yourself?

—

Silence usually blanketed the palace, a quiet so thick it felt as though no creature could break it. The sort of quiet that told you to run and never look back, that made your ears ring, a bone chilling, deafening silence. A blood curdling scream tore through the stillness of the palace, the usual quiet that the night brings becoming forfeit. 

Her hair clung to her forehead as she hissed and groaned through the pain, bringing life into the world felt as painful as taking it. It felt as though a wild animal was fighting to stay within her, its claws digging into her, like it knew the type of environment it was being brought into. She couldn’t blame it, though it did not have a choice. She gasped as relief washed over her, chest still heaving from exertion.   

That eerie stillness came crashing back down on the palace, hanging in the corners of the room like an unwanted voyeur. With the quiet came a familiar feeling that wrapped its claws into her heart and squeezed, dread. There was no noise coming from her child, why was it not crying? Her baby should be crying, there should be an ear splitting wailing filling the room; her eyes began to water, a lump forming in her throat.

She could not bear to put another loved one in the ground. 

A shrill cry tore through the room, forcing the silence back into exile once more, as if the small thing now in her arms had heard her prayers. It was a little girl, a daughter, and she was perfect in every single way that mattered: ten fingers, ten toes and a beating heart she could feel thrumming beneath her fingers. 

Had she always been this cold? Is this what she used to feel like to Astarion? Warm and soft, and so fragile.

She held the babe close to her chest, taking in every inch of her; her sweet, sweet little girl. Her finger shakily stroked the softness of her cheek, her breath hitched in her throat as her little eyes opened - two green irises stared back at her. Her long, dead heart fluttered in her chest, tears pricking the corners of her eyes; those green eyes were his, a little piece of the man she loved. From that moment on she vowed that no harm would befall her little girl, her sunlight.

It was hours before Astarion entered their shared chambers to meet his daughter, the bed sinking slightly the only thing that pulled her from her loving trance. She angled her body slowly towards him leaning into his form, she felt him go rigid at the contact - she did not care. She couldn’t take her eyes off the sleeping child in her arms, this tiny thing gave her eternal life new meaning. “Meet our daughter, my love,” she whispered, softly brushing the edges of the soft blanket she was swaddled in away from her face. 

She tore her gaze away from her world to look at Astarion, whose eyes had softened a small bit; before turning steely once more. “A daughter? Does she have a name?” he asked with raised brows, his voice too loud, too cocksure. He reached for the child, taking the babe from her arms before she could protest. Little brows furrowed and she let out a small whine of disapproval before settling into her fathers arms; she could have ripped his throat out for disturbing their child’s rest.

She shook her head. “No, but I think the name Juniper suits her,” she paused for a moment, imagining what her life would have been like if none of this had happened. Would she have returned to the grove where she grew up?  She cleared her throat softly, “It reminds me of the berries that grew by my home as a child.”

Astarion scoffed at the suggestion, it made her blood boil with contempt for him - a feeling that had become all too familiar over the last two decades. “My dear, my - I mean our daughter needs to be named something strong, fearsome, something like…” he paused for a moment, looking deeply into the eyes of their daughter. She hoped that when he looked at her that he saw the ghost of himself, she prayed it would make him rethink the person he had become. “Maitenirr. Now that’s a name fit for an Ancunin, isn’t it my darling?” 

A scoff threatened to fall from her lips, she swallowed both the anger and vitriol that rises in her throat. How dare he? How dare he snatch her child from her arms and name her. How could he not see that he held the sun in the crook of his elbow? Did he not understand that the small bundle was hers and hers alone? She nodded in agreement, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes tugging at her lips. She knew better than to go against his judgement. “Of course my love, what a lovely choice.”

Astarion had taken the privilege to name their daughter, it made her heart twist to hear a name with such a dark meaning put to a child. Bringer of Death, he told her that she needed a name that was as strong and as fearsome as the family she was born into, the throne she was now heir to. But her child was the embodiment of the sun, if holding her was as close as she would get to feeling the sun's rays on her skin, then that was okay with her.   

With each passing day, she wondered how someone like Astarion managed to have a hand in creating something as perfect as their daughter. She could see so much of him in her already, they had the same noses, they shared pointed ears, she smiled in her sleep like he does; like he used to. The more she grew, the more she realised they had the same mannerisms too, always quick to fuss and even harder to soothe.

The more Maitenirr grew, the more things became apparent about her; she loved the darkness and it seemed to like her too. She would reach out to shadowy corners while in her mothers arms, babbling away to them like they could hear her - like they were sentient. It was a secret best kept between herself and the shadows, for as long as possible.  

She couldn’t keep Maitenirr’s ability away from her husband for much longer, she had begun to conjure things - beings not of this world, from the shadows. She needed to devise a plan to get her daughter to safety; she would never forgive herself if her guiding light was dimmed by her fathers hands. She would protect her child if it was the last thing she did, from everyone; including Astarion - especially Astarion. 

If she was to expedite her daughter somewhere safe, she would need to be cunning about it, she would need to outfox a fox. It consumed her every waking moment, numerous plans scrapped; she almost thought about calling in a favour with Raphael of all people. There was one person in Baldur’s gate that she could trust to get her Juniper to safety, she prayed that they would do this act of kindness for her.

—  

"Please, take her. Take her to safety, do not tell me where. If he comes to me I will have no choice but to tell him. Please, he will ruin her if he finds her gift," she pleaded, pushing the bundle into his arms. Giving Juniper away felt like ripping her heart from her chest, exposing the softness of a person long dead, Juniper was a weakness she couldn’t afford to have exploited. 

“You don’t understand what you’re asking me to do,” he told her, taking a step back, his hands coming to gently push the child away. She could smell the fear that came off him in waves; she could see it in his eyes. 

She looked at him, her eyes full of terror and sadness. “I do, Wyll. Of course I do, but it needs to be you. If he looks for her, which he will; I cannot know where she is. I will be the first person he comes to,” her voice shakes. “I know I ask a lot of you, but please, protect my daughter. Give her a fighting chance, Wyll.” 

He sighed, taking the child into his arms. “I will make sure she gets to safety, you have my word,” he swore, his voice solemn. The moment he took Juniper into his arms, she had to fight the urge to snatch her back from him, it took everything in her not to scream: she is the only good I have found in this world, please don’t take it from me. She blinked back her tears, no, this was better. She would not sit idly by and watch another innocent suffer at the hands of a monster that she created. 

“Thank you, Wyll. you have no idea what this means.” Her child would have a fighting chance at a life untainted by cruel hands. She turned away slightly, drying the tears that had begun to spill. Now was not the time for tears, she would have eternity to shed them, now was the time to dig deep - to be strong, one last time. 

“Her name is Juniper, if there is one thing from this life that I can give her - it's her name,” she added, backing away from the both of them. Small hands reached out towards her, a dissatisfied grunt tumbling from tiny lips. She looked around nervously, she didn’t have much time, she rushed to the child one final time, pressing a kiss to the patch of white amongst the rest of her dark hair. A small piece of him. 

“Your mother loves you, more than you will ever know. Giving you up is my greatest sacrifice, I love you, my Sunlight,” she whispered into her hairline before stepping back several paces, she looked to Wyll once more. “Get her out of here, Wyll.” She made her way up the main staircase, away from the door, she dared not look back. 

The vipers fangs have bared, she must protect her brood. 

Thank you for reading, Please take a moment to comment or reblog my work, it really brightens my day and gives me the boost to keep creating!

Beta read by the lovely: @arcielee and @amiraisgoingthruit

[1u11ablues]

No Doubts Anymore (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x You) [Dual POV]

WC: Almost 3k

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Not Beta-read.

Alternate ending where Simon didn't die, as requested by an anon!

Part 1

Deep, almost purple lines had been a permanent feature of your face, now. Where your eyeliner used to go, there are now tear lines extending from the corner of your eyes—a product of sleepless nights and unhealed grief.

Has it been four months now? Five? Hell, half a year? Time heals all wounds, they said, yet you wake up with more pieces tumbling out of your chest every day that sleep decides to grant you mercy.

Simon’s balaclava, all his bloody shirts that he used to wear, they lie pristine where you last kept them. 

In a box, inside the closet.

For you fear the scent of him will disappear with every touch, every kiss upon his belongings.

But sometimes—like tonight—it gets unbearable.

Curled up on the mattress, bedsheets probably moulding in the dryer back when you had the sudden burst of energy to be productive, you took a rationed inhale of the skull balaclava in your arms. 

The position was a pain to maintain. Yet, even that kind of pain was preferable. Maybe if you’re in enough physical pain, angry enough, drunk enough-

You’d said no to Price’s repeated recommendations to see a therapist, because how could he understand?

How could the man ever understand the irrational, undeserved hatred—that you’d tried to tell yourself off for—you had against him for having a hand in Simon’s death?

It was just one of the multiple poisons you’d let into your body. Hatred. Substance. Isolation.

“You’re supposed to get up, love. The bills are stacking up.”

And sometimes, like today, the ghost of him materialised to taunt you with an untouchable form. Sitting on his side of the bed—not even kind enough to make a dip on the mattress to tell you that he’s there—and talking you out of misery.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten something? This is not how you move on.”

“I don’t want to move on! You left. You didn’t even give me a chance to say goodbye- I hate you. With all my heart, I hate you, Simon Riley.”

And, like clockwork, he disappeared into thin air.

***

It is over. He had kept up the ruse, going along with Price’s plan to pronounce several soldiers dead just so he can join a team of spies to infiltrate enemy bases and gather valuable intel.

So he spied, waiting things out until Price gave him the go-ahead to leave, knowing what was waiting for him at home; the state in which he’d left things at.

He didn’t want Price to drop his box onto your lap and let you know that he was dead. Because what use would it be for him to fight against hell, to keep the breath in his throat if it weren’t for the sake of coming home to your arms?

Still, he relented. And, for it to work,, he had to rid himself of every trace of you, just so there would be no connection linking him to his one and only pressure point.

But it’s over now, and God, he has a lifetime of apologising to do.

As soon as he reached his quarters, he knelt by the mattress he’d slept on many a night that he wasn’t able to spend besides you. He lifted it up, and under it—if one knows where to look—was a stitch where he’d taken a drag of his combat knife to before his mission, hid one item of yours he wasn’t strong enough to burn, and meticulously threaded the hole back together.

This time, his slice met with less resistance. He reached into the fillings and felt around, and, there-

He pulled out the glossy picture of you he used to keep in his wallet and brought with him to everywhere he could go. 

He got it from the time he’d taken you out on the walk in mid-autumn, letting you pester him to try one of those seasonal drinks he used to care less about. There’s a photo booth right out of the cafe and, of course, you pulled him into it and took so many pictures he’d gone half-blind, but this picture wasn’t from that, no. When you were ordering the drinks, he came back out to the booth because he noticed there was an option to print his own picture from his phone. 

He did his best to figure out how the fuck was he to connect his phone to sync up his gallery to it, but it worked eventually.

That damned machine ate almost thirty pounds off his wallet to print out his favourite pictures of you.

One where you were petting a dog. One where you were biting into a caramel apple. One where you had the most ridiculous foam mustache. And this one-

Where you were asleep, right next to him. An image of peace that he regrets not being able to bring you more.

Instinctually, he brought the picture to his chest, right where his heart still beat. 

He’s coming home and making sure he treats you well for the rest of his life.

***

When he reached the flat, his spirit deflated, realising that it was empty.

Well, at least, that’s how it seemed from the outside. It was all dark, quiet. There was nothing that could indicate life within the walls of your home, until he heard soft, inconsistent sniffles behind the door, getting fainter and fainter the more you moved away from it.

Even though the key was in his hand, he figured it would be most sensible to knock. After all, you were under the impression that he was dead up until three days ago, when Price had hopefully relayed the actual news to you, giving you ample time to react.

Three classic knocks. No answer.

Another three. The sniffles had died down. Were you asleep?

After about five minutes of waiting, he finally decided to use the front door key. 

It’s late, he thought, and you were probably comfortably sleeping.

Like he noticed from outside, the darkness bathed the entire space. Save for the dim glow from the battery-powered LED snow globe that doubled as your nightlight—signs that you were awake were minimal.

I’ll just crawl into bed and hold her, he thought, until an unpleasant smell wafted from the kitchenette.

The sequences of what greeted him? A miserable discovery.

Overflowing bins, unwashed plates. Spoiled food leaking out of the refrigerator and a full load of clothes were still in the dryer.

In truth, Simon had a feeling you’d fall into depression a week or two—a month maximum—before you moved on from his ‘death.’

It had been a year. Has this been your year? Falling into unkemptness when he never knew you to love clutter?

“Love?” He called out, softly, just in case you were really asleep. He tossed his belongings on the sofa unceremoniously—where he put his belongings were the last thing on his mind at the moment—before making his way to the bedroom.

The sight shushed his brain to a ringing silence.

In the middle of the room was the box of his military belongings, opened, its cover flapping against the opening at every oscillation of the standing fan in the corner of the room.

Two things were making sounds at that moment. The fan, supposedly comfortable white noise now an attack to his senses; you, struggling to get a breath in as you cried, hair matted and red sores visible on the sides of your hip.

“Fuck me- Love-” he immediately moved up to the side of the bed. You were facing the other way, curled up and hugging something close to your chest.

“It’s me, love, I’m back, I’m sorry,” words stumble out of his mouth in wasteful attempts. Not even managing to elicit a reaction out of you.

Hell, it took him almost a full five minutes of apologising before you even turned back to look at him.

And the first words that had come out of your lips?

“I hate you, and I wish I had never met you.”

***

Again, the vision of him came to torment you. 

What is it this time? To tell you to air the room out? To drink more water?

Again, you tell him the words that would normally make him disappear.

“I hate you, and I wish I had never met you.”

It was like a spell that you had used to stop unwanted hallucinations—or so you thought. They always come back and it takes sleeping to finally stop some of the visions.

This one didn’t seem to budge. In fact, it answered! Maybe you need to take up Price’s offer for professional help.

“You don’t mean that, darling…” he spoke, face absent of the non-expression you were used to seeing in the figment of him that continues to visit you.

Of course, you don’t mean it. But how else would you deal with the fact that you’re slowly losing your mind? How else are you going to attempt to move-

The touch on your face is warm. Textured.

You can’t remember the last time you dreamt about being touched like that again, his hands brushing hair away from your face, and this time, oh, how cruel is it for it to feel this real?

How cruel, how evil?

With fresh tears and wobbly lips—your attempt at trying to hold on from simply breaking down—you whispered, “You never gave me the chance to say goodbye. Don’t you love me enough to even give me that, Simon? Am I not worth a single glance back, when we fought, when I asked you if the mission was more important than your life? Than us?”

The fight, your last memory of him, was unfortunately always the fight. 

When you were uselessly clinging to him to not go because your inkling was proved true—it wasn’t a mission that he’ll come back from.

Even knowing that, he kept it to himself. You were to read and interpret his facial expressions and body language yourself, coming to your own realisation that he was given a death mission.

“I hate you,” you say again, “I don’t think I will be able to move on from you. Go away, please. Don’t haunt me anymore.”

Turning your back on him, the silence tells you that the vision had dissipated. A deep sense of regret fills you, intermingling with loss and guilt that tasted like bile in your throat.

You didn’t mean that; you didn’t mean to be mean. Maybe if you turn around and apologise, it could help ease the process. Maybe, maybe-

His sad eyes still stared down at you. It didn’t work.

Where his arms rested, the mattress dented.

“Do you mean it? Have I returned to find you hating me?”

***

He didn’t know if you’d even let him touch you, so his arms rested on the uncovered mattress and hoped for the best.

It sounded like you’ve developed venom for him. Rightfully so, given the way you ended things before he went off on the year-long mission. 

Simon was not good at that, the talking part of a relationship. Despite how he presents himself, he still stuttered over his words and lost his speech when being in love occupied a big part of his brain—rendering any sort of poetic affection null. His body speaks for him most of the time.

“Am I losing my mind, or have the ghost of you taken on a physical form?”

The confusion in your face was apparently enough to put a pause on the sobs. You hadn’t an idea how relieved he is at the lack of them. Never in his life would he want to make you cry as hard again, if he could help it.

“It’s me, sweetheart. I’m back. It was a covert mission…haven’t Price informed you?”

He didn’t expect a ‘welcome home’ with cakes and a banner—but he admitted, the least he wished for was a hug. A tight, long hug, followed by a night of holding each other until his body couldn’t physically take it anymore.

Has he gone and ruined it?

“Price?” Your hands thud against the bed to feel for your phone. It had been days since you last checked it, or more. Time moves differently when you’re busy nursing loss and heartbreak. Realising the device was nowhere close, you finally got off the bed—after spending a consecutive day and a half in it—to scan the nearest floor and then-

Ah, there it is. You picked it up and unlocked the screen. 

Your eyes bulged as the notifications rolled through the notifications bar, Price’s name consisting of the majority of it.

Simon trails your every movement. After his question, it took you several pauses to think, but almost a quarter of the time to look for your phone, which had undoubtedly dropped somewhere on the floor throughout the day.

His breath stills as he watched your eyes increasingly widen reading the messages. Messages that should’ve reached you at least a couple days ago, that were to prepare you for his arrival.

“Simon?” You called out as you read through each of Price’s explanations and apology. There was another number that tried to reach you, too. Also, a series of apologies—this time, more intimate.

“I’m here,” he answered. God, he wanted to hold you so, so badly. But he can wait. He waited for a year with nothing but the memories and dreams of you to keep him going. He can wait the few moments more that it took you to decide on a path.

“Simon, is- is that really you? I’m not imagining things? I swear, if it’s my head again, this is really cruel-“

“It’s me, love. It’s really me. Not a hallucination. I’m home.”

You look at the figure on the other side of the bed. Slowly, you climbed onto the mattress, scooting ever so hesitantly with your knees to the middle of the queen sized-bed, hands reaching out half-expecting your touch to go through him.

Damn it, he couldn’t wait. When you got onto the bed, his body rushed to mirror the movement, meeting you halfway and grabbing your hand to place it over his cheek—now with an additional scar over his jaw.

His eyes shut. Your touch upon him righted his world again, and suddenly-

He’s crying. Or at least, about to. He’s here, and warm and tears brim his eyes, somehow never falling down. 

Most importantly, he’s home.

“My dear, what have they done to you?”

He’d returned to you almost unrecognisable—the certain look in his eyes that made him Simon washed away until only a dull imitation remains.

“Not now, love. I don’t want to talk about it now.” 

He’d gone through torture before, and came out of it with deeper scars than the last. 

But this torture was different. The enemy they were against was known for targeting the person closest to whomever was against them, thus the need to cut contact with you. Every night was a constant pacing, wondering if they had found you, if you were okay. Every damned moment, your imagined screams and cries took over his decisions, despite him trying his best to keep his head on the mission.

The torture was visions of you being in his place.

“Please, is it too late for me to answer your question now?”

“What question?” 

You were always the more emotional one in the relationship. So, despite all the tears you’ve exhausted through months of mourning, there was no surprise that your body had decided to create more. 

Though, this time, it was his head pressed to your chest instead of the other way around. Because yes, you may have suffered through the loss of him, but he had been actively fighting for his life in that same duration—and having to hide all of it from you, too, never having the comfort of home at the end of the day.

Your question, which had been making a home out of his skeleton by now. 

“When you asked me if I love you. If I did enough to stay.”

You remembered that. It was a last ditch effort—perhaps a manipulative way to make sure he stays. It was a question you regretted asking. Because Simon is Simon, and there were more lives at stake than making sure your pretty little heart stays unbroken.

“I didn’t mean to ask that. Simon, it was wrong of me-��

“Yes, I do.” His answer resolute. That was to be his last mission, and he decided the minute the door closed on him when he left the flat that day. His last, and he’s going home—and if he’s lucky, you would still be there for him. 

Simon straightened and this time, took you in his lap. When you didn’t fight, he leaned down and hesitated for a kiss over your lips.

When you reciprocated, his tears fucking fell, seasoning the kiss with its salty essence. 

But you didn’t pull away. You kissed him, and every inch of his face, paying extra attention to the fresh scar on his jaw.

You pulled back from the kiss when you started losing breath. 

“You do?” You ask, suddenly remembering the velvet box next to his dog tag resting on the dresser beside the bed. Your eyes slid to it.

Simon’s eyes followed the direction yours went.

Fuck, he thought, forgetting that he had intended to propose right after his last mission. Well, apparently the secret’s out.

“I do, I love you. And I will make sure to not make you doubt me anymore. I love you, darling. You keep my head above water.”

Perhaps it will take time to go back to the way it was. Time, and lots of outside help.

After all, there would be no sunrise without the darkest of nights.

“And you keep my feet on the ground. I love you too, Simon.”

[qqtxt]

[🐯] windflowers brought me back to you

✿ pairing: beomgyu x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / exes-to-lovers (kind of) / very angsty in the beginning but fluff at the end / 8,915 words ✿ disclaimer: cursing and foul language / heavy emotions and insecurities / mentions of food and eating / clichè romantic trope / reader is friends with the other members / reader calls beomgyu ‘gyu’ / the timeline kind of follows their act:lovesick tour / jokes of death in a playful manner / txt members acting like cupids (not them trying to fix your relationship with gyu) ✿ you thought the day that beomgyu broke up with you was the day he had let go of the love he had for you; little did you know, he carried his love for you throughout his tour and came back to fix his mistake. ✿ 🎧: windflower by mamamoo (lofi remix by karma)

note: hi 👉👈 i know i literally dropped off the face of the earth but honestly, life has been a handful but i’m slowly writing things in the drafts and this is one that was sitting on the shelf for a while that i didn’t know how to feel about it so, i’m sending it off the shelf! merry x’mas, lovelies and hope you are all safe and well! 💖

[masterlist 🌸] / @kflixnet​​ ✨

it was a normal day today; it would’ve been, it should’ve been. peace, quiet... the lingering embedded pain in your heart every time your phone receives a notification and you know you’re not going to see a familiar name showing up. at this point, it’s been months. you should move on by now; maybe you were, in some twisted way your heart was healing each time his name rang in your mind and you tried not to show any emotion–cruel, but it was the only way you’d cope. it was progress, one day at a time, slowly, his face will dissolve, his name won’t hurt you when you hear it, and maybe you’ll man up to delete all traces of him from your life.

today, however, that name you’ve been longing for shows up in person by your door–and he only hopes that you still long to see him as he lifts his head up to look at you–all your efforts be damned.

choi beomgyu, who decided to let you go–days before he went on tour–was standing in front of you. the tour merely ended days ago and he had returned home. the first place he was determined to go was wherever you were.

the sight alone is what makes you wonder if this was some sort of cruel hallucination. it doesn’t feel real, let alone look like it. your chest feels like it’s contracting on you; restricting you from breathing right the longer you process what’s happening. why isn’t this going away? when will it disappear? what the fuck is going on? is this a nightmare? no... is this a dream? whatever it was, it was hurting you; it was scaring you, you’re shaking, you still–stay still, for fuck’s sake, don’t move–still can’t breathe.

“y/n.”

oh my god.

it fucking talks.

it makes you instinctively shift back, one step, two, your hand still gripping the door handle. if this was some sort of apparition, you want absolutely no part in. beomgyu licks his lips, well aware and prepared for you to slam the door in his face... but the longer you wait... the more he feels like there’s a chance.

a chance that you hadn’t banished him completely. that maybe somewhere, in your heart, he’s still in there.

he slowly reaches out with one hand, carefully, as if he’s afraid you’d dash off if he had moved any quicker. when his hand touches the side of your arm, a gentle squeeze as his fingers manage to have a hold on you, it reaffirms to you that this is real–that this isn’t some sort of sadistic mockery from up above but it just may be a commentary coming from hell itself with how ironic this all was. the one who decided to end things and cut ties with you shows up at your door, under your mercy, looking afraid of you.

as if the nights you spent crying wondering what went wrong didn’t matter. as if you didn’t suffocate yourself to sleep in the tears of thinking if it was all your fault, if you weren’t good enough, beautiful enough, not nearly enticing as the people day in and day out of the industry he works in. as if... you didn’t wish things ended differently if only you had the chance to make things right. as if he didn’t just disappear the second he broke your heart.

your head robotically manages to look down to the side where his hand is twitching as he has a hold on you. it feels like it’s barely there but the longer you stare; the veins and the tremble of his hand, it all confirms to you that it’s real. you don’t move a muscle as your eyes look back to him. the silence is your welcoming friend when beomgyu’s lips quiver as they part to speak, yet no words come out. 

you find the strength to grip his wrist and push his hand off of you. you would’ve been quicker, stronger, if it wasn’t the way he holds onto your hand before you can shove him off entirely. it scares you, so much that your eyes snap shut to the unknown. in the midst of seeing the pitch black, the scarring image of his face still flashes beneath your eyelids. you hate how your stomach still churns at the sight of his face; how handsomely painful it was to swallow it.

his hold on you is tight, desperate... anxious. his hand... feels exactly like they way they were when he last held onto you. his slender fingers find their way to hold yours properly, feeling palm-to-palm. not even when you try to shake him off does he let go; he holds on tighter.

he takes a step closer, stopping when your eyes peel open and he gapes when the tears start to fall from your eyes. his lungs feel like they’re failing him; contracting, shrinking on him when he needs to breathe the most. ten seconds; it was only ten seconds that he stares at you in the midst of heavy breathing and his eyes start to water. hot tears stinging his eyes but he stubbornly holds his gaze on you.

just what on earth was he doing?

you’d be surprise that beomgyu was wondering the same thing.

where does beomgyu begin? ten seconds, with ten fleeting thoughts that rapidly thread through his mind. one, you look beautiful. two, you still, always, breathtakingly look beautiful–as if the months had done nothing but polish the imagery he had of you in his mind. three, i miss you. four, i miss kissing you. five, i’m sorry. six, i’m sorry. seven–ten, i’m sorry.

“i’m sorry,” is the first thing you hear him say under a whispered breath.

shaking; the syllables trembling to get past his lips.

the soft sound of surprise, choking from your tears, echoes into his ears like a stab to the chest. you’re squeezing his hand, so hard that it feels like it’s starting to dig into his skin, clenching to his bone but he deserves it. he deserves all the pain willing to lift from how much he’s hurt you.

the piercing glare he’s met with almost makes him break but he refuses to let go of your hand. it feels like the only leverage he has on you to make sure he doesn’t let you go. let you go. how truly, ironically idiotic. another step closer and you can feel his breath ghosting your skin. he’s already making you cry without saying anything and upon hearing his voice for the first time in four months makes your heart shatter.

“what do you want from me?” your whisper is broken, so soft that it can barely be heard but it cuts straight through beomgyu’s ears, aiming to strike a chord in his heart.

“y-you.”

the answer was simple, yet the most difficult to say.

the silence soon gets filled with the sounds of you crying and you trying to stop yourself from crying. it’s ugly, painful, and no matter how many hits to the chest beomgyu takes, he’s taking it all rightfully so. you grow tired, weak, unable to hold yourself up that beomgyu has his arms around you and he knows. he knows that he’s trying to be as close to you not for your sake but for his.

your presence was all he ever dreamed of since the day he said goodbye.

and now that he’s here at your doorstep, as selfish as it may seem, he doesn’t want to say goodbye.

beomgyu slowly shifts you back into your home when you don’t say anything. hell, you’re not even looking at him. your hands are glued to your sides, stubbornly staying there as he calculates his movements to close the door behind him. when he turns back around, he sees how you’ve moved to sit on the sofa, sitting crossed-legged with your feet folded between your thighs and you hug a pillow.

he swallows thickly and feels his hands getting all clammy. the fact the he’s in here speaks volumes but it doesn’t guarantee anything just yet. he makes his way towards you and kneels before you, sitting on his heels, peering up to you with a small frown. he keeps one hand on his lap, the other reaching out to touch your knee.

it seems like that captures your attention when you gaze down to his hand on you and–and...–”oh... oh my god,” you gasp, pulling out the ring from the box, adoring the simplistic but shining silver band with the engraving of his initials. “it’s so pretty!”

he chuckles and reveals his hand behind his back, making you grow wide-eyed at the similar ring he’s wearing on his middle finger–ignoring the way he’s flipping you off playfully–that you grab for his hand to see how your initials are on the ring he’s wearing. it was your one year anniversary and you’re certain he’s not proposing but it’s the sentiment that gets to you. you feel the tears filling your eyes and–he slips on the ring onto your middle finger, now laughing when you flip him off in return.

he snatches your hand and kisses your knuckles, shaking his head, “augh, such a cheeky little thing you are.”

“takes one to know one, you brat.”...–your eyes scan the initials imprinted on the ring he’s still wearing. it reminds you of the ring you shoved back into the box and in the deepest part of your closet... but the scarring memory of where it is is imprinted to your brain.

beomgyu was prepared for anything–but nothing can prepare him for the way you uncross your arms hugging the pillow to trace the engraving on his ring. it’s as if you’re in disbelief he’s still wearing it and it pains him. it pains him how sad you looked; as if he wasn’t the root of the cause to begin with.

he builds up the courage to speak when your hand goes back to hugging yourself, this time staring at a spot on his shoulder rather than outside the window.

“i never took it off,” he begins, clearing his throat when your eyes flicker up to meet his gaze. he notices a shift in your eyes when you notice that he’s crying, quietly, still trying to remain strong and tall to get his thoughts out. “i... i never stopped loving you. you’re–you were all i ever wanted to be with. still are.”

“it doesn’t make any fucking sense,” is the full coherent sentence you’re saying. it makes his gut drop to his stomach, his mouth going dry. “you broke up with me,” your voice is soft; a mere whisper. but it cuts through the thick tension; straight jabbing him through the chest. “you left me.”

he licks his lips as he shifts up, on his knees as he squeezes your kneecap, “y/n, please let me exp–”

“you don’t have to explain anything,” you move your knee to let his hand slip away, now keeping your knees in front of you like a shield from him, “you told me you didn’t love me anymore. told me you never wanted to see me again...” 

he shakes his head at your words, trying to get a look of your face when you hang your head low, refusing to look at him as you hid behind your knees, “so why the fuck are you here?”

that gets him to sit back on his heels in defeat. he lowers his head to his lap. beomgyu has one hand on the armrest next to you, the other holding onto the cushion on your other side. at the lack of his response, you peek from over your knees to see how he tries to muster up a reply. and when it does come, you find yourself getting angry.

“i thought it was the best for you. i... you didn’t deserve a love like this,” his voice shakes as he speaks, “you deserve to have someone by your side. day by day–everyday. giving you the love you deserve and–”he gets choked up with his words, to the point it’s making it hard for you to breathe. you hated it. you hate how you believe every word he’s saying even if it’s making your heart break and again all over again.

“i thought you were better off with someone else other than me.”

you clutch onto the pillow close to your chest, sitting up a little until your eyes are aligning with his eyes the second he tips his chin up. tears falling from his eyes, your eyes; both crying, like miserable, broken faucets.

“have you ever thought to ask me?”

it was a simple question; yet the hardest for beomgyu to comprehend.

“have you ever wondered what it was like from my point of view? seeing you smiling on stage as if nothing happened to us. days of wondering of what went wrong, months of unable to put together why all of the sudden the one person who promised he won’t leave me, left?” you’re surprised you’re speaking without losing a train of thought. but you guess that’s what anger does to you when you feel your veins being set ablaze. the anger, the frustration, the pain; it all bottled up and now it was your chance to vent it out to the source of your suffering.

“i thought about you everyday,” he tries to defend himself, straightening his back, “i keep thinking of you. when i’m awake, when i’m asleep,” he gulps, brows meeting the centre of his forehead at how serious he sounds, “i miss you,” he whispers, “i’ve missed you so much–”he gasps softly when he tries to reach for you and you move away from him, dodging his touch trying to reach your knee. 

“you don’t get to do this to me,” your words hit him; hard enough to get him to rise to his feet when you start to move away from him. you manage to stand, ditching the pillow with your mind pinning your bedroom as your destination to get away from him. the blood boiling from within is making the words fly out of your mouth before you can hold them back. maybe you’ll come to regret it later or maybe you won’t. in the heat of the moment–right fucking now–nothing else mattered.

“you don’t get to leave and decide when to show up promising me the moon and the stars and in the next, make life a living hell for me,” you’re now talking to the wind, to the hallway of your home because it was easier to vent that way than saying it to his face. stubbornly refusing to look at him as you trudge your way to the bedroom. based on the footsteps, the brush of his fingertips against your lower back, you can tell he’s following you closely.

your hand pushes the bedroom door open and you’re turning around in attempts to shut him out but you should’ve known better. should’ve known that your heart would grow weak at the sight of him; more so when he’s crying, begging with his eyes even if he doesn’t know he’s doing it subconsciously. his eyes have nearly gone red, much like yours but you always, always feel the hurt he feels even when you shouldn’t. 

he holds onto your shoulders to stop you from closing the door as he steps in; to your room, to your personal space, to you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, licking his lips to taste the saltiness of his own tears tearing him down, “i’m so sorry,” his voice is softer this time, a weak whisper, a broken plea.

then he leans his forehead on you and it breaks you for the second time when you start crying again. he anchors you with a hand on your shoulder, the other reaching up to wipe the tears falling from your eyes.

“i-i can’t take back what i did. i can’t fucking rewind time but i can do better now. i promise,” he sniffs, shaking his forehead against yours, “p-please...” he begs, “please give me a second chance.”

for a split second, beomgyu’s heart stops when you blink up to him; past the tears, past the horrible struggle to breathe. the hammering in his head stops thumping to hear you sob a broken you didn’t even let me say goodbye.

beomgyu’s eyes shut as shifts his hands to pull you into his embrace; feeling his heart clench at the sounds of you crying and shaking against him. the consequences of his rash actions are being paid with each tear, each cry you let out that it scars his heart. and he knows it. slept with it every night, haunting him when the daylight comes through and the first imagery that comes to mind is the smile on your face he’s taken away. with a hand cradling the back of your head to the space between his neck and shoulder, the other clutching you by the waist to feel all of you. as if he doesn’t want to wake up if this was some sick, twisted dream; a beautiful nightmare, a bittersweet hallucination.

“you’ve hurt me so much,” your words are muffled to his skin, as he feels your tears burning his skin but he stubbornly holds on, nodding against the side of your head as he whispers: “i’m sorry.”

“i hate you,” you don’t mean that.

“i want to hate you,” and you have every right to.

“but i can’t,” beomgyu feels your arms weakly hugging him, then it shifts to a tighter grip as you pull him close. if this was a dream, you wouldn’t want to wake up from it, either. he exhales shakily as he feels your arms around him, welcoming him back home even if he knows he doesn’t deserve it but he’ll prove it. from the moment he saw you today, from the days building up to this moment; in every waking moment since he’s made a decision he’s regretted, he promised himself he’ll make it up to you.

it could be days, weeks, maybe months, but beomgyu wants to work for it.

for you, for us.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs into your ears once more, and this time he feels you nodding into his shoulder with a croaky i know.

“i love you,” he tries his luck, even when he knows it’s too much to ask for.

he doesn’t get a reply, but he doesn’t need to when you simply snuggle into him and give his waist a squeeze. that... this was enough.

being in your arms, being home... this is love.

//

love itself isn’t easy and beomgyu knows that getting your forgiveness isn’t something that’s just granted. sure, the two of you fell asleep on the same bed that night, granting him to hug you and cocoon you from the pain he’s caused embedded in your chest but it wasn’t something you could forgive right away.

to be honest, as you woke up in the middle of the night and saw his face so close to you, it didn’t feel like you needed to forgive him for what he had done. an apology wasn’t something you were looking for; not when he was away, not when he’s here... perhaps... perhaps it was the reassurance that he truly did love you during the time apart; during the days and nights you spent wondering if your love was real... maybe that was the thing you needed the puzzle pieces for.

and it’s not something he can just say, that would be impossible.

it was hard. you love him, that much you know. he says he loves you but... that doesn’t feel like it when the doubts start to cloud your mind. not when you had accepted the fact that your love with beomgyu wasn’t meant to be; not when you’ve finally tried to remove him from your heart, only for him to stem his presence back in the deepest crevice you can’t seem to get rid of.

//

beomgyu wakes up to emptiness that morning and he pads out of your bedroom to see you preparing breakfast. even though all he wants to do is stride up to you to hug you, there’s something in the air of eggs and bacon that tells him not to... so he doesn’t. he asks if you need help instead to announce his presence and you tell him that he can help with getting the table ready and pour whatever juice he wants.

breakfast was eaten in silence but in the tension lighter than the day before. he feels his heart in a chokehold when you clear your throat and he looks up to this expression on your face he can’t piece together. he gulps the orange juice down and reaches across the table when he sees your fingers trembling as you hold onto your cup. 

he makes you set the cup down and then he holds onto your hand. gently, reassuring you that you can say whatever’s on your mind because even though you two have been apart for months, once upon a time, beomgyu could read you like the back of his hand... maybe some information are out of date but he knows your body language. he still remembers the things about you to know you had something on your mind but was too nervous to speak.

“i... still love you,” your confession is soft but it was certain. beomgyu heard it and you know he did when he involuntarily squeezes your hand as an acknowledgement. “t-that much i know but... i need time...”

you swallow and look up, meeting his gaze with glazed eyes, “i took so long to heal from us,” you can feel your own breath wavering and you try to swallow it down but it doesn’t seem to work when you feel your eyes start to burn. “f-from you... the last thing i expected is you showing up on my door to tell me you still love me when i spent days convincing myself you never did.”

beomgyu’s mouth opens to retort, to tell you that you’re wrong, that you should’ve never felt anything of that sort but... succumbs to the fact that he can’t change anything you’ve felt in the past; during the time of his absence. your feelings were valid and they are real in his eyes as he witnesses more of the result of what he’s done. quietly, he seals his lips together and nods.

“i just need some time to clear my head and... and...” beomgyu hates the crack in your voice when the emotions get the best of you. 

“hey, no no no,” he quickly rises from his seat and lets go of your hand. his eyes watches how you’re wrapping yourself up, trying to hide yourself but he’s crouching before you. his hands carefully peel you open so you can lean into his embrace as he lures you to bend from your seat, entering his arms as he slots your face to his neck; the tears trickle down his skin as he holds you closely. 

it solidifies to him that he’ll need to respect your decision to give you the space you need until you’re ready to see him again... until you’re ready to love him again.

//

three days.

going to work eased the nerves, gave you some time out from overthinking about the questions you can’t get the answers to. you don’t even know what questions you had. you quite literally don’t know what you don’t know. it was confusing, frustrating... suffocating. it’s a bit lighter and bearable when you are on speaking terms with beomgyu despite him giving you your space. before he left the morning after you two reconciled, he asked if he could contact you during this time and you had agreed. that much you can give him, that much you know you can handle.

apart from the good morning’s and the sweet dreams’... everything in between felt like a blur. you two could still converse like you used to but you’ll be honest to admit that something doesn’t feel quite right. like something was missing... maybe it was trust? you weren’t sure if you trust him, if you could wholeheartedly trust him when he says he loves you.

you enter the quiet of your apartment and set your bag down. work has been idle, so it granted you some extra time to try to clear your mind but not without anything to do. as you switch on the television for some white noise, the knock on the door is what makes you jolt at the sound that resonates your home.

carefully, you pad your way over and take a look at the peephole, noticing a familiar looking face and–”y/n!”

“oh?” your eyes widen, gaping at the face smiling at you so widely.

“augh, don’t tell me you forgot us already!” soobin chuckles, spreading his arms out and you’re raising a brow at the word ‘us’ but you step into his arms regardess, peering over his shoulder to–”k-kai?”

“this is ridiculous,” soobin scoffs a laugh, squeezing the life out of you that you squeak a garbled: “s-sorry, sorry! i just–soobin, i can’t breathe!”

“hyung!” kai huffs, prying his arms from your figure. that grants the latter to cheekily pull you into his arms.

"ugh, hug stealer...” soobin mutters under his breath, patting kai’s shoulder when the younger boy clings onto you like a koala, now dragging you back in to your own home. they quickly settle in as if they live here, knowing where everything is from the layout to where you keep your cups you use to make tea and then making tea with what you have. they move like clockwork; soobin putting the water to boil and kai making you sit on the kitchen counter and you watch them.

kai occupies one of the stools you have by the island and soobin leans his hip against the kitchen sink as they both watch you fiddle with your fingers on your lap, legs dangling against the kitchen cabinets behind your feet.

“i... i’m sorry,” are the first words you say to them after a while.

soobin gapes, shaking his head, “h-hey, we didn’t come here for that...”

kai frowns as he hunches over the island with folded arms, a similar expression with soobin. being together with beomgyu meant that you were introduced to the circle of people he surrounds himself almost everyday. if beomgyu wasn’t here with you, he’s back in the dorm with them so it was a matter of time that you all slowly spend time together. and it happened so naturally that you forget that beomgyu’s the reason why you know the rest of the boys in the first place. you get along with all of them but for some reason, you gravitated towards soobin... who drags along kai just because.

it was hard to keep in contact with them when you know they’re with the source of why you were hurting during your break-up. seeing them felt the same like seeing beomgyu; it reminded you too much of him that you shut all of them out. taking advantage of the fact that they were away on tour meant blocking them on any social media platform and on your phone gave you the power to control what can hurt you and what can’t. and it can’t hurt you if you can’t see it. at least, what’s what you told yourself the second you started to dessert your phone and soon, all five of them are on your blocked list.

“i know but,” you offer them a small smile, “i’m sorry.”

soobin and kai keep quiet, returning your smile that slowly fades when you continue to speak.

“when things ended between me and gyu... it was hard to see you guys, let alone talk to you even if it was on text so i...”

“blocked us?” kai auto-fills, not with any malice but simply for the act of trying to help you. soobin hisses with a narrowed look he shoots at the younger, “huening!”

“what? i was just trying to help!”

“yeah,” you snort, now looking at your hands on your lap, “i didn’t know what else to do and i most certainly knew i couldn’t talk to you guys in the right headspace so i just did what felt right in the moment,” you glance up to see they’re both still staring that you shyly lower your eyes, “again, i’m sorry.”

“will you stop apologizing?” soobin huffs, crossing his arms and tilting his head at you. “we didn’t come here for an apology. we came here to check on our friend.”

with pressed lips, you nod. 

then, curiosity takes over.

“did... did you guys know?”

both of them shake their head.

“he only told us after our show in chicago,” kai answers, now resting his chin in his palm. “then we all tried reaching out to you but–”

“huening, oh my god,” soobin chastises, to which kai rolls his eyes, “how else am i supposed to say it?!”

“oh i don’t know, maybe with a bit more sense?”

“you have no sense!”

the two of them only stop bickering when they hear you laugh, clearly enjoying the way they can still act how they did months before they left, as if nothing has changed and... the words slip out of your mouth: “you guys are still the same old idiots.”

three laughters now intertwining, filling the kitchen. slowly, however, the hilarity subsides, and soobin’s the first to break the silence.

“that applies for beomgyu too, you know?” beomgyu never stopped loving you.

you meet with soobin’s eyes and even when you don’t say anything, soobin can feel the sadness in your eyes especially when you look away. the disbelief evident, the betrayal still running in your veins, in your every waking thought.

“hyung never stopped loving you,” kai tries to help, “even on tour, he keeps writing these cheesy lines–”kai’s voice is cut short when soobin lets out a sound, a mix of a yelp and a tsk that it gets lost in translation. that’s not what gets kai to stop, though. what does is the way you quietly plead with a soft don’t.

“i-if you guys truly meant it when you said you came here as my friends, then please just come here as that,” they only notice you’re about to cry when your voice wavers, eyes still avoiding them. you hop off the kitchen counter, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand when you feel the tears incoming, “d-don’t come here to fix a mistake that someone else made.”

they can’t respond when you mutter a soft be right back and scurry off to the bathroom; closing and locking the door after. the two boys almost get into an argument on whose fault it is but decided against it when the water boils. they instead prepare instant ramen and cups of tea, waiting for you in the living room as they circle the coffee table.

when you return to the sight, on cue, both of their arms wave out a ta da! that it makes it difficult to stay mad at them. whether you knew them through beomgyu or not, they truly did care about you and that much was evident.

the three of you ate for the first time in a long time that night. all smiles; filling in each other on the ins and outs, the whats and all about. they stuck to their word. being there with you as friends; not a peep about beomgyu.

you were able to sleep well that night.

//

the next day, your daily routine continues from morning of leaving to work until the time you return. you’ve done the same cycle that sometimes you’re on autopilot; getting to work, clocking in, heading to your cubicle, seeing what you need to do throughout the day, grab lunch, then a snack, after that continue to work until you can clock out. today is no different... except when you reach home, there’s a guy standing outside your apartment complex.

just as you walk past and intend to scan yourself in, a voice breaks you away from what you were about to do–”yah... it’s only been a few months and now you don’t know me anymore?"

you look over your shoulder to the source of the voice, squinting your eyes when he’s clad in a black cap, leather jacket and black jeans–he might as well be a shadow for all you know. he tips his chin up and lifts his cap to let you get a good glimpse of his eyes. the glow of the lamppost illuminating his features for you to see that it’s–”jun...”

he gives you a small wave with that gummy smile of his.

“long time no see.”

//

"funny,” he starts off, “it feels like you broke up with all of us,” yeonjun says, his voice reaching you softly but surely in the quiet of the night. from your apartment, you obliged when he asked you to walk with me? and you can’t reject him when he came all the way from his dorm, probably after practice just to see you. he offered his arm for the taking, allowing you to link arms and he steals your bag to hold as the two of you mindlessly made your way to a park nearby.

that’s how you two ended up on a bench.

“it does feel that way,” you chuckle, shaking your head. you glance at him, seeing how he does the same when he senses you doing so, “i miss you guys, though.”

“feeling’s mutual.”

a shared sigh.

“i just couldn’t bring myself to–”

“you don’t have to explain yourself,” he cuts you off, letting out a soft tsk after. “we understand. i understand. i would’ve done the same thing if i were you. hell, i bet beoms would’ve done it way faster if he was in your shoes.”

“still keeping up with spreading the slander, huh?”

"it’s the only reason for my existence,” he winks at you, earning himself a laugh from you. the beautiful thing about yeonjun and beomgyu’s friendship beyond their group was how they had this playful banter. beneath that, there’s this root of respect and protection they have for one another, even if it may seem absolutely manic at times.

“i heard soobin and kai met up with you the other day,”

“yeah... it was nice seeing them,” you lightly bump shoulders with him, “nice seeing you too.”

he scoffs a laugh, “duh, don’t need to tell me that.”

“augh, cocky,” you snort, crossing your arms.

he makes a sound like he’s offended, hand to his chest. the two of you glance at each other and share a laugh... but you’re not stupid. you know yeonjun’s here for another reason and it’s clear when he pulls out something from his sling bag. a book, one that looks familiar and–”here,” he places it on your lap, then he puts his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

unfolding your arms, you hold onto the book, noticing the name choi beomgyu scribbled on the cover; like some high-schooler’s notebook. you eye it curiously but break away from it to look at yeonjun, who refuses to look at you.

“i found it in my bag when i clearing out my luggage and... i figured you should have a look. return it to him when you’re done, okay?”

he sees your hesitance, especially when you try to give it back but he makes you hold onto it, giving you a couple of nods of reassurance.

“what’s worse than what you’ve already went through?”

well... he wasn’t wrong.

“shall we go get ramen?” is the next thing he asks, as if he didn’t just give you a bomb to diffuse on your own. “i think there was a convenience store nearby, right? down the block?”

yeonjun turns to look at you when he doesn’t hear a response and tries not to laugh at your expression, the mix between what the fuck? and what is wrong with you? nevertheless, you shove the book in your bag and get up. then, you start walking, to which he gets up hastily to match your pace with a grin when–”you’re paying!”

//

curiosity gets the best of you that night.

you’ve showered, clad in just a shirt and shorts as you sit on the bed, blanket to your hip with the book on your lap. with shaky fingers, you open it and initially, it doesn’t make any sense... until the more you read, the more you can decipher the words and the dates that correspond with the time during your break with beomgyu.

they’re lyrics.

something kai said a couple of days ago echo in your mind: hyung never stopped loving you. even on tour, he keeps writing these cheesy lines–

you don’t process them as lyrics when the memories flicker through like a film in a rose-tinted film. the first time he asked you out, under a dingy lamppost near your apartment. the day you two kissed at the park underneath a tree in the middle of the night. one of the worst argument you had when you found out he was leaving for tour not from him, but from soobin. it felt like a domino chain of one memory after another, you barely make it halfway to realise yeonjun’s intentions of making you read this.

not for your artistic visions of approving beomgyu’s lyrics, but for recognising that you’re all he writes about during a time you thought he didn’t love you anymore. his feelings bare on the pages, bleeding through the ink of his pen as he writes about the insecurities of not being able to fulfil a partner’s wishes when he’s not even here most of time. how could i compare to someone else when i’m not even there? i’m like a ghost, your ghost, wandering and searching for your love, wondering when you’ll leave me when you know it’s easier to do it when i’m not around.

the realisation is relieving as it is painful. painfully overwhelming. you felt sad that he felt this way, then angry that he didn’t tell you about this, then happy that he was telling the truth all along. you were all beomgyu’s ever loved, love, still loves. it’s making your head spin, your mind blurry; it’s a clusterfuck of emotions you can’t comprehend. he should’ve told me. why didn’t he tell me? why did you suffer all alone? you only realise you’re crying when you can’t see things clearly, your chest heavy, breathing is more difficult when it feels like your mouth is being stuffed with cotton.

your phone buzzes by your bedside table and it’s...

[beoms 🐯] hey, you still awake? 🙇‍♂️ [12:42a.m.]

you push the book to the side and you hastily reach for your phone. with wet fingers, you don’t know what you press in the midst of trying to blink away the tears rapidly filling your eyes but the second you hear beomgyu’s voice echoing from the speaker, it makes your heart stop. unwittingly, you’ve tapped to call him and whether it’s an honest mistake or a nudge from fate, you’ll take it.

carefully, you put the phone to your ear, rubbing your nose with the back of your hand.

"please, answer me. are you okay? is something wrong?” the way he sounds worried makes your stomach churn, the butterflies roaming free like they once did; like they always did. it becomes clear; his intentions, his mistake. “g-gyu...” you try your best to contain yourself but it’s like he always knows; the tremble in your voice, the soft sniffs.

“ba–”he stops himself before his old habit kicks in, clearing his throat, “y/n, a-are you crying? what’s wrong?”

you inhale and intend to answer but a soft sob escapes instead. your hands are shaking and you can’t even hold your phone properly. the lack of response from you is all it takes for him to tell you to–”i’m coming over. i’ll be there in ten minutes. don’t hang up, okay?”

you hear rummages from his end as you sink in the bed, pulling your legs up and attempt to shrink against the headrest as you keep your phone to your ear. the line grows quiet on the other end and then it’s a couple of thuds and the sounds of his breath against the microphone that indicates he’s plugged in his earphones.

“t-talk to me. let me hear your voice, please.”

“i... i read your notebook,” your voice is soft, but beomgyu catches all the syllables.

the quietness from him dissolves when you hear the sounds of the outside world welcoming him. then the sounds of his clothes ruffling against the wind tells you he’s running.

“what notebook?” he asks mindlessly, trying to keep you talking so he knows you’re on the line with him. that you’re safe. that when he reaches you, he knows you’re still at where he thinks you’re are.

“the one you took on tour.”

you hear him stop running when his sneakers screech loud enough for you to hear. then it’s his soft panting, the slow realisation hitting his nerves.

“how–why did you read it?”

“because i didn’t trust you.”

beomgyu remains quiet and you’re squeezing your phone so hard, it feels like it’s going to shatter. your eyes are closed, snapped shut with the tears still trailing down your face but now’s a good time as any to tell him how you really felt during your few days of trying to process things.

“how could i believe you when you broke up with me? months later you show up at my door telling me you never stopped loving me and i’m supposed to believe it right away?” beomgyu remains by the sidewalk, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop himself from speaking. his hands, clench to fists in the pockets of his hoodie as he listens with a bated breath.

“i never doubted you for a second when we were together but the moment you broke up with me, i started questioning everything. i jumped to my own conclusions because that’s all i was left with,” the sounds of you crying grows evident when beomgyu can hear how hard you’re trying to breathe. the imagery of you crying, possibly curling up all alone is what gets him to start walking again, picking up the pace as he pins out the route to your place in his mind.

“i-i’m sorry,” he murmurs, shaking his head, blinking away the tears, “we’ll talk when i’m there, okay? just please stay on the line with me.”

you didn’t. not because you didn’t want to but because you can’t let him hear the cries that leave your mouth the more you process the words he’s written in the pages of his notebook. and that only made beomgyu run faster to get to where you are.

//

beomgyu’s partially breathless as he stands in front of your door, knocking on your door frantically. “y/n!” he calls out, giving the door a few more knocks, impatient with each thump of his chest that reminded him of how fast he’s sprinted to get here. he doesn’t let up until the door opens so when it starts to creak open and–”y/n...” he mumbles under his breath, still trying to breathe right but then he sees the notebook in your possession, along with... with the...–”promise me you’ll wear it?” beomgyu huffs, holding his pinky out with a familiar looking ring on his finger. you chuckle and hold out your pinky to lock it with his, a matching ring on your finger as well, “of course.”–beomgyu’s brought back to the present when you extend your arm out, seemingly returning his notebook.

he catches his breath, shaking his head as he peels the book from your fingers, “h-how did you get this?”

“jun gave it to me earlier,” you murmur, quietly, voice strained and beomgyu hates it. hates how you look like you’ve been crying so much your eyes are puffed up, your nose sounds like it’s blocked and how your fingers tremble–smudged with black ink–gripping yourself for support. 

“why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, to which it seems like the question to what you’re referring to pops up like a haunting in his mind through the time you’ve spent apart; the thing that keeps him up all night since he’s made his mistake. truthfully, he only considered it for a fleeting moment before it disappeared, committing fully to a decision that broke his heart and yours combined.

“i-i didn’t know how,” he sounds helpless, the crack in his voice is what causes him to break, “i thought–”he swallows”–i truly thought...”his breathing grows shallow as he inhales through his quivering lips, his voice drowning in his emotions surfacing, tears pooling in his eyes.

”...i thought i wasn’t the one for you–”beomgyu lets go of the book, allowing it to thud onto the floor as he steps in. the door closes behind him and everything fades to black the second he enters your arms that welcome him in.

he’s still suppressing his emotions to his best ability; as if in some twisted way, he thinks he can still bottle it in. holding up a front. sticking his chest out. what gets him to crack is when he feels your hand running through his hair–like you’ve always did–the feeling of the silver band on your pinky, lightly grazing his scalp that it breaks his entire façade.

the promises weaving through each stroke–i love you, gyu. he feels your fingers–you love me. tangled between his hair–i’m here. your fingers glide down, resting by the nape of his neck–i’m not going anywhere. he feels you, the soft squeeze you give by his neck and he can breathe–you’re okay. beomgyu clutches onto you like a lifeline, his face buried in your neck as he cries, quietly. then, it grows louder with the agony he’s held in his chest thinking he was doing what was best for you, for us. the pain he’s carried alone, the weight of his thoughts burying him so far deep he hadn’t thought of allowing them to resurface but it all comes out; overflowing before he can restrict them at the feeling of you in his arms.

god only knows how long you two stay like that. until either of your breathing evens out. until the tears dry up and you two no longer have running noses. the air around you, though heavy, feels lighter than it was a few days ago. it’s more... calming, if it made sense. the tension that felt thick, seemed to have filtered out and all that’s left is–”i love you,” beomgyu whispers, his hands cradling your face past the tears that have dried up on his face. his nose, slightly red from all the crying and his eyes are slightly puffy but his emotions shine the brightest.

you’re no different. even when there are bags of emotions lining the under of your eyes, your nose seemingly blocked with damp cheeks, beomgyu’s able to see your eyes just as clear as day. the fogginess of uncertainty has faded away; washed by the tears. the clench in your chest has loosened, screamed and released through the cries you two shared earlier. it’s ugly, it’s painful, but that’s still love.

“i love you,” you whisper back; and this time, beomgyu felt it. you felt it. the two of you did. although certain puzzle pieces are left askew, the right ones are finally, finally back in place.

//

an hour later, the two of you snuggle on the sofa with cups of tea on the table. beomgyu embarrassingly has to explain the lyrics upon lyrics he’s written and braves himself to tell you what he’s felt during his time apart. the setting allows you to speak of how you felt, your thoughts, your conclusions; and he rebukes each one just as you soothe every insecurity he brings up. it won’t go away immediately and beomgyu knows–you know–it’ll take some time for him to prove to you each day he truly loves you but it’s... it’s a start.

it’s a start to loving each other again. 

that’s all beomgyu could’ve hoped for and he’s got it.

a moment passes and now you’re curled up in his arms, resting your heads on one end of the sofa with your legs intertwined to the opposing end. beomgyu feels your heartbeat thumping against his chest as you rest on one of his arms, curled up slightly so he can play with your hair as he looks at you.

the redness in your eyes has subsided, your nose no longer blocked and you can breathe right. he feels freer, lighter, as if all is right now that he has you in his arms like this. without anything being hidden from you; the truth bare as his eyes gaze into yours.

"if you hide anything like this from me again, i’m going to strangle you myself,” your voice is soft and calm, in total contrast with your words that it makes him chuckle. for the first time in a while, he laughs as it comes from his gut; pure happiness bubbling from within and escaping in the beautiful sounds of his laughter. he nods and leans in, lightly brushing his forehead on yours, “i think i’d die first before you get the chance.”

that makes you laugh with him; quietly, at ease. feeling the security like you did before the rocky bump ever occurred. you let your eyes close as you scoot closer to him. he welcomes the way your arms sneak beneath the sofa to curl around his waist so you can snuggle him.

“can i stay the night?” he murmurs into your ear, and he doesn’t need to look to know you feel offended when he feels the way your body tenses for a split second. “you’re asking?”

he snorts, shifting his arms around you so he’s able to cocoon you in as he kisses the side of your head, refusing to look at you as he slowly succumbs to sleep with his announced decision of: “i’m staying the night.”

you smile against his neck and he feels it. more so when he hears the confirmation echoing into his ears softly.

“much better.”

as the night treads along, two steady heartbeats beating as one, beomgyu feels his heart resting at ease in the presence of yours. not all is rainbow and sunshines, nor will the scars mask over easily over the course of the coming days but... but–”goodnight, beomie.”

good nights are ahead of him as long as he had you in them.

((the boys wake up to a small commotion, ushering them out of their rooms to see what it’s all about. it was nearing midday and most of them were about to wake up anyway, but this... this definitely beats any morning call whatsoever.

they stand a distance away, four boys watching how you and beomgyu are trying to set up the dining table with takeaway food, an array of balloons that get none of the work done since you two keep swatting it at each other and a cake that takes the centrefold. 

“well what do you know,” taehyun muses quietly, shaking his head as he leans against yeonjun, “guess you’ll never let this die, huh?”

yeonjun holds his hands out to receive the soft high-fives, “i’ll take all the credit.”

//

the surprise might’ve been ruined considering the four of them quite literally watched the two of you set it up but it was well-received (as it always does with the boys and food–). it feels like things were back in place; as if the boys had gained a friend again after being cut off for a couple of months. the pieces reconnected itself and stories upon sparks of memories fill in over a rerun on the television and all of you huddled up on the sofa, on the floor, circling the coffee table.

as you have your feet over beomgyu’s lap, you’re immersed in a conversation with taehyun (who the rest berated for not seeing you but he’s quick to defend himself saying he just wanted to give you some space and put a fucking sock it in, huening!) about what he found fascinating throughout the tour. 

with beomgyu’s directly in front of yeonjun who sits on the sofa behind him, it gives the older a perfect clear in to hover over beomgyu’s shoulder with a poke to the cheek, "beoms,”

“hm?” the latter nonchalantly glances over.

“i mean this in the nicest way possible,” he murmurs, ”if you breakup with y/n again, i will never, never forgive you.”

beomgyu snorts and shoves him away playfully, eliciting a laugh from the older... but he doesn’t miss the way the younger whispers i won’t ever forgive myself, either. while yeonjun made it his mission statement to make sure beomgyu never forgets this, it feels like he succeeded with what he was intending when he sees how beomgyu looks at you adoringly; the light has returned in his eyes and it... it was nice.

fine, yeonjun won’t tease beomgyu about it... yet.))

[grymm-gardens]

Rook x Neve WIP

I haven't written in a decade but Veilguard has me itching for more content, so I am back at it with some scene rewrites as practice.

Enjoy Rook being a bit of an awkward freak post waking up from stopping solas's ritual and Neve being amused by it.

Rook contemplated how long she could evade her new reality. Perhaps she could just keep her eyes closed. Maybe then she could will the ancient Elvhen god in her head into being just a preposterous dream. As nearly settles further into sleep, the throbbing pain in her head cut through any hope of avoiding the looming threats ahead of her.

She opens her eyes slowly, the soft candlelight nearly blinding her as she tries to make sense of her surroundings. Every movement she makes to orient herself seems to reveal a new blinding pain. Hoisting herself up with all of her remaining strength, she settles herself against the bed frame to find some grasp on reality.

Where the fuck am I? The room itself was unlike anywhere she had ever been before. It was elvhen, and ancient, but nothing like the ruins she had visited in the past. The near pristine conditions seemed impossible. It seemed to be an infirmary. Across the room her eyes settled on a dwarf's sleeping silhouette.

Varric, He's alive. Solas will pay for this. Rook makes a doomed attempted to heave herself from the bed, but her body has other plans. The resounding pain makes her acutely aware of the injuries she recieved from the Dread wolf and his ritual. Quickly falling back towards the bed, she relents, hoping it's not just her and the half-dead rogue here. Wherever here is. Almost as is answering a prayer, the door is quickly thrust open, more light filling the room.

"Rook! Look who's awake." Turning towards the voice, she believes maybe for once her prayers have been answered. Neve. Rook had feared the worst when they were seperated bringing down the staues. Seeing her alive and seemingly well was a relief. Her presence was a welcome gift, and how remarkably beautiful the detective managed to still look was not lost on the young Watcher. "I've been searching the place for lyrium potions, I didn't mean to intrude." Neve searches a table near the doorway to no avail. She turns to greet Rook with a warm smile despite her fruitless search. She cannot help but admire the detective's nearly statuesque form against the dim lighting.

"You could never." Rook firmly states as she meets the other womans gaze. " Besides I'm thrilled to see another friendly face around here, especially yours." Neve chuckles and takes a few small steps toward her, before the Watcher is forced to look away. "Speaking of where is here exactly? It feels... Odd?"

"Yeah, be careful when you go outside, it's a long way down." She stops walking before another crate to search before continuing. "The Eluvian led us into something. And it's in the fade.Because thats where we need to be right now - the dream world."

"Oh, of course," Trying to shift her weight to look out the door, the mage winces in pain indicating she's moved too far. Resigning to needing a bit of help, she laughs painfully "I need a healing potion so I can get looking around. Happen to find any in your search?"

"Not a one, somehow." Neve sighs as she walks closer before settling at her side, and dropping her scavenged items on the side table. "However there was no shortage of lyrium." She reaches out a hand toward Rook before hesitating. "May I?"

"May you what?" Rook says uneasily as she stares at Neve's beautifully lithe hands. Her heart quickens at the thought of being at the mercy of the woman before her.

"Heal you, what else?" She chuckles.

"Strangle me," The watcher says with unwavering certainty.

"I would never ask so politely. Now relax so i can see what I'm doing please. Lean forward." Neve rests her hand on the other womans shoulder and gently guides her closer, as Rook angles her head to give her access. As she inspects the leftover bruising, Rook begins to feel a heat creeping onto her face from the closeness. Neve brings her second hand up and brushes the womans long curls out of her view. The feeling of her cold finger tips grazing her neck forces a gasp from the womans lips, letting a quiet whimper follow.

"My apologies, I'll be softer" Neve croons as her hand begins to glow. Rook doesn't correct her about the cause of the sound. The cool crackle of her magic and sensation of her fingertips ar. She allows herself to relax fully into her touch, as the mage moves her hand along the lacerations going down her back. Rook feels the other woman slide her free hand further up her shoulder, and cannot stop herself from leaning in until its nearly around her neck.

Neve lets a small laugh fall from her lips, "I said I wouldn't strangle you Rook. Not unless you ask nicely."

"I've never been a fan of being polite," Rook sighs dramatically, trying her best to regain some sense of composure as she moves away from the mage. "Oh," She mutters, as she reaches a hand to touch her newly healed body. "Well now, I think you fixed a knot that had been there since the War of Banners."

"What can I say? I'm a woman of many talents," Neve says while continuing her scavenging in the side table. Rook continues to admire her, watching the hands who's phantom touch she can still feel dancing on the back of her neck

"Well, Thank you. I look forward to seeing exactly how talented you are. I ought to get looking around," She says while confidently pulling herself to her feet. She slowly makes her way towards to door while her focus remains fixed on the woman before her.

"Well, it can't hurt now. In theory." Neve turns toward Rook once again before leaning effortlessly against the table, a crooked grin flashing across her face. "We should talk about our next move soon. Find harding when your ready. There's a table in the central area out here, I'll meet you both there"

"See you soon then," It took everything Rook had to turn around and walk away. All she could hope was that Neve was watching her leave with that gorgeous crooked smile.

[renehanley]

Faith by Rene Hanley

I have prayed to angels

I have prayed to saints

I have lit candles in the hope of salvation

For a world that refuses to heal

And yet here you stand,

your only weapon being your words

and a heart that refuses to kneel

I want to ask you

Where do you bury your fear?

How do you find strength

To remain compassionate and restrained

Amidst the hate and fury thrust upon your people?

But the look in your eyes, dark, infinite,

and as determined as the threat of occupation

Tells me all that I need to know

I watch your silhouette break and rebuild under the pressure

And wonder how the world remains unaware

Of what beauty it has failed to destroy

Your hands are open,

Your voice steady and soft,

Calling upon a God I have previously abandoned

Challenging my false presumptions,

My hands are clean but trembling

My heart is heavy with the guilt

Of distant and ignorant safety

Your faith cannot be found in colonial cathedrals,

My preachers have been poisoned by greed

Your faith is true

An unyielding lifeline

braided in agony and discipline

Even as the world crumbles around you,

You pray not only for mercy

but for justice,

For something I cannot name

But feel in the air when we speak

The monolithic strength carved into your spine

Beckons me to question your motives

How can you still believe when death consumes your waking life

And depravity lingers in your sleep?

How can you find such bittersweet understanding

In a place where flesh and soil are so often one of the same?

I understand now that salvation

Is not given freely

But resides in a person

Who embodies this fateful truth

That pain and faith are two sides of the same coin

And there is no room for fear in between

There is only acceptance of the here and now

There is only room for peace

Author's note: Ahmed and I have a lot of cross-cultural discussions about religious upbringing. It's incredible how ignorant we are of each other, especially here in the West. I am a queer and trans Irish ex-catholic, while he is a "full-blooded Palestinian" Muslim man. Learning about how our cultures differ, and still stay the same in some ways, has been an unexpected blessing amidst the pain. I believe he's going to make it.

[sky-is-the-limit]

Dean Winchester is literally this song.

I remember the minute

It was like a switch was flipped

I was just a kid who grew up strong enough

To pick this armor up

And suddenly it fit

God, that was so long ago, long ago, long ago

I was little, I was weak and perfectly naive

And I grew up too quick

Now you won't see all that I have to lose

And all I've lost in the fight to protect it

I won't let you in, I swore never again

I can't afford, no, I refuse to be rejected

I want to break these bones 'til they're better

I want to break them right and feel alive

You were wrong, you were wrong, you were wrong

My healing needed more than time

When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things

I see the familiar

I was little, I was weak, I was perfect, too

Now I'm a broken mirror

But I can't let you see all that I have to lose

All I've lost in the fight to protect it

I can't let you in, I swore never again

I can't afford to let myself be blindsided

I'm standing guard, I'm falling apart

And all I want is to trust you

Show me how to lay my sword down

For long enough to let you through

Here I am, pry me open

What do you want to know?

I'm just a kid who grew up scared enough

To hold the door shut

And bury my innocence

But here's a map, here's a shovel

Here's my Achilles' heel

I'm all in, palms out

I'm at your mercy now and I'm ready to begin

I am strong, I am strong, I am strong enough to let you in

I'ma shake the ground with all my might

And I will pull my whole heart up to the surface

For the innocent, for the vulnerable

And I'll show up on the front lines with a purpose

And I'll give all I have, I'll give my blood, give my sweat

An ocean of tears will spill for what is broken

I'm shattered porcelain, glued back together again

Invincible like I've never been.