#it hurts and yet Im so happy when she finds happiness

[your-ne1ghbor]

Child Asha (TKoRaT AU)

So like remember child Asha in that flashback scene from wish??

Specifically this scene during...."This Wish" segment.

internal screaming

Yeahh, legit the same character but shrunk down and its so obvious...

Hell even the outfit is the same. Like???

So did she wear the same outfit for like 5 years? Did her mom just continue giving Asha the same pieces of clothing as she grew taller? Did Asha just wear the same outfit again...and again....and againn.

IDK MAN, THIS JUST HURTS MY BRAIN WTF-

ahem...anyways

SOOOOO I decided to make her a bit more different ✨

( l love how the hands came out on this one its so good happy pterodactyl noises)

She is also asking Maggy some questions, since Maggy been pushing her away after Amaya took her in and she was able to ask some questions at this point (She is really trying to form some connections with the royals, but Maggy is just pushing her away, as Amaya is starting to warm up to her, but still. It Breaks my heart)

She is still like her older-self. She is still shy, but she is more confident which makes sense since kids don't really care much about things happening around them and sort of roll with it. Idk I really tried making her very much like a kid as she is depicted here

Yah, besides that, her confidence levels really dropped after she got older. (IM LOOKING AT YOU AMAYA AND MAGGY 😡)

forgot the freckles angry pterodactyl noises

Also I'm thinking that it would be funny if Amaya and Maggy just gave her their old royal wear because they dont wear that color anymore (in their emo era silly lil goobers) or that it was clothes when they wore it as a kid and just gave it to her, like how parents sometimes gives their clothes to their kids if it shrinks in the washer (happened to my dad, so he gave me that shrunk shirt to me. I still have the shirt lol) Its a small detail, but yk 🐀🐀

Also I only drew this because I haven't seen any art of Asha as a child and I was like...MORE ASHA AS A CHILD PLSS I NEED TO SEE MY GRILL BEING A WHOLESOME CHILD EVEN FOR A MOMENT

[saeshiraw]

tired girl hours i’m just ranting bcos i don’t have enough time to cry

[divinesolas]

Hi, could you do an Aemond one shot where he and Reader (Rhaenyra's bastard daughter) are husband and wife and she and Aemond are married, based on the first episode of season 2 where instead of killing Aegon's son, kill the reader's son and aemond

a.n: hi hi ty for the request 🫶 i had a little too much fun writing this, this probably isnt what you wanted this is not a happy fic but i still hope you enjoy regardless 🫶🫶 slightly inspired by the events of ep two

Despite the halls of the keep being pure chaos everyone swiftly moved out of the way for the one eyed prince who rushed through the halls seeking out the one who he knew needed him.

They had been in his room. They wanted him. But they must have left his room when they knew he was not there and stumbled their way into the nursery which was attached to his room where his son had been. His son. his only child. and he was furious.

The door to the council room slams open and otto swiftly turns to look and stand before him, “where have you been-“ otto is shoved out of his way as he goes to kneel next to his sobbing wife on the floor who was clutching a blanket on the floor.

You look at him with red eyes and choke out his name, he grabs your face in his hands and looks upon you for a moment before you throw yourself into his arms. Shoving your head in his neck to breathe in his scent, to feel his pulse, make sure he’s real.

“they killed our son.” your words come out choked in between your sobs and he strokes up and down your back, “i tried to offer them anything, gold, myself, but they only wanted him aemond only him.” he shushes you and pressed a kiss against your temple, speaking into your ear. “Im sorry my love im sorry.”

He will return the pain they have brought to not only himself but worst of all to his wife and he will pay it tenfold. A lone tear streaks down his face as you say nothing more merely continue to sob into him while the other faces in the room can only merely watch with sorrow.

He picks you up, making sure to keep the blanket firmly in your grasp as he turns to leave the room ignoring the voices calling after him. They must want to discuss what they plan to do now but he wants no part in it, only wanting to comfort his wife.

“they were saying they want to blame my mother.” You had calmed down at some point, still delirious with grief but you had stopped crying, merely staring blankly up at the ceiling as aemond kept you firmly next to him. “she would never do a thing like this. my mother loves me, why would she send someone out for my son.”

Aemond is quiet and his hand on your back falters for a moment, “she wishes to punish me.” you say nothing but he notices how you shift ever so slightly.

With the way you two were right now nobody could tell the two of you have not spoken in those fourteen days since his return when he broke the news to the court. When he broke the news to you. Your own brother murdered in cold blood.

You could never forgive him despite his attempts to talk to you after, you swiftly dismissed him and his words would fall on deaf ears. Your baby brother was everything to you, you remember growing up side by aide and he was teary eyed the day you permanently moved to the keep.

despite your hatred for him and your hatred for your mothers usurpation you cannot go home. The people here watch you like a hawk you cannot even send a letter out to her but alicent is free to beg and plead to her like a pathetic dog. you hate them. Yet you allow him to comfort you because you know you will get no comfort from anyone else here.

“they wish to flaunt me around like a prized lamb. ‘gain sympathy from the houses.’ he says.” You ignore his words and continue to speak. “I will not allow it.” you shrug mindlessly and sit up, he stays laying down. His eye patch off and hair down from its usually prime and perfect state, he had thrown his shirt off at some point too.

You can see it, the hurt that laces his eye and his face, his hand finds yours and you want to rip it away but you cant, the warmth on your skin bringing you a small sense of comfort.

“i had thought we would work. That you would finally move on and forgive grievances of the past. But i hate you just as you hate me aemond,” “i do not hate you. i love you.” you shake your head as he says it, sitting up and gripping your arms tightly, trying to hold your gaze as he says it again.

“i will never forgive you. I will hate you for as long as a breathe.”

“i did not mean to i lost my temper that day.”

“you feeling sorry means nothing to me you know that. how would you feel if the men who murdered our son came in here and said they were sorry., that they didn’t mean to.”

He says your name and his grip tightens on your arms but you continue to merely stare off mindlessly.

“i will repent for the rest of my life. our son will be brought justice.”

he will kill every man in the keep if he has to, slay every man in all of westeros if they cannot figure out who had done it. For you. for his son.

“i love you.” the words come out strained as he begs and pleads to anyone who is willing to listen to him for you to say something else anything to him.

you do. you finally look at him. a look devoid of any love you had once had for him. and it kills him.

“you’re pathetic.”

[ddarker-dreams]

BRILLIANT fucking idea: SR reader insinuating/offhandedly admitting… she has never been intimate. everyone hearing it like 🧍🏾‍♀️ how do you mean. idk j the flustered bashfulness of suddenly being like “wajt wait if im her bf ,,, im her first love”

SCREAMINGGGGG

[Scarlet Ribbons index]

Giorno

Giorno is a bit strange because he almost wishes he had a predecessor to analyze (and completely outshine). He isn’t disappointed per se, he’s not that weird, but having more study material never hurts. Positive relationships are foreign to him, since he’s been distant from others most of his life. He got along with people well enough — he just preferred his own company. Now that he’s had a taste of your company, he’s keen on making it a lifelong occurrence. Overhearing this admission has him wondering if traditional courting methods don’t do much for you. Or, more realistically, that they go over your pretty head. He's witnessed you interpreting the gang's flirtations as platonic. Consequently, he gives considerable thought to ensuring this isn't a fate that befalls him. Corny as it sounds, his new dream is to stand beside you as your husband. He's chasing this goal without abandon.

Bruno

Bruno feels immensely guilty for eavesdropping on a conversation involving something so personal, but he couldn't help himself. An immense weight feels like it's been lifted from his shoulders upon learning you haven't gotten romantically involved with anyone before. This relief is followed up with sharp self-condemnation — as your leader, he shouldn't get involved with your personal affairs. Maintaining any professional distance is difficult though, especially when you're so likable. People are naturally drawn to you and he's no different. That's why this revelation comes as a surprise, albeit a good one. He tells himself he'd be happy for you if you loved someone else... however, deep down, he knows the regret would eat him alive. He struggles to concentrate the rest of the day. His mind keeps wandering back to thoughts of you, specifically, finding solace in one another’s warmth. The most innocent thoughts make his heart flutter, the man is smitten.

Fugo

Fugo almost renounces his atheism — perhaps there is a God after all. Then he's reminded that you're completely out of his league, submersing him back into the Nietzsche headspace. His self-esteem isn't the best, so the way he looks at it is if no one else was good enough to catch your attention, what chance did he have? It's a miracle you even put him with him. He's blunt, stubborn, and easy to agitate, yet you're one of the few people alive who don't treat him like a ticking time bomb. When his initial pessimism dies down, he fantasizes about you getting flustered by things like a first kiss. It's a cute mental image. Would you fidget? Accidentally bump heads and apologize? Get sweaty palms? Before he knows it, he's invented an entire storyline in his head. It's mushy enough that he struggles to look you in the eye the next time he sees you.

Mista

Mista pretends he knew it all along, as if the Pistols hadn't kept him awake multiple nights, speculating over your relationship status. The little fellas held full-blown debates. Since he's a chill, go-with-the-flow type of guy, he wouldn't have turned green with envy had he learned you former lovers. If they brought you happiness, who is he to hold it against them? Regardless, he can't deny his budding excitement. Should you reciprocate his feelings, you'll experience all your firsts with him. Those initial milestones are the moments that stick with people throughout their life. It's your first kiss in particular that he'd like to have for himself. He intends to sweep you off your feet — literally. It's got to be like those old Hollywood flicks he grew up watching, or what's the point?

Narancia

Narancia has to stop himself from audibly cheering. The multiple abandonments he underwent in the past has him latching onto the few people remaining in his life. This includes you, naturally. You've brought him so much joy, the risk of losing that, losing you, it's a fear that eats away at him. He worries that if you had exes, you might compare him to them and determine he's subpar. Then he'd be cast aside like trash as he had been multiple times before. These insecurities nourish his possessive tendencies. Learning that he has no exes to fend off is a great relief because he would've defended you viciously. It isn't until later that he daydreams over the more innocent implications, like being your first (and only!) boyfriend. He gets so preoccupied by the thought that he walks into a few walls.

Abbacchio

He's actually surprised to learn about this. He considers using Moody Blues so he can hear the entire conversation, but decides against it, believing it to be an intrusion of your privacy. Abbacchio's of the opinion that to maximize your happiness, you should find love outside of Passione. He wants that for you, and yet... his heart physically aches whenever the possibility crosses his mind. What's the alternative, then? Would he make for a suitable partner? He finds the mere possibility laughable. Your brightness would be engulfed by the gaping maw that is his existence. He considers this an empirical truth, not some 'woe is me' sentiment. Ultimately, anytime your love life (or lack of one) is brought up, he distracts himself, so as not to fixate on his shortcomings.

[princessbrunette]

how do you think would rafe react when crybaby!reader gets upset when he unintentionally hurts her feelings and she’s serious upset and not adorable upset? yk what i mean? like suddenly he’s realizing she’s not being dramatic but really hurt🎀

୧ ‧₊˚🧸ྀི ৎ୭

i feel as though season one rafe would do this the most often. season 2 rafe is very intentional with his words because he’s learnt to be more careful not to get himself in trouble, esp towards the end of season 2 when he’s spending a lot of time with limbrey and her brother and you can see him acting a lot more grownup. season 3 rafe is actually fairly gentle, especially around women — he’s figured out how to conduct himself and is very set on changing his ways which is why he’s very respectful towards sofia and also very mindful of kiaras space when they were trapped at singhs together — if she flinched when he’d come too close he’d immediately stop approaching or he’d slow his movements and put his hands up to show it was okay. season one rafe however, doesn’t give a fuck how anyone feels really.

most importantly, he doesn’t know how to have a girlfriend yet. i was speaking about this last night in dms with indy — and it seems very clear that he doesn’t get how to handle you yet. he doesn’t seem like he’d understand that he needs to take you on dates still once you’re in a relationship or ask you to be his valentine etc, not seeing the point of it. so i can definitely see him messing up and hurting your feelings really bad.

he’s very much a boy, and likes to do boy shit with his friends. stand around and drink beer and talk and watch the game. he doesn’t mind you being there, but if he’s wrapped up in conversation with his friends he kinda doesn’t care so much if you’re there because he’s happy doing his thing. say you’re at the country club and this is happening, your boyfriend laughing and being obnoxious with his pals. you’d approach and he’d give you a little side hug, pulling you to his side but he’d continue talking to his friends and not so much you.

“what are you guys doing?” you ask quietly to just him and he glances your way.

“uh, just hanging out? you didn’t find any of your little friends to talk to?” his hand drops to your lower back and you blink up at him obviously.

“yeah they’re here just… wanted to be with you?” you furrow your eyebrows and he briefly laughs at something kelce said, only offering you half of his attention before looking at you again.

“well we’re just doing guy stuff, a’ight? go hang with them. don’t need to hover around me, i’ll just come get you when we’re leavin’.” its an offhand comment, but your face immediately falls. ‘hovering around him’? when the two of you were alone he often demanded all of your attention, but now with his friends here it was like he didn’t care at all. to add salt to the burn, he gives your ass a little pat and let’s go of you. “go on.” he hurries you along.

you feel that hot feeling in your chest and you can feel yourself getting upset. “i think im going to go home.” you’re polite as you can be but your voice shakes and it catches his attention, following you when you take a few steps, still half smiling.

“wh— are you serious? why?”

you avoid his eye like you don’t even know him, lifting a shoulder and brushing him off. “just— just want to.” he watches you wipe your tears away as you leave the club, and he sighs in confusion, taking a sip of his beer.

topper was actually the one to teach him about how to handle an emotional girlfriend. he sighed out a “i don’t understand this girl, man.” when you were out of sight and after some convincing— rafe learned the valuable lesson of grovelling. he shows up at your door an hour later, pink in the face from being in the sun and a little warm and sweaty.

“uh, can i come in?”

he lets you cry into his chest as he squints at the wall in confusion trying to understand you. he did love you, believe it or not — he just didn’t have a way with words.

“look okay, you know when i say shit i don’t mean it, alright? i’m a guy it’s — it’s just what we do. i didn’t mean for you to take it that way.” he cups your face, a strand of his pushed back hair fallen onto his forehead.

“you hurt my feelings.” you mewl, and his heart does infact melt a little, blinking rapidly as he sighs in frustration with himself.

“whats gonna make this better? huh? you— you wanna punch me or something?” he asks desperately which actually gets a giggle from you. “well what then?”

“just want you to like me.” you sigh sadly and he stares at you dumbly.

“i do. so now what?”

“prove it.” you huff and he shakes his head a little, dumbfounded.

“prove i— okay.” he grabs your face, pulling you in for a kiss.

୧ ‧₊˚🧸ྀི ৎ୭

[idontknowwhatimdoinglol]

Yandere Olympus x human reader (headcanons)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

you were a mortal girl who had been taken in by the gods as a child. in return for this you lived amongst them working as a servant, since there were so many nymphs already there wasn't much for you to do but you always kept busy. one of the goddesses who had cared for you since childhood, aphrodite, had kept you close to her at all times rarely letting you go far from her gaze. you would help her with small tasks such as picking her jewelry for the day or helping her make new clothes, that was a more painful task. "i will never get this stitch done if you dont hold still!" the goddess complains trying to stick the needle through the fabric. "it hurts, you keep poking me" you complain trying to move away but she grabs your arm and holds you still. "i just need to make a few more stitches and-" she starts before getting cut off by the new presence in the room. "aphrodite may i speak with you" the commanding voice of hera calls from the entrance of the room. "why of course." she answers pinning the fabric together. "dont move my darling, you wouldn't want to ruin my flawless stitch work now would you?" she smirks before walking to hera, both far enough away for you to not hear what they were saying. one of hera's loyal crows had landed on a stool next to you cawing, you bent down and let it jump onto your finger petting its head. "hello pretty bird" you smile as it ruffles its feathers, nuzzling its head against your hand. "may i ask what you are doing?" hera's voice comes into the room. the bird flys from your hand onto her shoulder instead. "i-im sorry my goddess, i was simply petting your bird. they're lovely" you complement earning a nod. aphrodite comes back in and takes the fabric she had been sowing off of you. "oh dear you have so many scratches from the pins, you should see apollo he would be happy to heal them for you." she suggests hiding a smile behind you. you nod walking from her room. you were greeted by a few gods on your way to find apollo with smiles and waves, before you reached apollos temple you were stopped by the queen of the gods herself. "come with me mortal" she says waiting for you to follow. though your scratches stung you feared hera's reaction more if you disobeyed her "yes my goddess" you say following behind her. she leads you to her private room before sitting on a chair. "pour me some tea" she commands with a smirk, enjoying having you to herself. you hand her a cup of hot tea and stand near her "is there anything else you need my goddess?" you ask tilting your head. she thinks for a moment before using her powers to bring you to her lap, with a surprised gasp you are put on her lap like a child. she takes your arm that had scratches and small pin pricks from the sowing pins. "she really should be more careful with such a fragile thing such as you." the goddess mumbles. she grabs a piece of fabric from the table near her and wraps it around your arm. the two of you are interrupted by aphrodite clearing her throat from the entrance of the room. "i was worried that my little mortal had run away when apollo had not seen them yet. but i should've known they would be here, you always have liked to steal them away for yourself." aphrodite laughs with hints of jealousy. "then why dont you join us for some tea?" hera suggests. gesturing to a chair across from her. "well if you insist, only if i get a turn with our darling to" she smirks sitting down. this was your normal on olympus, being fought over by the gods. you had thought it was simply because they liked your company or help, if only you knew how much they truly loved you.

your usual day on olympus consists of at least 2 or more gods trying to steal your attention, whether its the hermes giving you flowers or other gifts he finds in the mortal realm or one of his brothers trying to one up him or if aphrodite demands a beauty day with her and artemis.

above all their fighting they still follow rules, giving an angry gglare or pouty face when another god that is more powerful steals you away. hera is famous for this, stealing you to help with the most minor tasks just so others cannot have you. only sharing with one of her friends or children.

when heron is brought to olympus things do shift. hera of course is horribly angry but doesn't start the war in this world because she knows that you would most likely end up hurt or she would be banished from olympus never to see you again. so instead she glares from afar.

you are not let anywhere near heron at first, being kept away by hera or ares. eventually though you manage to meet him and he was very kind to you, taking after the rest of his family and quickly becoming a yandere for you aswell.

of course he quickly is told that you are simply to be seen as a sibling not anything more. the gods dont want you dating because that may lead to them not getting as much of you or worse, you leaving them.

they refuse to let you grow old. once you turn a certain age they will turn you imortal whether you agree or not. youre theirs for eternity and no one or nothing will stop that.

- - - - - . o 0 O 0 o . - - - - -

[pedrithink]

delicate ✩ jude bellingham

about: the massive hate you are getting on internet and the way jude stood by you, supporting you.

couple: jude bellingham x reader! singer

request: hey babyyyy! what do u think about a jude x reader (maybe olivia rodrigo fc) ?? xxx love u

face claim: olivia rodrigo

NOW: Jude’s Bellingham talks ‘Real Madrid’, His first World Cup’s impressions & His favorite Y/N’s songs.

comments ⬇️

user1 he’s so perfect 🥹 yn and him seemed like soulmates

user2 I REMEMBERED WHEN YN POINTED AT JUDE DURING GORGEOUS AND HE TOOK A PHOTO AND SHE WAS ALL GIGGLY

user3 yn once said “you’re so gorgeous, it actually hurts” and “they say home is where the heart is, but that's not where mine lives. you know I love a london boy.”

user4 @user3 im yn

user5 imagine being jude bellingham and having yn write her best love songs and best title tracks about you a DREAM

judebellingham has added to their story

ynusername

Liked by judebellingham, selenagomez, and 5.682.972 others

ynusername vampire song and video out now 🧛🏼. writing this song helped me sort through lots of feelings of regret, anger, and heartache. it's one of my favorite songs on the album and it felt very cathartic to finish. im so happy it's in your hands now and I hope it helps u deal with any bloodsuckers in your lite. all my thanks 4ever 🫶🏻

View all 21.567 comments

judebellingham proud of you, vampie 🧛🏼🩸🥹🫶🏻

ynusername @judebellingham love u babs

user1 vampire is one of the best songs ever

user2 another song about another ex 🥱🙄

user3 @user2 literally let people write out their feelings or WHATEVER they want. obviously yall can only attack women for this tho...

user4 people calling yn boring or overrated for writing songs about her ex does not sit right w me …. like let her write about whatever she wants?? she’s 20??? all singers have songs about their ex’s???? stfu

user5 @user4 SPEAK. ON. IT

user6 "yn makes too much songs ab her ex" "all she write is break up songs, she’s so obsessed"

ok then stop listening to her songs 🤷🏻‍♀️

user7 whaaaaat 😭 why are there so many people mad that yn wrote some songs about her ex. meanwhile, there are men who only write songs about fucking hoes and using drugs and yet they still get praised for it 🥱

judebellingham

Liked by ynusername, masonmount, and 7.899.082 others

judebellingham date night with vampie to celebrate all of her achievements, proud of u ❤️‍🩹

View all 34.872 comments

ynusername 🧛🏻‍♀️🩸❤️‍🩹🧛🏼

user8 JUDE CALLING YN VAMPIE >>>>

user9 i hope i find someone who supports me the way jude supports yn

user10 ill always be soft for these two. its amazing how jude supports yn in any way he can and yn never forgets to save jude a seat. fucking POWER COUPLE!!!

user11 @user10 i just love them

user12 lets talk about the fact that at the 2020 grammys she didn’t feel like there was someone to celebrate with and now she has one and he helps her and supports her and take her on dates when she achieves more and more in her singing career 🥹

user13 yn and jude be like: happiest relationship of my life, so let’s go cheer for my breakup songs together 💕💞💓💗💖💘

ynusername

Liked by judebellingham, arianagrande, and 10.927.526 others

ynusername delicate is out now 🫧 surprise song for y’all, hope u like it 🫶🏻

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user14 delicate video really speaks to me. yn let go of the world's expectations of how she should act, smile and behave. once she did that, she was able to find who she was looking for. i’m shaking and crying, so so proud of our baby!!!!

user15 @user14 it’s already my favorite music video of her!!!! i love the lyrics 2

user16 these pics were taking by jude i’m CRYING and the lyrics… I JUST LOVE HIM EVEN MORE

user17 @user16 yeah 🥹 i’m so happy that she found someone that makes her feel like that

user18 delicate is one of the most beautiful songs yn has ever written, it’s so GENUINE.

[pennyellee]

chapter IX - lacuna

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader

genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, mentions of antidepressants, anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of night terrors, mentions of self harm, manipulative behaviour, mentions of labotomy, medical cases, intimate life, diseases, “failed” pregnancy, alcohol, medication, etc.

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 8,7K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

A/N: so yes, it took me a while to actually finish this chapter and as I mentioned - it’s shorter than what I usually want to write for lacrimosa. Truth to be told, this is what I can do for now till I get something better to write on. I don’t know when the next chapter will be written and up, so for now thank you for your patience, i actually didnt think i would write a chapter whilst im in US coz the only device on my person is my phone, but im very happy I managed to write something. This chapter is more of a prequel go what’s going to happen next. Many of you actually guessed/predicted some things right and for some you have to wait till the very end, we’re near it.

Massive thank you goes to @chaoticpuff17 who managed to beta read it despite both our situations being crazy rn, ily queen 🥹🫧🩵

Love you all, p.

m.list

lacuna (n.) a blank space, missing part

The night was relentless, a symphony of thunderclaps and the steady drum of rain against the cobblestones. The celebrations of the famous Kkangpae toned down, and after some months, several trips to the barren debris land of where Yakuza reigned, they returned safely to the sanctuary.

Back where she cannot hide from him in the stables, kitchen or sunroom, switching from one room to another just to not be in his presence for longer than she wanted. Yet, he managed to steal her away when his frustration boiled up enough. Y/N could’ve hinted how much she doesn’t want him to sleep next to her all she wants, he kept sneaking in and out every time. Yoongi was patient, determined even. Determined to make things right this time by giving her space. But the wrenching feeling of not having her close enough consumed him, night, day and moon.

Yoongi kept his promise, giving Y/N the space she needed while gradually attempting to rebuild the trust that had been shattered. He was careful with his words, patient in his actions, and ever attentive to her unspoken needs. The pair worked on their friendship these past weeks, he wanted himself to be her person. The person that she would love and lean on.

But the young Buin might seem calm now, from outside, but her wit remained under the surface. She buried herself deep within her psyche and doctor Kim could do very little to “repair” her. Not even renown specialists who came to give the young girl a helping hand did not succeed.

Yoongi watched her from a distance yet at the same time he was so close, his heart aching with the knowledge that he was partly to blame for her withdrawal. He had been too harsh, too controlling. Now, he was paying the price. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to whisper apologies and promises into her ear. But every time he approached, he could see the fear and distrust in her eyes. It was a barrier he didn't know how to break.

Wang Xiaoqing’s wisdom was passed onto her, they whispered. But truth to be told, the elder woman, may she rest in peace, underestimated the new blood. The following legacy. Now, her kin suffers.

Yoongi wishes he never used the letter as leverage against her nor let her read it. At night he wonders whether that would change things. Whether by now she would be in love with him just as much he’s in love with her.

He sat down with the rest of his family at the dinner table after she broke down with yet another panic attack. The dining room was oppressively silent, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t even the end of January, and the snow was still prevailing outside. Yoongi sat at the head of the table, his expression a mask of stoic resolve, though his heart was anything but calm.

Y/N was conspicuously absent, her chair at the table glaringly empty. Yoongi's mind replayed the scene from earlier, the look of sheer panic in her eyes as she had crumbled under the weight of her emotions. He had wanted to reach out to her, to offer comfort, but he knew his presence would only worsen her distress.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi broke the silence, his voice strained but firm.

“I know you care about me. About this family—”

“I’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have pushed her to the edge.”

“No, Yoongi—” the right hand man straightened himself in his seat interrupting his leader.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and sorrow as he turned to face his right-hand man, Namjoon. The room held its breath, tension crackling in the air.

“Namjoon, please,” Yoongi said, his voice weary. “My wife slit her throat, stop justifying my actions.”

Namjoon hesitated but nodded, leaning back in his chair, his expression still troubled. Yoongi took a deep breath, steeling himself to continue.

"I pushed her too far, and now she's breaking—”

“Now, I don’t know what your intentions are with my wife, but I forbid you from whatever you are putting into her head.”

Namjoon's eyes widened in shock at Yoongi's words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right response. The weight of Yoongi's accusation hung heavy in the air, and the room seemed to grow even quieter, the tension palpable.

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He had always trusted Namjoon implicitly, had relied on him as his closest confidant and advisor. But now, in the wake of Y/N's pain and suffering, he couldn't help but wonder if that trust had been misplaced.

“All of you.”

“Yoongi, I swear—” Namjoon began, his voice tinged with desperation. But Yoongi held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I don't want to hear it, Namjoon,” he said, his tone final.

“Whatever it is, I’m giving her the space to tell me herself.” Namjoon's gaze faltered under Yoongi's intense stare.

“I would never intentionally do anything to harm Y/N or come between you two. She's like family to me, too.” Yoongi's jaw clenched tighter, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging Namjoon's words.

“Seokjin.” He addressed the oldest man in the room.

“Yes, Yoongi?” Seokjin replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“She’s still taking those pills you gave her,” Seokjin's brow furrowed in concern at Yoongi's words. They were only a temporary solution before Seokjin decided that day to put her on barbiturates. She needs his help and if he cannot help her the way he knows it will be most effective, he’ll at least prescribe whatever will tone down her night terrors so she can sleep at nights.

"I'll talk to her," he said firmly. “But you know what would certainly help her—” Yoongi’s hand flew high to hit the table, making everybody twitch at the loud noise.

“No, Seokjin. No.” The family members exchanged solemn nods. Yoongi took a moment to compose himself, his chest heaving with pent-up frustration.

"She needs more support than we can provide on our own. We have to consider what's best for her.” Yoongi struggled to find the words to express his feelings. "I know, Seokjin," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But that is going way too far.”

Namjoon leaned forward, his expression earnest. The youngest at the end of the table cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him, waiting for his input. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the tension in the room, before speaking up.

“Maybe you just need to stop shielding her in. Let her live a life—” Jungkook's suggestion hung in the air, a fresh perspective on the situation that caused the family members to exchange thoughtful glances.

Yoongi's brow furrowed as he considered Jungkook's words, the idea of allowing Y/N more freedom conflicting with his instinct to protect her.

“But what if she runs for the hills, Kook.” Park Jimin’s voice echoed from across the room, his hands busy pouring the strong liquor to seven crystal glasses. Yoongi's gaze flickered towards Jimin, setting the first glass in front of him.

"I can't bear the thought of her running away from me again," Yoongi admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. Hoseok nodded in agreement, his expression sombre.

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, understanding Yoongi's apprehension. "I get where you're coming from, hyung,—” Jimin set down the last glass of liquor, his expression sympathetic.

“I’d say, nonetheless, she needs something to occupy her mind other than those thoughts.” Said Jimin sitting down on his chair while nursing his own glass of the booze.

"Maybe if we can find something that brings her joy, something to distract her—” Seokjin nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful.

“She studied, tasted her own freedom and now all she’s left with is being your wife.” Yoongi's heart clenched at Jimin's words, a pang of guilt washing over him. But still a large part of him was thinking why it is not enough.

“She can work with me once she’s better.” The doctor interjected. Yoongi's gaze shifted towards Seokjin, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the suggestion.

"You think she'd be up for it?" Yoongi asked, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

“Ah hyung you’re so in the dark—” Jungkook remarked. Jungkook sighed, his gaze meeting Yoongi's with empathy.

“She needs to feel like she has a say in her own life, like she's not just living for someone else.” Where this newfound wisdom arose, Yoongi did not know. But he was glad for the support of his family men.

Hoseok placed a reassuring hand on Yoongi's shoulder, his expression filled with empathy.

“She knows so much about herbs, remedies, I think she’ll be happy to help Seokjin.” Yoongi's heart swelled with gratitude for Hoseok's insight. He hadn't fully realised the extent of Y/N's knowledge and interests outside of their marriage and that needed to change.

“Don’t tell her just yet.” The right hand man remarked.

“Yes, I want to give her more time to recover before we come back to the sanctuary.” The other family members murmured their agreement, a sense of solidarity and understanding settling over them. After all, at the end of the day it is a happy wife, happy life.

—

But months later, Y/N understood that if there’s even a slight possibility that the scarred leader will grow for better, it would be a painfully long process. She realised so once he returned with his knuckles all bruised and bloodied one night. She tended to them, and he was basking under her touch. Despite everything, she couldn’t ignore the humanity in his pain.

Her eyes rolled and a loud sigh followed when she understood what was the cause of his lapse of senses. He had let his frustration and anger take over him, but rather than put it out on everyone else like he was known for, he silently left his office to vent his anger elsewhere. She guided him to sit down after she asked the maid to bring her everything she needed to clean his wounds.

Yoongi watched her, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and excitement under her delicate touch. The feel of her hands, so careful and tender, was both a comfort and a torment. The imagery masking all the darkness that loomed over them, they would fool even the Lord himself that this couple is one of love.

They sat in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and the distant rumble of thunder outside. Yoongi closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes to him. She avoided him less and less. So why did he have to let his steam off so suddenly?

“You know—” she began, focusing on his other hand now.

“You’re not really setting a good example of “communication is the key ”, now do you?”

Yoongi's eyes flickered open at her words, a hint of guilt flashing across his features before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. He couldn't deny the truth in her statement, nor could he easily articulate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within him.

His mind drifted back to the hushed whispers, the concerned looks from Seokjin. Y/N was still fairly weak in terms of her health. Yet, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’ll come to tell him he’s going to be a father. Foolish of him, he knows. Selfish of him, he knows that too.

“I’m sorry, Dove.” He only muttered, forcing a kiss to her sphenoid bone, it was the only affection she rarely allowed him to show. Y/N knew that if she wanted to persuade him that she isn’t a flying risk, she’ll have to allow him to do more. She progressed slowly, with patience and space to breathe everything out.

The reason the young leader needed to vent his anger was obvious to Y/N. She heard the maid that so blatantly spied on everything she did, what she asked for, and whom she talks to on the telephone. Y/N was cautious, yet today, she had to ask for some feminine goods. She understood where his hope for a baby came from, he got himself to believe that once the monthly bleeding did not come the first, second nor the third month.

The young gal, however, knew that this has nothing to do with the possibility of her being pregnant. She still drank the remedy, just to be sure, and for her peace of mind as it bore too many demons already. The fourth month her body decided it’s time to function again and of course the devoted maid reported that right back to her husband whose hope for a child vanished.

“I was hoping we could go see Ma and little Bo Cheng before the wedding, I promised to teach him how to ride a ho—” she began her request carefully. Y/N had managed to negotiate Daiyu’s extended vacation in America with her young son and Kai, yet she couldn’t shake the strong feeling that Yoongi had only allowed such a thing to happen because he felt indebted to her at the moment. Her state was far more delicate than he thought and he desperately wanted to make her happy. The one thing she wanted the most, he couldn’t grant. Freedom.

“Would that make you happy?” Yoongi interrupted. He sighed, his eyes drifting to the window where dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, hesitant smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. It was a fragile thing, easily shattered, but it was real. And in that moment, Yoongi vowed to himself that he would protect that smile, nurture it, and help it grow.

“Yes, it would. Maybe we could also pay a visit to Daiyu—” Y/N sucked her lips in and shyly smiled again. Yoongi nodded slowly. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrests. The weight of their precarious situation pressed down on him, the knowledge that every decision could have far-reaching consequences hanging over them like a dark cloud.

“I’m not sure about that, sweetling,” he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Her heart clenched, did he understand her intentions?

“You said you’ll give me the world, Yoongi. Why not this?” Y/N’s smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features.

Yoongi’s gaze softened further, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. He reached out, taking her hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I will consider this trip, but we have to be cautious now. War is looming on the horizon.” He explained, his tone serious.

“What do you mean war? You’ve just won one,” she challenged, her voice laced with disbelief.

“The world is a volatile place, Dove. Our battle was nothing in comparison to what is to come. The world will fight—” Yoongi’s expression darkened, the weight of their past victories suddenly overshadowed by the looming threat of conflict. Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of war, a cold knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Until we’re certain there’s no threat, I want us to remain in Korea, my love.” he declared, his final words.

Y/N’s heart sank at his words, but she forced herself to nod, understanding the gravity of their situation. The war threatened to consume them all, and they had to tread carefully if they were to survive. Y/N nodded slowly to his words.

“She wrote to you this morning, didn’t she?” Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’s running out of time. If they were caught up in the chaos, she feared she may never leave this place. And with Yoongi’s resolve to remain in Korea, their window of opportunity grew smaller with each passing moment. It was worth the shot, he wouldn’t let her slip that easily if there’s an actual threat that the world’s will battle.

“She met someone,” Y/N added softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty of how Yoongi will react. He, however, already knew. There was nothing that would go past him or so he thought.

"She met someone?" he repeated, his voice tinged with false scepticism. Y/N's heart ached at the doubt in Yoongi's voice, but she held firm in her conviction.

“She’s a widow with a child, who—”

“Happy widow with a child—” she inserted herself into his remark. "She deserves it, Yoongi. After everything she's been through, she deserves a chance at love and happiness.”

“Daiyu is no longer tied to the syndicate. You promised not to meddle with her affairs unless she needs help.” She reminded him less gently, her voice tinged with a hint of caution.

“I intend to keep that promise.” Lie. He already knew the man who so openly started to court her. A sense of relief washed over Y/N as she watched Yoongi's resistance soften, even if it was pretended.

“The rain won’t stop pouring—” Y/N’s voice trailed off, a sombre note creeping into her tone as she glanced out the window at the stormy sky.

“How do you feel today?” Yoongi observed Y/N for a moment, his expression softening as he took in her weary demeanour.

“Better than yesterday.” She replied, her voice carrying a hint of resilience. Yoongi nodded, a sense of relief washing over him at her response. Despite the challenges they faced, he was grateful for every moment of peace they could find amidst the storm.

He noticed the subtle signs of improvement in her appearance. Her cheeks, once sunken and lifeless, now held a hint of colour, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed less pronounced. Her eyes sparkled differently, not with tears as of late. Whatever Seokjin is doing to help her, it is working.

“Have you slept well?” he inquired gently, his voice filled with genuine concern. From Monday to Friday, storms reigned over the hidden valley. Yoongi reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. Her dark hair grew enough to reach past her shoulders since the unfortunate event back in October.

“It wasn't the best, but it was better than before.” Yoongi nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and concern. He knew that even the smallest victories, like a few hours of sleep, were worth celebrating in their tumultuous world. After all the night terrors she endured for months.

“How’s working with Seokjin?” He knew how demanding their roles could be, especially in the midst of ongoing turmoil. Yoongi expected her to sigh just as softly as she always does, her expression to reflect the weight of responsibility, but none of that happened. Y/N smiled at him brightly instead.

Y/N's smile was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, momentarily dispelling the shadows that lingered around them.

“Work has been great. I've been able to help so many people—” she replied, her voice infused with a sense of optimism that Yoongi hadn't heard in a while. As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the weariness that had plagued her in recent months.

“Did you know that punk, Jungkook, pretends to be sick every other day just to swing by?” Y/N’s voice was filled with amusement as she recounted the antics of the youngest of the seven. Though older than her, she did not feel any age difference between them two.

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle at the mention of Jungkook's antics.

"That sounds like him," he remarked, a fond smile playing at his lips. She continued, her words flowing freely as she recounted her experiences while working with Seokjin at the clinic.

“Seokjin has been a wonderful mentor,” she continued, her eyes shining with gratitude. “He’s taught me so much more than we actually studied at school—” Yoongi nodded in agreement, a sense of pride swelling within him as he listened to Y/N's tales of their work at the clinic.

“I remember this one young man who had sustained severe burns on his arms. The sight of his injuries was heart-breaking, but I could see the determination in his eyes to overcome the pain.” Y/N’s voice softened with emotion as she recalled the moment.

"We worked tirelessly to stabilise him, and when he finally regained consciousness, the look of gratitude in his eyes made all the long hours and hard work worth it. It was a reminder of why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place—to make a difference in people’s lives, no matter how small.”

Yoongi listened intently, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for not allowing her to pursue her passion for nursing earlier.

He may not be able to undo the past, but he could certainly make sure that she had all the support she needed to thrive in the future. The youngest was right. She needed this, she needed to regain her purpose in her life. To be someone for herself.

He realised how much he had underestimated her need for work, how vital it was for her to have a sense of purpose and fulfilment. There was still hope and goodness.

Yoongi listened to all the stories she had to say as for the first time since forever, there were no tears, no screams, no tension in the air. Just the calm, steady rhythm of their shared breaths.

“You know,” Yoongi began, his voice soft, "I'm proud of you. Proud of everything you've accomplished and the progress you’re making. I should have let you do this sooner.”

“Can’t change the past now can we?” He nodded to her remark solemnly, squeezing her hand.

“Tell me more,—” he urged, eager to hear more about her work, her passion. He wanted to be part of her world just like she is part of his, to support her in every way possible.

Y/N smiled, her face glowing with happiness. “Well, there’s this little girl named Jang-mi. She’s been coming in for treatment regularly, and despite everything, she's always so cheerful—”

—

Y/N pulled her coat tighter around her, feeling the icy water seep through the fabric. Her breath came in shallow gasps, mixing with the cold air to form small clouds that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. She huddled beneath the overhang of a small alley, her body shivering uncontrollably. The once comforting weight of her coat now felt like a burden, soaked and heavy.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of fear and desperation. The past few days had been a whirlwind of terror and confusion. She had trusted the wrong people, made alliances that crumbled under the weight of deceit. Every step she took seemed to lead her deeper into a labyrinth of danger and uncertainty. She couldn’t afford another mistake; the stakes were too high. The sound of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, a constant reminder of the life-or-death game she was playing.

A sudden flash of lightning split the sky, casting stark shadows and illuminating the alley in a harsh, white light. For a brief moment, everything was clear and sharp, every detail etched into her memory. That’s when she saw him.

At the mouth of the alley is where he stood , his figure backlit by the brilliant light. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he seemed unfazed by the torrential rain. His presence was as menacing as ever, a dark silhouette against the night. His eyes, however, were what held her captive. They were dark, deep pools of unreadable emotion, reflecting the storm’s fury.

Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched her, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was a look she had seen before, one that sent chills down her spine. It was the look of a predator sizing up its prey. She knew then, with a sickening certainty, that no matter how far she ran, he would always be one step ahead.

Panic surged through her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She pressed herself against the wall, the rough brick scraping her skin through the thin material of her coat. She needed to think, to find a way out, but her mind was a blur of fear and fatigue. The rain continued to pour, the cold seeping into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and uncooperative.

Yoongi took a step forward, the movement slow and deliberate. His boots splashed in the puddles, the sound muffled by the storm. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild, frantic rhythm. She felt like a trapped animal, cornered with no way out. The alley was a dead end, and Yoongi was blocking her only escape route.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the storm. “You can’t keep running.”

His words were a cold, hard truth that she didn’t want to accept. But she had no choice. Every attempt to escape had led her right back to him, like a cruel game of cat and mouse. She swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the rain. She had to keep fighting, had to find a way to break free from his grip.

“I won’t let you control me,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “I’ll find a way out.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or admiration for her defiance. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he said, taking another step closer. “But strength alone won’t save you.”

He was close now, close enough that she could see the droplets of rain clinging to his eyelashes, the way his clothes clung to his body. His presence was overwhelming, a dark force that seemed to consume all the light around him. She knew she had to act, had to do something before it was too late.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Y/N pushed off the wall and lunged towards him, hoping to catch him off guard. But Yoongi was ready. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a grip like iron. She struggled, twisting and pulling, but he was too strong.

“Let me fucking go!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

Yoongi pulled her closer, his other hand coming up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

Tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks as she realised the futility of her struggle. Yoongi’s words were a chilling promise, one that she knew he would keep. She was trapped, caught in a web of his making, with no way out.

The storm raged on around them, but in that moment, all Y/N could feel was the cold, unyielding grip of the man she used to fear, and the inescapable reality of her situation.

Y/N woke with a start, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her mind. Her body was drenched in cold sweat, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t discern reality from the dream, the vivid images of the rain-soaked alley and Yoongi’s menacing presence still haunting her.

It was a memory that was hidden in the back of her mind to resurface when she’s the most vulnerable. It had happened a few times already, her mind showing her each time she attempted to escape the scarred leader.

She took a deep breath and listened to the mix of crackling fireplace and raindrops outside. His eyes were on her petite physique, his hands holding a book he was reading while she took a well deserved afternoon nap. He put down his reading glasses and ran a hand through his hair, closing the book and turning her attention to her.

“Which one was it this time?”

She turned to see him sitting beside her, his eyes filled with worry. The contrast between the Yoongi in her nightmare and the one before her now was stark. Gone was the cold, calculating predator; in his place was a man who genuinely cared for her well-being. He did change a little. Or maybe he was like that before but his selfishness didn’t allow him to show her his bright side.

Her legs moved to his lap when she was asleep, and he gently rubbed circles into her ankles, his touch soothing for once.

“Will you keep me safe?”

Yoongi's expression softened further, his gaze unwavering as he looked into her eyes. He knows that there were moments that haunt her till now. Moments he let happen with his cockiness.

“Always,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

“I just... I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“Just rest, Dove,” Yoongi murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “I’ll be right here.”

After a few silent minutes, Y/N broke the calm silence.

“Can we play the piano?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, they moved to the old piano in the corner of the room. As they sat side by side, their fingers tentatively began to touch the keys. Each note was a delicate thread, weaving together a tapestry of their unspoken emotions. The music became their secret language, a way to say everything they couldn’t put into words.

Every time she did not feel like speaking herself, they played. Until she felt better. Yoongi played with a gentle intensity, his fingers dancing over the keys with practised ease.

He was a better player, so she thought. Afterall, he had had more life to practice.

The medication made her more open to him. Sooner or later she’ll have to get off of it before it will become her only source of happiness. There were days it made her sleep well, drink, eat, breathe and live like the person she used to be. And there were days she sat in front of her vanity mirror knowing this effect is only temporary.

She cannot afford to get off of them while she’s remaining by his side. Her being would not take it and the prospect of freedom would be scarce. It blunted negative emotions which worked in the scarred boy’s favour.

It was working, but it was a question of time when she’ll develop tolerance and they won’t work anymore. That’s why Seokjin is desperately trying to convince Yoongi that he’ll have a way to help her. Permanently.

Yoongi knows that it would be just another mistake he would have to write under his name.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he whispered again, his words a promise and a plea. And in the quiet aftermath of their duet, she almost believed him.

In that fleeting moment, she wasn’t running, and Yoongi wasn’t chasing. They were simply two souls, lost in the music, trying to find their way back to each other. One more than the other.

His hand moved to cover hers on the keys, their eyes meeting in the stillness that followed. The world outside ceased to exist, the rain and the fire a distant backdrop to the intensity of their shared gaze.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Yoongi leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. Her heart raced, not with fear, but with a different kind of anticipation.

Their faces were inches apart, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. His eyes flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, seeking permission, seeking assurance. Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“Unnie?!” Xiaoli's voice rang out, bright and oblivious. “We need to talk about—”

“Can you keep me safe from my own sister?” She scoffed playfully. His chuckle bounced on her lips as his lips still hovered just a breath away from hers, the paper door swung open with a sudden, sharp creak.

Taehyung stepped in behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Oh. We’re... interrupting, aren’t we?”

Yoongi pulled back slightly, his expression darkening as he turned to face them. Y/N felt the moment slipping away, the fragile connection disrupted.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, his voice strained with barely concealed irritation.

“You invited us to have dinner, Hyung.” Taehyung reminded him, his tone a mix of apology and amusement.

Xiaoli’s eyes darted between Yoongi and Y/N, realisation dawning on her face. “Oh... we’re really sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in, Kkangpae Min.”

She apologised, still not her but always to him and him only. Y/N forced herself to smile. The woman that her sister became is not the same one she grew up with.

“There was nothing to interrupt, don’t worry,” she waved it off and Yoongi sighed, the tension in his shoulders evident.

—

The fleeting moment of intimacy with Y/N hung heavily in his mind. Before, during and after the dinner. He was extravagantly close to feel her lips on his again, just for the moment to be swept away.

Dinner was a mix of awkward silences and forced conversation. Xiaoli and Taehyung tried to lighten the mood, but the air was thick with unspoken words.

Yoongi, for his part, seemed distant, his mind clearly elsewhere. Every so often, his gaze would meet hers across the table.

“Will you come next week?” Xiaoli asked, sipping her wine.

Y/N, momentarily distracted from her thoughts, looked up.

“Next week?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi, who was already looking at her. She hesitated, unsure of committing to anything he did not allow earlier.

“Yes, Y/N promised Bo Cheng to teach him how to ride a horse, and I have some business to attend to.” Yoongi cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I could teach him,” Said Xiaoli, a bit jealous that their brother wanted Y/N to teach him when she was right there in the hotel.

Once Xiaoli and Taehyung will be with each other for eternity, the family of three then, will take their leave back to China.

The Triad leader attended his own business trips while his wife and children stayed with the “allying” clan.

He doesn’t know. None of them knows what Y/N did to herself, apart from Xiaoli, who herself doesn’t know every detail. They spreaded white lies to cover this “lapse of senses”. A misstep. Y/N hides the fading scar carefully to avoid any explanation. She wished to not tell them, and the kkangpae did not object to her wishes anymore. Whatever she wants, she gets. Usually, most of the time if she’s reasonable and clever about it.

The past months painstakingly helped them to get better. Or so Yoongi thought. Her priority was never to be his good wife, her priority is him thinking she will be his good obedient loving wife and when he won’t expect her to seek freedom anymore — she’ll disappear.

“I don't know about that, honey. You remember that nasty fall you took last year?” Her husband-to-be said nonchalantly. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Fall?—“ she asked, doubting his words.

“What are you talking about?” Xiaoli herself was surprised at his words. She did not recall any falls. Y/N knew Xiaoli isn’t the best rider, but she was decent enough to hold any situation that would make her fall from the horse under control.

“I don’t remember that,—” she said, taking another long sip from her glass.

“You’d certainly remember falling from a horse. Why don’t I know about this, Yoongi?” Said Y/N turning herself to the quiet man.

“I was having a hard time keeping you here as you loved to go for a run back then. It must have slipped my mind—“

“My sister falling from a horse slipped your mind?”

“He did not know Y/N, until a lot later. Right, Hyung?” Taehyung smiled sweetly at her, defending his Kkangpae. As always. Y/N clicked her tongue and gifted Yoongi with a penetrating stare creating another layer of tension in the room.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He cleared his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts. The last thing he wants is to mess up their relationship again.

“You’re right, love. I should have told you once I got to know that,” Yoongi admitting guilt is a new trait he acquired these past months.

“How did she fall?” Y/N aimed her question at Taehyung as her sister clearly doesn't remember it.

“It wasn’t probably that bad if I don’t remember it, Unnie. Don’t worry about it anymore—“ the younger female answered before her fiance had the chance to do so.

Y/N sighed loudly but the hand under the table that was gripping her younger sister’s thigh was not seen by her eyes.

—

It was hard to keep focus, especially with Seokjin constantly needing her assistance at work. His stern demeanour and meticulous nature kept her on her toes, but she appreciated the distraction. She knew why she was at his beck and call. Yoongi demanded so. Under any circumstances she ought to be next to Seokjin.

The ambulance in the sanctuary was significantly smaller than the big sanitorium in the town, but there was still some work to do here too.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and studying her intently.

“The usual,” she murmured, filling today’s report. Seokjin watched her for a moment, then brought the courage to ask.

“Have you been intimate?” Y/N dropped the pen at once and with wide eyes. She stared at him. The question came out of nowhere nor was it called for.

“Wh-what do you mean intimate?”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied calmly, not breaking eye contact.

“Have you been intimate with Yoongi again?”

“I don’t see how this is your business, Seokjin.” She felt her face flush with heat, a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“I’m not trying to pry. I’m your friend, but I’m also your doctor, sweetling—,” he said softly.

“Your health and well-being are my concern,” Seokjin explained. “And you know that if something’s affecting you emotionally or physically, it could impact your health.”

Bullcrap, he is in fact prying.

She was silent for a minute, trying to comprehend how he is taking care of her being this late. If she wouldn’t attempt to kill herself, these concerns wouldn’t be as great. But Y/N cannot afford to break havoc. She can’t go on rampage as she wants every single person here to think that she is moving towards being a good obedient wife of the Kkangpae. Even though she wants to scream to each and one of their faces about how much they failed her. How much they hurt her. Yet, patience is the key. Breathe, sleep, eat, endure.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then decided to change the topic.

“What about your wife?” Seokjin’s eyes flickered with surprise before he masked it with a neutral expression. Y/N barely knew the woman. Matter of fact she has seen her maybe three times since the wedding.

“Very much pregnant,” he said, his voice a mix of pride and weariness.

“Oh,” Y/N replied, taken aback. “I didn’t know. Congratulations, I guess.” Here comes another thing that Yoongi managed to keep from her.

“Thank you, my dear,” Seokjin said, a small smile touching his lips. “It’s been… an interesting journey, to say the least.”

“I can imagine,—” Y/N said, sensing there was more beneath the surface.

“Can you imagine yourself on that journey?” Seokjin interrupted, his gaze searching her face.

She pretended that the question took her by surprise, looking down at her hands to not give herself away.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. He is testing her. “It’s hard to think about that kind of future with everything that’s going on.”

Seokjin nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable. But it’s something to consider. Maybe a baby would help you to shush your demons away.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the suggestion, and she forced herself to maintain her composure. “I… I don’t think a baby is the answer, Seokjin. There’s so much I need to sort out first.”

“Sometimes, having something to focus on, something to live for, can make all the difference,” Seokjin said gently.

She nodded, still feeling uneasy about the direction of the conversation. Opting not to give more than she would want to by not answering his remark and going back to finish the report.

“Just know that you have options. And that you don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

“Thanks,” she replied, offering a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Of course she won’t.

—

Y/N entered the dimly lit room where Yoongi was sitting, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. He looked up as she closed the door behind her, his expression softened once he looked up from the papers. The office in the sanctuary remained the same apart from the fact that now the young Kkangpae occupies it far more often than before.

He took his glasses off and pushed himself away from the desk creating a space for her to come and stand in front of him, leaning against the massive wooden desk. Her hands felt the warmth of the wood that had been heated by the lamp, reflecting the same heat that radiated between them.

“Did you ask Seokjin to put thoughts into my head?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask him to, but I knew he would at some point try to give you some wisdom. What did he say?”

“That a baby would be the right treatment for me,” she replied, her voice tight with frustration.

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, then he closed them and exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Dove—“

“Do you think that too?” she asked, searching his face. “That a baby would magically fix everything?”

Yoongi shook his head, stepping up from his chair and closer to her. “No, I don’t. A baby isn’t a solution to our problems—“ she didn’t believe one word that was coming out of this mouth. He wouldn’t break his knuckles this hard if he didn’t want the baby that Y/N took care of not happening anytime soon. Her system was full of herbal remedies. And now that she knows, the herbs flowing in her system are working, she can use that to her advantage.

“But that would make you happy right?” She countered, seeing through him. Softening her mimics to appeal to him.

“Well, yeah, I want a family with you someday—“

“Someday? The bandages on your knuckles says that you’re pretty eager to have it now—” she scoffed and murmured under her nose.

Yoongi’s eyes for once reflected something she couldn’t quite recognise. There was a mix of desperation and longing that flickered there. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, and cupped her cheek gently.

“Dove, I want us to be happy, truly happy. But I know bringing a child into this world won’t erase your pain or solve our problems. We need to fix ourselves first—” His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly.

“I’m sorry for being selfish, my love,” she felt a tear escape her eye, rolling down to where his thumb could catch it. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch because that’s what always softens his edges.

After months, she has learnt what strings to pull to make him move just the way she wants to. Yet, Y/N knows that he isn’t that stupid to believe she suddenly wants to live with him happily ever after.

“I can pour us some wine. We can play the piano after dinner, hm?” He could feel her vulnerability, her heart laid bare before him. Or so he thought as she wanted him to think that. His hand continued to caress her cheek softly, his touch gentle yet laden with unspoken longing she sensed each time he attempted to get closer to her.

She nodded, a small pretentious smile playing on her lips as she stepped closer to him. The tension between them lingered.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “We will be good. We just need time with each other.”

He sat first, patting the space beside him, inviting her to join. Her fingers brushed the keys, eliciting a soft, mournful note. A melody that echoed in her mind far too often. An anthem for hurting. Weeping symphony, tears of sorrow.

He became far too respectful towards her boundaries which essentially was ruining all of her plans. Her fingers pressed the keys with delicate touch even when she wanted to smash them rock hard.

“Why this song?” She let the question hang in the air for a moment, her fingers poised above the keys as if weighing his words.

“Do you know what they interpret it as?” She finally said, her voice soft, barely audible above the lingering notes. Her eyes, once masked with a facade of calm, now revealed a flicker of the anguish she carried.

“Tell me,” he flipped the page of the notes book for her to continue the song.

“It’s a tale of unspoken grief, of wounds too deep to heal and shadows that never leave.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine as she said that. Part of him understood what message she was trying to leave and part of him wished he’s wrong.

“I view it as love lost and dreams shattered. They say it’s a lament for those who wander through life carrying burdens no one else can see.”

He carefully listened to all her words, all the notes she played, all her feelings she shared. Her fingers moved over the keys, each note a whisper of sorrow.

“The scars I carry inside,—“ His hand reached out to touch hers, a gesture of comfort. Stopping her from playing more.

“Let me help you carry that weight—“

“You created it in the first place.”

His eyes widened, a mixture of guilt and realisation flooding his expression. She pulled her hand away.

“The scars I carry, the emptiness I feel, they all trace back to you.”

His mind raced to comprehend the depth of her pain, trying to understand her intentions. It’s not like he ever expected her to say it out loud.

“You created emptiness in me Yoongi—“

He felt his heart clench with guilt and regret. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. It was nothing new. She heard his apologies but she was yet to accept them

She turned back to the piano, her fingers resting on the keys but not playing. “Intentions don’t change the past,” she said softly. “The pain remains—“

“But the future can learn from mistakes.”

“I will. I’ll learn—“ He began before she interrupted him.

“You need to fill the space now.” His eyes lit up listening to her words. In his mind, this was it. The holy grail. In her mind, she was wrapping him around her finger before she would bounce away like a pebble on the pond.

“Heal me if you must.”

These were her last words before the distance between them shrank, the intensity of their emotions drawing them closer. He leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest that she could almost hear it but Y/N didn’t pull away.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, a delicate brush that spoke of apology, of yearning, and of promises yet to be fulfilled. Her heart cried and the song remained echoing in her mind.

As they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting against each other, Yoongi felt a warmth spread through him, chasing away the cold shadows of regret. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. His thoughts were swirling with one thing only — this was the real beginning of them. And it was the beginning.

The beginning of the end.

I N T E R L O G U E

The walls were lined with bookshelves, each shelf overflowing with dusty tomes and old papers. A large, ornate desk stood in the centre, its surface cluttered with stacks of documents.

Seokjin rarely sends her to this room as they also rarely stay in the hanok the sanctuary has for medical assistance to those who live here.

She approached slowly, her fingers brushing over the worn leather of a chair before settling on a stack of yellowed files that he asked to bring. It was then when her eyes caught the opened crimson red files that laid flat open on the desk. The ones that the doctor forgot to take with him the other time he had to run and tend to the lady of the house in the middle of the night. They stayed there, laid open, for several weeks. Touched by a thin layer of dust on top of it.

Kim Seokjin is renowned in his field of practice. Yet, this was going to be his great mistake. Inside, there were detailed medical records, notes written in a precise, almost mechanical hand. The words on the pages made her stomach churn—phrases like “prefrontal lobotomy,” “behavioural correction,” and “psychosurgical intervention” leapt out at her. She read on, horrified by the cold, clinical descriptions of procedures that seemed more like torture than treatment.

Her hand flew to her mouth to not let the wailing cry away.

Trembling, she pushed the file aside and reached for the next one. Not bearing what they’ve done to her sister. Y/N’s hands shook as she read through the files, each word a dagger to her heart. The clinical detachment with which the procedures were described made her feel sick. These were not just medical records—they were accounts of inhuman experiments carried out in the name of science, or more so — control.

The name on this file was all too familiar, it was Jin’s wife. He must have done it before the wedding as she seemed far too calm. Her heart pounded in her chest as she opened it, fearing what she might find. The contents were similar—detailed accounts of medical procedures, records of a lobotomy performed in a desperate attempt to “cure” her of what the notes described as “hysteria” and “unmanageable behaviour.”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She stumbled back from the desk, her mind reeling from the revelations. The room seemed to close in around her, the shadows deepening as the weight of what she had discovered settled on her shoulders.

The name on the empty file under those made her anxious, hysteric even more as the tag had Min Y/N written on it.

She wiped her tears but they couldn't stop falling.

“Y/N?”

.

.

.

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts - @seonghwaexile - @catlove83

[imababblekat]

Scars That Bind

**WARNINGS**: implied ptsd, scarring, angst (but w/ happy ending)

~~~~~~~~

@httpvomitello ,"Hi Hi, how are you? So I was wondering if you could do a one shot with Donnie x f! reader who is his girlfriend. It would be after the event of the second film, where she helps with the fight and everything. However, she ends up with a big scar on her back, but she never got around to revealing it to the others because she was ashamed to show it, and because of that, in those weeks she almost didn't let Donnie touch her, whether it was a hug or a kiss. Until one day, he accidentally sees the scar, and after her explanation, he comforts her and things get better.

A/N: oh boy this is much longer than i had planned it to be! hope y'all still enjoy though! im just gonna go cry in a corner after having written this ╮(T▽T)╭

~xXx~

It had been weeks, and yet the events of the Kraang attacks still effected you. Effected your life. It hadn't been as often as early on, but you still had nightmares. Still awoke sweaty and fearful from a nightmare that played out way differently and more devastating than how the real battle had ended victoriously. Well, mostly victoriously. Yes, the four ninja brothers you had helped and fought alongside went home with some new scars that they would no doubt proudly brandish, but the one you took home made you feel anything but proud. Anything but strong like how the turtles felt about theirs.

The large, healed but still freshly ugly wound across your middle back would be a forever reminder of how things could have gone terribly wrong for you that day. You were lucky to make it out alive in the end, but you had not only been physically scarred, but mentally as well.

What if you hadn't made it out of that slippery situation? What if it had happened and then Donnie, your everything, wouldn't have even known, to busy off fighting the big bad boss? How could you leave him, leave everyone, so suddenly in your foolishness to be more than what you were? A fragile human, trying to be a hero like her mutated boyfriend who had been training to fight his entire life?

The near death experience left you thinking and imaging the worst nearly every waking moment, and it seemed to effect more than just your lonesome. It had started to effect your relationship with Donnie. You can't remember the first moment it happened, but you remember every other time you had rejected his touches. The poor man couldn't get a kiss from you, much less a hug, and he had no idea why. The hurt in his eyes always tugged at your heart strings, but not as much as if he were to find out about the permanent alteration to your body.

If he found out, he would surely blame himself for not being there to protect you. Something you wanted him to not do. He along with his super brothers had more pressing things to be worried about, not a single human when they had the whole of New York on their shoulders. Your horrific dreams of death had also instilled in you that very great possibility of just how much danger you truly were in being with them. Yes, it was something that you had all known. April, Casey, and even Vern were just as in likely danger simply by being friends with the turtles, but no one really realizes the weight of something till it comes crashing down on them. Like it had to you.

If one day something happened to you, you didn't want to leave behind a deeply heartbroken and changed Donnie. Making distance would surely make such a casualty easier to deal with if there was nothing no longer there right?

Right?

You chocked on a sob, eyes screwed shut with clasped hands against your reddened face. The staggered cry quietly echoed off your bathroom walls, the only other sound being the slight slush of water in the tub you had planned to get into before you had caught a glance of the cursed marking on your back in the mirror. Now, you sat on the edge, trying your best to reason with your recent actions, but your heart and subconscious knew the truth and would not let you get away so easily.

Images of Donnie's hurt face only a couple hours ago still projected freshly in your mind. The pain in his eyes when you stepped back from his open embrace and rejected his goodbye kiss before you departed for home. You've seen the genius sad before, but never had you seen him so dejected. Knowing that you were the cause, hurt even more.

"But it's for his own good.", you sobbed aloud.

Than why did it feel so wrong?

Suddenly, something had fumbled and hit the tiled floor loudly, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin as you swiftly turned on the edge of the tub to see the last person you wanted to in this exact moment.

There, standing in the entrance straight as a pillar and eyes so wide they might pop out of his head, was Donatello. He had come to return back your phone, that of which he had called deciding it was finally time to talk about your standoff behavior towards him when it rang from the lair lounge. Now though, a call to work out the reason was no longer warranted, the off color patch of new skin and flesh on your back still crystal clear in his mind.

"I. . .", Donnie faltered, one usually a dictionary of speech, now speechless.

You on the other hand, were much more reactive. Your heart picking up pace, as you were quick to grab your towel and wrap it around, stepping out of your forgotten bath and racing to get out of this situation.

"I-I wondered if I had forgotten that, thanks Don, you can go-"

You had tried and failed to push your way past Donnie after swiftly grabbing your phone off the bathroom floor, but the turtle in purple was much faster and had grabbed hold of your arm just as you entered the hallway.

"How. . .how long have you. . .", Donnie swallowed, still struggling to find the words.

You felt your heart drop in your chest seeing the agony in Donnie's knowledgeable gaze.

"Donnie, please. . .", you mutter barely above a whisper, lip beginning to quiver.

"When you said you went to the hospital to check on a friend, did you really go for yourself?", he questioned, brows furrowed as he looked down at you, but you were careful to avoid his gaze.

You tried to pull your arm from his grasp, but Donnie held firm. He wasn't letting you go this time.

"(Y,n), please, I'm just trying to understand."

"There is nothing to understand.", you gritted out, angry with yourself for the tears that threatened to spill once again.

"How could you say that? You have a-"

"I know!", you finally snapped, glare flashing up towards Donatello.

Said turtle was stunned, but soon relaxed his expression, slowly letting go of your arm to take a step back. You cursed yourself internally, looking back to your hallway's carpet and holding yourself tight. A moment of tense silence befell the both of you, neither speaking and both refusing to look at the other. Your heart ached, and so did his, but it was not you who apologized first.

With a tight throat, Donnie was first to speak quietly.

"I'm sorry. . ."

"Don't say that.", you thought to yourself, another stinging pang shooting straight through your chest. Fighting back the urge to cry, you shook your head, chancing a glance at your slumped boyfriend.

"No. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. It's just. . ."

Donnie looked up just as you looked down the hall, but your gaze was else where. It was a look he was all to familiar with, one he'd seen after terrifying incidents he and his brothers had experienced.

"Is that why you've been so distant?"

By that, you knew Donatello meant your scar.

The reference broke you, nodding as you started to sob and weep, new tears making new streaks down your face. Donnie muttered a quiet 'oh', opening his arms as you quickly crossed the short distance to fall against his plastron. The moment his strong arms wrapped around you, your heart had exploded, cries racking your body as you sobbed loudly, not caring if the neighbors heard. It had been so long since you had embraced each other, since you had been this close to the person you fell so deeply in love with, that the sensation of Donnie holding you felt as though you had finally returned home after an arduous journey across rough seas.

The entire time you cried Donnie stood cradling you, rubbing your arms softly and murmuring quiet whispers of "its okay" and "let it out" against the top of your messy hair. Neither of you knew how much time had passed, Donnie undoubtedly willing to hold you up if your legs no longer could, but soon you had calmed, only letting out shaking breaths and a few soft sobs here and there. Once you felt you had regained enough strength you gingerly used Donnie's strong plastron as leverage to push your self back, just enough to still remain close but also peer up into his worried gaze.

"I'm sorry Donnie. I never wanted to hurt you. I was so scared about how something happening to me would effect you, when I've been causing you that pain this entire time. I'm so, so sorry Donnie.", you choked out, feeling as though you were ripping off a band-aid and at the same time having heavy weights lifted from your shoulders.

"Oh, (y,n).," Donnie muttered, reaching up to move a strand of hair from your sticky, tear stained face. "I only wish I had realized sooner what you were going through. You shouldn't have faced this alone. I should have been there to help."

You bit your bottom lip, shaking your head slowly.

"No Donnie, that's exactly part of why I acted the way I did. I don't want you to blame yourself for what happened."

Donnie's grip on you tightened, a pit forming in his chest. That scar. It grabbed him by the throat and had him in a choke hold the second he stepped into your bathroom. When had you gotten it during the Kraang attack? Were you alone the whole time? How did you get such a wound?

Donatello had to be quick to stop his thoughts before they spiraled into picturing unsavory images of just how exactly you had been hurt. He hated it, this revelation that something seriously bad had happened to the person he loved and he wasn't there to do anything about it. If he'd lost you, he'd surely would have lost himself.

Leaning forward with tightly shut eyes, holding back his own tears for your sake, Donnie's lips pressed firmly to your forehead before slowly pulling back. His beautiful gold eyes found yours, a comforting smile gracing his features as you tiredly peered back at him inquisitively.

"Sorry, dove. I can't say that I won't, but I promise I'll try to as long as you promise me something."

"Anything, Donnie."

"Promise me that you'll always remember I'm here for you. That you can come to me about anything, and to please let me help fight your battles with you, just as you so bravely have done for me."

Your lips formed into a smile, the first genuine one in who knows how long. Your head fell against Donnie's strong chest once more, your arms squeezing him this time and feeling your soul being filled with a warm, positive feeling for once as the tallest ninja turtle returned your embrace with just as much love.

"I promise.", you spoke just above where Donnie's heart lay protected by plastron, the feeling of another gentle, loving kiss being placed against the top of your hair.

~xXx~

[hotpinkstars]

BORDER COLLIE: PT.2 - boothill x reader

- in the first part, you left off by telling boothill your pregnant. how does he react? part 1 here

- people asked for a second part, so here u go!!!!! i honestly lovwd writing this and im so sorry for my lack of posting... i have summer school now (i want to jump whoever decided summer school would be a good idea). anwyays enjoy!

- pre cyborg boothill, mentions of pregnancy, happy endings bc im done hurting my little itty bitty princess huhuhu, all fluff!!!, wc none this time, too lazy to check

"You're what?"

It took Boothill a second to process what it was that you had just said. He gave you a shocked stare for a moment before a small smile creeped up on his face.

"Tha's why you were so hesitant about the dog!"

You laughed at what he had said. He was certainly focusing on the wrong thing... but he sure has the spirit, right? He waited another moment, looking between you and your first daughter.

He didn't really know how to process the fact that now he'll be a father of two. But mostly the fact that you're actually going to be carrying it this time, unlike the last. After a few more moments of thinking it over, he looked over at your daughter, who was smiling and shouting "baby! baby! baby!" in her seat.

He launched into a hug, almost tackling you to the ground with his force. He was just so excited, who was to blame him? You were very confident in his abilities to take care of a brand new newborn, and also confident that he'd get through your pregnancy with you pretty well. He was an outstanding father, so what would change in a similar, yet so different experience?

"Really?? How long have y' known?" He mumbles into your shoulder, and you swear you felt a tear embed itself into your sleeve. "Do you know anything 'bout gender? Due date?"

You laughed, stroking his hair. "I've known probably for a week now. You were super busy when I found out, and I thought now was the appropriate time to tell you, considering the mood was chill and we're all here together."

He nods, releasing his grasp from your torso and going around to grab your daughter out of her high-chair and bringing her into a three hug. She was going to be a big sister soon, and for Boothill to even think about that seemed like a dream to him. He was officially going to be a father of two!

"Whens the due date????" He questioned. You shrugged, explaining to him that you wanted to wait to go to the first doctors appointment with him, and wanted to find all of this out at the same time he does. He felt joyful at your claim, happy that you didn't want to go behind his back.

You three moved to the couch, cuddling and watching a random kids show that your daughter happened to like. It put her to sleep right away, leaving you and Boothill to watch whatever. You turn on a more mature show when you put her in her crib, settling down next to him.

"Once this ones born, then maybe we can think about a dog."

He laughs his usual, hearty laugh before nodding. "Honestly, I think this is 1000 times better than a dog."

[sundaycentric]

JING YUAN AND NEUV!!!!!

(I too am down horrendous for them)

(seperate) neuvillette & jing yuan x reader

content ★ headcanons, NOT PROOF READ!!, sfw, fluff

note ★ SO REAL!! i love them both sm its unreal.. anyways im just going to do some basic headcanons and drabbles bc im abt to go to a dance and i need something quick to post.. other requesters i am working on your stuff!!

NEUVILLETTE ★

He has no idea what it's like to be in a relationship. He has no experience whatsoever, besides for the in occasional movies Lady Furina will force him to watch with her.

Neuvillette isn't that dumb to take the movies as reality, though. So, he ends up just being a mess.

Before you start dating, Neuvillette will try to his best to hide his feelings. He often times pushes you away, but the sky darkens not soon after. He feels torn.

Neuvillette doesn't even understand his own emotions. He can barely process what he feels, let alone name it. He's confused and worried. He thinks it's love, but what if he isn't? He's never felt love to know what it's like.

It'd take some time for him to start working through his feelings. However, he still keeps his distance. He tries not to make it obvious he is avoiding you, but someone sees through him easily.

It doesn't take long for Lady Furina to find out what's happening, especially considering how observant she is to drama. She'll pester Neuvillette about it a bit, laughing at his reactions. Neuvillette tries to appear indifferent, but the sky's definitely different from what it was before.

For all her teasing, Lady Furina does genuinely care about Neuvillette (and you). She will offer some advice to Neuvillette, even though her experience in romance is just as limited as his. At least Lady Furina can work out her emotions, though.

Gradually, Neuvillette accepts your presence and allows him to take pleasure in it. A month ago, he was doing everything to stay out of your way, but now is he practically near you every time he can be.

He tries not to talk to you too much, though. He gets flustered. Although you might not be able to see it on his face, you might notice the sky becoming brighter—way brighter than normal when you talk to him.

He will never confess first. Well, unless he felt like he had to to avoid loosing you. Other that that scenario, though, he will keep quiet until you say something

Once you do say something and confess your feelings to him, Neuvillette will be so happy. His face might be a little smile, but there is no rain for entire week and lot's of people are getting sunburnt..

He will try his best to keep you happy. Neuvillette is very big on communication since he doesn't always understand what you feel. He does try though.

Neuvillette still doesn't talk much about himself. Instead, he prefers to listen to you. Even the small, mundane things you did during your day put a smile on his face.

Overall, he is very kind and considerate. Maybe even too much. He's scared of hurting you or pushing you away because of how he is. That hasn't happened yet, though. :)

JING YUAN ★

He definitely knows what he is doing. He's had some experience in the past, both watching and doing. Although, it is different when it comes to you.

Jing Yuan took interest in you. He was curious. Why? He doesn't know himself. He just likes you presence. You remind him of his finches, maybe even lion sometimes.

He learns as much as he can about you without being seen as creepy. He'll pay attention attention to you at events or when he is in public. When he catches you staring at him, he feels warm.

Eventually, he begins to come up to you. Jing Yuan prefers to take things slow, and really wants to come up with some sort of strategy to win your heart. It's a bit hard, though. He doesn't want to manipulate you, you aren't his enemy.

Jing Yuan tries to keep things in his control, both so he can spend as much time with you possible and just because he likes it. He will pay for your lunches, buy you things you like, pay for your trips. Jing Yuan has enough money, and he is willing to spend it all if you ask for it.

He'll slowly try to become closer with you. He doesn't want to push you away. After all, Jing Yuan has all the time in the world to wait for you. He only hopes you'll actually go to him.

Jing Yuan seems more unfocused at work now. He is usually not paying attention anyways (as he is sleeping), but it's becoming a bit worse now. Lady Fu catches on quick and reprimands him.

Jing Yuan, in his tired state, tries to excuse himself before Lady Fu gets angrier. He ends up slipping and saying your name. The two of them stare at each other before Fu Xuan starts scolding him again.

Fu Xuan is mad at Jing Yuan, yes, but she cannot deny that she cares about Jing Yuan. So, she might peek into the future to see if the two of you are together. She refuses to tell Jing Yuan what she sees, but she smiles as soon as he leaves.

Jing Yuan may be first to confess. He is fine with either. In the case that he confesses, he'll laugh at the way your face lights up. If you confess first, he'll find it funny how you seem a bit unsure of yourself.

He will reassure you with a kiss on the cheek before telling you that he loves you. Jing Yuan will hug you tightly while he sleeps and take care of anything you need.

He is like a teddy bear. :)

He is attentive, and he always knows what you're feeling. He might tease you sometimes, but he is ultimately very sweet and protective over you.

Yanqing definitely looks up to you as another parental figure. Good luck with that.

Overall, very nice to sleep on. He'll take care of everything he can for you and treat you like a precious gem.

[hard-core-super-star]

i have to put a trigger warning to this request, im sorry if it triggers something, it was not my intention, lots of love.

heyy, may I request something like a reader who has depression and is struggling in being clean and just want to relapse in old bad habits of self harm but doesn't say anything to Kate because she doesn't want to disappoint her. but in the end Kate finds out anyway because she knows the reader like the palm of her hand and yeah, free choice for the ending!!

when it rains [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: when the threat of relapsing rears its head, kate does her best to support you...even when you try to push her away.

warnings: depressive episode; mentions of self-harm/relapsing; references to anxiety/struggles with spiraling thoughts; hurt/comfort + hopeful/happy ending; kate being nervous but supportive

wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: i was working on the next part of vampire!kate when i got hit with a random burst of inspiration to write this request. i wrote it pretty much in one sitting so forgive me for the messiness. this is a pretty heavy topic so read at your risk and keep the warnings in mind! there aren't any super explicit descriptions of things but proceed with caution if you find this topic triggering. thank you for the request and for your patience, sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

In hindsight, the signs that something was wrong were obvious.

You should have picked up on them immediately but you were too distracted by the world around you to notice what was going on inside your inner world. Realistically, there were a hundred reasons for your slip of mind and yet, the only thing you could blame was yourself.

You and your lack of focus. 

You and your constant need for external factors to take away feelings you should be capable of working through on your own.

The list of habits to blame for the sudden breakdown of your mental fortitude was shockingly long, in your opinion. 

You probably should have told Kate about your increasingly anxious and self-deprecating thoughts but you foolishly believed you could handle it on your own. 

Plus, she was busy. Too busy to get caught up in issues she ultimately didn’t care about.

At least, that’s what you told yourself…which just made your thoughts worse. 

A part of you knew the archer cared, of course she cared, she had spent the first month since you moved in with her bringing you random gifts after every night of crime fighting. It bordered on ridiculous, especially since there were only so many places to put flower vases, but it showed just how much your girlfriend cared for you. How much she thought of you.

How much she worried for you whether she was next to you or a whole city away.

It’s a thought that usually reassures you. One that reminds you of the love you have for each other. 

The more your thoughts turned sour, though, the more that love turned into a weapon. It forced you to retreat, to pull away from the archer while pretending like the distance you were putting between you wasn’t killing you inside. 

But being alone only made everything worse. And suddenly, the fear of disappointing Kate suffocated you every waking hour.

It didn’t make sense and yet here you are, home alone, hiding in the bathroom, and gripping the sink so hard that your knuckles had turned white a while ago. At least the uncomfortable feeling in your hands had kept you from doing something you really, really, shouldn’t do.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror, frowning at the face that stares back at you. It’s hard to see anything besides the dark bags under your eyes and the exhaustion that’s so clear in every single one of your features.

A sigh leaves your lips as your mind drifts to the razors in the sink cabinet. Your hand is already so close to the cabinet door and the urge to do something you won’t be able to take back rises to the forefront of your mind.

No amount of deep breaths are able to ground you enough for your thoughts to change. Your hand moves a few inches when you suddenly hear the front door slam shut. Some of Kate’s bad habits were also your best allies in moments like this.

You move faster than you can even comprehend, turning the lock on the door and shuffling as far away from the door as you possibly can. You sit on the ground right as footsteps near the bathroom door.

“y/n?”

Her voice startles you despite how soft it sounds. There’s nothing but affection in her tone and yet alarm bells ring in your mind. You almost suffocate under the overwhelming need to run away, to hide, to disappear. 

Your intentions must be obvious despite your silence since she knocks on the door once more. There’s an urgency to her movements that you can’t quite explain. It’s almost like she’s afraid of you slipping away.

The mere thought makes guilt rise up like bile in your throat.

“Love?” She tries once more, her voice uncharacteristically calm. “Can you please open the door?”

You want to do it, you really do, but your whole body feels heavier than ever. No amount of effort or inner screaming gets your limbs to move even though all you really want right now is the archer standing patiently on the other side of the door.

You really don't deserve her.

The door slams open at the exact second your thoughts grow dark once more. 

The sound causes you to jump, your arms instinctively wrapping around your knees and bringing them further against your chest. Almost as if it’ll truly make you disappear so you won’t have to face the disappointment you know will be hiding in the depths of Kate’s concerned eyes.

“Sorry, I got too impatient to pick the lock,” she says, awkwardly scratching the back of her neck. 

You almost want to laugh. Only Kate could be so awkwardly charming at a time like this. Despite her charming act, it’s obvious she’s nervous and more than a little out of her depth. You’d feel bad about it if you weren’t in the same boat as her.  

“Um…” Your eyes lift up from your knees to her face, silently watching while she struggles to put her thoughts into words. “Is it okay if I sit next to you?” 

The answer is obvious to you and yet you still hesitate. Not because you don’t want her around but because you’re afraid of how you’ll act. Of the weird mix of frustration and desperation that make up your inner world right now.

“Yeah,” you mumble. 

Kate wastes no time in coming closer to you. A cynical part of you hates the way she looks at you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world. You know it’s unfair, especially since she’s simply concerned for your well-being, but you can’t change your thoughts. You’ve already spent most of the day trying and failing miserably.

True to her word, Kate simply sits next to you, her side barely brushing up against you. It’s enough of a reminder that she’s physically with you without her running the risk of overwhelming you with more contact than you’re ready for. 

You know her just as well as she knows you, though, and your eyes zero in on her fidgeting hands. It’s almost like you can see the struggle in her motions. The aching need to reach out and touch you, to make sure you’re truly safe.

Ultimately, she doesn’t move. And neither do you.

For the first time in a long time, Kate doesn’t rush. She doesn’t question things or make one of her badly-timed but well-intentioned jokes. 

She just…sits there. 

Waiting. 

Silently watching over you in a wordless expression of her support and love for you. 

It’s more beautifully emotional than you were prepared for and you’re almost not sure what to do.

Until, eventually, you find some sense of calm. You grasp onto it quicker than your mind can even handle and finally…you’re able to move again.

It’s a subtle, almost slow, movement but Kate picks up on it pretty much instantly. You extend your arm out toward her and she gently holds the back of your hand while lifting the sleeve of your hoodie up. The audible sigh of relief she lets out makes your heart clench.

She doesn’t question you in any way but you decide to speak up. Maybe a part of you needs to hear the words out loud too.

“My other arm is clean too,” you mumble. “I…I’m still clean.”

She brings your arm up until she’s able to press soft kisses all over the inside of your wrist. “What you are is strong.”

You can’t help but scoff. The knowledge that she means well does little to soothe the disdain that’s made a home in your stomach. “That’s not true.”

The tone your voice carries startles her enough for her to change her approach. It’s not one she particularly wants to employ but she figures it’s better than arguing. 

“Of course it’s true,” she responds. “I know you’ve been struggling all week, y/n. Surviving that takes more than just luck.”

Her words leave no room for arguing so all you can do is huff in response. Your obvious frustration does little to deter her and she continues to caress your wrist. You don’t miss the way she lingers over the few faded scars that remain etched into your skin.

The affection soothes you somewhat which only brings back the thoughts that had sent you down this spiral in the first place. 

“I want to do more than just survive,” you whisper. “I want to live, Kate. Without feeling so…helpless all the time.”

“Babe…” She sighs.

Your body tenses up as you prepare yourself for the disappointment that is sure to follow. 

Who are you to complain? The only thing standing in your way is yourself and yet you have the nerve to act like it’s the end of the world. It’s no one’s fault but your own that you can’t function like a normal person. 

You expect her to verbalize your own thoughts, to prove that all your doubts were correct, that you deserve to feel this way after all. It’s an extremely unrealistic expectation considering who Kate is but you can’t stop yourself from wanting to be proven right. 

To be given a reason for wanting to disappear.

There’s nothing the archer loves more than proving you wrong, though.

“y/n, surviving is a part of living,” she says, her voice soft yet more serious than you’re used to hearing her. “I know it probably doesn’t feel like that right now but pushing through is the first step to living. You just have to take it step by step…and you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here for you, if and when you want me.”

Kate’s never been known for being particularly good at saying the right thing at the right time but today…her words seem to ease some of the weight you’ve been carrying lately. Maybe it’s not much but it’s certainly a start.

“I do want you here,” you find yourself saying. “I just…I don’t know why it feels easier to push you away.”

“Because you’re scared, darling. You don’t want me to leave so you walk away first. I do the same thing, y’know?”

You can’t help but scoff. If there’s one thing Kate doesn’t know how to do is walk away when she really should. It would be infuriating if it didn’t work out in her favor most times. Hence how she ended up as Hawkeye in the first place. “Literally when have you done that?”

“Before I met you.” She playfully bumps your shoulder with her own. “It wasn’t exactly my charm that made me a heartbreaker.”

You chuckle despite yourself. “Please, Kate, you’ve always been too oblivious to be a heartbreaker on purpose.”

“Okay, ouch. I am not oblivious.”

Instead of arguing with your stubborn girlfriend, you simply lean closer to her and rest your head on her shoulder. Her arm instantly wraps itself around you to pull you even closer.

The physical comfort helps to ground you and little by little, your bad thoughts stop looking so overwhelming. It’s a small step but it’s a step forward and with Kate by your side, the path to recovery doesn’t seem so bad.

[blurbfics]

There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part three]

Summary: Girls' brunch!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: swearing, description of scars, light self-deprecation in reference to past abuse (this sounds harsher than it is, really), Gwyn crushing on Azriel, accidental outing of someone else, piercings, Cassian hurting someone's feelings

Minors, do not interact

A/N: im so happy this story has gotten some attention! i was half expecting it to just go in the internet void but if only one person is enjoying then thats enough for me. enjoy some light gay content

part two

"'Cause you're just a man

It's just what you do

Your head in your hands as you color me blue."

Lana Del Rey, Norman fucking Rockwell

“-And he smiled at me! I really think he liked it,” Gwyn gushed, popping a blueberry into her mouth before reaching over for the cinnamon butter to spread over her slice of toast.

“How can you tell?” Eowyn asked curiously, licking at the muffin crumbs in the corner of her mouth, ��I don’t think I’ve ever seen him show emotion before.”

Nesta and Gwyn laughed at that, both nodding their heads. 

“I guess you just have to pay attention,” Gwyn replied mildly, shrugging.

It had been two days since her venture out into the city and all had been exactly the same as it was before, other than the minuscule shift between the Illyrians and herself. It wasn’t a drastic change, or anything particularly noteworthy for any other person, but considering the fact that the only people Eowyn spoke to on a daily basis consisted of Clotho, Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie, with the exception of a priestess here and there that either delivered a message from Clotho or asked where she’d left a parchment, she did, of course, take notice.

While Azriel remained as emotionless and distant as he’d always been, she’d developed somewhat of an awareness of him. It was random and rather irritating to have that small sliver of consciousness of his nearness, especially when she was supposed to be partaking in the Valkyrie breathing exercises they practiced during their breaks from the grueling training, but for some reason, she simply knew when he was there. To her right, only a short distance away, or towards the far left corner of the ring — she was even half convinced she could feel when he approached, like some kind of echo-location. And then there were the times where she’d discreetly glance at him, from under her veil, unnoticed by anyone looking at her, only to find his eyes already set on her.

As if feeling her gaze, he was always quick to look away, in such a smooth manner she couldn’t quite be certain he was looking at her at all.

And then there was Cassian, who had already become more familiar with her the more time she spent with Nesta, and who had taken a particular liking to calling her ‘Wynnie.’ She’d made sure not to correct him on the name again, not wanting to encourage him to use it even more, but she had already accepted her fate and knew there was no going back. He’d been just so boisterous and happy when he spoke to her, slapping a heavy hard hand on her shoulder as greeting and had begun a light sort of teasing with her that it just felt wrong to deny him something so small.

Finally carrying out her promise to set up a luncheon, Nesta had the girls join her in the House of Wind kitchen to eat after a particularly grueling day's training. Emerie had mysteriously disappeared soon after training was over.

“Is Emerie not joining us?” Eowyn wondered, glancing at the door once more, half expecting the Illyrian female— or anyone, really— to come in any second, still feeling slightly panicked at the thought of anyone seeing her. They'd been eating for a while now and the Valkyrie had yet to appear.

She had been reluctant to join her friends for lunch, not because she didn’t want to join them, but rather out of diffidence, for their reactions to her unveiled face or the questions they might ask.

But Gwyn, like the majority of the priestesses, had already seen her uncovered face and knew better than to ask her about her past, Emerie was currently gone and Nesta? She had barely blinked at her, eyes going immediately to her nose instead.

Her sharp gray blue eyes had barely scanned her face in a fraction of a second before they focused on the center of her face, “what the fuck is that?” Her eyes widened slightly in a very un-Nesta like way, “on your nose?” She added quickly, not even giving Eowyn enough time to take offense or feel remotely ashamed.

But Nesta’s blunt question caused her mind to go blank for a second. Her nose?

She had let out a tuh sound of incredulity, “I’m showing you my fucked up face and you’re asking about the jewelry on my nose?”

“Is that what it is?” Nesta tilted her head to the side, “I’ve never seen anything like it. As for your face, I see nothing wrong with it. I’d say you even give Elain a run for her money.”

Something had ignited inside Eowyn then. Not the tinge of fraternal irritation Cassian had drawn out of her by calling her by a long forgotten nickname, but by the insinuation that she— with the jagged distorted scars pulling from the corners of her mouth, one ending in the outer center of her cheek, while the other extended longer and higher, almost to her cheekbone— could even compare to the flawless beauty and unsullied brightness that was Elain Archeron.

But the feeling itself— the sharp anger that rose within her was immediately thwarted by the recognition of the emotion itself. How long had it been since she’d felt something so powerful, so passionate, something that was once so familiar? Something that had been her second nature? Had it truly been over a century since she’d been anything but detached and apathetic?

Gwyn had been quick to come to her defense, although for an entirely different reason than what she assumed. “It's a great honor to bear jewelry on that part of the nose, known as the septum” she lit up, pleased to have the opportunity to share her knowledge, “septums are only bestowed upon those that have dedicated some of their eternal fae life to their studies.”

Septganiums, Eowyn mentally corrected, but figured it didn’t really matter. 

Nesta squinted at her, a curious human characteristic that Eowyn found quite endearing. “But you have two rings.”

“They symbolize every seventy-year cycle, based on the location and the name itself, the sept-um. It’s also kind of a joke… to pierce that which is always buried in a book.”

And that was that.

Nesta had assured them before they joined her that they had the house to themselves, as Cassian and Azriel had business with Rhys in the River House and knew better than to disturb her and her friends in their private time.

“She left with Mor,” Nesta answered her question with a smirk. Gwyn gasped excitedly and waved her toast around.

“No way! She finally mustered up the courage to talk to her!”

But Eowyn’s eyes only widened, holding her tea halfway up to her lips, “Mor was here?”

She didn’t miss the look Nesta shot her. Damn, she really needed to learn how to interact with people again. 

“Mhm, she spent the night last night,” Nesta smirked, “I overheard her ask Emerie if she wanted her to winnow her back to Windhaven.”

“No wonder she didn’t even bother telling us she wasn’t joining us for lunch,” Gwyn chuckled lightly, eyes alight with delight.

“Has Emerie been interested in Mor a long time?” Eowyn asked, the words feeling strange in her mouth.

“Oh yeah, she’s been in love with her forever,” Gwyn giggled and rolled her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder exaggeratedly, “talking about how beautiful she is, how perfect her hair falls, how she wished she was interested in females and would just look-"

“She is,” the words were out of her mouth before she could take them back and for a moment, the sardonic little demon in her mind that often mocked her and watched amusedly as she made a fool out of herself, whispered that perhaps her captors weren’t entirely in the wrong when they'd quite literally sewn her mouth shut at an attempt to keep her from berating them so much.

She cringed, face aflame as Gwyn and Nesta turned their focus to her, wearing different looks of scandalized surprise and curious dark amusement respectively.

“Wha-“

“Whe-“

“Forget I said anything,” she hissed at them, shaking her head ashamedly, eyes falling to the table, “I-I don’t know if Mor is out to the world like that and I’m not going to be responsible for-“

“Don’t worry about it, we won’t say anything,” Nesta assured nonchalantly in a way Eowyn truly did not trust for a second.

“Really,” Gwyn nodded encouragingly, noticing Eowyn’s reluctance, “we won’t say anything.”

Eowyn thought about it.

“Sorry, that’s not enough. I need you both to swear,” she looked at them both seriously.

Nesta scoffed, “I’m not striking a bargain with you because you let it slip that Mor eats pus-“

“That’s exactly why you have to do it. No offense, but you’re pretty hottheaded Nesta, there’s no knowing when you might just fuck up as I did now without meaning to hurt anyone, but what if you do? And Gwyn, I-I just-“

“You’re a busybody,” Nesta agreed, if a bit reluctantly, as she turned to Gwyn, “you’re going to want to tell Emerie to help her out but that’s not for us to share.”

“Exactly,” Eowyn breathed in relief, “I’m not asking for anything drastic, I’m just thinking that we don’t talk about Mor’s business unless she or Emerie announce it first, does that sound alright?”

“And what do I get from this bargain?” Nesta smirked, glancing at Gwyn who grinned back, looking almost mischievous in a very un-Gwyn like manner. “You tell us what happened between you and Mor.”

“You two are busybodies,” Eowyn rolled her eyes, “but fine, it’s a bargain.”

Eowyn couldn’t help but chuckle when the girls jumped in place in surprise, if not for the smallest pinches of pain, as there, in mirroring sides of their elegant fae pointed ears sparked two pieces of jewelry.

The house, ever so attentive, provided a small hand mirror for each of them to inspect their new singularly pierced ears.

“Fascinating,” Gwyn gushed, prodding her gold ring lightly.

“I was expecting a tattoo,” Nesta admitted, head tilted as she inspected the small silver jewelry piece, wrapped around the cartilage of her ear, “but I kind of like this better.”

“That’s an Illyrian tradition, right?” Eowyn licked a bit of jam off her finger.

Nesta nodded but then her eyes sharpened with glee, “you bargained a dirty little story, Wynnie.”

Beyond amused, Eowyn felt just a fraction— just the smallest hint of her old self— possess her body once more, that same spirit driving her to glance down at her plate in amusement as she glided her index finger over the sweet confiture before raising her gaze to look at them innocently from under her eyelashes as she brought her finger up to her tongue, “you never specified when, Nes.”

Their jaws dropped.

"Oh."

"Wynnie, I swear to the-"

“Woah, what is going on in here?” Cassian’s voice boomed through the luncheon setting the house had so lovingly crafted for them. “It smells like a female pleasure house in here.”

"You're not supposed to be here," Nesta scowled at her mate.

"Over a dozen rooms in this house and you pick the kitchen?" he huffed but then stopped and eyed them warily, “seriously, what's with the scent on you? Is it because I’m here or were you dirty females reading smut again?”

His statements, neither of which were true, caused Eowyn to genuinely laugh, if only lightly, which brought Cassian’s attention to her. She lost her grin when she saw his eyes flicker over her face, down to her scars, and almost laughed again at the clearly drastic differences between the mated pair.

She braced herself for the comment.

“Huh. Never noticed you had those septganiums, Wynnie— or should I say, Maestress Wynnie,” he spoke matter-of-factly, saying no more on the simple statement before reaching towards the center of the table and grabbing a handful of bacon.

She blinked at him. Perhaps the Mother truly knew what she was about when it came to these two.

Deciding that she wouldn’t care if he didn’t either, she stepped out of her comfort zone and left herself uncovered. Truthfully, the main reason she even covered herself was mostly out of habit now, for the comfort of others who might feel any disgust or objection to seeing her healed wounds, as some of the priestesses did. 

Eowyn would never forget the day, in her early days of exploration in the library, when she caused a priestess to fall into a fit of panicked breaths, clutching at her chest because the sight of Eowyn’s scars had triggered a memory of her attacker, who bore the same scars.

Eowyn knew it wasn’t her they were rejecting, but the fact that her own exposed trauma could trigger such a disconcerting response had been a penetrating blow to her psyche.

“Cassian, did you see Azriel’s bronze blade?” Gwyn lit up again, still riding the high from having interacted with the surly Shadowsinger that morning after training.

“Yeah, I saw it at the River House,” the General chortled, shoving a handful of berries into his mouth, “I told him to stop letting Mor get him shit he doesn’t like and won’t really use.”

There was a pregnant pause, the space suddenly devoid of air as if the house itself was holding its breath. Gwyn’s chair scraped the floor as she stood, eyes bright with tears. Saying nothing, she simply stepped away from the table and rushed out of the room.

“Good job,” Nesta glared at him, standing up to follow after her.

Eowyn stood up as well, eyes following Gwyn in concern, and despite it clearly being Cassian’s fault for opening his big mouth, she couldn’t help the guilt that bit at her stomach because she knew, she knew, she knew, the blade was not right for him. The color, the length, the feel, of it had been all wrong but she had decided to ignore her nosy little inner voice, reminding herself that those closest to the Shadowsinger would clearly know him better than her. Who was she to him but just another one the many neophytes?

“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her,” Nesta barely grazed her shoulder with a hand before she was out the door, leaving Cassian and Eowyn alone in the fancy tea luncheon.

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” Cassian grimaced, mouth still full of bacon and sweet biscuits.

But Eowyn only quirked a brow at him and began to collect her things. As she went to pull her veil over her face, he spoke again. “You really don’t have to wear that around us, you know? I mean, you do whatever you want, but I just want to make sure you know we don’t see you any differently for any scars you may have. All of us have our own share of them.”

But she did have to wear it, if not for her own comfort than that of others, but she decided against saying so.

“Have you seen scars like mine?” She asked instead, finding herself suddenly curious.

He nodded, “I’ve seen all kinds of scars. If you ever see battle, which I hope you don’t, you’ll see plenty of scars worse than your own.”

Worse.

Her grip on the back of her chair tightened at his brief dismissal. Knew, logically, that he intended to soothe what he assumed were physical insecurities, but that ultimately felt like a disregard to the pain she'd endured to only leave such scars.

She nodded stiltedly, “right. Good afternoon, General.”

“Aw Wynnie, not you too!” He called out after her but she was already out the door.

part four

taglist: @lilah-asteria @a-courtof-azriel

[walpu]

hii, the bp hitman aven icon drove me crazy. i've been thinking ab aventurine in a spy mission and reader being the chair girl that watches the cameras, opens doors... specifically i've been thinking ab reader going crazy bc the mission is going horrible while aven is chilling and laghing at her screams through the earpiece bc he's not afraid to die (reader knows that and thats why shes like crazy).

luv your works, im always looking forward for your posts 💕

Thank you so much 🩷🩷🩷

Hope you'll enjoy this!!

spy mission with Aven goes wrong

notes - gn!reader, a bit angsty but just a bit, Aven being a little shit, no beta

It's not that he's not scared of dying, of course he is. Especially when everything seems to be going so horrendously wrong.

But panicking won't help anyone especially when you're already doing it for the both of you.

The only thing he can do now is smile and chuckle, telling you to have some trust in him and his luck. As if he himself has it.

But he's been trough worse so it must play out.

"Aventurine, come back immediately, don't risk it!"

He hears your paniced voice in the headphone. It's honestly heartwarming that you actually care.

Or maybe you don't. Maybe you're just worried about success of the mission. No need to delude himself, he thinks, trying to ignore the bitter feeling in his chest.

Only if he knew how little you care about the mission itself right now. How worried and scared for him you are. How angry you are that he keeps throwing himself in dangerous situations.

"You know what? I'll just stop opening doors for you!"

"Sabotaging your own mission? Darlington, just relax and have some trust in me. The die is cast so no need for you to worry. Aaaand, if you actually stop opening the doors, I'll just have to find aboth way around"

Oh how infuriating his carefree demeanor is! You really don't have any other choice than keep helping him.

He is actually so happy that you're not here right now. Not physically. Even if his luck fails him, you won't get hurt and that's the most important thing for him.

And hearing your voice, being able to be playful with you despite the situation, helps him to be less tense.

The mission ends up being successful. His luck didn't fail him after all.

So when he reunates with you, a bit injuried but alive, he of course wants to announce that your worries were for nothing.

Yet he is actually surprised to find out that you're not happy at all, despite everything being okay.

He's even more surprised when the only thing you're focusing on right now is his minor wound.

"Told you to come back and not risk it" you say regretfully, dotting on him.

"Ah, don't sweat it, darling. We're victorious, are we not? The mission is a grand success~" he says with a small laughter, trying to mask his confusion. He did good, he didn't fail you, so why aren't you relieved?

"I don't care about the mission! We could've finish it later, with reinforcement! Look at you, you are- You are injured..."

Oh. Oh. So that's why you're so distressed??? Oh aeons.

He doesn't even have time to react when he feels you hugging him.

Well good job, not he can't stop trembling.

Local gambler just found out his crush cares deeply about him more at eleven.

You decide what to do with him now. Some scolding won't hurt but if I were you I would recommend emphasizing how much you care, this man has trust issues.

[elliereject]

ifhy .1

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, (I LIKE EM’ A LITTLE CRAZY!), angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* im back, ok not really this has been rotting in my drafts forever and I was reading it back and I was like damn I lowk cooked with this. It’s unfinished as of RN but this is only 1/3 of the fic im just splitting it up so u don’t have to wait months,,for it..like my other fics..DONT ASK ME ABT THOSE, cuz I don’t got an answer. IN THE MEAN TIME ENJOY THIS! <3

* mdni (but like if u do wtvr, nothing crazy happens in this chapter)

wc ~ 1.6k

pt. 2 here

Ellie Williams fucking hated you.

Surprisingly, she didn’t at first. In fact, she was in love with you, bordering infatuation.

She had seen you for the first time at the local bookstore before the semester started, you were flipping through a book about time and relativity with a concentrated look on your face. She smiled to herself when she saw you push up onto your toes to reach for another book but to no avail. She took this as an opportunity to walk up to you and reach over your head to grab it, making sure to flex her lean, tattooed arm before placing it in your hand.

Her jade eyes locked on yours and your face heated immediately, you mumbled a “Thank you.” Before scurrying past her to the checkout.

Imagine her surprise when on the first day of classes, she walks into her astrophysics course and sees you, doodling in your notebook with that same concentrated look on your face.

Of course, she sits next to you, flashing that charming smile that has sweat gathering at your hands. She tells you her name then asks for yours and learns about your major, favourite course, and how you’re staying in a little apartment just outside the campus before more students and your professor filed in. You didn’t know why but you just felt so comfortable telling her things, She laughed at your corny jokes and made even cornier ones, and she admired the doodles that covered your notebook and the little duck pen you used.

You didn’t want to speak too soon, but it was safe to say you were harbouring a tiny bit of a crush on her.

Ellie on the other hand, was completely ready to admit it. She felt her love for you grow each second she was around you. Your smile quite literally felt like the sun shining upon her, your laugh made her want to drop her studies of space to pick up stand-up comedy just so she could make it her job to make you laugh. In her eyes, everything you did was perfect. Her thoughts were completely consumed by you, you, you.

And for a few months, things were amazing! You had been introduced to Dina and Jesse and even spent Halloween hanging out with the trio watching horror movies and eating each other's weight in candy. When the holidays rolled around you and Ellie, along with the others, cozied up under some blankets and made fun of cheesy Hallmark movies while she tried her hardest not to interlock her hands with yours even after your pinky brushed against hers for the sixth time.

During finals, Ellie and you organized designated study days that usually ended in giggling at stupid memes on each other's phones or late-night food runs. Of course, there were lingering touches and flirtatious glances here and there but you were too shy to act on it and Ellie would rather die than make you uncomfortable so she kept you just at arm's length. Besides, she knew you were too timid to approach anyone else, so in a way she had you all to herself.

Then, you met him. Some motherfucker whose name she didn’t care to remember. However, she did remember the innate feeling of anger that surged through her body when you gushed to her about him and how he was a history major and the way his glasses framed his face perfectly and whatever the fuck else you found interesting about him.

She nodded and laughed and smiled along with you when you would drone on about him but would excuse herself to the bathroom to tend to the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms from digging her fingers into them so hard.

She tried her best to not show these negative emotions to you because she knew how much you didn’t like when she got mad but fuck was it hard. Especially that one night when you were out with him and you hadn’t replied to her texts in over 5 hours. Man did her drywall take some damage that night.

And when you finally did reply you had completely disregarded her message and went on to boast about the time you had and how gentlemanly he was. All she could do was reply with a dry “sounds like fun🙂” before she went back to throwing a tantrum around her room and tormenting that poor wall…she’d have to remember to buy some spackle before the end of the semester.

Then, there was the time she trekked over to your apartment with some pizza for a surprise movie night and saw the bouquet placed in front of your door. She set the box down to pick up the flowers and read who it was from, her body reacted before she could rethink. She tore the flowers from the beautifully wrapped packaging and stomped on them over and over and over until all that was left were broken stems and tattered petals.

Thankfully, you got home just a few minutes later and missed her outburst. You gasped when you saw the smashed flowers and asked her what had happened, she shrugged and lied easily, claiming it was like this when she got there. She let out a breath when you shook your head and sighed, saying it was probably your next-door neighbor who had always been a bit of a grouch.

She had genuinely thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her true feelings for both you and him but it was when you gleefully announced that he was officially your boyfriend she knew she was done for. You squealed and pulled her in for a hug but it felt like her heart had shriveled up into a clump of black coal and woosh like magic, her love for you had turned into something twisted, something possessive.

It was when you invited her over to your apartment to eat dinner with him that she had started considering the idea that you knew she had a crush on you and you were just fucking with her emotions for fun.

How could you start dating, let alone seeing some random ass motherfucker when she was right here! She knew she could treat you better than he could even dream of, she knew everything about you and she’d make it known to you how perfect she was for you, one way or another.

That night at dinner she sat uncomfortably as you fluttered around your tiny kitchen, adding last-minute touches to the spaghetti you made and despite the grumble in her tummy it felt like she had no appetite when she watched the hungry way he looked at you, as if you were a juicy steak and he was a starved wolf.

Once you were finished plating the food and placing it on the table you sat down eagerly and tried your best to mediate the obvious tension.

“Soo uh, Ellie, you’ve been really into watercolour recently right?” You beamed.

“Uh-huh.” She said dryly, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

“Oh that’s cool, you know watercolour as an art form has been around since Egyptian times! It’s funny to think that like—Cleopatra was painting with water and grapes or something!” He spoke and you giggled like it was the funniest joke in the world. She shot you a look that said really? because she knows she could make a joke that was way funnier, and would expel your real laugh.

“That’s cool. You know how to shut the fuck up?” She mumbled into her bite of spaghetti.

“Sorry?” He asked and you gave her a sideways glance.

She smiled tightly and swallowed before answering, “Just said that’s cool!”

Dinner dragged on as he droned about the history of the Renaissance or fucking Christopher Columbus, she didn’t actually know, she tuned him out. After you cleared the plates, you ushered them into your cozy living room for a movie and when you excused yourself to the bathroom she plopped down on the couch next to him, subtly pulling out her switchblade.

“So, Kevin—“

“Actually my name—“

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is, matter fact I don’t give a fuck about you in general. What are your intentions with ★?”

The man tensed up as Ellie expertly spun the blade around in her fingers.

“Uh—I mean, she seems cool and dating her has been pr—“

“Cool?” Ellie scoffed, “She’s fucking perfect, and I hope you know whatever you have going on with her right now? It won’t last. Soon she’s gonna see you for the limp-ass motherfucker you are.”

He was taken aback, “What?—I’m sorry, did I do something to offend you?”

“Your whole existence offends me.” She rasped, inching her blade closer to his neck. “She’s not meant to be with you.”

He furrowed his brows, “You like her, don’t you?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Before he could reply you were back from the bathroom and she slipped her blade back into her pocket and got up with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What were you two talking about?” You asked as you grabbed a bag of chips from your small coffee table and tore into them.

“Oh you know, girl talk.” She smiled, digging her blunt nails into his shoulder. Translation: don’t say a fucking word.

You rolled your eyes playfully like you even had a clue of what was going on, “He’s not a girl, dumbass.”

She shrugged, stepping away from her previous seat to plop down on the other small sofa.

The rest of the night proceeded relatively smoothly, your boyfriend had been so shaken up by Ellie’s words that even with you sitting next to him he kept his distance with worried glances toward Ellie now and then. Ellie crunched on her popcorn happily and watched the movie with a satisfied smile and a chipper aura.

— ★

🤔 shall I put out the second part? only time (and interactivity! 💝 pls don’t let this flop) will tell!

[tojisun]

sunnyyy!! omg omg okay so idk what you put in your toxic dbf series but im sure its crack cause i know its freaking hurtful but i love it!! ur mind is >>>>>

alsoooo, i have this idea that i plan on writing for miguel but idk where to start SO IM GIVINF IT TO YOUUU!!

so lets call her bunny in this one. say bunny is enough of his shit, won’t let him do her dirty anymore because she refuses to be stupid. she’s no longer cassie howard and moves on to another man. a man who knows what he wants and who isn’t afraid to let her know that he wants her. he’ll cherish her, he adores the fuck out of her, he shows her off and he makes a promise to put a ring on her finger,

but simon doesn’t like that. not even one bit. and it ticks him off because why is he like this? why is he so worked up that she finds someone who finally treats her better than she can? yet, he can’t let it go. he lets her know. she has to know.

and so, at two am he comes knocking at her door. flowers in his hand, nicely dressed for the first time to let her know that he’s doing it for her and only her. not erin.

and it takes a lot in her to not slam the door in his face because she’s happy right now,

“you look at him the way i wanted to be looked by you, sweetheart” he admits, swallowing the lump in his throat. “and i envy that.”

she stares at him with a deadpan look. not really feeling a single thing anymore, leading him to continue.

“i have no right to say that, i know but—“ he pauses to take a deep breath. “i want to be with you. i want to be your man and i want you to let me”

she doesn’t want him to

ANA?? ANA MY LOVE???? THIS MAKES ME VIOLENTLY ILL

thinking about this in the dbf!simon series??? oh but im absolutely sobbing // same timeline as this !!

thinking about how you cry and wail and mourn for the years wasted on simon. thinking about the way you crumple on your bed, curling underneath your sheets, your cries now having been reduced to silent tears—this doesn’t mean you feel any better. instead, you feel even more distraught, upset in a way that feels bigger than yourself.

thinking about the promise you make to yourself. how, when the morning breaks, you will move on. that no matter how painful it may be—and it will be—you will strive to let go of simon. truly and completely this time around.

and that’s what you do. you fall asleep in exhaustion, heart heavy and mind buzzed. in the morning, you blink your eyes open and lay in bed for a few more minutes, suspended above your heartbreak, before it all comes crashing down on you. tears trickle from the corners of your eyes but you stay resolute, strong grip corralling your grief into the corner of your heart, before you get your day going.

you start by throwing everything that reminds you of simon: polaroid pictures and framed photos, shirts and clothes and socks and lingeries, towels and bedsheets, trinkets and accessories from across the globe—little souvenirs he’s brought to appease you.

(in the long haul, many of them were actually donated, while some were sold. but today, as you submerged yourself in your heartache, you dumped everything in a black garbage bag. out of sight, out of mind.)

blocking simon’s number actually turned out to be last. you deleted the pictures you have with simon in your phone prior, and then blocked and deleted his number altogether.

you breathed in deeply once you’re finished and collapsed to your bed again, trying to ignore the bareness of the walls and the emptiness of your room (let alone your heart).

the tears come again—they will come more often than not—and you let them. you open the locked corner of your heart and let the grief out. you mourn for what was lost; for what could’ve been. but most importantly, you mourn for the ways you’ve let yourself be trapped in such an unhappy moment.

moving on comes slowly; it comes so torturously that you thought it would never happen. but it does, and it does so during one quiet afternoon.

on that day, you realize that not once did you think of simon. not once did the memories trickle in to rip you away from the jovial present. and as you stand there in your kitchen, the sounds of the microwave beeps piercing through mutedly, you feel remade.

you feel whole, once again.

-

simon noticed, of course. he noticed the way your messages stopped coming in, or the way you no longer use your dad as an excuse to meet simon, or the way you just fell off the radar.

simon tried to reach out to you once and realized that you’ve got his number blocked.

it’s whatever, he thinks. because simon has never known you well, has never tried to learn more about you, so he thinks that this—your silent treatment and your detachment—is all a ploy. something like you playing hard-to-get.

so simon doesn’t think much about it until days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months, and months are slowly building up to turn to a year.

simon doesn’t hear from you and, despite all his posturing, he realizes that he’s missed you. so he decides to drive by to pick you up for dinner and maybe apologize for whatever it is now that he’s done.

he gets to your dorm and rings your room. the intercom scratches awake, the person from the other side, your dorm mate he’s sure, asks who it was, and simon tells them his name. then, he tells them that he’s here for you.

there is silence for a while, almost loaded in a way that simon knows it’s not the intercom breaking up, and he gets his answer when he’s given a curt reply of, “she doesn’t want to see you. bye.” there is the distinct screech and then the line drops before simon could even ask why.

and simon feels lost. untethered.

-

john is a good man. that’s the first thing you realized. it terrified you, at first, how much you looked forward to meeting him. how much of being with him—simon’s friend—makes you happy.

you waited for the other shoe to drop, shoulders perpetually hunched as though that can shield you from the inevitable of john leaving you. of john using you.

but john is so warm. john is so gentle and kind and patient and loving.

john holds your hand and you know he isn’t looking for more. he drops you off at home, tells you to rest well and to say hi to your dorm mates, before taking off on his bike.

john kisses your cheeks and you know he isn’t looking for something more passionate. more heated. and you crave for his touch, yes, but there is something so special in the way john shows his affection—all crinkled smile and quiet chuckles; all whispered words and promises fulfilled; all soft and tender and secure.

it was a love so different, so beautiful, so really it wasn’t surprising at all when your relationship grows, thriving alongside your healing.

(he promised, you know? he promised, as he played with your hand, that he’ll one day put a ring on your finger. your lips wobbled and you told him to stop making loaded promises such as that, but john just turned to you with a soft smile and said, “i look forward to the day we share the same vow, bunny. if you would have me.”

you hiccupped sob and threw your arms over his shoulders, nodding because, “i would. john, i would!”

he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and sharing warmth with you. you burrowed your head on the crook of his shoulder, breathing him in, letting his presence wash over you.

john, you thought. johnjohnjohn.)

-

simon drives to you the day after he confronted john. he drives to you with all of his messy heart spilling from the ridges of his ribs, beating only one name—yours.

he’s never felt this way before. not with all the pretty people he’s gone out with, or his first love, or even erin. erin who simon once imagined a future with. erin who simon once loved. not even that could triumph over the expanding turmoil that simon’s basking in.

he calls on the intercom of your dorm again, begs your roommate that may you please hear him out, and then he sees you.

god, you’re just as beautiful as he remembers.

“love–”

“what’re you doing here?”

your words are soft, quiet, but simon isn’t fooled. he sees the anger in your eyes, the hurt having festered into resentment. he wonders how apologies could trickle from his lips—where to even begin?

“please,” you say when simon’s silence stretches on. “just tell me whatever you want and then leave.”

“this. this is what i’m here for. the anger in your eyes– it’s just–…” he breathes in sharply. “i saw you and john, you know? and the way you look at him, it’s how i want to be looked at by you, love.” he swallows the lump in his throat. “i didn’t know what i had until i lost you and i’m so envious of him, i am, so please.”

you stare at him with wide eyes even when your face is smooth of any emotion. simon wonders what you must be thinking but he bulldozes through, hoping that you can give him one last chance.

he promises this time, truly, he’ll be better.

“i have no right to say this, i know, but–” he pauses to take a deep breath, his fists balled tightly. “i want to be with you. i want to be your man and i want you to let me.”

a heartbeat passes, and then, “simon, you are a selfish, selfish man.”

your words are barely louder than a whisper but they scratch at simon’s heart. he looks at you, gaze turning desperate when he sees nothing but bubbling fury and disappointment in your own.

“how dare you,” you say. “you tell me that you saw me and john, and then what? instead of letting me go, instead of letting me move on, you come in here and demand that i return to you?”

“love, i–”

“don’t call me that!”

your anger tips over, now spilling out. he watches the way your eyes glisten, tears dripping to stain your cheeks.

“i’m not your anything, si! not anymore!” you take in a ragged rasp of air, choking on your sob. it tugs at simon’s heartstrings and he moves to comfort you but you pull away, sneering at him in your anger. you wipe at your eyes, scrubbing furiously.

“everything about what you’ve said just now, everything, was all about your wants. all about you. just like how it’s always been,” you murmur, the fight leaving you.

you looked small, hunching into yourself, and simon is hit with this feeling; something that lodges itself in his throat.

“lov–… i’m sorry,” he says because he is.

gods he is.

“just go,” you tell him, meeting his eyes for one last time because he knows that this is the end of it all.

you turn away from him then, closing the building door behind you. he watches from behind he glass doors as you disappear into the hallways and stepped into the elevators and, just like that, simon’s lost his chance of making things right.

ANA MY GOD THIS MADE ME FERAL!! i hope u would like this one bb :(( hope i gave ur vision justice