#Awaiting the Vultures

[altamontpt]

Itenerance Fest 2025

A festa do rock é quando o Itenerance Fest quiser!

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text css=””] A festa do rock é quando o Itenerance Fest quiser! No mês em que andamos a ressacar das festas de final de ano e que se pauta pela escassez de eventos culturais, eis que surge o Itenerance Fest, um festival que promete curar a ressaca e dinamizar esta época menos fértil. Esta foi a segunda edição deste festival e aconteceu nos dias 16, 17 e 18 de…

[viperra1]

YOU WON'T CATCH ME ALIVE!!

it's still august 18 where i am now, so!! yeehawgust 2024 - @yeehawgust - day 18 - Don't Fence Me In

[fisheito]

But not me........ 😔 *refreshes again*

[theshadiertwin]

Doc artists and Scar artists are among the thirstiest on tumblr. We will feast on the corpses of their battlefield tomorrow.

[ahsokatanoe]

i love crosshair badbatch so much...

[hotchner-edu]

Pandora's Box | Aaron Hotchner

Synopsis: During a girl's night with the BAU girlies, a game of truth or dare may just be the cause of Aaron's odd behavior.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!F!Reader

Warnings: mentions of the devil's tango

The smell of freshly microwaved popcorn and cheeto puffs clung to the air of Penelope's apartment unit, the ringing of near-delirious laughter complementing the scent.

Emily is laying flat on the floor by Penelope's sofa, hair splayed out as she clutches her stomach. "Oh my god! You did not do that!" She laughs out, tears gathering in her eyes as JJ blushes a little and shrugs.

You four are gathered in the living room, fingers stained from snacking while playing the team's favorite party game— truth or dare. It was the night of the long-awaited girl's night, and you were all practically bouncing off the walls.

"It's not my fault! Anyway!" JJ chuckles and tries to change the topic, turning her head toward you, eyes glimmering in mischief. "Y/N, truth or dare?"

You groan and shovel some popcorn into your mouth. "Truth."

Penelope and Emily giggle in the background, knowing JJ always had some hard hitters when it came to truth or dare.

JJ grins widely and leans forward a bit. "Who in the team would you do seven minutes in heaven with?"

You let out an outraged gasp. "Jennifer Jareau! What are we? In high school?"

The blonde just laughs loudly and grins. "Oh come on! You only hate the question because you're the one that has to answer."

"Exactly." You deadpan jokingly and groan, preparing to answer when Emily interjects.

"And you can't say any of us!"

Frowning, you narrow your eyes at the woman. "Well, I was going to say you."

Emily smirks cheekily and slides her phone toward herself as she sits up, finally recovering from her laughing fit earlier. "I know, but that's cheating."

Huffing, you watch her throw her phone aside somewhere as they all stare at you eagerly. "Geez... okay, fine! Hotch! I'd do seven minutes in heaven with him." You practically shout in faux exasperation.

Penelope squeals and shakes your shoulders as JJ and Emily raise their eyebrows.

"Really?" Emily asks in shock, chuckling and leaning back on her arms.

"Well, yeah. I mean... hello. Are we all going to pretend he's not sexy?" You ask bluntly, inciting another round of squeals from Penelope as she gets ready to endlessly tease you about your admission.

JJ shrugs with a satisfied smile, pleased that you chose to answer so boldly. "Honestly, I thought you'd say Spence."

"Spencer is cute and I love him, but... c'mon. Like I have to restrain myself from slamming my head into my desk every time Hotch raises his voice at someone. And god! Don't get me started on his arms." You gush, playing up your lovestruck tone but being completely honest.

"Easy tiger." JJ mumbles under her breath with an amused smile.

Emily wiggles her eyebrows and grins. "Oh? Come on, don't skimp on the details."

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. "You guys are vultures." You say jokingly and throw a piece of popcorn at her.

Penelope munches on a cheeto and shakes her head. "No, no! You never told us you felt this way for him, so we need answers!"

You concede, feeling tired of bottling up your crush anyway. "Alright, alright. Yes, I like him. I mean, it's hard not to." You explain sincerely before becoming playful again, "I think he covered me from an explosion once and I almost died feeling his hands on my waist. Like, how is it possible for someone to have such delicious arms."

"Delicious?" Emily echoes with an amused snort at your choice of adjective.

JJ snickers and nudges your foot with hers. "Careful, you're about to start drooling."

You nudge your foot back against hers and try to suppress the heat that's creeping up your neck. Unfortunately for you, Penelope is just getting warmed up.

"So, would you... y'know... do the devil's dance with him?" Penelope asks coyly, giving you a teasing smile.

"Hey, my turn is over now!" You say and chuckle, shaking your head at their antics.

Though, you should have known that they wouldn't let you get away that easily.

The three of them stare at you with puppy eyes, causing you to squirm on the spot. "Geez, yes, I would. I mean, he seems like he could use the stress relief." You joke before quickly adding, "And I'm only telling you guys because you guys look ridiculous with those expressions!"

"Ridiculous or not, it worked." Emily smirks victoriously.

Luckily, they seem to take pity on you after grilling you so hard, and they move on with the game.

The next morning, you're starting to regret having stayed up with the girls until three in the morning. Your eyes feel like they're being pressed down by bowling balls as you yawn for the fifth time in ten minutes.

Emily is in a similar state as you, head lazily propped on one hand as she sluggishly signs off on some reports in front of her.

“Let’s never do that again.” You grumble just loud enough for Emily to hear, rubbing your eyes.

She chuckles under her breath and nods a bit in agreement, eyebrows raising a bit. “Yeah, or let’s just get drunk and pass out like normal people.” She jokes.

You both snicker softly until you see JJ hurrying toward Hotch’s office with a stack of files in her arms. “Ah…” you say with a slow blink.

“3… 2… 1…” Emily counts down playfully, just as Aaron stands up and leaves his office.

“BAU team— conference room, now.” He calls out smoothly, his eyes catching yours for the briefest second before he’s practically marching off.

You stand up and stretch your arms, watching as your team starts heading over for a new case briefing.

Glancing back toward Emily, you frown tiredly. "How is JJ so peppy today?"

"Perks of motherhood?" Emily suggests and shrugs.

You and her slowly trudge toward the stairs, catching up with Derek who seemed a bit hungover.

The man pauses and glances between you and Emily, grinning playfully. “You both look like hell. Fun night?”

“Not as fun as yours, I’m sure.” Emily chuckles as the three of you walk into the conference room. You’re about to head to your usual chair when you see Aaron sitting in the chair next to it.

You pause in your step and look back at Emily. Of course, seats weren’t assigned, but there had always been an unspoken rhythm of the team occupying the same seats.

Tilting your head a little, you can see some of your team members momentarily questioning it, but shrug it off as they sit down.

“Huh…” Emily says under her breath and hides a smirk, tapping your lower back to usher you to sit down. Aaron had stolen her usual spot, but she didn’t seem all that perturbed by it.

You sink down into your chair, keenly aware of your proximity to his warm body as JJ hurries to the head of the table to turn on the monitor.

As she begins to summarize the details of the case and the descriptions of the victims, you’re only half listening. Aaron keeps subtly shifting in his spot, and his knee even bumps into yours a few times.

You would definitely need to reread the file on the jet.

Aaron speaks up as JJ concludes with the details, voice low and level. “The request is urgent, so wheels up in thirty.”

The team begins moving immediately, and as you’re closing the file in front of you, you feel Aaron’s hand land on the back of your chair as he gets up. You tense a little as you could feel how close his hand was to your shoulder, trying to suppress the heat crawling up your chest.

As everyone files out of the meeting room to go grab their go-bags, Emily is immediately joining your side as she speaks under her breath. "That was weird."

"It was nothing." You try to brush it off, ignoring Emily's uncertain look.

Well. Maybe it wasn't nothing.

The moment the team arrived at the New Haven precinct in Connecticut, the atmosphere was off, to say the least. Of course, it was never enjoyable to have to look at pictures of mutilated victims, or deal with officers acting independently, but the feeling you were getting was a bit ominous.

"Is it just me or does something feel different?" You whisper to JJ as she finishes up a phone call.

She looks at you and tilts her head a bit, eyes filled with concern. "Not really... why? Do you think something's off with the profile?"

You shake your head and look away sheepishly. "No, not with the case. Just... with the team?" Your words come out as more of a question as you try to articulate the emotions swirling inside of you.

"Oh. I haven't noticed anything, but we can talk when we get back to the hotel if you want?" She offers with a kind smile.

"Yeah. Thanks, Jaje..." You say softly and try to redirect your focus back onto the case.

Stepping back, you get ready to return back to discuss the unsub's possible hideout locations with Spencer.

Before you can get far, you hear JJ calling for you again. "Could you tell Hotch that the city's agreed to hold a press conference in two hours?" JJ speaks up, eyes telling you that she had a lot on her plate at the moment.

"No problem. I'll see you in a bit." You nod at her and smile before spinning on your heel to look around for Aaron.

You spot him almost immediately, hunched over a desk and flipping through some papers as the police chief hurries away from him, barking out orders to some of the officers scattered around their desks.

"Hotch. JJ said that a press conference will be held in two hours. Spencer and I have narrowed down some locations, so we'll need to work quick." You practically word vomit, trying to ignore your racing heart.

Aaron straightens up and turns to look at you. "Alright, good. Rossi and Prentiss are on their way back too." He says, reaching back to the desk for his cup of coffee, still steaming as he raises it up to his face.

Your eyebrows rise up a bit and you smile softly. "Another cup? That's like your fourth one today."

The man gives you a small smile and nods, letting himself relax a bit. "Yeah, just for some stress relief." Despite how casual his tone was, the inflection of his voice for the very last words has you freezing on the spot.

You choke on your spit a bit, and he keeps his eyes on you. "Are you alright?" He draws out, mouth twisted in concern, but his eyes swirling with a bit of humor.

"Perfect." You wheeze out a bit and give him a strained smile before hurrying away.

Fortunately, you're not forced to overthink his words and the flashbacks of your girl's night confession to go with it, as the unsub makes a critical slip-up after JJ's press conference is broadcasted.

It's only after the unsub is being transported away for booking that you're able to come back down from the adrenaline. You're sitting beside Emily on the curb stretching your tired legs as she scrolls through her phone.

"So he really hasn't called you back? What an asshole." You mumble with a frown as she updates you about the guy she's been going on dates with for the past month.

"Back to the drawing board, I guess." She sighs with a noncommittal smile. Suddenly, you see her tense up, face drawn into a disbelieving gape as she pauses in her scrolling. "Oh my god."

"What? What's wrong?" You ask and turn to face her in worry.

"I called Hotch." She says blankly, slowly looking up at you with shell-shocked eyes.

"Okay...?" You trail off in confusion, eyebrows knit together.

"On Sunday. It says here that I called Hotch." She shows you her phone screen and there at the third slot of the call log is Aaron's contact. It wouldn't have been alarming to you had you and the girls not been together for the entirety of Sunday, but you all were, plus the call history was timed to have occurred at eleven pm.

"No way... check how long the call was." You whisper hurriedly, watching as she hurries to press the information button, nearly calling Aaron on accident in the process.

"Three minutes..." She breathes out in shock.

"No way..." You lean back and slap a hand over your mouth. "I think he heard my confession about him."

"What?" Emily hisses at you in panic, looking around at your teammates who were scattered around the sea of haphazardly parked Buicks.

You nod and rub your temples. "Earlier at the station, he made a comment about needing a stress relief."

"Okay, but that could mean nothing." Emily tries to reassure you, sputtering a little as she tries to come up with alternative explanations.

"I don't think so, Em." You groan and lean your head against her shoulder. "We've both noticed he's been acting different."

"Oh gosh... Did I butt-dial him?" She asks in shock to no one in particularly, laying her head against yours.

Chuckling dryly, you suddenly remember how she had been tossing her phone around during the game. "Yeah... I think it's even worse because I was sober when I said it."

"If it makes you feel better, I've done far more embarrassing things while sober." She says, staring off into the distance.

"I believe that." A small huff leaves you, tone subdued as a small smile of acceptance takes shape on your face. "Oh, and Em?"

"Hm?"

Your eyes flicker to Hotch's figure in the distance as he chats with Derek, arms crossed across his chest. "If I give you my resignation letter, will you give it to Hotch for me? I think I'm going to flee the country."

Much to your chagrin, Emily bands together with Spencer to convince you to not resign, having the younger agent ramble on about the adjustment process of finding a new job and the statistics of people who struggle with getting acclimated to a new work environment.

So rather than slipping your neatly packaged resignation letter onto Hotch's desk, you've taken to hiding out in Penelope's lair while you finish up your paperwork for the case.

Luckily, your bright-eyed friend allows you to pull up a chair at her desk, not even making a peep when you accidentally knock over one of her figurines.

You're hunched over as you write hurriedly, posture taking on a form that would make shrimps envious. As you're finishing up the last few pages of the report, a knock on Penelope's ajar office door draws both of your attention.

Standing with a hand on the door handle, Aaron is gazing at you with his eyes squinted a little due to the dimness of the room. "Y/N, can I speak to you for a moment, please?"

His voice is calm, giving no hints as to what he's feeling as he cracks open the door a bit more. Penelope gives you a side glance before slowly swiveling her chair back around to pretend to work.

"Sure." You say almost inaudibly, awkwardly making your way out of the door as his eyes follow you.

Once you're both out in the hallway, he shuts the door and nods for you to walk a few paces forward to minimize the chances of your lovable tech genius eavesdropping.

"I'm almost finished with my report, sir." You say softly, stopping when you both arrive at the end of the corridor.

Aaron lets out a breathy chuckle and shakes his head. "That's not what I'm here to talk to you about."

Mutely nodding, you wait for him to continue as your eyes move down to stare at the glossy floor.

"I'm sure you know by now, but Prentiss accidentally called me this weekend while you guys were talking." He says softly, beginning to look a bit shy. "And I just wanted to ask if you had meant what you said that night."

Your face is blistering with warmth as you try to deduce the best course of action. "I... yes. I'm sorry. I know that it must have been weird to hear, especially because I'm your coworker. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

Aaron rests a hand on your arm to stop you before you can offer to resign out of shame, a warm smile painting his face. "It's okay. It wasn't weird for me... I just wish I didn't have to find out from a butt-dial." He chuckles and rests his hand on your arm.

You practically melt at the touch and you blink in shock. "Oh..."

"Honestly, I'm a bit out of practice when it comes to this kind of thing, but I was wondering if I could take you to dinner this Saturday." He asks softly, looking shyer than you've ever seen him before.

"I would like that." You respond breathlessly, not sure if you were dreaming.

Aaron grins and looks down at his shoes for a second as he tries to compose himself. "I'll pick you up around seven, if that works for you?"

"Yeah, that's perfect." Whatever future plans you had for Saturday were automatically being scrapped anyway.

"Great." He nods and gazes at you, his hand moving from your arm to your hand. He gives your fingers a small squeeze before he steps back and allows you to get back to work in Penelope's lair.

As you're trekking down the hall with a giddy smile, you hear him calling your name. You turn around and see him smirking at you a bit.

"And just so you know, I like having my arms around you too."

[buldakcorn]

Money Talks

LOONA/ARTMS Heejin x Male Characters

Genre : (TW) Non-con, Humiliation, Prostitution, Ass-slapping, Fingering, Spitroasting, Forced Creampie

4041 words

Heejin's heart raced as she stepped out of the car, the sound of her heels echoing through the dimly lit alley. Her manager had assured her this was necessary, that it would secure their group's future. She took a deep breath and climbed the narrow staircase to the secret location, the cold metal railing feeling like a prison bars leading to an unknown fate. The door at the top of the stairs opened to reveal a stark contrast: a luxurious hallway adorned with gold and velvet. She followed the muffled sounds of hushed voices and clinking glasses until she reached a heavy wooden door marked "Suite 103." With a trembling hand, she pushed it open, revealing an opulent bedroom where two men in sharp suits awaited her, their eyes gleaming with a hunger she couldn't ignore.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Heejin said with a forced smile, her voice a tinkling bell of sweetness she reserved for her public persona. She stepped into the suite, the weight of the situation pressing down on her like an invisible hand. "I'm Heejin from ARTMS. I've been told you're interested in helping support our group?" The two men looked her over, one stroking his chin as if sizing up a piece of art at an auction, the other's gaze lingering on her legs. She tried to ignore the discomfort, focusing instead on the hope that this sacrifice would be worth it. They offered her a seat on a plush velvet sofa, and she perched on the edge, her posture a careful balance between poise and vulnerability. The room was thick with unspoken expectations, the air heavy with the scent of expensive cologne and the faint hint of something darker, something she didn't want to acknowledge. As they began discussing terms, Heejin's mind raced with thoughts of her bandmates, the music they'd make, the fans they'd touch with their performances. This was for them, she told herself, swallowing the bile rising in her throat. For their dreams. And so, she sat, and she listened, and she pretended that the price of success didn't feel like it was tearing her soul apart.

The men's gazes grew more predatory as they instructed Heejin to stand. They began to circle her like vultures, their eyes devouring every inch of her body. The one with the greedy smile reached out and groped her firmly on the ass, his fingertips digging into her flesh as he murmured his approval. She flinched, fighting the urge to slap his hand away. Instead, she forced a smile and nodded, silently enduring his vulgar praise. The other investor stepped closer, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered into her ear, his words a sly mix of compliment and threat. "You're just what we've been looking for," he said, his hand brushing the side of her breast. "A true investment." Heejin felt a shiver run down her spine, but she remained still, her eyes fixed on a spot over their heads, focusing on the chandelier that twinkled mockingly above. The conversation grew more heated, the terms of their deal more explicit, as the men discussed her as if she were nothing more than a commodity to be bought and sold. Yet she knew that the power lay in her hands, twisted as the situation may be. She would do what she had to, for her group, for their music, for their dreams. But as the reality of her predicament sank in, she couldn't help but wonder if the cost of fame was a price she was willing to pay forever.

The two investors leaned back in their chairs, their smiles widening as Heejin began to slowly remove her dress, her movements mechanical and devoid of any seductive flair. The fabric fell to the floor in a pool of black, revealing her trembling body. She tried to keep her composure, her hands reflexively moving to cover her breasts and the vulnerable expanse of her clean-shaved pussy. The men's eyes grew darker, their pupils dilating as they took in the sight of her bare flesh. Despite her efforts to hide, she felt their gazes like hot brands searing into her skin, stripping away any last vestige of dignity she had managed to cling to. She stood there, a sculpture of vulnerability in the center of the plush suite, the chill of the room's air making her nipples tighten painfully. The silence was deafening, filled only with the sound of their ravenous stares and her own ragged breaths. Her heart hammered against her ribcage like a caged bird desperately seeking escape, but she knew there was no way out of this gilded cage except to play along with their twisted game.

Heejin's arms, toned from countless hours at the gym, were bared to the men's greedy eyes, the muscles flexing slightly as she maintained her poise. Her abs, a testament to her dedication and discipline, rippled with each shaky inhale and exhale. The investors couldn't help but trace the contours of her body with their eyes, appreciating the fruit of her labor. The man with the greedy smile was the first to act, his pudgy hand reaching out to grasp her bicep, giving it a squeeze as if testing the firmness of a melon. "Impressive," he leered, his voice thick with lust. His partner's gaze lingered on her muscular thighs, the kind of strength that could only come from years of dance training and relentless exercise. He couldn't resist running his fingers along the defined muscles, feeling the power beneath the smooth, warm skin. Heejin's jaw clenched, but she didn't pull away, enduring their touch with the stoicism of a statue. The men's eyes gleamed with excitement as they took turns exploring her body, their hands growing bolder with each passing second. They caressed her abs, her thighs, and the firm globes of her ass, their touches feeling like a violation of the very essence of who she was. Yet, she remained still, her mind detached from the scene playing out before her, focusing instead on the future her group could have.

The men's hands grew bolder, each taking one of Heejin's arms and pulling them away from her chest, exposing her small but perky breasts to their leering gazes. The man with the greedy smile was the first to pounce, his fat fingers digging into the soft flesh as he squeezed her roughly, his eyes never leaving hers as he bent down to capture a nipple in his mouth. He sucked hard, flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak, eliciting a gasp from the girl. The other investor followed suit, his teeth grazing the other nipple before taking it between his lips to give it a similar treatment. Heejin's cheeks flushed, her eyes squeezed shut, as she felt the men's hot breath against her skin, their greedy mouths worshipping her body in a way that made her feel both used and powerful. Their rough hands continued to knead and maul her breasts, sending waves of unwanted arousal through her. Despite her discomfort, her nipples hardened under their attention, betraying the mix of fear and revulsion she felt deep within. She bit her lower lip, silently begging for the ordeal to end, even as she knew she had to give them what they wanted.

Heejin's body stiffened as one of the men's hands trailed down her stomach and slipped between her legs, his thick fingers probing her sensitive folds. Despite herself, she couldn't suppress the involuntary gasp that escaped her as he began to rub her clit with a cruel expertise, his eyes locked on hers to savor her reaction. The other investor chuckled darkly, reaching over to cup her face and turn it towards him. "Look at you," he sneered, his voice a mix of disgust and excitement. "Already acting like the little whore we know you are." His companion joined in the taunts, their words a toxic blend of praise and degradation that filled her ears like a cacophony of hate. "We're going to pay you so much money," the second man said, his eyes shining with a greed that made her skin crawl. "Just like the slut you are." Heejin's eyes searched the room desperately, trying to find something, anything, to anchor herself to the reality that she wasn't this object of their twisted desires. But the opulent suite with its velvet and gold offered no escape, only a reflection of the cold, hard truth that this was the path she had chosen to walk. With a resigned sigh, she closed her eyes and focused on the sound of her own ragged breathing, the only thing she had left that was truly hers.

"Kneel down and pull down our pants," Swallowing hard, Heejin obeyed the order, her knees hitting the plush carpet with a muffled thud. She took a moment to compose herself before reaching for the waistbands of the men's pants. Her hands trembled as she unhooked the buttons and zipped down their flys, revealing the hardened lengths of their erections. She could feel their anticipation, the heat of their lust as it washed over her. The men leaned back, watching her with hungry eyes as she took hold of their cocks, feeling the weight of their expectations in the palms of her hands. She tried to think of the money, the opportunities, the future of her group, but all she could focus on was the revulsion that roiled in her stomach. With a deep breath, she forced herself to begin, her lips parting to take the first one in her mouth, the salty taste of his skin almost making her gag. The men's groans of pleasure filled the air, a symphony of degradation that drowned out the silent screams in her mind. She knew she had to play her part, to satisfy them in every way possible, if she wanted the funds to flow. And so, she knelt, a reluctant servant to their desires, her mouth and hands working in tandem to bring them to the brink of ecstasy. Each stroke, each suckle, brought her closer to the end of this nightmare, but also deeper into the dark world she had unwillingly embraced. The room spun around her, a blur of velvet and gold, as she prayed for the strength to endure this transaction, and the hope that her sacrifice would not be in vain.

Their grip on her head grew firm, as the two investors took turns thrusting their cocks into her mouth, their hips bucking with each rough facefuck. Heejin's eyes watered and she gagged on the salty intrusion, her cheeks hollowing with each forced inhalation around the thick lengths. She could feel their hands tightening in her hair, guiding her movements, using her as nothing more than a vessel for their pleasure. The men's grunts and moans grew louder, their breathing ragged as they approached climax. Despite her distress, Heejin's own arousal grew, a confusing and unwelcome sensation that she desperately tried to ignore. Her tongue worked overtime, trying to keep up with their relentless pace, as drool spilled down her chin and her jaw began to ache from the constant abuse. The sound of their zippers filled the air as they released her head, their cocks glistening with her saliva. They smirked down at her, panting and disheveled, the power dynamic in the room starker than ever. Heejin wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her gaze never leaving the floor, her thoughts a whirlwind of fear, anger, and a strange, detached curiosity about what would happen next in this twisted masquerade of survival.

Heejin felt the firm grip of the men's hands on her arms, hauling her to her feet. They positioned her at the edge of the sumptuous bed, her knees bending slightly to keep her balance. The coolness of the satin sheets brushed against her heated skin as she was bent over, her face buried in the soft fabric. The sound of belts unbuckling echoed in the room, a sinister symphony that made her stomach twist in knots. The first slap of leather against her ass took her by surprise, a sharp sting that made her yelp. The second investor stepped up, his belt in hand, and delivered his own blow, the force sending a shockwave through her body. They alternated, one slapping her firmly on the left cheek, the other on the right, creating a rhythm of pain that she tried to anticipate. Yet, with each stinging impact, she felt their hands come to soothe, rubbing her reddening flesh with surprising gentleness, the contrast making her skin tingle with a confusing mix of agony and relief. The men took their time, enjoying the sight of her writhing body, their smirks deepening with every muffled cry she emitted into the bed. She bit the pillow, muffling her cries as the belts fell in a steady rhythm, painting her ass a deep shade of red that mirrored the fury in her heart. Yet she remained in place, her eyes squeezed shut, enduring the assault for the sake of her group's future.

With a rough tug, the men spun her around on the bed, her legs splayed wide in an undignified display. The suddenness of their actions made Heejin's breath hitch, her eyes flying open in shock. They leaned over her, their faces twisted with lust as they licked their fingers with an obscene enthusiasm. Before she could react, they plunged their wet digits into her pussy, invading her most intimate space without warning. Heejin's eyes rolled back into her head, a mix of surprise and unwanted pleasure coursing through her veins. The sensation was foreign, almost painful, but she felt the beginnings of a wetness that she had not expected, not wanted. Her body was responding to their touch despite her mind's fierce rejection, the slickness coating their fingers as they pumped in and out of her. She could feel her muscles clenching around them, betraying the turmoil within her. The men's chuckles were a symphony of triumph as they watched her body react, their eyes gleaming with victory. They worked her in unison, their fingers curling and stroking with a practiced skill that had her back arching off the bed. Heejin bit her lip hard, tasting the metallic tang of blood as she struggled not to give in to the rising tide of pleasure. This wasn't supposed to happen, she wasn't supposed to enjoy this, but her body was a traitor to her resolve. The room swam around her, the opulent suite a prison of velvet and gold that she had willingly entered for the sake of her dreams. And now, as the men's fingers worked their magic, she wondered if the price of success was one she could ever truly pay in full.

"Please, slow down!" Heejin gasped out, her voice filled by urgency. Her body was a taut bowstring, ready to snap under the tension of their relentless ministrations. Despite her mental turmoil, the sensations building within her were undeniable, a crescendo of pleasure that she hadn't anticipated. The investors took her words as encouragement, their fingers moving with renewed vigor as they brought her closer to the edge. She could feel the heat pooling in her core, the coil of desire tightening with each intrusive stroke. Her hips began to buck, her body moving of its own accord, seeking the release that hovered just out of reach. "I'm going to cum!" she choked out, the confession torn from her in a desperate whisper. The men's eyes lit up like predatory animals that had spotted their prey, and they quickened their pace, eager to claim their prize. Heejin's eyes squeezed shut even tighter as she fought the wave that threatened to overtake her, the sound of their grunts and the slick sounds of her own arousal a cacophony in her ears. With a final, brutal thrust, she shattered, her body convulsing on the bed as an orgasm ripped through her.

"Taste yourself," Heejin felt the slick, wet fingers at her mouth and knew what was expected of her. With a sense of defeat that weighed heavier than the gold that adorned the suite, she parted her lips and took the proffered digits, tasting the blend of her own arousal and the faint tang of her fear. The man's eyes bore into hers as she sucked, his smile a twisted mirror of triumph that made her stomach lurch. She knew this was the final act of submission before the main event, the ultimate proof of her willingness to play their twisted game.

With a sense of inevitability, Heejin felt her body being repositioned with her head at the edge of the bed, her legs spread wide by one of the investors as the other man stands near the foot of the bed, his erection bobbing in anticipation. The coldness of the man's cock pressed against her lips, the taste of her own arousal still lingering in her mouth from their previous act. She took a deep breath, trying to focus on anything but the impending violation. The man at her pussy took hold of his shaft and began to rub the tip against her slick opening, her body taut with fear and a reluctant excitement that she couldn't entirely suppress. His grip was firm, his intent clear as he began to push into her, stretching her open with a slow, deliberate pressure that sent a shiver down her spine. Heejin's eyes watered as she felt herself being filled, the discomfort of his entry stark against the backdrop of her recent orgasm. Meanwhile, the second man leaned in, his cock nudging her cheek as he urged her to take him into her mouth once more. She complied, her eyes never leaving the first man's as she felt herself being claimed, the reality of her situation crashing down upon her like a dark, heavy wave. She swallowed around his girth, her throat tightening with each thrust, as the man at her pussy began to pump in and out with increasing fervor. The room was a blur of gold and velvet, the scents of cologne and sex mingling in the air as the men used her body for their own twisted satisfaction.

As Heejin felt the man's cock hit a particularly sensitive spot, her mouth couldn't help but pull away from the second investor's erection, her moan muffled by the thickness of his shaft. "P-Please, take it s-slow. It's too big," she whimpered, her voice barely audible around the girth in her mouth. Her eyes pleaded with the man at her pussy, her makeup-smeared face a portrait of desperation. He chuckled darkly, the sound a grating contrast to the gentle stroking of her cheek that accompanied his thrusts. "You'll take it," he said, his voice a promise wrapped in a threat. His eyes bore into hers as he pushed deeper, her body stretching to accommodate his size. Heejin's eyes watered again, her throat constricting around the cock filling her mouth as she tried to stifle the sounds of her distress. She could feel her pussy clench around the intrusion, the pressure building with each thrust. Despite her pleas, the men's rhythm didn't falter, their lust driving them forward as they used her body without mercy. She felt so small, so powerless beneath them, their weight pressing down on her as if she were nothing more than a doll to be played with and discarded.

The man at Heejin's mouth grew more demanding, his grip on her neck tightening as he neared his climax. She could feel the pulsing of his cock as he held her in a vice-like grip, his eyes never leaving hers as he fucked her mouth with an intensity that left her gasping for air. The second investor took the cue, his own strokes growing more frantic as he watched the scene unfold before him. Heejin's eyes watered uncontrollably, her throat constricting around the intrusion. The man's cock grew thicker, his grip tightening even further, his hips pumping faster. Heejin's hands slapped against his thighs in a desperate attempt to get him to stop, her muffled cries for air muffled by his girth. But the man was lost in his own pleasure, oblivious to her plight.

"Fuck, take all of my cum, bitch!" his hand tightened, his movements grew erratic, and with a final, brutal thrust, he came, his hot seed filling her mouth and spilling down her chin. She gagged, her eyes watering uncontrollably, as she struggled to swallow his release, the taste of him coating her tongue.

Heejin wasn't given the time to recover as the second investor wrecks her tight pussy with a pace that quickens each second. "Ahhhhh, please, it's t-too much!" the man's grip on Heejin's hips grew even more punishing as he ignored her pleas, his thrusts growing more erratic as he approached his own climax. "You're going to take it all, slut," he grunted, his eyes narrowed with determination. "I'm going to fill your tight little cunt with my cum." Heejin's eyes widened in panic, her voice strained as she begged, "P-please, not inside me! Pull out, please, I don't want to get pregnant!" The investor's only response was a cruel chuckle as he dug his nails into her skin, holding her in place as his hips pistoned between her legs. Heejin's body tensed, her heart racing as she felt his cock swell within her. She knew she had no power here, no control over her own body as it was used for their depraved amusement. But as his movements grew more frantic, she clung to the hope that her voice, her humanity, could somehow break through the fog of their lust. "Pull out, pull out, pull out!" she begged again, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Please, don't cum inside me." The man's only response was a grunt of pleasure, his pace never wavering as he neared the edge of his own release. Her body was a battleground, torn between the need to satisfy these monsters and the primal urge to protect herself. But as the pressure built within her, she knew there was no escape from the fate they had chosen for her, the price she had agreed to pay for the elusive promise of stardom. With a final, savage thrust, the investor's cock erupted, flooding her with his hot, sticky cum. Heejin's eyes squeezed shut as she felt the warmth fill her, the reality of her situation crashing down upon her like a ton of bricks.

Heejin lay there, her body limp and used, cum trickling out of her ravaged pussy and onto the bed beneath her. Her eyes were unfocused, glazed over with a mix of shock and pain. The men, now sated, stepped back, their gazes lingering on her form as if they were contemplating their next move. Her chest heaved with each ragged breath she took, her heart racing as the gravity of what she had just endured settled heavily upon her. The suite's opulence now felt like a mockery of the depraved act that had just occurred within its walls. The men wiped themselves off with a carelessness that was almost as painful as their touch, their business-like demeanor a stark contrast to the raw, exposed state of her soul. They exchanged knowing smirks, their suits immaculate despite the scene they had just indulged in. Heejin felt a tear slip down her cheek, the salty taste of her own pain mixing with the bitter residue of their pleasure in her mouth. This wasn't how she had envisioned her path to stardom, but she had made her choice and now she had to live with the consequences, no matter how much it felt like her soul was being torn apart. Her mind drifted to her bandmates, the music they shared, and the hope that this dark transaction would be the key to unlocking their collective dreams. As she gathered her strength to rise, she vowed that she would never let them know the price she had paid, burying the memory deep within the recesses of her being, a secret she'd carry like a heavy burden for the rest of her days.

---

Happy Heejin Day!

[dreamescapeswriting]

Contracted Love ~ MYG

WORD COUNT: 7.1K

GENRE: CEO AU, marriage contracts, blackmailing, fake dating, fake marriage, falling love and realising you’re scared, (might actually be my fav piece)

PAIRING: Yoongi X Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - March 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

As Yoongi began to walk through the bustling heart of the city he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back from the meeting he had just left and he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at what had happened.

It had been his grandfather's will reading, something that heartbreaking in and of itself but what was getting to Yoongi more was the stipulation that came along with his portion of the will. 

"It is not my wish for you to end up like me, old, alone and afraid of love."

Was that the piece of paper read, his grandfather was giving him strict orders to follow if he had any chance of getting his grandfather's portion of the company he owned and he needed it.

There was no way it could go to his father's side of the family, the vultures as his grandfather called them. They only hung around him long enough to know that they were going to be put into the will and didn't want to know his grandfather any other time. But it was all stupid. In order to collect his portion he had to be married and have a child all within a year.

A man who had hardly dated before was supposed to married and have a child within twelve months if he wanted any chance of keeping his company alive. Now Yoongi could have sworn he heard the ticking of a clock in the back of his mind as a constant reminder that he hadn't got much time.

"Please, I promise I can get it for you by the end of the week if you just give me some more time!" A voice pleaded, interrupting his thoughts and making him freeze on the sidewalk wondering what was unfolding in front of him.

"I've heard this a million times, Yn, I'm sick of hearing it." A male said, angrily staring down at you as you whimpered a little. He was your landlord Richard and he had just served you with an eviction notice for your business.

"Pages & Aromoa's will be a hit in no time and you'll have all the money I owe you." You sniffled but Richard handed you the piece of red paper and walked away, ignoring your begging and driving off.

"Fucking cunt," You hissed before heading inside of the door.

Yoongi stared up at the cafe sign it was basically falling apart but it was easily readable. The brick walls of the cafe had patches of Ivy clinging to the surface as if trying to breathe life into the ageing structure. The windows were slightly grim but offered a glimpse into the warmth inside that awaited anyone walking by. 

The cafe was nestled between two giant skyscrapers, one of which belonged to Yoongi but he'd never even noticed the cafe before. Sighing to himself he wondered if this was the cafe his grandfather had been boasting about before he had died and he found himself walking inside. The bell above the door sounded as he did so but you were nowhere to be seen.

"I'll be just a minute," Your voice called out. Despite the outside appearance of the building, Yoongi was pleasantly surprised when he walked inside. The interior was a sanctuary of tranquillity and refinement. Polished hardwood floors gleamed under the soft glow of vintage bulbs that were casting a warm ambience in the cafe. The perfect place to hide away and work or even read which was something that clearly happened here.

There were shelves lining the walls, stretched from floor to ceiling, the books all looked used and loved. Plush armchairs and cosy reading nooks were all over the place, offering a place for someone to lose themselves in the pages of a good book or work in silence. It was obvious why his grandfather had loved this place and had been talking about it for months.

"Stupid, machine." Yoongi heard you grumbling as you finally came up from behind a counter and smiled warmly in his direction. The smile that sent a warmth throughout his chest he suddenly felt guilty about having.

"What can I get you? And please, don't say coffee because the press is broken and the machine won't work," You pleaded with him, Yoongi's mouth opened to say something but he found himself unable to speak, struck by something he didn't understand. His chest was fluttering and his stomach was in knots, he didn't know what was happening. 

"Oh! Are you deaf? I know some sign language but I can write stuff down if it's easier." Before Yoongi had a chance to protest you were beginning to sign to him, something he didn't even understand himself but he was pretty sure you'd gotten it wrong.

"Can I get some tea?" He didn't know what was going on with his stomach but his grandfather always told him that tea solved most issues. Something warm to settle a raging stomach.

"Sure! I have a whole selction-" You were about to list off the extensive list you had when Yoongi shook his head,

"Early grey would be fine, with Milk."

"To go?" You arched a brow at him, most people that came in dressed the way he was got all of their orders to go. You knew the type he was, a businessman, too busy to learn the name of the place they were in but were loyal to it, it was nice.

"Erm," Yoongi glanced around and then down at his watch. He wasn't due back at work for another hour or so,

"I'll stay," He smiled at you and you nodded, pointing around the shop for him to sit anywhere he wanted. It wasn't like it was going to get busy anytime soon and your regular customer you'd had for a few months had suddenly stopped coming recently.

"Sure, make yourself comfortable." You gestured around the room and Yoongi stayed frozen in place,

"Don't you need my name for the order?" Yoongi countered you smirked a little at him.

"Because it'll get lost in the sea of customers?" You asked sarcastically, laughing nervously at the end,

"I guess that's true." He chuckles a little, and for the first time in a long time it feels like a genuine laugh from him, something he hadn't done for a long time

"He died?" Your voice was so sympathetic as soon as Yoongi told you about his grandfather, Rath, who had been your most loyal and regular customer. The two of you had been discussing your business for a while and you'd mentioned to Yoongi about having to close down soon if you weren't picking up in business.

"I wondered why he stopped coming by," You slowly sank down in the armchair opposite Yoongi and he smiled sadly down at the cup of tea in his hands. 

"Were you close to my grandfather?" You weren't close with the man but he'd been coming in every day it felt like you were friends.

"I wouldn't say close but we did talk a lot whenever he was here, he loved you." You smiled, Rath had spoken so much about Yoongi that you felt as though you knew him but he hadn't been at all what you were expecting. 

You'd expected some small, nerdy-looking guy but Yoongi was the opposite, he was built well, dressed in the finest of suits and looked as though he could be in the pages of magazines.

"I have a proposition for you." He suddenly said. Yoongi wasn't blind, he could see the business was going under and he knew you needed him as much as he needed you.

"Which is?" You laughed a little, looking up at the time and then back to Yoongi. The two of you had been sat talking for almost two hours now and still not a single other person had come in, which hadn't gone unnoticed by Yoongi, who was already concocting a plan in his mind.

"I need to get married." He said bluntly.

"And I need your help to do it." You held back the urge to laugh as you stared at him, you weren't sure what his grandfather had told him but you didn't know anyone in the market at the minute.

"Unfortunately I'm not sure I'm your girl, I can't help."

"But you can. You see, I have a lot of money and you need a lot of money." You knew that already, the Min family were richer than rich, one of the richest families in the world.

"What makes you think I NEED money?" You were trying to play it close to your chest, but it was true. You were desperate for money, your coffee machines were broken and you were behind on four months worth of rent.

"Yn, let's be real, your business is going under and I can help. I can keep you afloat or make you a huge success, whatever you want I can do that." As amazing as that sounded you still didn't know anyone that would be willing to just randomly get married to him,

"But I don't know anyone that wants to be married." You shook your head but Yoongi smirked at you,

"You can marry me," The words registered in your brain and you bit back the urge to laugh in his face.

"Are you insane?" You added a nervous laugh at the end and stood up, moving away from where he was sitting but he was quick to follow you.

"I have a lot of influence, I can easily make this place well known." He told you with a giant smile, your hands nervously tugged at the cleaning rag in your hand and you stared at him. 

"Just for marrying you?" 

"Just marrying me. All fake, no one would have to know we're not really together," Shit like this didn't happen in real life, only in books and really bad film adaptations, there had to be a catch. 

"What do you get out of this? Why do you need a wife so badly?" Was this something he did on a regular? Ask random women to marry him and then never follow through with all of his promises.

"If I get married, I can collect my grandfather's part of the company but I need a wife." He was going to ignore the child part until absolutely necessary, he was sure there was a way out of that.

"Why wouldn't he leave it to you?" You frowned, Rath had seemed so sure of Yoongi, you were positive he would have left his Grandson something. 

"He doesn't want me to end up alone," Yoongi admitted, your heart breaking a little as you remembered Rath mentioning he wished he'd never divorced Yoongi's grandmother,

"Oh."

"You'd get your business up and running, booming, I'd get half of the company away from my vultures of a family and everyone will be happy." You'd heard stories of the other side of Yoongi's family, stories from Rath and things you'd read about in the media.

"Okay...But there have to be some rules in place...A contract?"

"Agreed," Yoongi glanced down at his watch and bit his lip, he was already late for a meeting but that didn't matter.

"Come up to my office tonight, give your name to security and they'll bring you up. We'll work out a contract and hash out all of the details." He smiled warmly at you and you somehow believed him that all of this was going to work.

"My business will be fixed if I do this, right?"

"I promise." He breathed out before rushing out of the door, your heart racing at the thought of all of this becoming true. You glanced down at your outfit before cursing yourself, you were dressed in clothes with holes and your apron was torn to pieces.

"New outfit," You mumbled, heading to the door and locking it up. If you were going to go into business with Yoongi then you wanted to look the part. 

"Come in," Yoongi called as he heard a small tapping at his office door, the day had gone on for longer than he'd liked and he was looking forward to writing out the contract and heading home for the night. 

"Mr Min, Yn is here." His assistant announced before shutting the door, Yoongi slowly glanced up from his desk and his eyes almost popped out of his head.

He had been expecting you in the same scraps of clothes you had worn this morning but instead, you were dressed in a black pencil skirt and a red silk top that was unbuttoned to show just enough cleavage.

"Is this okay? It's the only thing I had left from my office days," You laughed nervously when you noticed him staring at you a little longer than he had done that morning.

"It's-It's erm, perfect." His voice stuttered and cracked as he stared at you. He had no idea that you could look this way and now he suddenly felt as though he was out of his depth. 

"Please sit," He gestured to the seat in front of his desk before grabbing two bottles of water and sitting back down. By now you'd gotten out a worn leather-bond book from your bag and smiled.

"Let's get straight to it," You said, your tone businesslike yet hidden with a little humour. Yoongi smiled to himself, preparing his own notepad.

"We need some rules in place, so nothing is blurred along the way." He stated simply.

"Your business will be my number one priority during all of this. We'll sit down with a bookkeeper and organise your bills as well as figure out anything that's owed." You suddenly felt your chest tighten, you were in a massive amount of debt. Yoongi had already gone into research mode when he got home and knew everything you needed to pay off.

"T-That might be a lot. Are you sure you're up for it?" You hated that you were in so much debt, when you'd ventured out alone to own your own place you'd been so sure it would be great you could pay it back in no time.

"No issue, I assure you, I didn't become the CEO Of Min Media but shying away from challenges." Your debt wouldn't even cause a dent in his savings but he wasn't going to tell you that and make you feel bad about it.

"That means a lot...Thank you," You smiled warmly, the smile sent his stomach into knots once again, he really wanted to see someone about that.

"We need to keep everything strictly professional." You finally stated, looking up from your notepad and back at Yoongi who was, once again, staring at you.

"Agreed." He jotted it down on the notepad.

"Secondly, we can't tell anyone it's not real. It's imperative to me we keep everything hidden. We keep up a genuine illusion to appease my family and the shareholders." He told you, if anyone found out this was all fake he'd most likely lose his shareholdings as well as be the laughingstock of the media world.

"Agreed." You wrote it down, and Yoongi eyed you up. You'd been quiet about your family finding out and it worried him a little. He didn't want you to go around telling anyone it was fake, it would only take one slip-up for the world to know.

"What about your family?"

"What about them?" You asked, staring up at him with a blank expression on your face, Yoongi frowned.

"You can't tell them the truth." He reminded you and you nodded, your lips in a line as you shrugged your shoulders a little.

"Not a problem, I haven't spoken to them in almost four years since I went out on my own to own a cafe."

"Understood. We must present as a united front," He stared at you. His heart felt heavy at the thought of your family ignoring you for following your dreams. 

"We will have to attend social events together, support each other publicly and appear as a happy married couple at all times." You nodded at him.

"I can handle that." It was no big deal, you'd get to dress fancy for a while and it would be fun,

"Living arrangements?" Yoongi wrote down and then stared at you,

"Well, I currently have a place in the lower part of Seoul, you're more than welcome to come and live with me," You teased only to be met with widened eyes.

"That was a joke Yoongi," You clarified with a small laugh,

"You can move in with me." He stated plainly, you frowned at him. As much as you hated your place you weren't sure moving in with him was the best idea.

"Is it necessary though?"

"Yn, once we're seen together you'll never get peace...People will want to know why a soon-to-be-married couple are living separately." You knew he was right, there would be too many questions and you didn't want to have to deal with them,

"Okay."

"I'll arrange a moving van for you tomorrow." He smiled, writing down on a sticky note to remind himself once the two of you were done.

"Can I suggest one more?"

"Sure." He looked up at you, expecting something about asking to be paid, or for more than you were getting out of it. All of which he was willing to do if it meant getting what he needed out of you.

"No falling in love. It's a business arrangement and any romantic feelings that may develop should be ignored." Yoongi was taken back but nodded his head at you. 

"Of course. We have a deal." He smiled shaking your hand across the table.

With a sense of determination, you added a final clause to your contract: Yoongi would take over the financial management of Pages & Aromas, ensuring its stability and prosperity while also shouldering the burden of its debts.

"We will be announcing our marriage this weekend, it'll be held here. In the meantime, I'll pay your rent for the cafe," He stated as you both signed along the pieces of paper, Yoongi took them both into his grasp and filed them in his drawer his eyes lingering over the clause about not falling in love.

"I'd like it if you didn't work for a few months if that's okay?" He suggested, staring at you as you frowned.

"We can fix up the shop a little, have it redone to your specifications and then announce it as a grand opening." 

"What am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"You can do whatever you want, money is no issue."

"It is for me."

"We'll be married, what's mine...is yours," He stated before laying down a black card in front of you.

"Yoongi, it's already enough you're helping my business I can't take your money too." The statement was shocking, everyone Yoongi knew was always after his money, it was why he'd never dated in the past.

"Fine. But please keep it, you can use it as an emergency card, or if you need an outfit for an event...it's yours," He told you as you flipped the card over, already finding your name inscribed on it, had he been so sure about all of it since this morning?

"Okay. Fine."

"I'll have Alan drive you home and I'll see you tomorrow at my place." He smiled warmly at you as you got up from the chair, feeling a little overwhelmed with everything but nodding your head.

With a sense of nervousness mingled with excitement, you stepped into Yoongi's luxurious penthouse apartment. Your final box had been taken up by a group of men and you were unsure of what you were supposed to do now. You walked through the door, slipping off your shoes before your eyes widened at the opulence that surrounded you. The spacious living area was adorned with sleek modern furniture and tasteful artwork while floor-to-ceiling windows offered sweeping views of the city skyline below. You could practically see all of Seoul from up here, how did he get anything done? You knew you'd find yourself people-watching more than you should.

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you set about unpacking your belongings, your mind racing with thoughts of the new chapter that lay ahead. As you sorted through boxes and arranged your stuff in their designated places, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place in such a lavish environment.

"Mr Min will be late this evening, he said to make yourself at home," Alan, who had driven you home the night previous, said with a warm smile on his face. But how were you supposed to do that? You didn't know what you were and weren't allowed to do or even where to go. Did he have rooms off-limits to you? More questions flooded your mind but as the afternoon waned into evening, you found solace in the familiar routine of preparing dinner, the rhythmic chopping of vegetables and the sizzle of food cooking on the stove grounding you in the present moment.

You'd always loved cooking, you were hungry and determined to make a good impression on Yoongi. Even going as far as to make your famous cake no one could say no to it.

By the time Yoongi arrived home, the apartment was filled with the tantalizing scent of home-cooked food and freshly baked treats. Stepping through the door, he was greeted by the sight of you bustling about the kitchen, a warm smile gracing your lips.

"Welcome home," You said, your voice infused with genuine warmth, something Yoongi hadn't had the pleasure of hearing in years. His eyes lit up with surprise and appreciation as he took in the scene before him. 

"You've been busy," he remarked, a note of amusement in his voice as he watched you carefully. You shrugged modestly, a warm feeling spreading onto your cheeks. 

"I wanted to do something nice for you. Dinner will be ready soon, and I made cake." Yoongi's smile widened as he crossed the room to envelop you in a grateful hug.

"Thank you, Yn. You didn't have to do all this." You were in shock at the hug at first, your heart thumping as you tried not to overthink it. He was just grateful for the food. You smiled a little, returning the embrace, a sense of contentment settling over you. 

"I know. But I wanted to." You admit before going to set everything down on the table ready to eat. 

It had been almost a week since the news had broke that you and Yoongi were going to be married and he'd been right. People followed you EVERYWHERE. You'd gone grocery shopping two nights after the news was released and you'd been followed by men with cameras, all of them screaming questions at you. Luckily you and Yoongi had already come up with a story for you both, something easy to remember. You'd met because of his grandfather and it had almost been love at first sight. 

Tonight though you were at a restaurant together, your hands linked on the table as you stared lovingly at one another. All of it feels a little too real for you. 

"Tell me something about you that I wouldn't find in a magazine or news article." You begged Yoongi. Since moving in with him you'd done extensive research on him, wanting to be prepared in case any of his crazy family members tried to doubt the two of you. 

Yoongi stared at you, hesitating for a moment as he thought about it. He was torn between the desire to open up to you and betraying your agreement but the look in your eyes made it hard to resist. 

"Well, I've always loved astronomy," He confessed, his eye staring down at the glass feeling suddenly vulnerable.

"There's something about the vastness of the universe that puts everything into perspective." Your eyes lit up with interest, finally, something about him that wasn't run-of-the-mill CEO shit.

"That's beautiful," You whispered, 

"I've always been drawn to the stars as well." You admit, the two of you getting lost in conversation and completely forgetting about the many people snapping photos of you together. Yoongi let himself open up to you more, finding himself falling in a freefall for you. His head reminded him of the agreement you'd made together, no falling in love and he couldn't risk jeopardizing everything. 

"Why haven't you spoken to your family?" He suddenly found himself asking over dessert, your fork freezing midway to your mouth as your throat suddenly ran dry.

"They decided they didn't want me to ruin their family name,"

"But you were following your dreams, shouldn't that be something they were proud of you for doing?" He didn't understand how someone couldn't support the person they loved in everything that they did. 

"The Score family don't follow dreams, they crush them," Your voice was flat and dry as you placed your fork down.

"Score? As in-"

"Lawyers, the best in the business." You hissed out, you hated that all of this was being bought up but you owed it to Yoongi to tell him the truth.

"I don't speak to them, biologically I'm their daughter but legally I'm not."

"You were emancipated?" He watched you closely and you nodded your head,

"As soon as I left the company I did it myself," You admit with a smile on your face, you were proud of what you'd done. Being a lawyer had never been your dream and if the people that had raised you had it their way you'd still be another cog in the inner workings of their awful company.

"Believe me Yoongi, they have nothing to do with me-" His hand was on top of yours, rubbing over your skin in a soothing motion.

"It wouldn't bother me if they were still in your life." He promises, a weight being lifted from your chest as you let out a happy sigh.

The two of you continued to talk all night long, discovering things each other you hadn't known before and it was starting to feel like a true friendship was forming.

Months began to fly by as you and Yoongi worked on your fake relationship and countless parties you attended together, business and personal, but tonight was the one you were most nervous about. You were pacing around in the living room of the apartment waiting for Yoongi to come down and meet you. Your hands nervously played with the purse you were holding, the prospect of meeting his family tonight looming over your head like a dark cloud. 

The door to the living room opened and Yoongi stepped inside, freezing when he saw you pacing around but he couldn't take his eyes off you. You were in a stunning floor-length gown, crimson colour to match his tie but it clung to your body perfectly, seeing you turned his blood to fire. You paced away from him giving him the perfect view of the back of the gown, which had a crisscrossing strap at the back, the fabric shimmering and glowing with every step you took.

"I don't know if I can do this." You admit to Yoongi once you notice him there. You'd been faking it with everyone and everyone believed you so far but were his family going to be so easy to convince?

"Your family...they're going to see right through me." Your voice trembled with uncertainty and Yoongi smiled weakly walking over to you. He was nervous himself but he wasn't going to admit it to you.

"Yn, you're stronger than you think." He told you, his hand gently reaching out and rubbing your arm.

"We'll get through tonight, together." He had no doubt the two of you could convince his family you were together, to be honest, he had a hard time convincing himself it wasn't real. 

"What if they ask about our relationship and I cock the story up? What if they see through me?" He smiled down at you, running his hand over your cheek.

"We'll handle it, Yn. I won't let anything happen to you," And he meant it, if anything were to ever happen to you he knew he'd never survive it. 

After months of spending every second by your side, he felt himself falling harder and harder in love with you until the point where everything was blurred except for you. All he cared about was a future with you. His words were like a lifeline pulling you back from the edge of panic, you took in a deep breath and forced yourself to focus on everything again. 

"And if they don't believe us? What happens to me?" You asked, your voice tinged with apprehension.

"I'll make sure your business is taken care of, I'll not let anything happen to you but for now, let's focus on getting through tonight together." He whispers, kissing your hand softly as you feel a spark running through your veins. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that as long as you faced them together, you could conquer anything that stood in your way. And with that realization, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders, replaced by a glimmer of hope.

As the two of you made your way through the entrance, all eyes turned to greet you, your presence as a couple commanding attention amidst the sea of glamorous attendees. 

"They're staring." You uttered to Yoongi as he smirked, his arm wrapped around your waist as the two of you walked together, your steps synchronized in harmony. Heads turned, smiles were exchanged and greetings were offered as you passed by people. 

"How could they not? You look like you stepped out of a magazine, you look beautiful." It wasn't the first compliment that Yoongi had ever paid you, in fact, you'd grown used to the compliments he'd give to you all the time. Including the small hugs and kisses the two of you would share even if you were in public, it was clear lines were starting to blur but you weren't entirely sure you minded anymore.

"Look, it's Min Yoongi and his fiancée," Someone whispered, their voice tinged with awe. 

"They're a stunning couple." Her date said back to her, their eyes trailing over you both as you moved through the crowd. 

"Let's give them something to talk about," Yoongi whispered but before you had a chance to ask what he was talking about he was taking you over to the dance floor. 

His hand rested gently on your waist, guiding you with a tender pull as you began to move around the dance floor together, the rest of the world fading into the background. 

Your movements were slow and deliberate, each steps a silent conversation between you as you swayed to the rhythm of the music. Your heart raced with every beat, your breath catching in your throat as you allowed yourself to be swept up by the magic of the moment.

"You look beautiful," Yoongi whispered, your eyes locking as you stared at one another.

"You said that already," You mumbled nervously as he smirked to himself, moving in time with you as you fell back into a comfortable silence. Not a single word needed to be uttered as you knew what was happening to you, you were falling in love with him too fast and everything was falling apart around you. You continued to dance together, neither of you daring to speak the words that lingered in the back of your head. Knowing that acknowledging your love would shatter the delicate illusion you'd worked so hard to maintain.

"So this is the lovely Yn." You turned your head to face Juliain, Yoongi's father and Yoongi wrapped his arm tighter around your waist.

"Lovely dance the two of you did, your mother made me dance shortly after." He chuckles softly but Yoongi remains deadpan and unreadable, his grip on you tightening. You'd heard about Julilan from both Rath and Yoongi and you knew the man was bad news, a slimeball only after money.

"Julilan. Lovely to see you, shame you didn't make it to grandfather's funeral, it was a lovely service." Yoongi said coldly, your eyes staring up at him. Julian had refused to go to the funeral but had gone to the reading of the will, only to see what he was entitled to. 

"I have no doubt, you always knew how to throw a party." Julian laughed but your heart shattered, Rath had been an amazing man and to insinuate that a party was held for his dying instead of a grand funeral boiled your blood.

"Party? A man died-"

"Hush. You don't speak unless spoken to." Julian said in a dismissive tone, your mouth dropping open as you couldn't believe the man in front of you. 

"With all due respect, sir, I am not a decoration on Yoongi's arm I am his Fiancée," You spoke clearly but Julian turned to look at his son who was now red in the face,

"I see she has no manners or concept of brains. Where did you pick her up? A brothel?" Your stomach dropped as you looked down at yourself, was he implying you looked like a whore? The woman who had dressed you tonight told you that you'd looked elegant.

"Don't." Yoongi seethed through gritted teeth,

"Women should be seen and not heard. Act like the trophy wife you are meant to be." Julian was in your face but within seconds he was shoved away by Yoongi, a smirk playing on his father's lips as he realised he was getting under his skin.

"Don't speak to my wife like that." He ordered but you pulled at his arm, you could already see people starting to stare and Yoongi didn't need the bad press.

"You're not married yet. Are you really going to cause a scene over a woman? Behave." He hissed at him, you stared at him as you waited for him to insult him one last time.

"Still just a child." He muttered, about to walk away when you finally found your voice once more.

"A child who has done more than you'll ever accomplish in your life." You hissed out at him, earning a smirk from Yoongi, he had to admit he was proud of you for not backing down from him.

"Why you little-" A hand was raised in the air but Yoongi caught it, shoving his father away from you.

"I see why you hate the man." You mumbled as Yoongi checked on you, his eyes softening once he saw you were okay.

"If he'd hurt you just then." It didn't bear to think about, he was angry, blood-curdling as he thought about the way his father had gone to strike you. 

"He didn't." You whispered to him, your hand rubbing his back softly but it did nothing to calm him down right now.

"I'd kill him."

"Yoongi." You pleaded with him, but he was lost in his own anger.

"He's a disgusting piece of shit and I would have killed him." You stepped in front of him, your eyes finding his as he stared down at you in shock,

"But then I'd have no one to watch the stars with," You whispered only for his whole body to relax and he nodded slowly at you.

"Let's get some food and go out on the balcony, we can go and look at the stars and pretend Julian isn't even here," You offered to him.

Yoongi ventured off to fetch some food and you found yourself alone in the gala, looking around at everyone who was dancing together or mingling. This world was something you'd never thought you'd fit into before but after spending so much time in it, it almost felt like home.

"Ah, Yn dear, there you are." You slowly turned around to see Mia, Rath's ex-wife making her way to you with a giant smile on her face.

"I've been meaning to have a word with you," She said as she reached you, her voice gentle and a welcoming contrast compared to her son.

"Of course, Mrs Min. Is everything alright?" You eyed her up as she smiled, her eyes twinkling with mischief. 

"No one's called me that in years, call me Mia." She begged, you nodded at her and slowly made your way out onto the balcony to talk better together.

"I wanted to first tell you how happy I am that Yoongi has found someone like you." Your eyes widened in surprise, your heart fluttering at the unexpected praise.

"T-Thank you, Mia. That means a lot to me." Mia reached out to pat your hand affectionately.

"You know, I've seen the way he looks at you. It reminds me of the way Rath used to look at me." Your breath caught in your throat at the implication of her words.

"I...I'm not sure what you mean." She chuckled softly at you,

"Oh, my dear, don't be so modest. It's written all over his face- He loves you, and I couldn't be happier for the both of you, even if you were faking it at first." You smiled weakly, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to process everything you'd just heard. Yoongi loved you - truly, deeply and unequivocally and that sent a surge of panic through you.

"Rath would have adored seeing you both together," Mia added before giving you an envelope.

"In my side of the will I was to give this to the beautiful girl from the cafe, now I assume that's you." You stared down at the envelope and nodded, quickly placing it into your bag to look at another time, when you weren't so stressed. 

"I-I have to go," You rushed out, panic taking over you as you began to hurry through the crowded hall. Your mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear, you loved him too but there was no way you could do this. You raced around a corner when you collided with Yoongi, sending you both sprawling to the floor.

"Yn, what's wrong?" Concern was etched in his features as he reached out to steady you. Your breathing turned tagged as you struggled to compose yourself, slowly standing up.

"I...I need to talk to you," Your voice barely came out above a whisper but Yoongi nodded, leading you to a nearby alcove away from prying eyes.

"What is it, Yn? You're shaking." He reached out to touch you and you took in a deep breath, words tumbling out in a rush as you fought to make sense of everything.

"I just spoke to your grandmother, and she...she said that you love me, Yoongi. And...I...I don't know what to do." Yoongi's expression softened as he reached out to cup your trembling hands in his, his touch sending a shiver of warmth coursing through you.

"Yn, listen to me. I know this is overwhelming but you need to understand something...you belong here with me," You stared up at him as he didn't deny falling for you, tears welling up in your eyes as you shook your head.

"I ran away from this world."

"And now you're back but I promise it'll be nothing like your family's world." He breathed out as you stared at him, his eyes boring into you,

"You belong here, with me."

` "What if you suddenly decide I'm not good enough for you? What if I can't give you everything you deserve?" Yoongi brushed a gentle thumb across your cheek, wiping away a tear.

"You're everything I need, Yn. Your love, your strength, your unwavering support - it's more than I could ever hope for. And as long as we have each other, we can face whatever comes our way." Tears began to melt away as you stared at him.

"I love you, Yoongi." You whispered, the words feeling like a weight was taken right off our chest.

"I love you, Yn, Always." He whispered. 

With a soft sigh, he closed the distance between you and you leaned in slowly to him. It felt like an eternity until your lips met in a tender kiss, time seemed to stand still as you savoured the sweetness of the moment, your hearts beating in harmony as you finally surrendered to the pull of love. It was a kiss so full of tenderness and longing, of hope and promise. 

When you pulled away your foreheads touched and you giggled a little.

"Let's go home, I wanna show you how much I really love you," He winks, as you squeal a little taking his hand and practically dragging him out of the party.

Months Later 

"CEO'S Expecting: Min Yoongi and Min Yn Announce Pregnancy, Anticipate The New Heir To The Legacy?" You read out the title of the "Webber Files" newspaper and stared over at Yoongi with a blank expression.

"I see why their paper sucks," You grumbled, folding it up and staring at your husband who hadn't been able to take his eyes off you.

"Don't look at me like that, the last time you looked at me like that, this happened!" You stated, pointing down at your baby bump and whining at him.

"But we had fun," He wiggled his eyebrows at you and sat down beside you on the sofa, the two of you curling up together on a lazy Saturday morning.

"We did," You giggled as he ran his hand over your bump, smiling happily to himself. Not long after you found out you were expecting Yoongi told you the other stipulation about getting his grandfather's portion of the company and that was a child but you couldn't have been happier it was happening.

"Julian will flip a lid." You laughed at the thought of his father finding out about his son having a child but more importantly, you couldn't wait for him to figure out he was getting nothing in the will besides a small shop in the middle of nowhere.

"Oh, I meant to say. Gran asked if you'd looked into the envelope yet. Whatever that means," He frowns and you reach out for your bag, opening it up to find the envelope still sitting there.

As you took it out and opened it you couldn't believe what you were reading.

"By now I assume Yoongi and yourself are together and knowing My Mia she would have given this to you at the appropriate time, but enclosed are the deeds to your cafe. All yours, all paid for, as well as the number to my lawyer who will arrange for you to inherit some money as an investment to you and your dream.

Best Wishes,

Rath,"

You and Yoongi stared at one another, laughing a little as you realised Rath had been planning your get-together for a very long time.

@chiisaiblog@sw33tnight@kaitieskidmore97@laylasbunbunny@tinyoonsblog@whitefoxgirl@katnisspeetaprim@acciocriativity@choisoorin@heyjiminnie@btsiguess-kpop@halesandy@gothic4under4lord@soulphoenix1618@aerastus@jin-from-the-block@lenfilms@elizaschuyler18@piratequeen-impact @Namgiswifey@delulu18@xyahrinx@katsukis1wife@anthropologymajorkpopmultistan@blairscott@4-chan-inpadella@swga-ficrecs@niktwazny303@armystay89@myyouthdonut@xakx@kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy@kpopmenace143@loveforred@b1nn1e-1s-cut3@elissasimp

[heartfullofleeches]

best friend yans partner making reader cry and yan realizes that it’s not their arms that reader runs to for comfort anymore🫢

You're happy for them.

In the beginning, it was just you and them. Growing up, they had always been a quiet kid. Clung to the hip of the first person who gave them the time of day. You didn't regret your decision then and you don't now. The years you had together were some of the best and you could only wish them happiness going forward. You were so proud of them for building the courage to broaden their friend group... You only wish they let new people in without shutting the old out.

You promised yourself you wouldn't cry when you found out you had to share them with someone else. You promised you wouldn't cry when they cancelled plans to focus on their new relationship. You promised you wouldn't cry when they finally replied to all your calls and texts just to put an end to your life long friendship.

You don't blame them for saying goodbye. It'd hurt less if they had done it in person, but you're adults now - friendships and silly promises are secondary when you've found true love. That's what they said this was in their final message to you- and so you believe them. Won't have much time for movie nights and hanging out like you used to while they're building a life with someone else, so you were bound to drift apart anyway. Everyone always said a bond like yours would stand the test of time, but clearly they were wrong. The best thing you can do for them and yourself is keep your chin high and swallow the tears. As much as it hurts, you won't cry. You won't cry.

"Ugh.. are you are stalker now? It's kind of pathetic for you to cling onto someone you never dated When will it get through your thick skull - they don't need you anymore."

You won't cry. It was pure coincidence that you ran into them again. It makes sense after all the time you've spent together the places you frequented would align. Your old best friend and their new lover had taken a trip to the mall on the day your new acquaintance had taken you to your old stomping grounds to cheer you up. Their partner was like a vulture - watching you from afar and awaiting the second you both were alone to strike. Honestly, it seemed like they didn't even notice you which only teared down another layer of your fragile defense. You want to go home, but you had to wait for your companion. Unlike others - you'd never leave anyone behind.

"They told me all about what it was like when you were younger. How you sucked up every minute of their time and made every thought they had all about you. You're honestly disgusting, you know that?"

Your throat tightens as you're backed into a metaphorical corner. That's not true. You tried to be there for them. They're the one that rejected everyone that wasn't you. Is that really how they viewed you? How they felt about you? Sharp intakes of air build up to the first exasperated wail that rips itself from you. It all crumbles from there. Tears pour from your tired eyes and spent heart. You try so hard to keep it in, wiping at your face and muffling your cries with quivering lips - but they only flood harder. Your aggressor attempts to flee from the scene of the crime as two pairs of footsteps quickly approach.

"Y/n?....."

"Y/n!...."

Sneakers squeak along the mall floor as one sprints to your side, going out of their way to jam their elbow in the ribs of your aggressor as they squeeze past them to get to you. The other stands stagnant as their lover nears - watching as you fall weightless into their arms. They draw back the foot pointed in your direction at first witness to your cries.

"Baby, what happened! Are you okay? This is why I told you to come into the store with me. Calm down, breathe. It's okay. I'm here."

Soft fingers brush away your tears. They dry quicker against someone else's skin. Your head falls to their chest, ears tuned to the gentle beat of their heart to calm the frantic beats in your own. Your companion takes their hand in yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as you follow their instruction and breathe in slowly.

"That's it.... I'm right here. I'll always be right here for you."

Their words are like a dagger to those unfortunate to listen. A blade dug deeper by your redden eyes and the small smile that forms as you gently squeeze your savior's hand. Once upon a time, it was their hand you held when at your worse - just as yours had pulled them out of the wreck their life was before they meet you. You used to be each other's shoulder to cry on. Safe houses from a world that never understood you or bothered to care. They long for that moment in time, but in that instance it all felt too perfect. If they hadn't let you go and found comfort elsewhere they'd only hurt you in the end - crush and buried beneath the weight of the ever-changing, conflicting tide of their feelings for you.

Laughter draws them back to the cruel reality they now face as punishment for their selfish decision.

"I'm fine now - I swear!"

"Nope! Since you won't tell me what's wrong, we ain't stopping until you're all smiles. We're going to hit up every store in this mall until it closes and you find something that completely takes your mind off whatever got you down. As your new best friend, it's my duty to make sure your heart is in good shape.... So I can steal it later on."

"You're such a dick...." Nudging their arm with your elbow, you giggle - then sigh. "Well, if you're paying, I guess I can't complain. Best be on our way then."

A passing glances comes not from you, but from the victor of this scenario. Your new best friend locks an arm around your waist, placing a kiss to your hair before mouthing a single word over your shoulder.

"mine."

A hand reaches out as you disappear into the crowd. It's falls not into the grasp of the one its heart truly desires, and instead into the iron grip of the person they chose as a cheap imitation.

"Can you believe those two?"

".... I'm going to fucking kill that bastard."

[roamingleaf]

"Maximum Occupancy"

TW: Bukkake, R@pe, Public, Freeuse, Fauxcest(BroXSis), Gangbang, Degrading, Dirty Talk, Blackmail

"Stop taking pictures with your phones." She shakily protested. As a tinted rosy flush started to simmer under her summer rain soft cheeks. What was the cause of the crimson imprinting steaming away at such an unblemished, marble face? The fact that her school mandated navy blue skirt that was expected to be prim, pressed, and presentable at all times was lazily crumpled up and cast into some obscure corner of that florescent flooded linoleum bathroom.

There, exposed before the eyes of a few delinquent boys was her pale, plush, plumped thighs which seemed as if they had been woven into the very fabric of her mesh black stockings. With that guiding roadmap on full display those devilish glares walked their way up to her itty-bitty, raven, almost yarn like thread she swore where panties for a mere peak at that hidden oasis. This horrendous, shameful endeavour couldn't be made any worse could it?

Sadly, it could. one of those four hooligans to have cornered this innocent lass was her own brother. Even as our Ivory bunny pleaded for the snaps of those cameras to cease, he would be the one to brazenly lead the charge of ignoring it and continuing to treat her like their personal model.

"I told you she'd do it." He proudly bragged to the group of gawking boys. All but astounded by his rash, bold, forthrightness that they too continued to snap away.

Her protest would not cease however, with one of her slender hands she tried desperately to keep that sacred shrine out of the eyes of such devils. "I'm serious Issac...stop taking pictures with your phone."

But again, her quiet riot was met with deafening silence before Issac himself stepped closer to address this perceived bratty behavior. "Ya'll want to see something cool?" He posed to the peanut gallery before firmly reaching out and grasping her flowing, golden locks between his fingers. With such a sturdy hold upon her only such a dark wish could await. Suddenly as if thunder erupting a crashing clap could be heard echoing through that small confinement. He had done the unthinkable in front of these gazing glares. Issac had reddened her flushed, ghostly cheeks.

Unfortunately for this frightened, petite, doll that clap seemed to be the signal for the circling vultures to descend upon her with the speed of the winds. One of the boys helped Isaac push this porcelain statue up against the wall securing her tightly. All while a second boy was sure to slowly unbutton her school embroidered shirt. Those emerald eyes of hers couldn't help but fall upon Isaac as his gleeful grin was all the support he would give back.

"Don't let them do this Issac, I'm your si-"

Before another word could be uttered in defiance Isaac's lips met his sisters. This love drunk embrace was so misplaced. Nevertheless, that shocked the other boys. They themselves couldn't help but enjoy the show as Isaac's tongue slipped between her cherried, treasured lips. What grunting, groaning, resistance she had before was all but melting away between the steaming embrace of their lips locking.

This sullied display of sin was more than enough to call the final boy into action. Moving in next to the second boy they both pulled her matching black bra down to reveal her precious, rolling hills. Like the hungry creatures they were both of them started to suck, nipple, and squeeze the breasts that were in front of them. Only as her enchanting, symphony started to leak from between Isaac's embrace did they finally break for air. He pulled himself from her lips to watch as his friends started to defile his own flesh and blood with their teeth and tongues.

"Isn't she such a little slut? I've trained her well." He boasted again. Implying this was far from the first time he had tried his hand with her frame. Now, the first boy wanted a taste of her lips as well. Seeing his chance with the hand that was free her head was tilted to the left where another pair of lips locked with hers once again. There would be no need for too long of a break for her sadly.

Issac saw this as the perfect opportunity to switch with his friend. Maneuvering his lumbering frame in front of hers Issac would waste no time taking that well shaped, juicy, pale peach into his palms and lifting her up off the ground. With ease her brother and some stranger kept her suspended between their grasp. "Make sure you get a good angle." He reminded one of the boys who still greedily had their phone out. "Are you ready for me whore?" He taunted softly into her ear as his javelin-like shaft made its way into the awaiting, glistening, cove of hers.

By this point her mind was already struggling to stay afloat in that hazy, lust fueled daze her senses were thrown into. The only response she could muster was a booming, entrancing, moan as her greedy hole gobbled her big brother's cock in front of these nobodies. "You're so much tighter today, what's wrong? You love an audience you filthy doll?"

Taunt, after taunt was hurled in her face to match the steady rhythmic thrusting he was starting to establish. The boy who had been helping prop this petite portrait up could not help but let his wandering hands lead down towards her jiggling chest for a handful. He too would soon find his own rhyme. A deadly mix between groping, grasping, and squeezing her breast all while his tongue would trace shapes along the fringe of her ear. How could this be happening? Yet, that thought would have no time to settle in her mind through this vicious ravaging.

Oh, but who could forget those two other monsters waiting eagerly in the wings both with phones in hand to capture this private pornography. Unfortunately this was far from the end. Issac hungered to present his pretty portrait in every way he could think of. Pulling himself from deep within her soiled, creamy, cove he eased her down to her knees while calling forth the boys to gather with a mere wave of his hand.

"Open your fucking mouth." Issac barked. And like the timid, touched, tulip she listened. Her dripping, tongue happily slithered from between her lips as everyone who had not unzipped, quickly stepped to catch up. Beneath that dim humming light her hands and mouth were filled with cocks. Stroking them in time with her oddly soft yet, firm grip while her mouth was used by Isaac. The last boy, knowing he would not get something was swift to shift to the side of Isaac, aligning his shaft near her bobbing head in some desperate plea to be next.

It wouldn't be long from here till the shaft in her left hand abruptly erupted onto her glowing, blonde locks and between the crevices of her fingers. Which seemed to cause a chain reaction as the one in her right hand followed suit. This time, marking more over her cheek and chin. The runt of the litter saw his chance and quickly pounced. Taking both of her hands to wrap them around his shaft, he would thrust between them as if he was trying to impregnate her very palms.

Issac laughed as he saw this as a race to the finish. Who would be the last to add their part to this pretty portrait? Due to Isaac's tightening grasp upon his dear little sister's head he could become twice as violent with his reshaping thrusts into her throat. That once soothing moaning symphony was quickly turning into a gargling, haunting, orchestra of corruption. Neither one of them seemed ready to lose, that was when Issac freed himself from the coils of her breathless throat to plaster his seed precisely upon her elegant tapestry face.

Having to be the last finished, the runt was sure to take advantage. Moving his shaft out from her hands, he was the first to use her squishy, pillowy hills to encircle his cock. This must have been the piece of the puzzle missing, for not too long between them did he too, erupt. Spilling himself amongst her snowy white mountains.

"Good man, now bend her over." How could Issac still want more after this depraved scene left in their wake? Yet this call went heeded with tenacious speed.

This filthy debauchery continued until the sun dropped below the crest of the horizon--On that cold, disgusting, ceramic tiles of the bathroom did her exhausted, exploited, leaking canvas lay after they had finished each painting her as they saw fit.

-🪶

[birbbones]

So I'm not the one to ask for help so I've been very hesitant on sharing, but got some news last week that I will be homeless by June (and no, this is not an awful april fools joke, I am panicking here).

Some of you in the vulture culture community know last week and a bit ago I had an accident resulting in losing consciousness, breaking my neck, and experiencing a seizure for the first time. I've been having ongoing brain issues (we removed a lot of cerebral fluid in December that was causing increased pressure and testing the fluid to rule out infection, diagnosed with IIH), and last month I've been having heart issues.

Referrals have been made to a cardiology specialist, as well as the first fit clinic. But it's looking like I will probably have to go private to get listened to / get the care I need ASAP. Couple with the fact I will be homeless by June, it's a really terrifying situation. I have contacted local councils, independent living schemes, shelter, private landlords etc and feel like I've been let down. I'm awaiting a doctors appointment with a NHS advisor on the 10th, where I'll be showing them my list of resources I've used, and to see if they are able to help find anything.

I reluctantly made a justgiving page, on the advice of my friends, and while I hate asking for help, I am honestly quite scared and uncertain about my future.

If anyone can share the link, reblog this post, or even donate some change. It would mean a lot.

Thank you for your time, I'm sorry for posting this here but I don't know what else to do. I will be continuing to work on the skull index, as its such big passion project of mine along with the help of my team. Its a great distraction.

[altamontpt]

El Altar del Holocausto + Awaiting the Vultures + Tombfield || Cartaxo Sessions

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] Três bandas, três misturas explosivas bem diferentes! Um cocktail de Post Rock instrumental sem Triple Sec(a)! Confesso que, à partida, a proposta das Cartaxo Sessions para setembro me pareceu um pouco arriscada. Três bandas de post rock instrumental???  Hmmm … isso parece-me um bocado nerdy e monocromático!!! Sim, torci um pouco o nariz … mas há que confiar em…

[wienervulture]

I got so thrilled when I did something basic like the backstitch and then the chain stitch logged on

should i use this blog as a way to document my progress in needlework

[moonlitstoriess]

The Heir and the Outlaw-Eris Vanserra x fem!reader (oneshot)

Summary: In the shadows of the Autumn Court, where betrayal is currency and power is survival, Eris Vanserra has finally had enough. To dethrone his tyrannical father, Beron, he strikes an uneasy deal with Y/N, an outsider with her own vendetta against the High Lord. Their alliance is fraught with tension, mistrust, and a dangerous chemistry that threatens to burn them both. As plots unravel and secrets come to light, Eris and Y/N must decide if their fragile bond is strong enough to survive the inferno—or if they’ll both be consumed by it.

see masterlist

Warnings: just a mix of everything really lmao, also its really long guys😭

The throne room was suffocating.

Heat radiated from the great stone hearths lining the walls, their flames licking upward as if they too bowed to the High Lord’s wrath. Yet it wasn’t the fire that burned Y/N’s skin—it was the weight of a hundred gazes, each one eager to see her fall. The Autumn Court was a den of wolves, and she was the wounded prey dragged into their midst.

She stood in the center of the room, wrists bound with rough iron, the metallic tang of blood on her lips where one of Beron’s soldiers had struck her. The crimson trail was drying now, stiff on her skin, but the defiance in her eyes hadn’t dimmed. Not even as Beron stared down at her from his throne of flame and iron, his cruel smile a weapon sharper than any blade.

Beron tilted his head, studying her like one might examine a particularly irritating insect. “You’ve caused quite a bit of trouble, haven’t you?” His voice was low, smooth—a predator’s purr before the strike.

Y/N didn’t answer. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

Her silence drew a ripple of amusement from the courtiers gathered in the shadows. The sycophants, the schemers, all perched like vultures awaiting the kill. Among them stood a tall male with red hair that caught the firelight. She barely glanced at him, her focus fixed on the High Lord, but somewhere in the back of her mind, a thought lingered: Another one of his cruel sons. Eris? Maybe one of the others. Does it even matter? To her, they all looked the same—arrogant, sharp-edged, and entirely untrustworthy.

Beron’s smirk deepened. “Nothing to say? I suppose that’s to be expected from a filthy little outlaw.”

The word hit its mark, but Y/N refused to flinch. Yes, she was an outlaw. A ghost in the shadows, a thorn in Beron’s side. Her work had earned her plenty of enemies in the Autumn Court, in both the human and fae realms really, but she hadn’t been reckless enough to get caught. Not until now.

“You’ve been trespassing in my lands, stealing from my stores, and stirring trouble among my people,” Beron continued, his voice growing colder with each accusation. “And here you are, bold enough to stand before me and think you’ll leave with your head still attached.”

A flash of fear sparked in her chest, quickly buried beneath a rising tide of anger. She had known the risks, but Beron’s accusations weren’t entirely true. Not all of them, at least. Yes, she had stolen, had trespassed, but she hadn’t done it for herself. The people of the villages—Beron’s own subjects—had suffered under his greed, his neglect. Someone had to help them. Someone had to fight back.

But that wasn’t why she was here. Not entirely.

The vendetta that burned in her veins had nothing to do with stolen goods or ruined crops. It had everything to do with the family she’d lost, the lives Beron had taken in his endless quest for power. She had come to this court with a plan, with revenge etched into her bones, and now it was crumbling before her eyes.

Beron rose from his throne, the flames at his back surging higher. “I should kill you here and now. It would be a fitting end for a little thief.”

She braced herself, even as her heart thundered against her ribs.

But instead of a blade, Beron waved his hand dismissively. “Lock her in the dungeons. I’ll decide her fate when I feel like it.”

Rough hands grabbed her arms, and Y/N didn’t struggle as they dragged her from the room. The red-haired male—Eris, she was now certain—watched her go, his expression unreadable. She told herself she didn’t care. He was just another piece of this rotten court, another predator in a den of monsters.

Still, his gaze lingered, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw something flicker in his amber eyes.

She didn’t have time to wonder what it was. The heavy doors slammed shut behind her, sealing her in darkness.

The dungeon was everything she expected of the Autumn Court—cold, damp, and reeking of decay. Iron bars lined the narrow corridor, their rusted edges gleaming faintly in the dim torchlight. The air was thick with the stench of mildew and despair, and somewhere in the darkness, water dripped in a slow, mocking rhythm.

Y/N was shoved into a cell without ceremony. She stumbled but caught herself before she hit the stone floor. The door slammed shut behind her with a metallic clang, the sound echoing through the empty halls.

The guard sneered through the bars. “Enjoy your stay, thief.”

She didn’t respond, didn’t even look at him. Instead, she backed into the far corner of the cell, the damp stone biting into her palms as she sat down. The guard lingered for a moment longer, as if waiting for her to break, before finally retreating down the corridor.

Silence settled like a heavy blanket, broken only by the occasional drip of water.

Y/N let her head fall back against the wall, her eyes closing as she inhaled deeply, trying to steady her racing thoughts. This wasn’t the plan. She had been careful—every move calculated, every step planned to avoid detection. She hadn’t expected Beron’s soldiers to find her, much less drag her into the heart of his court.

Her hands curled into fists. She had let her guard down, and now she was paying the price.

The hours crawled by, each one stretching into eternity. Hunger gnawed at her stomach, but she ignored it. The iron cuffs around her wrists made her skin itch, their magic suppressing the faint hum of power that always thrummed in her veins. She was trapped—physically, magically, and in every other way that mattered.

But she wasn’t done. Not yet.

Her eyes flicked open at the sound of footsteps.

They were light, measured, and deliberate. Not the heavy boots of a guard, nor the hurried steps of a messenger. These footsteps carried purpose.

Y/N sat hunched in her corner of the cell, her knees drawn up, feigning indifference as she stared at the cracked ceiling. She didn’t look up when the footsteps stopped outside her door.

The familiar scent of burning leaves hit her before she heard his voice.

“Still alive, then?”

Y/N’s head turned, slowly, to the source of the voice. The red-haired male from the throne room—Eris, she recalled now. She didn’t bother hiding her disdain as her gaze swept over him. He stood just beyond the bars, his arms crossed over his chest, his stance deceptively relaxed.

“I’d hate to disappoint,” she said dryly, her voice rasping from the damp air.

Eris’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. His sharp amber eyes flicked over her, cataloging every detail—the bruises on her wrists from the iron cuffs, the dirt smudged on her face, the rigid set of her jaw.

“I expected more from someone with your... reputation,” he said, his tone light but laced with something sharper.

Y/N shifted, stretching her legs out in front of her, pretending she didn’t care about the scrutiny. “And I expected more from a prince, but here we are.”

That earned her a genuine smirk, fleeting but real. Eris crouched down, his hands resting on his knees as he leveled her with a look. “You’re bold for someone in your position. It’s almost admirable.”

“Admirable,” she echoed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Coming from a Vanserra, I’m sure that’s a compliment.”

Eris tilted his head, unbothered by the jab. “Perhaps.”

The silence stretched between them, taut and heavy. Y/N’s gaze didn’t waver from his, though every instinct told her to stay on guard. Eris wasn’t here out of boredom—that much was clear.

“What do you want?” she asked finally.

Eris tapped a finger against his knee, his expression thoughtful. “Curiosity, mostly. My father seems quite taken with the idea that you’re a threat. I wanted to see if he was right.”

She scoffed, leaning back against the wall. “And? What’s the verdict?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his face. “The jury’s still out.”

Before she could reply, he rose to his full height, brushing nonexistent dust from his coat. “Enjoy your stay, outlaw,” he said, his voice dripping with mock courtesy.

Y/N’s jaw tightened as he turned on his heel and disappeared down the corridor, his footsteps echoing into the distance.

He’s testing me, she realized, her fingers curling into fists. But for what?

The hours bled into days, or maybe it was the other way around. The oppressive darkness of the dungeon made time feel meaningless. Y/N had nearly convinced herself that the prince’s visit had been a one-time nuisance when the sound of footsteps echoed through the corridor again.

This time, she didn’t bother pretending not to notice. She sat cross-legged in the center of the cell, her sharp gaze locked on the shadowed figure that appeared outside her door.

Eris stopped just shy of the bars, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. “Still breathing, I see,” he said, his tone almost bored.

“Disappointed?” she shot back, her voice steadier than she felt.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his head tilting as he studied her. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Keep saying that, and I might start to believe it’s a compliment,” she said dryly.

Eris ignored her remark, his sharp gaze cutting through the darkness like a blade. “What were you doing in Autumn, Y/N?”

Her spine stiffened. “Shouldn’t your father have figured that out by now?”

“My father has his own theories,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “I prefer to form my own conclusions.”

She leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing. “And what conclusion have you come to?”

“That you’re stubborn,” he said with a faint smirk. “And reckless. But perhaps not entirely stupid.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Glad to know I’ve met your high standards.”

Eris’s smirk widened, but his amusement didn’t reach his eyes. “Tell me something, Y/N. Do you enjoy playing the part of the martyr, or is it just second nature by now?”

Her heart skipped a beat, but she didn’t let it show. “What are you talking about?”

“You came here for a reason,” he said, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “You didn’t stumble into Autumn by accident. So, what is it? Revenge? Spite? Or something bigger?”

Y/N’s stomach twisted, but she kept her expression neutral. “What makes you think I’ll tell you anything?”

Eris stepped closer, his fingers curling around the bars. For a moment, his mask slipped, and she caught a glimpse of something darker beneath the surface.

“Because,” he said softly, “I have a feeling you and I want the same thing.”

And then, just as quickly as he had come, he was gone.

Y/N hadn’t slept. Not properly, anyway. Every creak of the dungeon, every distant sound of boots on stone, kept her on edge. She couldn’t shake the memory of Eris’s last visit—the way he had looked at her, as if he already knew her secrets. As if he was just waiting for her to confirm them.

She sat against the cold wall, her legs stretched out in front of her, when she heard the footsteps again. Slower this time. Measured.

She didn’t move, didn’t bother looking up as the familiar scent of smoke and autumn leaves drifted through the air.

“You’re persistent,” she muttered as he stopped outside her cell.

Eris chuckled softly, a sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “And you’re predictable. I’d have thought you’d be halfway to trying to escape by now.”

She finally looked up, her gaze sharp. “And give you the satisfaction of watching me fail?”

He didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, wrapped bundle. He tossed it through the bars, and it landed with a soft thud at her feet.

Y/N eyed it warily before unwrapping it to reveal a piece of bread and a small bottle of water. Her stomach twisted painfully, but she refused to let him see her gratitude.

“Generous of you,” she said dryly, taking a small bite.

Eris leaned casually against the bars, watching her with a faint smirk. “I need you alive, not starving.”

The words caught her off guard. She froze, the piece of bread halfway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. “Alive. Useful. That’s what you are to me.”

She set the bread down slowly, narrowing her eyes. “Care to elaborate?”

Eris stepped closer, his fingers wrapping around the cold iron bars. “I’ve been watching you. Listening. You’re not just some petty criminal with a grudge against my father. You’re smart. Resourceful. Dangerous, even.”

Y/N snorted, leaning back against the wall. “You’ve got a strange way of giving compliments.”

His smirk didn’t waver. “Call it what you want. The truth is, I need someone like you.”

She tilted her head, feigning disinterest. “For what?”

“To help me take him down.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and dangerous. Y/N stared at him, her mind racing.

“You’re joking,” she said finally, though there was no humor in her voice.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he shot back, his tone sharp.

Y/N crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him. “Why should I believe you? You’re his son.”

“And you’re his enemy,” Eris said smoothly. “We have something in common.”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “And what? You just expect me to trust you?”

“No,” he admitted, stepping back from the bars. “But I do expect you to think about what I’m offering. You can rot in this cell, or you can help me take down the High Lord of Autumn.”

Y/N’s lips curled into a cold smile. “And what’s in it for you, Prince Eris?”

He didn’t answer immediately. His amber eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of something deeper—anger, resentment, maybe even pain.

“Freedom,” he said simply, his voice low. “For both of us.”

And just like that, he was gone again, leaving Y/N with more questions than answers.

The hours bled together, the oppressive silence of the dungeon broken only by the occasional drip of water or the scurry of unseen vermin. Y/N sat hunched in the corner of her cell, her fingers tracing patterns in the grime on the stone floor.

She should’ve been planning her next move, calculating her odds of survival. Instead, her mind replayed Eris’s words: "Freedom. For both of us."

The absurdity of it made her scoff under her breath. A son of Beron—freedom? The words didn’t fit together, not in any version of reality she’d ever known. She knew what the Autumn Court stood for. Knew what Beron and his ilk did to people like her.

And yet...

A faint rustling sound pulled her from her thoughts. Her eyes darted toward the source—a small, scruffy rat creeping under the bars of her cell. She tensed, prepared to scare it off, when she noticed the tiny scrap of paper tied to its leg.

Her heart skipped a beat.

The rat stopped just out of her reach, its black eyes glinting in the dim light. Slowly, deliberately, Y/N extended her hand. The rat flinched but didn’t run. She whispered soothing nonsense until she could untie the scrap of paper and the creature scurried away into the shadows.

She unfolded the note with trembling fingers, her eyes scanning the jagged, hastily scrawled words: "Stay alive. You’re not done yet. Trust no one."

The last line sent a chill down her spine. It wasn’t just a warning; it was a reminder of why she was here in the first place. The people who had sent her knew how much she had to lose—and how much she still had to gain.

But how?

Her thoughts raced as she stared at the note. The organization hadn’t abandoned her, but they didn’t seem to have a plan to get her out, either. And then there was Eris. His offer wasn’t trustable, not by a long shot. But it was a way out.

The sound of boots on stone shattered her thoughts. She crumpled the note in her fist, shoving it into her sleeve just as the familiar scent of smoke and autumn filled the air.

She didn’t need to look to know who it was.

“I see you’re still alive,” Eris drawled, his tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather.

“Disappointed?” she shot back, leaning against the wall.

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “Not yet.” He stepped closer, his amber eyes flicking over her, searching for something. “Have you thought about my offer?”

“Have you thought about giving me a reason to believe you?” she countered.

Eris tilted his head, his smirk vanishing. “I’m giving you a choice, Y/N. Rot in this cell and hope your friends care enough to come for you, or work with me and ensure Beron pays for what he’s done.”

“Work for you, you mean,” she said, narrowing her eyes.

“No,” Eris said, his voice soft but cutting. “With me. We want the same thing. You know it.”

She stared at him, her mind a storm of doubts and possibilities. The note in her sleeve seemed to burn against her skin, its warning echoing in her head.

“Why me?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

Eris leaned closer, his expression unreadable. “Because I’ve seen what you’re capable of. And because I need someone who hates him as much as I do.”

The words hit her like a blow. He wasn’t lying; she could see it in his eyes. The hatred there wasn’t for show. It was deep, consuming, and real.

She let out a slow breath, her decision forming like a blade being sharpened. “If I agree to this... you’d better keep your end of the bargain.”

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous. “You have my word.”

“Forgive me if that’s not worth much,” she said dryly.

Eris chuckled, stepping back. “Wise of you. Now eat something. You’ll need your strength.”

With that, he was gone again, his footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Y/N leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes. She had made her choice. Now, all she could do was wait for whatever came next.

The days blurred together in the prison’s suffocating darkness, the stench of damp stone and rotting food mixing with the cold bite of the air. Y/N had been left alone for what felt like an eternity, only the echo of her own thoughts to keep her company. But she had never been one to let solitude break her resolve. It was a harsh ally, but one that had kept her alive this long.

Then, as abruptly as it had come, the silence was shattered.

The faintest flicker of movement in the corridor, barely perceptible even to her trained eyes, was the only warning before the door to her cell creaked open. She tensed instinctively, her senses on high alert. Was it Beron’s guards? Had they come for her, to finish what they’d started?

But no.

The figure standing in the doorway wasn’t a guard.

It was Eris.

His amber eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but his posture was calm, controlled. Too controlled. He was trying to hide something, she realized, but not quite well enough.

“You’ve come,” Y/N said, her voice low but steady.

“Did you think I’d leave you in here forever?” Eris asked, his voice laced with a sharpness she couldn’t ignore. “You’re not the only one with a plan.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s your plan then?”

Eris didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he reached into the shadows beside the door, and a small, intricately carved box appeared in his hand. He set it down on the floor with a soft thud and knelt beside it.

“I’m getting you out,” he said, his tone more serious than she’d heard it before. There was no mockery now, no games. Only the weight of his words. “But you need to trust me.”

Y/N’s instinct was to step back, to keep her distance. Trust was a currency she hadn’t traded in years. She had learned that lesson the hard way. But she knew the reality of her situation. She was running out of options.

Eris opened the box. Inside, there was a set of carefully arranged tools—thin, metallic wires, a set of blackened knives, and what looked like a small vial of liquid.

“An escape plan?” she asked, her skepticism creeping in. “You think you can just waltz in here and pull me out like it’s nothing?”

Eris’s lips curled into a cold, almost cruel smile. “It won’t be easy. But it’ll work. That’s all that matters.” He lifted the vial, swirling the contents in the dim light. “This will mask our scent. It’ll make sure we’re not tracked.”

Y/N watched him closely, still unsure. But as he worked, as he moved with practiced efficiency, she couldn’t help but feel the faintest stir of something—a fragile hope, maybe.

“You know,” she said, her voice quieter, “I didn’t expect you to come through for me.”

“Why’s that?” Eris asked, glancing up at her from his task.

“Because you’re Beron’s son,” she answered sharply. “I don’t exactly have a history of trusting people like you.”

Eris didn’t flinch. Instead, he merely offered a small, cold smile. “And yet here we are.”

Y/N wanted to push him again, wanted to question his motives further, but something in the way he moved—so sure, so confident—made her pause.

As he worked, he spoke again, his tone casual, but there was an edge to it that made her pay attention. “This isn’t just about you, Y/N. I have a score to settle, too. If you’re going to help me, I need you to keep up.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “And why would I help you?”

Eris met her gaze, his expression unreadable. “Because you want Beron to pay. And because you’ll need someone like me to get close enough to make that happen.”

She remained silent, her mind turning over his words. Trusting him felt like throwing herself into a storm, but was there really any other way out? The chains that bound her here were made of more than iron. They were made of fear, of power, of a system that held her down. But maybe—just maybe—Eris could be the key to breaking them.

A rustling sound pulled her from her thoughts. Eris had finished his preparations and was standing, holding out a dark cloak in her direction.

“You’re going to need this,” he said.

Y/N hesitated, but then the inevitability of the situation hit her. She grabbed the cloak, the fabric heavy in her hands.

The cloak weighed heavier than it should’ve, its fabric slipping over her thin shoulders like an anchor. She winced slightly, the bruises across her ribs protesting even the smallest movement. Her body felt foreign—frail, weakened from days of confinement, malnutrition, and exhaustion. But she didn’t let that show. She couldn’t afford to.

Eris, having finished his preparations, glanced over at her with a sharp eye. His gaze lingered for just a second too long on the hollowed cheeks, the sunken skin beneath her eyes, the bruises that covered her arms and legs. He was quick to mask the flicker of concern—if it had ever even been there—but Y/N caught it. His amber eyes sharpened, calculating, before he stepped toward her.

“Take it slow,” he said, his voice low, but with an authority that made her stop, turning to face him. “You’re not going anywhere if you collapse the moment we move.”

She shot him a look, irritation flickering across her face. "I’m fine."

Eris didn’t respond to her protest. Instead, he gave a sharp motion toward the small step down from the cell’s threshold. He was already behind her, close enough to catch her if she faltered. "You need rest before anything else. Trust me, you won’t last long if you push yourself."

Y/N bristled, but the fogginess in her head, the dull ache in her limbs, told her he was right. She straightened, but the dizziness made the world blur for a moment. Her stomach twisted with hunger, but there was no time for that now. She gritted her teeth, steadying herself, and finally nodded.

"Fine." She couldn’t afford to waste more time arguing.

As she took the first shaky steps toward the corridor, she barely made it two feet before her legs buckled beneath her. The floor rushed up to meet her, but before she could hit the cold stone, Eris was there, catching her with surprising gentleness for someone so accustomed to cruelty.

“Careful,” he muttered, his hands firm around her arms. She felt the heat of his touch seep into her chilled skin, and for a fleeting moment, she let herself lean into it. The steadying grip of his hands was a strange comfort in the overwhelming weakness that gnawed at her body.

She didn’t say anything, but the frustration simmered under her breath. How could she have let herself fall apart like this?

Eris didn’t let her dwell on it, though. “You’ll be stronger soon,” he added, his voice oddly soft. “But we need to move. The longer we wait, the more chance they’ll find out.”

She managed to nod, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. Slowly, she rose with his help, feeling the strength of his hold on her—he wasn’t going to let her fall, not yet. Her legs wobbled beneath her, like they hadn’t quite remembered how to carry her.

With a steady, calculating look, Eris motioned again, this time a bit more forcefully. “One step at a time. I’ll carry you if I have to.”

Y/N shook her head, stubbornness flaring. “I don’t need to be carried.” But it was a struggle to stay upright. She forced her legs to move, forcing her muscles to obey even though they were trembling beneath her.

Eris studied her for a moment longer, his eyes narrowed. Then he sighed, apparently conceding. “Alright, but if you fall again, I won’t hesitate to pick you up. Understand?”

She didn’t respond, too focused on making the next step. It was hard to concentrate through the fog of hunger and weakness that clouded her thoughts, but she willed herself forward. The corridor stretched on endlessly, the faint glow of torchlight casting long shadows on the stone walls.

She could feel the weight of Eris’s gaze behind her, watching, assessing, ready to catch her if she faltered again. And it was when she took another step, her knees shaking with effort, that the world tilted and spun violently.

Without warning, Eris was there again, his hand firm at her back, pushing her upright. "Stop. We rest here."

She wanted to protest, wanted to tell him to let her try just a little longer, but the cold truth was undeniable. She needed to rest, and Eris was right—he had been watching her, keeping track of the limits her body had reached, knowing more about her than she cared to admit.

The next few moments were a blur. Eris didn’t rush her, though his impatience was evident. He guided her to a small alcove just off the hallway, where she sank against the stone wall, her breath coming in shallow gasps.

“You should’ve taken better care of yourself,” Eris muttered, his tone a mixture of irritation and something else she couldn’t quite place.

Y/N glared up at him, but the fire in her eyes was dimmed by the sheer exhaustion flooding her system. “Not all of us have the luxury of being well-fed and pampered,” she snapped back, her voice raspy from days without proper hydration.

Eris didn’t respond, but the faintest tension in his shoulders told her he understood. He pulled a flask from his belt, offering it to her. “Drink,” he said simply, his voice softer now. “I’m not in the mood for a fight. Not now.”

Y/N hesitated, but then, her parched throat betrayed her. She took the flask, uncorking it with trembling hands. The cool liquid slid down her throat, the sensation almost painful, but welcome. It was nothing like the usual bitter, foul water they had given her in prison. This was clean, and it left a cool trail down her chest as she finished the last drop.

The flask was taken from her hands, but before Eris could say anything more, she spoke again. “I’m not going to be a burden.”

“You won’t be,” Eris replied, his tone more certain now. “You’re just... getting back on your feet. And we have a long way to go.”

The words hung in the air between them as they both looked at the dark corridor ahead. Y/N couldn’t help but wonder how much farther they would go before the walls closed in on them again. But for now, she took a steadying breath, feeling the smallest fraction of strength return to her limbs. And as she slowly pushed herself up, Eris was there, steadying her once again.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said, as though reading her mind. “Just keep moving.”

Y/N nodded silently, her gaze steady on the path ahead. She had no other choice but to follow him, to trust this strange arrangement—for now.

The journey from the prison cell to wherever Eris was leading her felt like an eternity. Y/N’s legs burned with each step, the effort of walking still too much for her weakened body. Her stomach growled, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She had no idea where they were going—only that she couldn’t afford to stop.

They passed through narrow corridors, the walls cold and silent, as if the stone itself had been drained of warmth. Eris walked beside her, silent but watchful, his hand never far from her arm, ready to steady her if she faltered again.

The journey was slow, but eventually, they reached the end of a hidden passageway, a small wooden door tucked in the corner of a forgotten hall. Eris produced a key from inside his coat, turning it quickly in the lock and swinging the door open.

Inside was a small, dimly lit room—much like the cell, but far more comfortable. There was a bed with thick blankets, a sturdy chair by a low-burning fireplace, and a small table cluttered with remnants of food. The scent of wood and smoke filled the air, faintly mixed with the sharp tang of herbs.

Y/N barely had time to process the warmth of the room before she collapsed onto the bed, her body too drained to stand. Her head spun from the sudden movement, and she could feel the exhaustion pulling at her, the desire to rest fighting with the cold weight of reality pressing on her shoulders.

Eris closed the door quietly behind him, his footsteps light as he moved to the fireplace and stoked the embers with practiced ease. His movements were deliberate, as if he had done this many times before. For a moment, Y/N watched him, her thoughts tangled with confusion and frustration. He had helped her escape—he’d kept his word, but there was a strange tension between them now, something she couldn’t quite place.

“Sit,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. “I’ll get you something to eat.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but the words caught in her throat. She had been given nothing but scraps for weeks, and the thought of food, even the simple fare he might offer, made her stomach twist. But she was too weak to argue, too exhausted to do anything but obey. Slowly, she leaned back against the pillows, her limbs heavy, her body craving sleep.

Eris moved with quiet efficiency, taking a small pot from the table and adding some dried herbs and a few vegetables to a broth. The smell of it wafted through the room, and Y/N's stomach twisted again, the hunger gnawing at her.

He handed her a bowl after a few moments, the steam still rising from the liquid. “It’s not much,” he said, as if trying to downplay it. “But you need something in you. Just a sip for now.”

Y/N accepted the bowl, her hands shaking slightly as she brought it to her lips. The warmth of the liquid was a comfort, and she drank slowly, savoring the taste, even though it was nothing special. It was food, and that was enough. She didn't care about anything else in that moment.

Eris watched her carefully, his amber eyes flicking from her face to the bowl. She could feel his gaze, but she refused to look up, pretending not to notice how intense it was.

Once the bowl was empty, she placed it on the side table and finally met his eyes, her voice quiet. “You never did tell me why you’re helping me. Why this? Why now?”

The question hung in the air between them, and for the first time since she had met him, Eris hesitated. He stood by the fire, the crackling sound filling the silence. He was calculating, as if considering how much to reveal.

“You’re right,” he said finally, his voice steady, but with a slight edge. “I didn’t owe you anything. But Beron’s... missteps have cost me. And I don’t take kindly to people trying to control my actions.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “So, this is about you?”

His lips curled into a small, sardonic smile. “Partially. But I can admit when I see a cause worth supporting.”

“You don’t strike me as the type who supports causes,” she muttered, her eyes narrowing. “More like the type who crushes them under his heel.”

He looked at her, a faint chuckle escaping his lips. “I don’t crush things that aren’t worth my time.”

There was an undeniable challenge in his words, but Y/N didn’t flinch. She leaned back against the pillows, closing her eyes for a moment. Her mind was starting to clear a little—at least enough to process her situation.

The tension was palpable between them. There was a quiet understanding that they both had agendas, but neither one was ready to reveal all their cards. The silence stretched on, but Y/N felt herself slipping deeper into the warmth of the bed, the exhaustion lapping at her like waves.

“You’re stronger than you look,” Eris said, his voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “I’ll give you that.”

Y/N opened one eye, catching him off guard as he turned back toward her. “I’m still here, aren’t I?” Her voice was rough, but there was something in the way she said it that conveyed both defiance and exhaustion.

Eris’ gaze softened, just for a moment, before his usual coldness returned. “You’ll make it,” he said simply, though she couldn’t tell if he was speaking about the immediate future, or something much longer.

“You’re sure about that?” Y/N scoffed, though the words felt hollow. “How much longer do I have to trust you?”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Eris stared into the fire, as if weighing her question carefully. Finally, his voice broke the silence, low and serious. “As long as it takes for you to get stronger.”

Y/N swallowed, the weight of his words settling over her. This was more than just an escape—this was a way to get to Beron, a way to make him pay for what he had done. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, Eris was her only chance at seeing that through.

She closed her eyes, the weight of her body sinking deeper into the bed. “Then I’ll get stronger.”

Eris didn’t reply. But when she opened her eyes again, she saw him watching her, his expression unreadable.

And for the first time since this whole mess had started, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—she might survive this.

Eris stood by the fire, his posture stiff, his gaze fixed on the flames that danced in the hearth. His mind was focused—too focused—to let his thoughts wander too far. But they kept straying back to her.

Y/N.

She had barely said a word, even as she sipped the broth he had given her. She was weaker than he’d expected, but there was something in the way she held herself, even in that state, that kept pulling at the edge of his mind. It wasn’t pity—he didn’t have time for pity—but there was something undeniably interesting about her. She wasn’t the usual sort of prisoner.

She was a legend, a name whispered in every shadowy corner of the realm. A figure of rebellion and whispered rumors, loved by the lowlifes, hated by the highborn. Y/N, the outlaw, the one who had evaded capture for years. A thorn in the side of every tyrant. And yet, here she was, a broken shell of that legendary figure, lying in front of him, barely able to lift a finger.

Her beauty was not what he was used to, not the polished perfection of the court, not the subtle seduction of his family’s alliances. Hers was a rough sort of beauty, sharp and untamed, like the wilds she no doubt called home. There was an edge to her—one he couldn’t quite place. Her strength, despite her fragile state, had been apparent from the very beginning. He’d seen it in her eyes when she fought to stay conscious, even after being starved and tortured.

And yet, as she drifted into unconsciousness, Eris couldn’t help but notice the vulnerability in her that she kept buried deep. The curiosity of her origins, of the secret organization she served, of her own ambitions and secrets tugged at him in ways he quickly dismissed.

Focus.

This was not the time for distractions. His father had no knowledge of the real reason Eris had decided to bring Y/N into his plans. Beron had simply ordered the capture of the fugitive, and Eris had executed that order, which is ofcourse how that sneaky little mouse who had never been caught fell into Eris' perfectly thought out trap. But that wasn’t what mattered. What mattered was the bigger picture, the one his father would never see.

Eris had his own secret agenda. Y/N wasn’t just some weapon to him—she was the means to an end, the key to the power he sought. She could help him dismantle his father’s grip on the Autumn Court, help him carve out his own path, one where Eris alone stood as the High Lord. His father had always underestimated him, used him as nothing more than a tool in his schemes. But Eris wasn’t going to let that continue.

He had his own plans. And Y/N? She could either become an ally or an obstacle. But for now, she was useful. And that was enough.

As he watched her sleep, breathing slow and shallow, the bitter taste of their arrangement lingered in his mouth. He didn’t care what she thought of him. He didn’t need her loyalty—he needed her skills, her connections, and her rage. And in return, she needed him too. She was running from something, using him as a stepping stone to whatever end she sought, just as he was using her to gain the power he deserved.

It was a simple exchange. Nothing more. No room for distractions. Not yet, at least. But something about her—something dangerous—pulled at him. He quickly erased the thought. He had no time for curiosity. He had too much to do.

But as he stood there, the faintest trace of doubt tried to creep in, and he stamped it down hard. Y/N would play her part. They both had their roles to play. Once they had what they wanted, the game would be over, and they’d move on.

For now, though, it was all about the plan. And the plan would make him one of the most powerful Fae in the realm.

It hadn’t taken long for Beron to notice her disappearance. A matter of hours, perhaps, before the guards started to come to him with news of the empty cell. They had all seen her locked away. But no one had seen her leave.

Eris could already hear the furious shouting echoing from the halls, his father’s rage pouring out like a tidal wave.

“Where is she?” Beron’s voice had thundered through the manor. “She cannot simply vanish. Find her, and bring her back, dead or alive!”

Eris remained silent, his face a mask of impassivity, even as he listened to the chaos unfold. His father was a fool if he thought it would be that simple. No one escaped the dungeons of his stronghold without help.

But then again, Beron had never been known for his intelligence. He was a beast—brute force and violence were his go-to methods. Subtlety was not his strength. It had always been Eris who managed the quiet manipulations, the behind-the-scenes dealings that ensured the Autumn Court stayed in power. And now, with Y/N gone, Eris knew it was his job to keep everything under control before his father tore the entire palace apart looking for her.

Eris made his way to the throne room, the air thick with tension. Guards scrambled, shouting orders, their voices raised in panic as they searched the castle. His father’s voice was the loudest, but Eris could sense the undercurrent of fear, of uncertainty, running through his father’s normally domineering tone. Beron was furious, but there was something else there too—a touch of something deeper. Something he’d never admit.

Eris didn’t need to worry about that. His role was simple.

“Father,” Eris said smoothly as he entered the room, his voice calm and controlled, as if there wasn’t a care in the world. His cold eyes flicked over to the soldiers rushing past, the frantic looks on their faces. “I’ve already sent out a team to handle it.”

Beron whipped his head toward him, his anger radiating off him like a storm. “A team? We need to find her now, before she gets away!”

Eris’ lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. “You overestimate the threat she poses. Y/N is a problem, yes, but she is also a legend—there is more to her disappearance than a simple escape. Whoever is helping her will make a mistake. They always do. We just need to wait.”

His father was not convinced. His thick brows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to argue, but Eris cut him off.

“We’ll find her, Father. But we’ll do it with precision. Not brute force. You’ll just make things worse.” His tone didn’t rise. It was a quiet, almost detached warning, but it was enough to make Beron hesitate.

Eris’ gaze flicked to the soldiers gathered around, still frantically searching for any trace of her. There was no need to rush. He knew exactly where Y/N was—and he wasn't about to rat her out.

Eris turned to his father, who was still seething. “Calm down. We’ll get her back, but we need to be strategic. I’ll take care of this.”

Beron’s face twisted in frustration, but he relented, nodding sharply. “Fine. Do what you must. But if you fail, it will be you answering for it.”

The threat in his father’s voice was unmistakable, but Eris didn’t flinch. He had long ago stopped fearing Beron. In fact, he used it. Everything had its place. And Y/N? She was a tool—a means to an end.

With a final glance toward the doorway, Eris turned and left the room, his cold mask firmly back in place.

As he walked through the halls, his thoughts turned back to Y/N. He still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to her—a deeper layer to the rebel who had fought for the lowborn and outrun every other High Fae in the land. But he couldn’t afford to care.

Not yet.

He would use her. And then, when the time was right, he’d destroy her. Just like everyone else who had been foolish enough to stand in his way.

But for now, he would play the game. Keep things calm. Keep the mask intact. And when the time came, when the last piece of this puzzle fell into place, he would have the power he sought.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d learn exactly what kind of legend Y/N really was.

The small room had become her refuge. For the first time in weeks, the dim light of the torch didn’t feel like a threat, but a sign of safety. The bruises on her body were healing, though the pain still lingered, reminding her of the endless days in that wretched prison. Her muscles ached as she slowly stretched her limbs, trying to ignore the tightness of her chest.

Eris had sent food every night—fresh bread, fruit, and meat—though she never once saw him deliver it himself. Perhaps, he felt like he had shown enough of himself the first time he brought her here. Sometimes she wondered if he even cared that she ate or if it was all just part of the plan, a move to keep her alive long enough for whatever game he was playing to unfold. She’d been fed, rested, and given a place to breathe, but she never let herself forget the price she was paying for all of it.

She had no illusions. Eris wasn’t helping her because he cared. He was helping her because he needed her. But in that moment, with a half-empty plate of food resting beside her, she couldn't help but let her guard down just a little. She had been alone for so long—torn between running and staying, trapped in a cage of her own making. Eris, with his cold, calculating eyes and cruel smile, had forced his way into her life in a way no one had before.

But now… now, she was stronger. Not fully healed, but enough to stand on her own. She could feel the strength returning in her bones, the fire that had burned within her when she first started this fight slowly rekindling. She was no longer the broken fugitive hidden away in the shadows. She was Y/N, the outlaw with a name that made people tremble and the power to bring kings to their knees. And it was time to put that power to use.

The door creaked open, and she didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Eris entered without a word, his presence filling the room like a dark cloud. He was silent as always, as cold and controlled as the iron in his veins. She could hear the faint sound of his boots against the stone floor, but she didn’t move. Not yet.

“Feeling better?” His voice was low, calculating. His eyes studied her carefully, no doubt searching for any sign of weakness. But she didn’t let him see it.

“Does it matter?” she replied, the edge of defiance creeping into her voice. The truth was, she didn’t care if he noticed how fragile she still felt. She was done with pretending.

He paused for a moment, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “It matters,” he said quietly, his eyes flicking over her with something almost like… approval. She quickly dismissed the thought. She wasn’t here for his approval.

“Your plan,” she said, breaking the silence. “What’s the next step?” Her tone was cool, but she could feel her heart hammering in her chest. She wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to hear what he had to say, but the sooner she did, the sooner she could make a decision.

Eris stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. She could see the glint of something dark in his eyes, a quiet power that sent a shiver down her spine. “You’ll be a part of it,” he said. “The key to everything I’m planning.”

She met his gaze, her own expression hardening. “I’m listening.”

He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he simply watched her, his thoughts unreadable. Then, at last, he spoke again. “We both have a common enemy: my precious father, Beron.”

Her jaw clenched at the mention of Beron’s name. The man who had ruined everything. The man who had taken her family from her. The one who had put her in that damn prison in the first place.

She swallowed the bitterness rising in her throat, forcing herself to focus on Eris. “You want to kill him?” The words tasted like acid in her mouth, but she kept her gaze steady.

Eris’ eyes gleamed with something dangerous. “Not just kill him. I want to take everything he has, strip him of his power, his title, and make him see who really deserves the throne.”

A shudder of unease ran down her spine, but she refused to show it. She had no love for Beron, and she would see him pay. But Eris? He was a different kind of monster, one she didn’t fully understand. She had learned to trust no one in her time as an outlaw, but this—this was more than just revenge. This was a game, a dangerous one where neither of them could afford to lose.

“And you think I’ll help you?” she asked, her voice hard, though there was a small edge of uncertainty beneath her calm exterior.

Eris’ smirk widened, dark and knowing. “You’ll help me because you need me, just as much as I need you.”

Y/N remained silent, staring into his eyes. She didn’t like it, the way he was so certain of her. But deep down, she knew he was right. They were both using each other—she just hadn’t admitted it yet.

“So,” he continued, voice smooth and deliberate. “What’s your answer?”

Her fingers tightened into fists, her nails digging into her palm. She could feel the weight of the decision settling over her, but there was no hesitation in her mind. She had nothing left to lose, and Eris—despite all his cruelty—was offering her a way to finally take control of her life again.

She looked up at him, eyes cold. “I’m in.”

The plan Eris laid out was very complex. Add to it some of the ideas Y/N thought of, and you had yourself a large pot of... well, everything. A complex and risky, but also very structured and specific plan.

Eris stood before her, his dark eyes calculating as he laid out the foundation of their scheme. Every move, every word had a purpose, a role to play. But as Y/N listened, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of the whole thing—the risks, the challenges, the unspoken consequences. Nothing about this was easy. And it wouldn’t be until Beron was dead that she could truly breathe.

"Let’s start simple," Eris’ voice was steady, giving nothing away. "We’ll use your connection to the common folk. They trust you—more than anyone realizes."

Y/N didn’t need to hear the rest of the plan to know where this was going. Her reputation had spread like wildfire in every village, town, and city. She was a ghost, a whisper in the shadows, always just out of reach of every venomous tyrants grasp, including Beron. The lowlives, the outcasts, the ones the high courts ignored—they revered her. She had once stood for them, fought for them. And now, in her hidden exile, they still remembered her name.

"And how do we use that?" she asked, leaning back in her chair, her fingers tapping against the stone tabletop. Her thoughts were a whirlwind. "I’m hiding from Beron’s men, Eris. And you think a few whispered words from those filthy peasants are enough to move the needle? No offense, but that’s a shortcut I’m not willing to take."

Eris didn’t flinch at her criticism. His smirk remained, cold and unreadable. "We need allies. People in the right places, ready to fight when the time comes. It’s not just about what you did in the past, Y/N. It’s about what you can get them to do for us now. A rebellion, a force ready to rise, led by those you trust."

A rebellion. A revolt. It was just a word, but it carried the weight of an entire revolution in its syllables. Y/N narrowed her eyes. "And what do you expect from me? A few promises and speeches? I’m not about to throw my life away for another failed cause."

Eris’ eyes locked with hers. "I’m not asking you to. But you’re more than a symbol. You’re the spark that will ignite this fire. A revolt is meaningless without someone who has the courage to lead it. Someone who has already proven they can outsmart Beron’s forces at every turn."

Y/N studied him, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn’t wrong. The common folk wouldn’t follow just anyone—they’d follow her. But leading them into a rebellion against Beron wasn’t something she could take lightly. She’d seen the kind of devastation his wrath could bring. She would need more than just words; she’d need a plan that couldn’t fail.

"I’m listening," she said, crossing her arms. "What else?"

Eris glanced around, as if making sure no one was listening, then began to lay out the next part of the plan, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"We start by infiltrating Beron’s inner circle. I’ll get close to him—closer than anyone realizes. He trusts me, perhaps too much." A dark glint flashed in his eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. "We’ll gather information, figure out where he’s vulnerable. We expose his weaknesses—his alliances, his secrets—and we use them against him. We have to break him from the inside."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "And how do we do that? You’re talking about walking into the lion’s den, Eris. What makes you think he’ll let you so close?"

Eris gave a small shrug. "He doesn’t have a choice. I’m his son, and I’m the one who will inherit his power. He won’t suspect me—not until it’s too late. I’ve been biding my time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike."

Y/N’s thoughts whirred as she processed the information. The idea of Eris using his place as Beron’s son to get close enough to take him down wasn’t a bad one—if it worked. But there were too many unknowns, too many variables. She wasn’t about to bet everything on a chance.

"You’re underestimating the danger here," Y/N said, her voice low. "You’re playing with fire. Even if you get close to him, that doesn’t guarantee we’ll have a clean shot at him. Beron is dangerous. And you’re not the only one who’s waited a long time for this."

Eris stepped closer, his gaze sharp, unwavering. "I’m not underestimating anything, Y/N. But you’re right. We need to be strategic. I’ll play the role of the dutiful son for now, keeping Beron distracted. Meanwhile, you’ll move in the shadows, gathering support. You know the people, the ones who are sick of Beron’s reign. Find them, recruit them, and keep them ready. The moment Beron falls, the rebellion will rise with him."

Y/N frowned, thinking carefully. "And where do we go from there?"

Eris didn’t hesitate. "Once we have Beron in a vulnerable position, we strike. We take him out, publicly. We make sure it’s loud, impossible to ignore. We destroy his reputation, expose his crimes. And when his power crumbles, we move quickly—cutting down his supporters, his key figures, anyone who can replace him. We leave no room for anyone else to step into his shoes."

She absorbed this quietly, still not convinced. "And you expect me to do all of that while hiding from Beron’s men? You’re asking me to risk my life for your game, Eris. You know how this goes. The moment they realize I’m back, they won’t stop until they have me."

Eris didn’t flinch. "We will make sure they don’t find you. You will be our shadow, Y/N, hidden in plain sight. If they don’t know where to look, they can’t find you."

Her mind raced. There were too many steps, too many risks. But there was no turning back now, was there? She had already walked too far down this path. Beron was her enemy, and if this was the only way to get close enough to destroy him, then she would have to play along.

"I still don’t trust you," she said, her voice biting, though she knew it was mostly for show. "But I’ll play your game. For now. Don’t get comfortable, though, Eris. I don’t answer to anyone."

Eris gave her a cold smile, the faintest glimmer of something dangerous in his eyes. "You will answer to me, Y/N. Eventually. But for now, let’s just get the job done. After Beron’s gone, we can sort out the rest."

Y/N stood at the edge of the makeshift camp, the firelight flickering across her face as the shadows of the rebels gathered around her. The weight of the task ahead pressed down on her chest, the constant hum of fear and uncertainty gnawing at her. She wasn’t sure what she expected when she first set out to rebuild this rebellion, but it wasn’t this. Not this.

"Who are these people?" she muttered under her breath, glancing at the ragtag group of disheveled faces before her. Some looked hopeful, some terrified. Others just seemed like they were here out of necessity, their eyes glinting with a mixture of desperation and defiance. Y/N had never been a leader, had never wanted to be, but here she was, thrust into the role by sheer circumstance.

A young man, no older than twenty, stood at the front of the group, his hands twitching at his sides, looking every bit the part of a soldier who had never seen battle. "You told us we were going to fight Beron," he said, his voice wavering with uncertainty. "But we’re not prepared for this. We don’t have the strength. We don’t have the resources. And—" He cut himself off, eyes darting to the others as if gauging their reactions. "Some of us aren’t sure it’s worth it."

Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she studied him, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected this much resistance, but there it was, in the raw form of human doubt. "You think I don’t know that?" she said sharply, stepping forward to meet his gaze. "You think I’ve been waiting for this moment, for years, with nothing but hopes and dreams?" She shook her head, bitterness creeping into her voice. "We’re not waiting for a miracle. We’re making one."

The young man’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply. His hesitance was the same as the others’—an undercurrent of fear that Y/N knew all too well. It was the same fear that had kept her hidden for so long. The same fear that had kept them all under Beron’s thumb.

But there was no time for that now. Not when every second counted.

She turned away from the group and walked over to one of the quieter rebels, a woman with a scar running across her cheek, a battle-worn look to her eyes. "I need to know who else we can trust. Who’s ready to move."

The woman hesitated, her eyes flicking to the others, her voice low. "They’re not all ready to act. Some are too scared, others… some have family in Beron’s courts. They won’t risk everything just to see him fall."

Y/N clenched her fists, frustration boiling beneath her skin. "Damn it. This is our only chance. If they’re not with us, then they’re against us."

The woman’s eyes softened with sympathy, but she didn’t argue. "I’ll talk to them. See who’s willing to join your cause."

Y/N nodded, though doubt lingered in the back of her mind. She needed more than just the willing; she needed those who wouldn’t hesitate, those who would see this through to the end.

And that’s where Eris came in. Back at the palace, Eris was playing his own dangerous game. He’d become adept at walking the fine line between being the son his father wanted and the traitor he had every intention of becoming. For weeks, he had been spending more time with Beron, attending meetings, walking through the halls of his father’s estate with the air of the loyal heir, while secretly sowing the seeds of rebellion.

But as the days passed, Eris could feel the pressure mounting. He could feel Beron’s eyes on him more often, could sense the unease growing in the air around them. Beron was a cautious man, and for all his arrogance, he wasn’t blind. He could see the cracks in the façade, and Eris knew it wouldn’t be long before his father began questioning his loyalty.

"I know what you’re doing, Eris." The voice, low and venomous, broke through his thoughts as he sat in the grand dining hall, pretending to savor his meal. His father’s voice was always like that—sharp, full of hidden threats.

Eris didn’t flinch. He didn’t let his gaze waver from his plate. "I have no idea what you’re talking about, Father."

Beron’s eyes narrowed, his voice lowering. "You think I can’t see it? You are my son, Eris Vanserra. You’ve been distant, more so than usual. You’ve been... careful. Too careful. What are you hiding from me?"

Eris forced a smile, keeping his posture relaxed, but every muscle in his body was tense, ready for the slightest sign of danger. "You’re imagining things, Father. I’m as loyal as I’ve always been."

The silence between them stretched for a heartbeat too long. Eris could feel the weight of Beron’s gaze upon him, and for a moment, he feared the mask would slip, revealing the truth behind his carefully constructed lies.

But then Beron simply grunted, dismissing the conversation as though it were nothing more than a passing annoyance. "Don’t disappoint me, Eris. You have the world at your feet. Don’t squander it."

They met at some random tavern in the lowest part of Autumn. Y/N’s patience was wearing thin. The male she was supposed to meet was late, a complication she didn’t need. Every passing minute felt like a risk. She had to keep moving, keep finding people she could trust—if they existed at all.

Then, finally, the door creaked open, and a tall figure stepped inside. The hood of his cloak was pulled low over his face, but the way his eyes scanned the room told her everything she needed to know. It was Eris.

“Do you always like to make an entrance?” Y/N asked, her voice laced with sarcasm as she moved toward him. She was irritated, her patience already stretched thin with the weight of her mission.

Eris gave a small shrug, his lips curling into a half-smirk. “I like to keep people on their toes.”

She didn’t return his smile. "You’re late.”

“Not by much,” he said, dropping into the seat across from her. “And I’ve brought something that might make up for it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak. She was tired of his games, but the truth was, she needed him. As much as she disliked it, they were tied together by necessity.

“What’s the news?” she asked, leaning forward, her fingers tapping on the table impatiently.

Eris glanced around, his voice lowering to a murmur. “Beron’s becoming suspicious. He’s watching me more closely. The façade is wearing thin. But I have a plan. We need to move quickly.”

Y/N’s interest piqued. “Move quickly? Why? What’s your plan?”

Eris leaned in, his gaze sharp. “We need more leverage. I’ve been playing my part, keeping Beron distracted. And through getting closer with his inner circle, I managed to manipulate them into saying some things that I never even knew about. There’s one thing he holds close—something he’s kept hidden for years. I need to get to it. We’ll use it to put him in a position where he has no choice but to fall. But to do that, we need to leave the city. We need to get close to the human lands.”

Y/N’s brows furrowed in confusion. “The human lands? What does that have to do with your plan?”

Eris hesitated for a moment, his eyes calculating. “Beron has kept a secret. Something he’s been hiding even from me. It’s in a remote location, not far from the border. I can’t afford to let anyone else get to it first. Once I have it, I’ll have the leverage I need to make my move. But getting there will be dangerous. We’ll need to stay off Beron’s radar. That’s where you come in.”

Y/N considered his words carefully. “You want me to help you get this… whatever it is? Why should I trust you?”

Eris met her gaze, unwavering. “Because this is bigger than both of us. If we don’t do this now, we lose our chance. You’ll get the rebellion you want, and I’ll get what I need to bring Beron down.”

There was a heavy silence between them. Y/N’s mind raced, weighing the risks. She didn’t trust Eris, not entirely, but she had no other choice. The rebellion needed action, and this could be their opportunity.

“Fine,” she said finally, standing up. “But we do this my way. We stick to the plan, no deviations. I won’t risk my people for your secrets.”

Eris stood as well, his lips curling into a faint, almost amused smile. “Agreed. But don’t forget—this is as much about you as it is about me. We leave right this second."

Y/N didn’t respond, her mind already shifting into action. They had a long road ahead of them, and the stakes were higher than either of them could imagine.

As they stepped out into the night, the tension between them was palpable. They weren’t allies—they were tools, using each other to reach their separate goals. But for now, it was enough. And with that uneasy understanding hanging in the air, they moved toward the wilds, where the next phase of their plans would unfold.

The Wilds loomed like a beast on the horizon—dense, untamed, and brimming with the unknown. The sun barely pierced through the thick canopy, casting everything in shades of green and gray. Y/N adjusted her cloak, her sharp gaze scanning the path ahead. Every step they took felt heavier, as though the forest itself wanted to swallow them whole.

“This better be worth it,” she muttered, breaking the silence.

Eris, a few paces behind, gave a low chuckle. “Do you think I enjoy trudging through this forsaken wilderness? I assure you, I’d much rather be sipping wine in my father’s halls, pretending to care about his ridiculous court.”

Y/N shot him a sharp look over her shoulder. “You mean pretending to care while you’re plotting his demise.”

He grinned, unbothered by her barb. “Exactly.”

The tension between them hung thick in the air, unspoken but always present. This was no partnership of trust—it was an alliance of necessity. And yet, despite her better judgment, Y/N found herself begrudgingly impressed by Eris’s unshakable composure. Even out here, in the heart of nowhere, he carried himself as if the world still revolved around him.

“Quiet,” Y/N whispered suddenly, her hand shooting up to halt him.

Eris frowned but obeyed, his sharp ears straining. At first, there was nothing but the rustle of leaves and the distant call of some unseen creature. Then it came—a faint, rhythmic sound, too deliberate to be the wind.

Footsteps.

Y/N crouched, motioning for Eris to do the same. They pressed themselves against a moss-covered boulder, their breaths shallow. The footsteps grew louder, accompanied by low voices.

“They’re close,” one of the voices said, gruff and laced with urgency. “Keep searching. They couldn’t have gone far.”

Beron’s men.

Y/N’s grip tightened on the hilt of her dagger. She glanced at Eris, whose expression was unreadable, save for the faint tightening of his jaw. He leaned closer, his voice a whisper. “We can’t let them find us.”

“No kidding,” Y/N shot back under her breath. “Got a brilliant plan, or are we winging it?”

He gave her a thin smile. “Follow my lead.”

Before she could argue, Eris stood, his movements impossibly silent for someone so tall. He raised a hand, and the air around him shimmered. The faintest flicker of flame sparked in his palm before extinguishing. A diversion.

The forest came alive in an instant. Flames burst to life in the distance, licking at the trees, crackling and snapping. The guards’ shouts turned panicked as they rushed toward the sudden inferno.

“What the hell are you doing?” Y/N hissed, tugging at his sleeve.

“Giving them something to worry about,” Eris replied smoothly, his voice calm even as chaos erupted around them. “Now, move.”

They slipped through the underbrush, their steps quick and precise. The smoke was thick, curling through the air and masking their escape. Y/N could hear the men yelling, their voices growing fainter as the fire drove them farther away.

They didn’t stop until the sounds had faded completely. When they finally paused, Y/N rounded on him, her face flushed with frustration.

“Are you insane?” she demanded. “You could’ve burned the whole forest down!”

Eris shrugged, utterly nonchalant. “I controlled it. You’re welcome, by the way.”

She glared at him, her chest heaving. “You’re reckless.”

“And you’re dramatic,” he countered, brushing ash off his sleeve. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”

Before she could retort, a deep, guttural growl cut through the air. Both of them froze, their eyes snapping to the shadows ahead. Slowly, the figure emerged—a massive, wolf-like creature with glowing yellow eyes and razor-sharp teeth. It snarled, its hackles raised, and Y/N felt her blood run cold.

“Tell me that was part of your plan,” she murmured.

“For once,” Eris said, his voice tight, “I’m as surprised as you are.”

The beast lunged.

Y/N rolled to the side, her dagger flashing as she slashed at the creature’s flank. Eris summoned fire, his hands blazing as he threw a wall of flame between them and the beast. But the creature was fast, far faster than either of them anticipated. It circled them, its movements fluid, predatory.

“Great,” Y/N said, dodging another attack. “First your father’s goons, now this. You really know how to pick a route.”

Eris didn’t reply, his focus on the beast. He lashed out with another burst of fire, forcing it back. “Stay close,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, but she obeyed, falling into step beside him. They moved as one, circling the creature, their movements coordinated despite their earlier bickering.

Finally, with a combined effort—a well-placed dagger strike and a surge of fire—the beast fell, its massive form collapsing with a final, guttural snarl. Y/N leaned against a tree, catching her breath, while Eris extinguished the remaining flames around them.

“Next time,” Y/N said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “remind me to let you take the lead.”

Eris smirked, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You’d be lost without me.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. The truth was, as much as she hated to admit it, they worked well together. Begrudgingly well.

As they continued deeper into the Wilds, the tension between them remained, simmering beneath the surface. They had a destination—a secret to uncover and a kingdom to upend—but the road ahead was treacherous, and neither could predict what awaited them in the shadows.

Eris pressed forward, his boots crunching against the leaf-strewn path. The Wilds were relentless—uneven terrain, thorny underbrush, and no sign of civilization for miles. He glanced back briefly to make sure Y/N was still following. She was, though her steps had grown slower, her movements heavier.

She muttered something under her breath—likely another colorful insult aimed at him.

Good. If she still had the energy to be annoyed, then she wasn’t entirely falling apart.

He kept his focus ahead, ignoring the uncomfortable twist in his gut. Guilt was a foreign feeling, one he wasn’t inclined to entertain. This alliance wasn’t built on kindness, and Y/N knew that. She was a tool, just as he was a tool to her.

Or so he told himself.

Behind him, her footsteps faltered.

“Eris,” she said, her voice sharp, though tinged with exhaustion.

He didn’t stop.

“Eris.”

This time, there was a distinct edge to her tone, one that brooked no argument. He sighed, coming to an abrupt halt.

“What now?” he asked, turning to face her.

Y/N stood a few feet away, her hands braced on her knees as she glared up at him. “I can’t feel my legs.”

“That’s dramatic, even for you.”

“I’m serious,” she shot back, straightening. “We’ve been walking for hours without a break. My legs are staging a rebellion. Either we stop, or I collapse, and you can carry me the rest of the way.”

Eris raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

She scowled, but the corners of her mouth twitched, betraying her amusement. “Your choice, red.”

Red. The nickname grated on him, but there was something oddly endearing about the way she said it—like she wanted to annoy him but didn’t quite hate him enough to mean it.

“Fine,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “Five minutes.”

“Ten.”

“Seven, and not a second longer.”

She smirked, clearly pleased with herself, and plopped down on a nearby rock. Eris leaned against a tree, watching her as she pulled a flask from her cloak and took a long sip.

“You’re not as invincible as you like to pretend,” she remarked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

Eris folded his arms, his gaze narrowing. “And you’re not as delicate as you pretend to be.”

“I’m not pretending.” She grinned, stretching her legs out in front of her. “I’m openly complaining.”

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself. She had a way of disarming him, of slipping past the walls he kept so carefully constructed. It was infuriating.

“You’re impossible,” he said.

“And yet, here we are,” she replied, her tone light but her gaze lingering on him.

Eris looked away, focusing on the distant trees. The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable but charged with something unspoken.

He didn’t want to acknowledge the way her presence affected him, the way her laughter seemed to carve cracks into his carefully built facade. She was a means to an end. That was all.

But then there were moments like this—quiet, unguarded moments that made him question everything.

“Why do you keep going?” Y/N asked suddenly, her voice soft.

Eris turned back to her, startled by the question.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she said, tilting her head to the side, “you could’ve found someone else to help with your little rebellion. Someone easier to work with, less… annoying.”

Eris smirked. “True, but where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes, but he caught the faint flush of color on her cheeks.

The truth was, he didn’t have an answer for her. Or rather, he had an answer, but he wasn’t ready to admit it—not to her, and certainly not to himself.

Instead, he pushed off the tree and extended a hand to her. “Break’s over. Let’s move.”

She eyed his hand suspiciously. “You’re being awfully nice. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, though he knew it wasn’t entirely true. There was always a catch.

Reluctantly, she took his hand, her touch warm despite the chill in the air. He pulled her to her feet, her balance unsteady for a moment before she found her footing.

“Careful,” he said, his voice quieter than he intended.

She looked up at him, something flickering in her eyes that he couldn’t quite place. For a brief, maddening moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of them.

Then she smirked and let go of his hand. “Try to keep up, red.”

Eris watched as she strode ahead, her steps light despite her earlier complaints. He shook his head, a wry smile playing at his lips.

She was going to be the death of him.

And for reasons he couldn’t yet understand, he didn’t entirely mind.

Y/N trudged along behind Eris, her patience worn thinner than the soles of her boots. It had already been a day! “How much longer, red? Or are you leading us in circles to enjoy my delightful company?”

Eris didn’t glance back. His stride remained purposeful, his shoulders set like iron. “Keep up, Y/N. Complaining won’t make the journey shorter.”

She threw her hands up in frustration. “You said we were heading to the human lands, Eris! But this doesn’t feel like the direction of any border I’ve ever heard of. In fact, it feels like we’re headed straight into a trap. Are you sure you’re not trying to kill me yourself?”

His sharp laugh echoed through the trees, though it held no warmth. “If I wanted you dead, darling, you’d already be feeding the crows.”

“Charming,” she muttered, her legs burning from the unrelenting pace. “Seriously, where are we even going? Or do you just enjoy keeping me in the dark?”

“Enough, Y/N,” Eris snapped, his voice low but laced with a rare bite. He suddenly halted, turning to fix her with a glare that could’ve seared through stone. “We’re here.”

Y/N froze, blinking at him. “What do you mean we’re—” Her words trailed off as she took in their surroundings.

The dense forest had parted to reveal a lake that seemed to shimmer with an unnatural stillness. Mist curled above its black surface like fingers reaching toward the sky. The air felt colder here, heavy with an ancient weight that pressed down on her chest.

And then it hit her. The stories. The whispers of a place where no mortal—or immortal—dared to tread.

“This… this is Koschei’s lake,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her gaze snapped to Eris. “What the hell are we doing here? I thought we were going to the human lands!”

Eris smirked, though his golden eyes glinted with something darker. “Plans change.”

“You arrogant ass,” Y/N hissed, stepping closer to jab a finger at his chest. “You dragged me all the way out here without so much as a warning, and now you expect me to just—what? Stand here while you make a deal with a god?”

“Precisely.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’ve lost your mind.”

“Perhaps,” Eris said coolly, brushing past her to approach the edge of the lake. “But unlike you, I have a plan. So, if you’re done whining, stay quiet and let me handle this.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retort, but the air shifted—an icy ripple that sent shivers racing down her spine.

From the depths of the lake, a figure began to form. Black water dripped from his skeletal frame, his hollow eyes glowing faintly as he emerged. Koschei’s presence was suffocating, his voice a silken whisper that seemed to come from everywhere at once.

“Well, well,” the Death God said, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “The fox prince graces my domain. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Eris’s mask of calm didn’t falter, though Y/N could see the slight tension in his jaw. “I have come to ask for your assistance.”

Koschei chuckled, a sound that sent ripples through the lake. “Assistance always comes with a price, princeling. Are you prepared to pay it?”

Y/N tensed, her hand drifting to her dagger as she cast a wary glance at Eris. Whatever he’d brought her here for, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

And as Koschei’s gaze slid to her, cold and calculating, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking a very thin line—one wrong move away from ruin.

The cold bite of Koschei’s presence wrapped around Eris like a noose tightening by the second. The Death God stood motionless, his hollow eyes fixed on Eris, assessing, calculating.

Eris forced himself to maintain a calm demeanor. The mask was second nature by now, even as his instincts screamed at him to turn and run. But there was too much at stake—his plans, his court, his people’s future.

And then there was Y/N.

“I seek information,” Eris said, his voice steady but firm. “A secret held by Beron Vanserra. I believe you have it.”

Koschei tilted his head, his lips curving into a cruel smile. “Many secrets pass through my waters, fox prince. Why should I part with one so precious?”

Y/N, standing just behind Eris, shifted uneasily. He could sense her discomfort even without looking.

“Because,” Eris continued, his tone sharper now, “you’d benefit from Beron’s downfall. A weakened Autumn Court is a weakened Prythian.”

Koschei chuckled darkly. “You think I care for your petty court politics?”

Eris clenched his jaw. “I’m offering you an opportunity to tilt the balance in your favor.”

Koschei stepped closer, his presence oppressive. “And what do you offer in return? Surely you didn’t come to my lake empty-handed.”

The god’s gaze flicked to Y/N, who froze under his scrutiny.

Eris’s heartbeat quickened, though his face betrayed nothing. “What I offer is my business. Name your terms.”

Koschei’s smile widened. “Oh, I’ve already decided. Give me her.” He gestured to Y/N.

The world seemed to tilt. For a moment, Eris’s mind blanked.

“What?” Y/N breathed, her voice barely audible.

Koschei ignored her, his attention on Eris. “Wasn’t that why you brought her here in the first place, princeling? To trade her for the secret you so desperately desire?”

Eris felt his stomach drop. The god’s words pierced him like a blade, and for once, his mask slipped.

Y/N’s gasp cut through the silence. “You—what?”

Eris swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. “That wasn’t the arrangement.”

Koschei’s laughter echoed across the lake. “You’re lying to yourself, Eris Vanserra. The girl was always a tool, wasn’t she? But now…” The god’s smile turned mocking. “Now you hesitate. How quaint.”

“I need time,” Eris said quickly, his voice sharper than he intended.

Koschei raised a brow. “Time? You want me to wait?”

“Yes,” Eris said, his tone firm despite the chaos in his mind. “Twenty-four hours. I’ll return with an answer.”

The Death God considered him for a long, agonizing moment before finally nodding. “Very well. But if you fail to return, know this: I will find you both.”

With that, Koschei disappeared into the mist, leaving the air cold and suffocating in his wake.

Eris turned to Y/N, but before he could speak, she glared at him with such fury that he almost flinched.

“What the hell, Eris?”

“Not here,” he snapped, grabbing her arm. “We need to move. Now.”

The crackling fire cast flickering shadows across the small clearing, but it did nothing to thaw the icy tension hanging between them. Y/N paced back and forth, her movements sharp and frantic. Her hands trembled, the fury in her blood barely contained. Whether her trembling was from rage, fear, or a mix of both, she couldn’t say.

“You lied to me!” she spat, her voice cutting through the still night like a blade. She didn’t stop pacing, her steps growing faster with every word. “You—you brought me here as some…some bargaining chip?” Her laugh was sharp, humorless, a sound borne of disbelief and betrayal. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you. I knew it. I should’ve known better than to trust a Vanserra.”

Eris sat on a fallen log, his usual regal posture diminished as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. His fiery hair glinted in the firelight, a crown of embers atop a face twisted with frustration and something dangerously close to guilt. When he finally lifted his head, his golden eyes met hers with a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, shame, and something else she couldn’t quite place.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said, his voice low, almost too quiet to hear over the crackle of the flames.

“Oh, so you admit it then?” she shot back, stopping in her tracks to glare at him. “You admit you were planning to trade me to that monster?”

“I thought I could do it,” Eris snapped, the intensity in his tone enough to make her flinch, though she refused to show it. He shot to his feet, his height and presence suddenly looming as he closed the distance between them. “At first, I thought it would be simple. But now…” He faltered, raking a hand through his hair. His voice dropped again, rough and frayed at the edges. “It shouldn’t have been this hard.”

Her throat tightened, and for a moment, her rage was overtaken by the sting of betrayal. “I hate you,” she said, her voice breaking despite her best efforts to keep it steady.

Eris recoiled as if she’d struck him, but his recovery was swift. His jaw tightened, and his expression twisted into something cold, almost cruel. “You’re blaming me?” he hissed, his golden eyes burning with a new kind of fire. “You’re blaming me when we both know this isn’t one-sided? We were both using each other, Y/N.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice rose, the incredulity and anger in her chest threatening to burst.

“What about your little organization?” he continued, each word sharper than the last. He took a step closer, his gaze locking onto hers. “Were you planning to rat me out to them the second this was over? Or were you just going to kill me under their orders?”

Her breath hitched, and for a brief moment, she froze. That hesitation was all he needed to press on.

“That’s not—” she started, but he cut her off.

“You’re no better than me,” he said, his voice colder now, though she caught the slight waver in it. “So don’t stand there and act like you’re some righteous martyr when you’re just as manipulative and ruthless as I am.”

Something inside her snapped. “You don’t know anything about me!” she shouted, her voice cracking with the force of her anger. “You don’t know what I’ve been through or what I’ve sacrificed to even be here.”

“Then tell me,” Eris demanded, his tone softer but no less intense. He took another step closer, towering over her now. “Because all I see is someone who’s as willing to play dirty as I am.”

The fire between them seemed to dim, the tension thick enough to choke. Y/N clenched her fists at her sides, her body trembling with a mix of emotions she couldn’t even begin to untangle.

“You are impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head as she turned away from him.

“Impossible?” he repeated, his voice rising with disbelief. He threw his arms out, his control slipping as his emotions finally broke through the carefully constructed mask he wore. “Do you think this has been easy for me? Do you think I haven’t cursed myself for every step I’ve taken toward this gods-damned mess?”

“Why should I care how hard it’s been for you?” she shot back, spinning to face him again. “You lied to me. You brought me here to trade me like some pawn on a chessboard!”

“I thought I could do it!” he roared, his voice echoing through the clearing. His chest heaved as he struggled to rein in the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “I thought it would be easy. But now…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground as his voice softened. “Now it’s not.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding in her chest. For a moment, she thought she saw something break in him, something raw and unguarded. But the moment passed, and his walls went back up.

“I will never forgive you for this,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat.

Eris’s expression hardened, but his eyes betrayed him. There was something vulnerable, something desperate lingering in their depths. “Good,” he said, his tone sharper than a blade. “Because I’m not giving you to anyone.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“You heard me.” He straightened, squaring his shoulders as if steeling himself for what was to come. “I’ll find the secret myself. I don’t know why or for what reason, but I can’t trade you. I won’t.”

She let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Yeah, sure. You’re smart, but not smart enough to outwit a god.”

Eris didn’t flinch. Instead, his lips curved into the faintest hint of a smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “If Rhysand and Feyre can do it, so can I.”

Y/N gaped at him, her mind racing with a thousand questions, but before she could voice any of them, Eris was already moving.

“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice firm and unyielding. “Now.”

For a moment, she stood frozen, her emotions warring within her. Then, with a muttered curse, she grabbed her things and followed him into the dark forest, the fire behind them burning lower and lower until it was nothing but embers.

The camp materialized in the forest’s depths like a secret whispered too loudly. A smattering of tents and crude wooden structures sat nestled among the trees, almost imperceptible until you were standing in the middle of it. Eris stepped through the wards without hesitation, his sharp gaze sweeping over the area.

Y/N trailed behind him, her silence more ominous than any insult she might have hurled his way. Her hood was drawn low over her face, her footsteps deliberately quiet.

“You’ve been here before,” Eris noted, glancing back at her.

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. Her eyes were fixed on the nearest tent, where two figures huddled close, their conversation halting as they spotted her.

“Y/N,” one of them said, stepping forward. A tall, wiry man with piercing gray eyes and a knife strapped to his thigh. His voice was clipped, suspicious. “You weren’t supposed to come back here.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, but her tone was light, almost mocking. “Missed me already, Lioran?”

The man—Lioran—didn’t return the smile. His gaze slid to Eris, narrowing. “Who’s this?”

“Eris Vanserra,” Eris said smoothly, his tone polite but edged. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

Lioran’s hand drifted to the hilt of his knife. “We don’t take kindly to his kind here.”

Eris arched a brow. “My kind?”

“The scheming, backstabbing kind,” Lioran shot back, his voice sharp as steel.

“Then you’re in luck,” Eris said, his smile a razor-thin line. “I only scheme when it’s worth my time.”

“Eris,” Y/N hissed, stepping between them. She turned to Lioran, her voice low. “We’re not here to fight.”

“Then why are you here?” Lioran demanded, his gaze darting between her and Eris.

Y/N hesitated, her shoulders tense. “We need a place to rest. Just for a few hours.”

“Not here.”

“We don’t have a choice,” she snapped, her tone harsher than intended.

Lioran’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have a choice, or he doesn’t?”

Eris stepped closer, his presence somehow both casual and imposing. “I appreciate your hospitality,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “Truly. But we’re staying.”

“Over my dead body,” Lioran growled, his knife halfway out of its sheath.

“That can be arranged,” Eris replied, his hand hovering near the sword at his hip.

“Enough!” Y/N’s voice cut through the rising tension like a blade. Both men froze, their gazes snapping to her.

“This isn’t your fight, Lioran,” she said, her voice steady despite the storm raging in her eyes. “Let us stay, and we’ll be gone by dawn.”

Lioran hesitated, his grip on the knife tightening. Then, with a muttered curse, he stepped back.

“You have until sunrise,” he said, his tone icy. “After that, you’re on your own.”

The tent was small and sparsely furnished, with little more than a pile of blankets and a flickering lantern. Y/N sat on the ground, her arms crossed over her chest, while Eris leaned against the canvas wall, watching her with an inscrutable expression.

“You’ve been here before,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Y/N didn’t look at him. “What gave it away?”

“The way they looked at you,” he said, his tone annoyingly perceptive. “Like you were one of them. Or maybe like you weren’t anymore.”

She flinched, but her voice was sharp when she replied. “What’s your point?”

Eris tilted his head, studying her. “My point is, you’re full of surprises.”

“Coming from you, that’s almost a compliment.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Silence stretched between them again, heavy and uncomfortable.

“Why did you bring me here?” Y/N asked finally, her voice low.

Eris hesitated, his golden eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite place. “Because I needed to buy time.”

“For what?”

“To figure out what the hell I’m doing.”

His honesty caught her off guard, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

“I thought you always knew what you were doing,” she said, her tone softer than before.

“So did I,” he admitted, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the tension between them shifting into something quieter, more uncertain.

Then Eris straightened, his usual smirk returning. “Get some rest,” he said, his tone turning brisk. “We leave before sunrise.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, settling onto the pile of blankets with a huff.

As Eris extinguished the lantern, the darkness seemed to press in around them, heavy and unrelenting.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N wasn’t sure which of them she trusted less—the tyrant High Lord's arrogant prick of a son, or herself.

The dim light of the lantern flickered one last time before going out, plunging the tent into darkness. Y/N lay motionless for what felt like hours, her breathing slow and even, feigning sleep. She could hear the soft rustle of fabric as Eris adjusted his position, the steady cadence of his breaths eventually signaling that he had drifted off.

Quietly, she pushed herself up, careful not to make a sound. Her boots barely scuffed the ground as she slipped out of the tent, the night air cool against her flushed skin. The camp was silent, save for the occasional crackle of a dying fire or the distant hoot of an owl.

She found Lioran near the edge of the camp, seated on a stump with two others—Elira, a sharp-eyed woman with a scar slicing through her lip, and Darin, a broad-shouldered man with a perpetual frown etched into his face. Their hushed conversation ceased the moment they saw her, their expressions shifting to guarded wariness.

“Y/N.” Lioran’s voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness. His gray eyes burned with a mixture of anger and something that almost looked like betrayal. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Y/N crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. “I needed help. I thought this place could offer it.”

“You thought this place could—” He stood abruptly, his fists clenching at his sides. “We thought you were dead, Y/N! For months, we worried, planned, searched. And then you show up out of nowhere, with him? What were we supposed to think?”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice,” she snapped back.

“No choice?” Elira interjected, her tone biting as she stepped closer, her dark eyes narrowing. “You’re standing here now, aren’t you? Looks like a choice to me.”

Y/N’s hands curled into fists. “Do you think I wanted this? To be dragged into his mess? To be used as leverage and then left to figure out how to survive?”

“Used as leverage?” Darin’s deep voice rumbled as he leaned forward, his arms still crossed. “What does that mean, Y/N?”

She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Lioran, then Elira, and finally Darin. “He sold me to Koschei,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Elira’s expression hardened into something cold and unreadable, but Darin’s eyes widened in shock. Lioran’s jaw dropped slightly before he recovered, his voice rising in disbelief. “He what?”

“Keep your voices down,” Y/N hissed, glancing nervously toward the tent where Eris slept. “He’ll wake up.”

“You’re telling me,” Lioran said, his voice low but no less cutting, “that Eris Vanserra sold you to Koschei, and now you’re just... traveling with him? Are you out of your mind?”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she repeated, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself. “I escaped, and he needed my help. We’ve been stuck together ever since.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us this sooner?” Elira demanded, her tone sharp as a blade. “You disappear for months, let us think you’re dead, and now you show up dragging him into our territory?”

“I didn’t even know you were still here!” Y/N shot back. “For all I knew, you’d packed up and disappeared.”

“We wouldn’t have had to move if someone hadn’t led him straight to us,” Elira retorted, her scarred lip curling into a sneer.

“I didn’t lead him here!” Y/N shouted, her frustration boiling over. “Do you think I wanted this? Do you think I’d risk you all like that?”

Elira took a threatening step forward, but Lioran held up a hand to stop her. “Then why are you here, Y/N? Why now?”

Y/N straightened, her voice steady and fierce. “Because Beron needs to be stopped. Because Koschei is a threat to all of us. And because I can’t do this alone.”

“And you think we’re just going to trust you?” Lioran’s words were laced with bitterness. “After everything?”

“I don’t care if you trust me,” she said, her voice firm. “I’m not here to beg for your forgiveness. I’m here because I know what’s at stake. Beron won’t stop until he’s crushed everyone who stands in his way, and Koschei is more dangerous than any of you realize.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with truth.

Darin glanced at Elira, then Lioran. “She’s not wrong,” he muttered reluctantly.

“Shut up, Darin,” Elira snapped, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

Y/N pressed on, her voice growing stronger. “I need allies, not enemies. If we don’t stand together, we’ll all fall separately.”

Elira scoffed. “And we’re supposed to believe you haven’t told him anything about us? How the hell did he find this place?”

“I don’t know!” Y/N’s voice cracked with exasperation. “Do you think I’d risk all of you like that? Do you think I’d risk us?”

Lioran stepped closer, his gray eyes boring into hers. “Did you?”

“No!” she said fiercely. “Are you mad? He’s the last person I’d trust with that kind of information.”

The tension crackled between them like a live wire, neither willing to back down.

Finally, Lioran sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This is going to cause problems,” he muttered. “She isn’t going to be happy about this.”

Y/N frowned. “She?”

Lioran hesitated before answering. “You know who I mean. Do you think she’ll just let this slide?”

“She’ll understand,” Y/N said, though her voice wavered slightly. “She has to.”

Lioran’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll see what I can do. But you’d better hope you’re right.”

With that, he turned and walked away, Elira following after him. Darin lingered for a moment, his gaze softening. “Be careful, Y/N. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

“I know,” she murmured, watching him go.

When she returned to the tent, Eris was still asleep, his breathing deep and even. She lay down carefully, staring up at the canvas above her, her mind racing with the implications of what had just transpired.

The battle wasn’t just with Beron or Koschei anymore. It was with the people she had once called allies—and the thin thread of trust that might be their only hope of survival.

Y/N woke to the low hum of voices, the kind that filled the camp with life but carried a weight of unspoken words. The sun barely peeked over the treetops, casting soft golden light on the forest floor. She blinked, groggy but alert enough to notice Eris wasn’t lying in the other makeshift bed anymore.

He stood a few feet away, crouched low as he packed their meager supplies. His shoulders were taut, the golden hair at the nape of his neck catching the early morning light. Y/N observed him for a moment, trying to gauge if he suspected anything. The tension in his frame was a constant, but there was no immediate sign that he’d pieced together her late-night conversation with Lioran.

Good. For now, at least.

Lioran’s laugh carried from near the campfire, followed by the murmur of other voices. Y/N shifted her attention there, noticing how the others in the camp were moving more leisurely this morning. They didn’t look at her with the same outright hostility as before. Suspicion lingered in their glances, but there was something softer in the way they interacted.

Pushing herself to her feet, Y/N walked over to the fire. Lioran stood on the opposite side, ladling out a hearty stew into small bowls and passing them to the others. He froze for a second when he spotted Y/N approaching, but her expression smoothed almost instantly.

“Breakfast?” Lioran offered, his tone clipped but civil.

Y/N took the bowl, her fingers brushing against Lioran’s briefly. The touch was enough to convey her silent plea: Don’t tell him.

Lioran's gaze flicked toward Eris, who was now leaning against a tree, his eyes darting between Y/N and the rest of the camp. His brow furrowed, but he said nothing.

“Thank you,” Y/N said softly, breaking the silence.

The others in the camp shifted awkwardly but seemed to relax when Lioran handed Eris his bowl without a word. For a while, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the quiet clinking of spoons against metal.

After they’d eaten, one of the camp members approached with a small satchel. “For your journey,” he said, handing it to Eris.

The male looked surprised but accepted it, his lips twitching into a brief, almost reluctant smile. “Gratitude,” he said simply, though the tension in his voice hinted at deeper emotions.

Y/N caught Lioran'ss eye one last time as they prepared to leave. There was a flicker of something there—an unspoken truce, or maybe just mutual exhaustion. Either way, Lioran's curt nod told her he’d keep her word. For now.

The forest stretched endlessly around them, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Eris walked ahead, his posture rigid as ever. Y/N trailed behind him, her mind racing with questions she couldn’t ask aloud.

“You’re unusually quiet today,” Eris remarked, not turning to look at her.

“Maybe I’m tired of hearing your voice,” she shot back, quick and sharp.

He stopped abruptly, forcing her to stumble to a halt. He turned, his golden eyes narrowing as they locked onto hers. “We’re barely an hour into the day, and you’re already insufferable.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “I could say the same about you.”

Eris took a step closer, his height casting a shadow over her. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be running for their life, you have a remarkable talent for wasting time.”

“And for someone who’s supposedly saving my life, you have a remarkable talent for being unbearable,” she countered.

Their argument carried on for several more minutes, each barb sharper than the last. But eventually, the tension fizzled, replaced by the quiet rhythm of their footsteps.

Hours passed, the forest growing denser, the air heavier. Y/N watched Eris from behind, his movements graceful but purposeful. His shoulders were broad, his steps measured, and for a brief moment, she wondered how someone so infuriating could also be so... captivating.

Her thoughts were interrupted by his sudden halt. “We’ll stop here for a while,” he announced.

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re the one who said we don’t have time to waste.”

“Do you ever stop complaining?”

“Do you ever stop talking?”

He ignored her, kneeling to inspect a patch of moss on the ground. His indifference only fueled her frustration. Before she could think better of it, she darted forward and jumped onto his back, her arms locking around his neck.

Eris staggered, his hands instinctively grabbing her legs to steady her. “What the hell are you doing?” he growled.

“Making a point,” she replied smugly, tightening her grip.

“You’re insane,” he muttered, twisting to try and shake her off.

They tumbled to the ground in a chaotic heap, Y/N landing on top of him. She straddled his waist, pinning his arms down with a triumphant grin.

“Admit it,” she teased. “You’re impressed.”

Eris glared up at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Get off me.”

“Make me,” she challenged, leaning in slightly.

His golden eyes flicked to her lips for a fraction of a second, and the world seemed to slow. Y/N felt her heart stutter, her breath catching in her throat. For the first time, there was no sarcasm, no hostility—just raw, unfiltered tension.

But then, as quickly as it came, the moment shattered. Eris shoved her off him, his movements abrupt and almost panicked.

“Childish,” he muttered, brushing himself off as he stood.

Y/N stared at him, her cheeks flushed. “You’re the one who started it,” she retorted weakly, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

The atmosphere shifted as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The once-warm light grew colder, the shadows longer.

Eris’s pace quickened, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Y/N struggled to keep up, the unease in her chest growing with every step.

Then, without warning, she doubled over, clutching her chest as a sharp, searing pain shot through her.

“Y/N?” Eris was at her side instantly, his hands steadying her.

“I’m fine,” she gasped, though her trembling fingers betrayed her words.

The air around them seemed to thrum, an eerie energy crackling in the silence. And then, a voice—silken, cold, and dripping with malice.

“Running from me, little fox? Did you really think you could escape so easily?”

Koschei’s voice reverberated through the forest, wrapping around them like a vice.

Eris’s jaw clenched and he muttered a curse before saying, “Show yourself,” he demanded.

The laughter that followed was hollow and bone-chilling. “Not yet. But know this: your defiance will not go unpunished.”

Y/N felt the pain intensify, her vision swimming as Koschei’s words burned into her mind. Eris' grip on her tightened as he suddenly pulled her to his chest.

“Her life is tied to your choices now, princeling. Fail me, and she will pay the price.”

The voice faded, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake.

Eris tightened his grip on Y/N, his face pale but resolute. “I won’t let him win,” he whispered, more to himself than to her.

By the time they resumed their journey, night had fallen, draping the forest in shadows that seemed to reach for them as they passed. The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow filtering through the canopy to illuminate the narrow, winding path ahead. Eris walked a few paces ahead, his movements sharp and purposeful, the tension in his shoulders impossible to miss.

Y/N trailed behind, her mind a tangle of questions and doubts. Every step felt heavier, the weight of Koschei’s words still pressing against her chest. She watched Eris’s profile as he moved—his jaw set in determination, his golden hair catching the moonlight like a crown of fire. He hadn’t said a word since they’d left the clearing, and the silence between them was thick enough to choke on.

Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “Are you going to tell me what this brilliant plan of yours is?” she asked, her voice hoarse but steady enough to cut through the night.

Eris didn’t so much as glance back. “No.”

Her footsteps faltered. “No?”

He stopped too, turning to face her. The moonlight carved sharp lines across his features, making his expression impossible to read. “I told you to trust me,” he said, his tone low but firm.

“Trust you?” Y/N repeated, the words dripping with disbelief. She scoffed, crossing her arms as her voice rose. “After everything that’s happened? After everything you’ve done?”

“Yes,” he said simply, his golden eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that stole her breath.

The calm certainty in his voice only fueled her frustration. She took a step closer, her fists clenched at her sides. “You can’t just demand trust, Eris. That’s not how it works. Not after—” Her voice cracked, and she quickly turned away, hiding the tremble in her hands. “Not after everything.”

Eris stayed silent, watching her as she fought to regain control. The only sound between them was the rustle of leaves and the distant cry of some nocturnal creature.

When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost gentle. “I know I’ve given you every reason to doubt me.”

Y/N’s head snapped back toward him, surprise flashing across her face. She hadn’t expected him to admit it.

“But if you don’t trust me now,” he continued, his gaze unwavering, “you’ll only make this harder on both of us. I have a plan. I’ll see it through. And I’ll keep you safe.”

“Safe?” she repeated bitterly. “You think this is about safety?”

“What else could it be about?” he asked, a flicker of irritation breaking through his calm facade.

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Because it wasn’t just about safety. It was about the lies, the manipulation, the way he always seemed to keep her one step behind, forcing her to rely on him when she wanted nothing more than to stand on her own.

“It’s about control,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s about you never letting me have a say in my own damn life.”

Eris’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away. For a moment, she thought he might argue. Instead, he took a slow step closer, closing the distance between them.

“I’m not doing this to control you,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’m doing this because I know what’s at stake. And whether you like it or not, I’m your best chance at surviving this.”

Y/N stared at him, torn between fury and something she couldn’t quite name. The truth of his words only made her angrier, but there was something in his eyes—something raw and unguarded—that made it impossible to look away.

Finally, she let out a long, shaky sigh and turned back toward the path. “Fine,” she said, her tone sharp but resigned. “But if this goes sideways, I’m blaming you.”

Eris let out a soft huff of laughter, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in what could almost be called a smile. “Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, falling into step beside her.

The silence that followed was different this time—not quite comfortable, but no longer suffocating. As they walked, Y/N stole a glance at him from the corner of her eye. For all his arrogance and infuriating confidence, there was something steady about Eris, something that made her wonder if maybe—just maybe—he really did know what he was doing.

She quickly shoved the thought aside. Trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford, not when so much was on the line. But for now, she’d follow him. For now, she’d pretend that his plan was enough.

The night stretched on, the moonlight guiding their way as the forest seemed to close in around them. And though neither of them spoke again, the tension between them lingered, simmering beneath the surface like a fire waiting to ignite.

By the time the first rays of sunlight broke through the thick canopy above, Y/N’s legs ached, and her patience was nearing its limit. They had walked for hours, the night stretching endlessly, with only the sound of rustling leaves and Eris’s steady footsteps to break the silence.

He hadn’t told her where they were going, and the vague promise of a plan did little to soothe her growing frustration. She bit back the questions that kept rising in her throat, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his secrecy irked her.

Instead, she focused on her surroundings, noting the shift in the forest’s atmosphere. The air had grown cooler, the trees older and more gnarled, their roots twisting across the ground like veins. There was a sense of ancient power here, something that made her skin prickle and her steps falter.

“Keep moving,” Eris called over his shoulder, his tone clipped.

Y/N scowled, quickening her pace to match his. “You could at least tell me if we’re getting close.”

“We’re close,” he said simply, offering no further explanation.

She glared at his back, tempted to hurl a rock at his head. But before she could voice her irritation, the forest opened up, revealing a clearing bathed in golden light. At its center stood a stone archway, weathered by time but still imposing. Strange runes were etched into its surface, glowing faintly as if alive.

“What is this?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Eris didn’t answer. Instead, he strode toward the archway, his movements more deliberate now, as though he were stepping onto sacred ground.

Y/N hesitated before following, her gaze darting around the clearing. The air felt heavy here, charged with a magic that made her heart race. She didn’t trust it—and she certainly didn’t trust Eris.

But curiosity won out, and she approached the archway, her eyes narrowing as she watched him trace his fingers over the glowing runes.

The runes were exactly as he remembered them from the stories his father used to tell. Tales of a hidden passage, a place where the secrets of their bloodline were guarded, waiting to be uncovered by those bold enough—or foolish enough—to seek them.

Eris’s fingers trembled slightly as they brushed against the cold stone, though he quickly steadied himself. He couldn’t afford hesitation now, not when they were so close.

“Eris,” Y/N’s voice broke through his focus, sharp and demanding. “What is this place?”

He glanced at her, taking in the way her arms were crossed defensively, her eyes narrowing as if she were trying to read his mind. A part of him wanted to explain, to ease the suspicion etched across her features. But the other part—the part that had been shaped by years of manipulation and betrayal—held back.

“It’s the key to our survival,” he said finally, his voice low but resolute.

Her scowl deepened. “Could you be any more cryptic?”

He ignored the jab, turning back to the archway. With a deep breath, he pressed his palm against the center rune, feeling the surge of magic as it reacted to his touch. The runes flared brighter, casting the clearing in an otherworldly glow.

A low rumble echoed through the ground, and the air around them seemed to ripple. The space within the archway shimmered, transforming into a swirling portal of gold and crimson.

Eris stepped back, his chest tightening. He’d spent years wondering if this place truly existed, if the stories were more than just myth. And now, standing on the precipice, he felt the weight of what lay ahead.

Y/N stared at the portal, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “You brought me all the way out here for a portal? What even is this?”

Eris turned to her, his expression unreadable. “It’s a passage to the truth,” he said, his voice steady but filled with a tension she couldn’t quite place.

“Truth about what?” she demanded. “Your father? Your grand scheme? You can’t just keep dragging me along without answers, Eris.”

He hesitated, and for a moment, she thought he might actually open up. But then he shook his head, his jaw tightening. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Before she could argue, he stepped through the portal and disappeared.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. She glanced at the swirling magic, dread pooling in her gut. She had every reason to turn around and leave, to abandon him to whatever madness lay beyond. But she also knew that whatever this was, it was bigger than both of them.

With a muttered curse, she stepped into the portal.

The air on the other side was colder, sharper, and filled with the hum of ancient magic. Eris landed gracefully, his boots crunching against stone as he surveyed the chamber before him. The room was vast, its walls lined with glowing symbols that seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat.

At the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, atop which rested a small, intricately carved box. It was unassuming at first glance, but Eris could feel the power emanating from it, a power that called to him like a siren’s song.

He stepped toward it, his breaths coming quicker. This was it—the key to his father’s secrets, to the truths that had been kept from him for so long.

Behind him, Y/N appeared, stumbling slightly as she adjusted to the new surroundings. “What the hell is this place?” she asked, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Eris didn’t answer. His focus was solely on the box as he reached out and lifted it from the pedestal. The moment his fingers closed around it, a wave of energy surged through the room, causing the symbols on the walls to flare brighter.

“What did you do?” Y/N demanded, panic creeping into her voice.

Before he could respond, a figure materialized from the shadows—a tall, cloaked man with eyes that glowed like molten gold.

“Eris,” the figure said, his voice deep and resonant. “You should not have come here.”

Eris froze, his grip tightening on the box. “Who are you?”

The man stepped closer, his presence radiating authority. “I am the keeper of the Vanserra bloodline's sins. And you have just unleashed them.”

The sudden appearance of the cloaked man caught Y/N off guard, her hand instinctively going to the dagger at her waist. She knew better than to trust anyone who emerged from the shadows, especially someone who seemed to know far more than they should.

Eris tensed beside her, his posture straightening. “I don’t remember inviting you.” His voice was cold, calculating, but there was a flicker of something—fear, maybe—beneath the surface.

The figure’s golden eyes, glowing with an ethereal light, fixed on Eris. “You don’t need to invite me, son. I’ve always been here, watching.” He stepped closer, his movement slow and deliberate, his feet never touching the stone floor. “You think you can just walk in here and uncover secrets that were meant to remain buried?”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Eris, her gut twisting with unease. The air around them had thickened, suffocating, as though the very room was alive with tension. The glowing symbols on the walls pulsed in a rhythm that matched the frantic beating of her heart.

“What do you want?” Eris demanded, his voice a bit sharper now, but his hands still gripping the box like his life depended on it.

The figure’s lips curled into a twisted smile. “What I want? I’m not the one who has come looking for answers, Eris. You’re the one who wants to peel back the veil of the past, but be careful. Some truths, once uncovered, cannot be undone.”

The words were heavy, ominous. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine.

Eris’s grip tightened on the box, but his expression remained unreadable, almost like he was steeling himself for something worse. “I’m done being kept in the dark. Whatever you are, whatever my father has hidden from me… it’s time for the truth.”

Y/N watched the interaction between them closely, unsure of how much she should trust Eris’s confidence. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this man—this figure who seemed to appear from nowhere—was more than he let on.

The cloaked figure laughed, a low, mocking sound that reverberated around the chamber. “You think you’re ready for the truth? You’ve been living in your father’s shadow for so long, you have no idea what you’re about to uncover.” He reached out, but his fingers stopped just short of touching the box Eris held. “That box contains not just your father’s secrets but his sins. If you open it, you open the door to everything he’s done. Everything he’s become.”

Eris’s jaw clenched, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes now.

“Isn’t it better to leave things in the past?” Y/N asked, her voice low and tense. She could sense Eris’s hesitation, and it unnerved her. Was he truly ready to face what lay beyond this point? She wasn’t sure.

The cloaked man tilted his head slightly, considering her words. “Wise, but futile. The past has a way of coming for you. Especially when you’ve buried it so deeply.”

Eris didn’t back down. “I don’t care. I need to know.” He opened the box.

The air seemed to hold its breath.

Inside the box, there was a small crystal, no larger than a stone, but its light was blinding. A bright, pulsating red.

Y/N squinted, shielding her eyes from the intensity of the light. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but she stood frozen, unable to look away. The power radiating from the crystal felt familiar but twisted. Like something that had once been pure had been corrupted by darkness.

The moment he opened the box, a wave of energy slammed into him. It was as if the world around him buckled and shifted, pulling at his very soul. His vision blurred, his knees buckled, and for a split second, it felt like he was falling into an endless abyss.

The cloaked figure smiled knowingly, watching Eris struggle to maintain his composure. “I warned you.”

Eris clenched his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright. He had expected something—maybe not this intensity—but he hadn’t prepared for the physical weight of it. The crystal in his hand pulsed with malevolent power, and the symbols on the walls flared to life.

For a moment, he thought he saw shadows move within the symbols—whispers that seemed to beckon him. He felt a pull, a magnetic force drawing him deeper into the room, deeper into whatever this place was.

Y/N reached out instinctively, her hand brushing against his shoulder. “Eris… what’s happening?”

He turned to her, eyes wild, the golden hue of his gaze dimming as he fought to regain control. “It’s my father… he’s hidden this here for a reason. This crystal is—”

Before he could finish, the ground beneath them shook violently. The air thickened with the smell of burning metal and decay. The runes on the walls were no longer just glowing—they were alive, twisting, writhing like snakes.

The cloaked figure raised his hands, his eyes glowing brighter. “It’s already too late. You’ve unleashed something far worse than you can imagine. That crystal binds you to your father’s will. It always has.”

Y/N moved closer to Eris, her hand brushing the back of his as she tried to help steady him. “We need to leave. Now.”

Eris shook his head, determination flooding his veins despite the rising panic. “I can’t… I need to understand. I can’t just turn back now.”

The cloaked figure chuckled darkly. “You will never understand. You are just a pawn in his game. You always have been.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered between Eris and the figure, her thoughts racing. There was more to this than either of them knew. She could see it in the way Eris struggled, in the way the cloaked figure seemed to savor every moment of the pain they were experiencing.

Eris’s grip tightened on the crystal as the room seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat. Then, without warning, a voice echoed through the chamber, cold and detached.

“You should have never come here, Eris.”

Y/N’s heart froze. The voice was unmistakable.

It was his father.

The voice that echoed through the chamber sent a chill crawling down Eris’s spine. He had heard that voice in his dreams, in his nightmares, in his everyday life—the cold, emotionless tone of a man who had never cared for anything other than power.

The crystal in his hand vibrated violently, and the world seemed to warp around him. The air thickened with the weight of his father’s presence, though he could not see him.

“Father,” Eris breathed, his voice hoarse.

“You’re foolish, Eris. You always have been. Thinking you could change the past, thinking you could erase the sins you’ve inherited. You can’t escape me. Not now. Not ever. And now, I know exactly where you and that little birdie of yours are.” The voice sounded nearer now, echoing in every corner of the chamber.

Y/N stepped forward, her eyes flicking between Eris and the source of the voice, her hand still on his arm. “Eris, this isn’t you. Don’t let him—”

But before she could finish, the cloaked figure raised a hand. “Do you think this is over? You’ve only awakened a fraction of what lies ahead. Your father’s reach is far greater than you know, Eris. You’ve only scratched the surface.”

Eris shook his head, the weight of his father’s voice still pressing down on him. He could feel the truth of it gnawing at his insides. His father’s reach—his control—had never really ended. It was still pulling at him, tethering him to a past he couldn’t escape.

And then the realization hit him like a blow to the chest: He was more like his father than he’d ever wanted to admit.

His eyes met Y/N’s, and in that moment, something shifted. The hatred he had felt for his father, the anger, the rage—it seemed almost insignificant in the face of the storm that was coming. He couldn’t change the past. But maybe, just maybe, he could do something different now.

Y/N saw the moment Eris broke. It wasn’t physical—there was no visible crack in him, no sign that something had shifted—but she could feel it. She could see it in the way his shoulders slumped, the faint tremble in his hand as he held the crystal.

He was facing something deep within himself. And Y/N knew that whatever it was, it was more dangerous than any enemy they’d ever fought.

The cloaked figure laughed, a low, bitter sound that echoed through the chamber. “You’re too late, Eris. You’re already bound. Your fate has already been decided.”

But Y/N wasn’t done. She stepped forward, pulling Eris’s arm to stop him from retreating into himself. “We’re not done,” she said firmly. “Whatever this is, we face it together.”

For a moment, there was no response. Then, slowly, Eris met her eyes, his gaze shifting from uncertainty to something more determined.

“Together,” he muttered, as if testing the weight of the word.

And for the first time since they’d met, Y/N believed it.

The ride back to the capital was a blur of motion and urgency. Y/N didn't even know from where Eris got the horses. The forest around them seemed alive with the weight of Beron’s presence, the shadows stretching unnaturally long as if the High Lord himself were watching their every move.

Eris had barely spoken since the chamber, his jaw clenched and his eyes fixed straight ahead. Y/N had tried to pull him out of his silence, to remind him they needed a plan, but his focus was razor-sharp, and she knew better than to press too hard.

Still, the tension between them was unbearable. Every rustle in the trees, every snap of a twig, set her on edge. They were being hunted—she could feel it in her bones.

“We’re not going to make it to the capital unnoticed,” she finally said, her voice cutting through the oppressive quiet.

Eris didn’t turn, didn’t even glance her way. “We don’t have a choice.”

“And what happens when we get there?” she pressed. “Your father isn’t just going to let you stroll into his court and accuse him of treason.”

His lips curled into a humorless smile. “He won’t have to. The court’s already in chaos. This will just tip it over the edge.”

Y/N swallowed hard. She didn’t doubt Eris’s ability to lead, to inspire loyalty in those who followed him. But Beron had ruled for centuries with an iron fist, and loyalty to him ran deep, even among those who despised him.

He could feel the weight of Y/N’s doubts pressing against him, though she hadn’t voiced them outright. She was right to be cautious. This wasn’t just a gamble—it was a death wish.

But there was no time for hesitation.

The information he’d uncovered in the chamber was enough to destroy Beron’s reign, enough to rally the court against him—if Eris played it right. The crystal now hidden in his saddlebag pulsed with a faint warmth, a constant reminder of what was at stake.

“Keep your guard up,” he said, his voice low but commanding. “If Beron sent someone after us, they won’t be far behind.”

Y/N snorted softly, though there was no humor in it. “Good to know you’re finally acknowledging that we’re being hunted.”

Eris didn’t reply. His attention was fixed on the horizon, where the first faint outlines of the capital’s spires were visible against the darkening sky.

The attack came just before dawn, swift and brutal.

One moment they were riding through the dense undergrowth, the next, the air was alive with the sound of arrows slicing through the air.

“Down!” Eris barked, throwing himself from his horse and dragging Y/N with him just as a volley of arrows thudded into the trees where they had been riding moments before.

The horses screamed and bolted, disappearing into the forest as a group of masked figures emerged from the shadows, their movements silent and precise.

Eris drew his sword in one fluid motion, the blade catching the faint light of dawn as he placed himself between Y/N and the attackers. “Stay close,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Y/N didn’t hesitate, pulling her own dagger free as the first of the attackers lunged toward them.

The fight was chaotic, a blur of clashing steel and snarled commands. Eris moved with deadly precision, his strikes quick and calculated as he dispatched one attacker after another. Y/N fought with the same ferocity, her smaller blade flashing in the dim light as she defended herself against the onslaught.

But the attackers kept coming, their movements coordinated as if they were being guided by an unseen hand.

“Eris!” Y/N shouted, her voice sharp with warning.

He turned just in time to see a massive figure charging toward him, a wickedly curved blade glinting in his hand. Eris barely managed to deflect the blow, the force of it sending him staggering back.

Y/N lunged, her dagger slicing across the attacker’s thigh as she moved to cover Eris’s side.

“Nice timing,” he muttered, his breathing ragged.

“Don’t mention it,” she shot back, her own chest heaving as she scanned the trees for the next threat.

Just as it seemed they were being overwhelmed, a sudden burst of fire lit up the forest.

Eris’s flames roared to life, consuming the nearest attackers in a blaze of heat and light. The remaining assailants faltered, their carefully coordinated attack breaking apart as panic set in.

“Run or burn,” Eris growled, his voice carrying over the crackling of the flames.

The surviving attackers didn’t need to be told twice. They vanished into the trees, leaving their fallen comrades behind.

Eris let the fire die, the light fading as quickly as it had come.

Y/N slumped against a tree, her dagger still clenched tightly in her hand. “Well,” she panted, “that was fun.”

Eris shot her a look, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now, despite the tension still coiled in his frame. “We need to keep moving.”

She nodded, forcing herself to her feet. “Next time, maybe warn me before you set the forest on fire.”

The camp they set up was crude but sufficient. A circle of stones held a small fire, its flames snapping against the cold night air. Eris moved efficiently, his every motion sharp with frustration. Y/N leaned against a tree, her arms crossed, watching him with a frown.

The tension between them had been simmering since the attack in the woods, the unspoken words and mounting pressure finally reaching a breaking point.

“We shouldn’t stop,” she said, her voice cutting through the crackle of the fire.

“We have no choice,” Eris replied without looking at her. “The horses are gone. We’re lucky we made it this far on foot.”

Y/N pushed off the tree, her arms falling to her sides. “We’re wasting time.”

Eris rounded on her, his golden eyes blazing. “And what would you have me do, Y/N? March us straight into the capital half-dead and unprepared?”

“Yes, if it means we’re one step ahead of Beron,” she shot back, her tone sharp. “He knows we’re coming. Every second we spend out here is a second closer to him tightening his grip.”

Eris let out a harsh laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel the weight of it every damn moment?”

“Then stop acting like you’re the only one with something to lose!”

The words hung in the air, sharp and raw. Eris froze, his chest heaving as he stared at her.

Y/N didn’t back down, her voice trembling with the force of her anger. “You’ve been holding onto this plan of yours like it’s the only thing that matters. But guess what, Eris? I matter. My people matter. The things I’ve fought for—bled for—they matter. And I won’t let your pride or your fear jeopardize everything.”

Eris’s gaze darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine. You want to talk about what matters? Let’s start with you. Who are you, Y/N? Really? Because every time I think I have you figured out, you throw another secret at me.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she squared her shoulders. “You want the truth? Fine. I’m from the Eastern Wastes. My family was slaughtered when Beron’s soldiers raided my village, claiming we were harboring rebels. I survived by sheer luck—or maybe because I was too young to fight back.”

Her voice cracked, but she pressed on. “I was taken in by the Blackspire Alliance—a group that fights against tyrants like your father. They trained me, turned me into a weapon. I’ve spent my entire life dismantling regimes like Beron’s, piece by bloody piece.”

Eris blinked, the firelight catching in his eyes. “The Blackspire Alliance... They’re a myth.”

“They’re real,” Y/N said bitterly. “And they’re the reason I’m still alive. But they’re also the reason I’ll never have a normal life. I’ve done things—terrible things—in their name. And I’ll do more if it means taking Beron down.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, neither of them spoke.

When Eris finally spoke, his voice was low, almost a whisper. “Do you think you’re the only one with scars?”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her gaze locking with his.

“I’ve hated my father for as long as I can remember,” Eris said, his tone filled with quiet venom. “He’s cruel, manipulative, and he’s ruled our court through fear and bloodshed. I’ve spent my entire life trying to find a way to stop him. But every time I got close, he reminded me of just how powerless I was. How easily he could destroy everything I cared about.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “And then there’s my brothers. Do you know what it’s like to stand by while they suffer under him, knowing you can’t save them without damning yourself?”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off, his voice rising. “I didn’t think it would be this hard. I thought I could handle it. But then you came along, and suddenly everything became so much more complicated.”

He took a step closer, his golden eyes burning into hers. “Because now, when I think of you in the slightest danger, it feels like my chest is being ripped open. And I hate it. I hate that you make me feel this way when I can’t afford to be distracted.”

Y/N stared at him, her heart pounding. “You think I don’t feel the same?” she whispered.

Eris let out a frustrated growl, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “Then why do you keep pushing me away? Why do you act like this is just some mission to you?”

“Because it has to be!” Y/N shouted, her voice cracking. “If I let myself feel anything more, I’ll lose focus. And if I lose focus, we both die.”

Her words seemed to pierce through him, and he stopped pacing, his gaze locking with hers.

“You’re a coward,” he said softly, the accusation like a slap to the face.

Y/N’s eyes blazed with fury. “How dare you—”

“You’re afraid to let yourself want something for once in your life,” Eris continued, his voice rising. “Because if you do, it’ll mean admitting that you’re not just a weapon. That you’re a fae. And that terrifies you.”

Y/N took a step forward, her hands clenched into fists. “You don’t know me.”

“I know enough,” he said, his voice steady now. “I know you’re strong. Fierce. Loyal. But you’re also so damn scared of being vulnerable that you’d rather push everyone away than let them in.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she couldn’t find the words to respond.

Eris closed the distance between them in a heartbeat, his hands cupping her face as he kissed her with a fierceness that stole the air from her lungs.

Y/N froze, the shock of it crashing over her like a wave. But then the heat of his lips, the raw desperation in his touch, pulled her under. She kissed him back, her hands gripping his tunic as if he were the only thing anchoring her to the world.

The kiss was a battle in itself—fierce, messy, and filled with every unspoken word they couldn’t bring themselves to say.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing hard, their foreheads pressed together.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

“No,” Eris agreed, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “But it means something.”

Y/N closed her eyes, her chest aching with a mixture of fear and longing. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, in this moment, she let herself feel.

The kiss lingered like a phantom between them, neither willing to address it, both too stubborn to break the uneasy silence. The tension was palpable as they packed up the camp, their movements sharp and deliberate.

Eris’s usual sharp remarks were replaced with clipped instructions. Y/N, for her part, kept her replies short, her mind a tangle of confusion and frustration. The awkwardness gnawed at her, but she refused to be the one to crack first.

The forest thinned as they neared the outskirts of the capital. Smoke curled on the horizon, faint but unmistakable—a sign of the chaos that awaited them.

Y/N broke the silence, her voice quiet but firm. “You’re sure about this?”

Eris didn’t look at her, his golden eyes fixed ahead. “I have to be.”

Her stomach twisted. She hated how much she cared about his answer, how much the thought of losing him made her chest ache.

By the time they reached the outskirts of the capital, the sun was rising, casting an eerie orange glow over the smoke-filled sky. Y/N’s steps faltered as she saw the figures waiting for them.

At first, she thought it was an illusion. But as they drew closer, she recognized the faces—fighters from the Blackspire Alliance, rebels she hadn’t seen in years, and even a few she’d thought long dead. Among them were the familiar silhouettes of their leaders, the very people she thought would never forgive her departure—yet they had answered her call.

Her gaze landed on Lioran, standing at the front, his expression grim but resolute.

“You...” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We answered,” Lioran said simply.

Her throat tightened, her hands curling into fists at her sides as memories of their last meeting rushed back. The argument. The betrayal. The way she had left, believing she would never see any of them again.

“I didn’t think—” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

Lioran’s tone sharpened, though there was no malice in it. “You didn’t think we’d come?” He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. “You’ve been leading us for years, Y/N. Did you really think we’d let you face this alone? That we wouldn’t fight for the cause we all believed in?”

Behind him, others began to move closer, their faces illuminated by the growing light of dawn. Karys, the fiery-tempered weapons master, adjusted the massive axe strapped to her back. Her expression was as stern as ever, but there was a flicker of warmth in her stormy eyes as she nodded at Y/N.

Beside her stood Elira, the Alliance’s healer, her long silver hair tied into a braid that fell over her shoulder. Though her soft features bore the lines of worry and exhaustion, her lips curved into a small, reassuring smile.

And then there was Garran, the tactician whose sharp mind had kept them alive through some of their darkest days. His dark eyes gleamed with intelligence as he stepped forward, giving Eris a curt nod of acknowledgment before turning his attention to Y/N.

“You didn’t just call us,” Garran said, his voice low but carrying weight. “You called everyone. Word spread faster than wildfire. And this—” He gestured to the crowd behind him. “This is only the beginning. More are coming. More than you ever imagined.”

Y/N’s eyes swept over the gathered rebels, taking in the sea of faces—new and old, scarred and hopeful. Among the common folk were blacksmiths still wearing soot-streaked aprons, hunters clutching bows and quivers, and even children barely old enough to hold blades but standing tall with determination.

“I never expected...” She trailed off, unable to find the words.

Elira stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You gave us hope when we had none. You think we’d forget that?”

A lump rose in her throat, and she blinked rapidly to push back the sting of tears. “I thought I lost all of you,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Karys snorted, her tone dry but not unkind. “We’re tougher than that, girl. You should know better.”

Eris had been standing a few paces behind Y/N, his amber eyes keenly observing the exchange. His expression remained unreadable, though his posture was unusually stiff. When Garran’s gaze flicked to him again, something unspoken passed between the two men—acknowledgment, perhaps, or the silent beginnings of trust.

“We’re ready,” Lioran said, his voice steady as he stepped closer, his presence commanding. “But you should know: Beron’s forces are already tearing the city apart. The fighting’s started, and it’s going to get worse before it gets better. If we’re going to strike, we need to do it soon.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, her resolve hardening like steel. She looked at the rebels—at her people—before turning to face the city, where smoke and ash painted the horizon.

“Then we’d better get to work,” she said, her voice resolute, though her heart thundered in her chest.

Behind her, the Blackspire Alliance roared their agreement, the sound rising like thunder over the chaos of the burning capital.

The capital was unrecognizable. Smoke choked the air, curling into the dawn sky like dark serpents. The acrid stench of burning wood, charred flesh, and spilled blood was suffocating. The streets, once bustling with life, were now a graveyard of shattered debris, overturned carts, and the lifeless bodies of those caught in the crossfire.

Fires raged unchecked, devouring homes and businesses alike, their flames crackling and hissing as they leapt from building to building. The inferno painted the sky an angry orange, casting jagged shadows that seemed to dance across the carnage below. Shouts and screams echoed through the streets, mingling with the clash of steel and the guttural cries of the wounded.

Y/N moved through the chaos like a storm, her iron sword flashing in the firelight. Her movements were precise, almost graceful, as she cut down anyone who dared to stand in her way. Behind her, the rebels of the Blackspire Alliance fought with a ferocity born of desperation, their weapons gleaming as they clashed against Beron’s forces.

Every step was a battle. The royal guards were relentless, their polished armor splattered with blood and soot as they surged forward in tightly-knit formations. They fought with the discipline of trained killers, but Y/N and her rebels matched them blow for blow.

At one point, as she turned a corner, her sharp gaze caught sight of a group of civilians huddled against the wall of a crumbling building. A mother clutched her sobbing child to her chest, her face pale with terror. An elderly man leaned heavily on a wooden staff, his knuckles white as he tried to shield a young boy with his body.

They were surrounded. A squad of royal guards closed in on them, their swords gleaming with deadly intent.

Y/N didn’t hesitate. Fury surged through her veins, white-hot and unyielding, as she launched herself into the fray. She moved like a blur, her weapons slicing through the air.

The first guard didn’t even have time to react. Y/N’s sword tore through his chestplate, rending steel and flesh as he crumpled to the ground. The second swung his blade at her, but she ducked under the arc and drove her axe into his unprotected side. He fell with a strangled cry, his sword clattering uselessly to the ground.

The remaining guards turned to face her, their faces a mix of shock and rage. One of them shouted an order, and they charged as a unit, their swords aimed at her heart.

Y/N snarled, her fangs bared, and met them head-on. Her swordcaught the blade of the first guard, sparks flying as steel met iron. With a powerful twist, she disarmed him, her hand slashing across his throat in a single, lethal motion.

The next guard lunged at her with a spear, but she sidestepped the thrust with inhuman speed. Grabbing the shaft of the spear, she yanked it free from his grasp and swung it like a staff, knocking him off his feet. She didn’t stop—couldn’t stop—as she drove her bare hands into his chest, ensuring he wouldn’t rise again.

The last guard hesitated, his grip on his sword faltering as he stared at her. Y/N advanced on him, her steps deliberate, her hands dripping with blood.

“Run,” she growled, her voice low and menacing.

The guard’s nerve broke. He turned and fled, his armor clanking as he disappeared into the smoke-filled streets.

Breathing hard, Y/N turned to the civilians. “Get to safety!” she shouted, her voice sharp with urgency as she wiped blood from her brow.

The mother stared at her, wide-eyed and trembling, before nodding quickly. She grabbed her child’s hand and bolted toward a nearby alley, the elderly man and boy following close behind.

Y/N watched them go, her chest heaving with exertion. Relief flickered through her, but it was short-lived.

“Commander!” one of the rebels shouted, running toward her. “More guards are coming from the west! We’re outnumbered!”

Y/N clenched her jaw, her hands flexing as she scanned the street. The fires had grown, consuming entire buildings and forcing the rebels to funnel through narrow, smoke-filled passageways. They couldn’t hold this position much longer.

“Fall back to the eastern square!” she barked, her voice carrying over the chaos. “Regroup there and hold the line until we can push through!”

The rebel nodded and sprinted off to relay the order. Y/N took a moment to steady herself, her gaze lingering on the bodies of the guards she had killed.

She turned back toward the fight, her resolve hardening. There was no room for hesitation, no time for fear. They had a city to reclaim, and she would see it through—no matter the cost.

The throne room was a gilded mausoleum, its ornate gold-and-red design bathed in the flickering glow of Eris’s flames. The suffocating weight of power, corruption, and decades of unspoken resentment seemed to pulse from the walls. Eris stalked forward like a predator unleashed, the fire in his palms mirroring the inferno blazing in his chest.

Beron sat on his throne, his expression a twisted mix of disdain and amusement, as though he couldn’t believe Eris would dare challenge him. Flanking him were Eris’s remaining brothers, their faces betraying a mix of fear and loyalty, their swords already drawn.

"Back to grovel, boy?" Beron sneered, his voice oozing contempt, but there was an edge of uncertainty in his tone.

Eris didn’t bother replying. Words had long since lost their meaning in these halls. Instead, he let his flames roar to life, casting monstrous shadows across the room as he hurled a blazing inferno toward his father.

Beron barely moved in time, the blast of fire scorching the side of the throne and sending shards of molten gold flying. The room erupted into chaos as Beron’s sons lunged forward, their weapons catching the firelight in deadly arcs. Seems like Eris would have to fight his brothers, oh well, he would get them healers after all this mess is over.

The fight was brutal, every strike carrying the weight of buried history and bitterness.

One of Eris’s brothers, swung his sword in a vicious arc aimed at Eris’s neck. Eris ducked, his movements fluid and precise, and countered with a sweep of flames that engulfed Caleb’s arm. The brother screamed, dropping his weapon and stumbling back, but Eris didn’t stop. He spun, using the momentum to drive his fist—wreathed in fire—into the face of another brother, the impact echoing through the chamber.

“Enough of this!” Beron’s voice boomed, and the High Lord raised his hands. A surge of raw, fiery power rippled through the air, colliding with Eris’s flames and extinguishing them in an instant. The oppressive weight of Beron’s power bore down on the room, choking and hot.

“You think you can kill me?” Beron snarled, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. “You think you’ve earned that right?”

“I don’t think,” Eris said, his voice like steel. “I know.”

With a roar, Eris reignited his flames, the inferno hotter and brighter than before, defying the cold weight of Beron’s power. He surged forward, his blade flashing in the fiery light as he clashed with his father. Sparks flew as their weapons met, the force of each strike reverberating through the walls.

Beron’s attacks were relentless, fueled by years of cruelty and dominance. He lashed out with blasts of fiery magic that twisted and coiled like living things, seeking to ensnare and crush Eris. But Eris was faster, his flames burning away the dark tendrils with each strike.

“You’ve always been a disappointment,” Beron hissed, his face contorted with rage. “Weak. Sniveling. Unworthy of my throne.”

Eris laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that cut through the clash of steel. “And yet here I am, standing where you thought I never would.”

He pressed the attack, his blade moving like liquid fire. He drove Beron back toward the throne, each strike fueled by the years of pain and humiliation he had endured. But Beron was no weakling; he had ruled for centuries with cunning and strength. He parried Eris’s blows with precision, his magic coiling around him like armor.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eris saw his last uninjured brother attempting to flank him. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent a jet of fire spiraling toward the man, forcing him to dive for cover.

Beron seized the distraction, sending a blast of fireballs toward Eris’s chest. The force of it knocked Eris off his feet, slamming him into a gilded pillar. Pain lanced through his back, but he gritted his teeth and rose, flames already igniting in his hands again.

Beron smirked. “You can’t win, boy. You’ll never be more than a shadow in my legacy.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Eris growled. His flames erupted in a brilliant cascade, setting the drapes and banners ablaze, turning the throne room into a fiery hellscape.

Beron lunged, but Eris was ready. He sidestepped the attack and drove his blade deep into Beron’s side. The High Lord gasped, his power faltering for a brief moment.

“Still think I’m weak?” Eris spat, twisting the blade and pulling it free.

Beron staggered, but his eyes burned with defiance. “You’ll regret this. You don’t have what it takes to—”

Eris didn’t let him finish. With a roar, he drove his blade straight into Beron’s chest, the force of the blow driving them both to the ground. Flames erupted around them as Beron’s power surged one last time before fading entirely.

For a moment, the room was silent, save for the crackling of fire. Eris stared down at his father’s lifeless body, his chest heaving with exertion. The High Lord of Autumn was no more.

But the victory felt hollow, the weight of what came next settling heavily on Eris’s shoulders.

As Beron crumpled to the ground, his lifeless body hitting the marble with a finality that echoed through the throne room, Y/N screamed.

The sound tore through the chaos outside the palace, raw and guttural, cutting through the clamor of battle like a blade. She stumbled, clutching at her chest as a searing, inexplicable pain radiated through her body. It felt like fire licking at her veins, consuming her from the inside out. Her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the blood-streaked ground.

Lioran was at her side in an instant, his face pale with panic as he caught her before she hit the stone. “Y/N! What’s happening?” he demanded, his voice tight with fear.

She couldn’t answer. Her breath came in short, desperate gasps as the pain worsened, an invisible hand tightening around her ribs. Her vision blurred, the sounds of the battle around her fading into a muted roar.

“I don’t know—” she choked out, her hands trembling as they gripped Lioran’s arms. “I—can’t—breathe.”

Around them, the fight seemed to stall as their people noticed their leader faltering. The fighters of the Blackspire Alliance closed ranks, forming a protective circle around Y/N and Lioran.

“Get back! Give her space!” one of the rebel leaders barked, their voice shaking despite their attempt at authority.

Lioran gently eased Y/N onto the ground, his hand pressing against her clammy forehead. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he urged, his voice softer now, betraying the raw edge of fear he couldn’t hide. “You’ve faced worse. Whatever this is, you’ll fight through it.”

But she wasn’t so sure. The pain wasn’t like any injury she’d ever felt. It was deeper, rooted in something intangible. It wasn’t her body breaking; it felt like her very soul was unraveling.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to focus on Lioran’s face, his familiar features anchoring her in the storm. “It feels like—like something’s tearing me apart,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Lioran swore under his breath, his gaze darting to the others surrounding them. “We need a healer. Now.”

“There aren’t any left,” one of the rebels said grimly. “The palace guard took them out first.”

Y/N shook her head weakly, her lips twitching into a faint, humorless smile. “It won’t help,” she murmured. “This... this isn’t something a healer can fix.”

Lioran’s brow furrowed, his frustration boiling over. “What the hell are you talking about? You’re bleeding internally or—”

“No,” she cut him off, wincing as another wave of pain coursed through her. “It’s not physical.” Her voice broke, her hands trembling as they clutched at her chest. “It’s something else.”

Before Lioran could respond, her body convulsed, her back arching as a sharp cry tore from her lips. The pain reached a crescendo, so overwhelming she thought she might lose consciousness. Darkness crept at the edges of her vision, and for a terrifying moment, she thought this might be it.

Through the haze, she heard Lioran shouting orders, his voice a desperate thread pulling her back. “Get her out of here! Cover the retreat!”

“No,” Y/N gasped, her hand weakly gripping his wrist. “Don’t... leave the fight. This war—”

“This war doesn’t mean a damn thing if you’re dead!” Lioran snarled, his composure cracking. “We’ll win, Y/N, but not without you.”

Her grip on him faltered as another wave of agony wracked her body. The world seemed to tilt, the colors and sounds blurring together into an incomprehensible mess. Somewhere in the distance, the roar of fire surged—Eris. He was still in the palace, still fighting.

“Eris,” she whispered, the name slipping past her lips before she could stop it. “He... I...”

“What about him?” Lioran demanded, shaking her lightly to keep her awake. “Y/N, what’s happening to you?”

But she couldn’t answer. Her thoughts were a tangled web of pain and confusion, her heart a drumbeat of desperation. The last thing she saw before the darkness took her was Lioran’s terrified face, his voice fading into the abyss.

The battlefield was a hellscape of fire and ash, screams and chaos, but all of it faded for Eris when he saw her.

Y/N lay motionless amidst the wreckage, her face pale, her body unnaturally still. His breath caught in his throat, his heart freezing in his chest as if time itself had stopped. The world dimmed; all he could hear was the sound of his own footsteps pounding against the scorched ground as he ran to her.

“No,” he whispered, the word torn from his lips as he dropped to his knees beside her. His hands trembled as he cradled her lifeless form, pulling her into his arms. “No, no, no.”

Her head lolled against his chest, her body limp and unresponsive. Blood streaked her skin, mingling with the soot that coated her. Eris’s flames, usually so controlled, flickered erratically around them, casting harsh shadows on her face.

“Y/N,” he choked, his voice raw and broken. He pressed his forehead to hers, his hands cupping her cheeks as if he could will her back to life through sheer force of will. “Please. Don’t do this. You don’t get to leave me now. Not now.”

Around them, the fighting raged on, but none of it mattered. Lioran and the others had stopped, their gazes fixed on their fallen leader and the man holding her as if the world had ended. The rebels looked on, their faces etched with sorrow, their grief palpable in the air.

“Y/N,” Eris begged, his voice cracking. “Wake up. Please, wake up.”

Nothing.

His flames surged higher, the heat searing the ground beneath him. Despair clawed at his chest, threatening to consume him whole. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his tears dripping onto her skin. “You can’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “You can’t. I... I need you.”

For a moment, he thought he heard something—a faint beat, a whisper of breath—but it vanished as quickly as it came. The weight of her absence crushed him, the realization settling like a blade through his heart. He let out a strangled cry, his fire roaring around them in a wild inferno of anguish.

“Damn it!” he roared, his voice echoing through the broken streets. “If anyone’s listening, bring her back! Take me instead, just... bring her back!”

His magic surged wildly, uncontrolled, as if answering his desperation. Golden flames erupted around them, illuminating the battlefield. He pressed his forehead against hers again, his voice a whisper now, filled with a quiet, breaking despair.

“Take it,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “Take everything I have. My fire, my life, my soul—take it all if it means you’ll stay.”

The flames surrounding them began to shift, flickering and curling as though alive. A strange, ethereal energy rippled through the air, weaving between Eris and Y/N. His magic, golden and blazing, intertwined with something darker—something shadowed and ancient that seemed to rise from her very essence.

The ground beneath them trembled as the energy grew brighter, stronger, their combined power forming a connection that pulsed with life. Eris gasped as the magic surged through him, binding them together in a way he couldn’t explain. It was more than power—it was lifeblood, fate, and eternity, all merging into one.

Y/N’s chest rose suddenly, her lips parting as she drew in a ragged breath. Her eyes snapped open, wide and panicked, before locking onto his.

“Eris?” she rasped, her voice weak and trembling. “What... what’s happening?”

Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave, so overwhelming he thought he might collapse. He cupped her face, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks as his tears continued to fall. “You’re alive,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You’re here.”

She blinked at him, confusion mingling with the lingering pain in her eyes. “What did you do?” she asked, her voice shaking. “I... I felt like I was gone.”

Eris managed a weak, lopsided smile, his fingers trembling as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I gave you everything,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t lose you.”

Around them, the rebels watched in stunned silence, their disbelief evident on their faces. Lioran’s eyes darted between the two, his mouth opening and closing as if he couldn’t find the words.

Y/N’s gaze softened, though tears welled in her eyes. “Eris,” she whispered, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “You didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” he interrupted, his voice firm despite the tremor in it. “You think I’d stand by and let you go? After everything we’ve been through?” His jaw tightened, his flames flickering weakly now as exhaustion began to weigh on him. “We’re connected now, Y/N. You’re not allowed to leave me—not ever.”

She stared at him, her lips parting in shock as the weight of his words settled over her. Around them, the chaos of the battle seemed to fade, the flames of destruction giving way to an eerie, fragile stillness.

Then, Lioran’s voice broke the silence, hoarse but filled with awe. “They’re bound,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Did you... did you just save her by tying your lives together?”

Eris glanced at him, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “It doesn’t matter how,” he said, his voice low but steady. “What matters is she’s here. She’s alive.”

The rebels began to stir, murmurs spreading through the crowd as they took in the scene—the High Lord’s son, the fiery commander, cradling their leader as if she were his entire world. It was a sight none of them could have imagined, yet it filled them with a strange, unexpected hope.

Y/N’s hand tightened on his, her eyes glistening as she searched his face. “Eris... thank you,” she said softly, her voice breaking with emotion.

He leaned closer, his forehead pressing against hers, his voice a whisper only she could hear. “Don’t thank me,” he murmured. “Just promise me you’ll stay.”

As the fires of battle began to fade, the two of them remained at the center of it all, bound by magic, by fate, by a love neither of them had fully understood until now.

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

[artsninspo]

VERY MERRY MARTINI🍸 - RIO X READER

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

: ̗̀➛ rio's library - good girl nbc

𐙚 based on this request | ♡ a flash forward of this

summary: Returning home for Christmas dredges up old wounds and unexpected sparks. Between family chaos and a chance encounter with her first love, Rio, she’s swept into a whirlwind of bittersweet memories and heated confessions. Can they rewrite their story, or will their past keep them apart? A cocktail of love, nostalgia, and second chances awaits.

tropes: second chance romance, small town nostalgia, reformed bad boy & unresolved emotional conflict - angst, fluff and a sprinkle of steam

pairing: Rio (Good Girls) X Reader

word-count: ~ 2K

You pluck a peppermint from the dish at the bar, untwisting the wrapper and pluck the candy into your mouth as nostalgia hits you. Sucking on the candy you remember a time where your granny’s crystal dishes were full of them and Christmas meant family and holiday cheer instead of restaurants and swanky parties. Your parents divorce has shattered all the warm and fuzzy feelings and in spite of being back in town for the first time in almost a decade everything feels different - but not in a good way. Being a child of divorce to two prideful parents is a full time job.

“What can I get for you?” a young bartender smiles.

“A … merry martini” you respond with a smile checking the menu.

“Coming right up” he winks flirting for his tip. You shift in your seat looking at all the other rejects who like you have nowhere better to be. The drink is slid in front of you and you open your purse.

“You're too pretty to pay” he winks, making you smile.

“Merry christmas” you say, raising a glass to him and taking a sip to take the edge off. Your holidays are stacked with activities and outings. Both of your parents want to show off their girl - like you’re some prized fucking heifer. They’ve tried their best at normalcy so there's no room for honest discussion on how much the chaos hurts. Your father went from married man, to divorcee where you and boxing were the light of his life. But you had been replaced with a new wife and a son who could be his prodigy. Then there was your mother who’d left the marriage committed to becoming her own light. Now she shines so bright it's blinding. Her and her husband are so perfect it’s hard to share space with them. Not to mention the competition between both parents had you in a constant tug of war.

“Another one please” you smile shamelessly placing a twenty in the tip jar.  The bartender nods without judgement making another one. This time you wince at the strength of the first sip. “Perfect” you wink and he smiles tending to the other patrons.

“Davis”  a man introduces himself to your left. Your mind tells you he's a predator. When you’d been looking your best he had not approached but after two drinks in under five minutes he's grown a pair.

“Not interested” you respond dismissively.

“Why not, you dont think I'm handsome?” he asks but you'd bet your last dollar he was married. You glance at his left hand and bingo, there's a faint indentation. The vulture in front of you thinks he’s gonna get some easy ass.

“I could be piss drunk and never give you the time of day or night - get lost” you tell him not in the mood to be used and discarded or sold a dream.

“Is that so?” he asks a glutton for punishment.

“Mhm” you respond, draining cocktail number two and he smiles handsome enough under the right circumstances.

“Maybe I was just being kind to the trainwreck at the bar. Spreading holiday kindness to the less fortunate” he jabs.

“No wonder your wife doesnt fuck you, I wouldnt either. How does putting me down make you feel, mister kind man?” you ask patronizing him some more. His chest rises and his body goes rigid.

“Careful Davis, this one’s pretty but will lay your ass out” a voice says, giving you goosebumps. “Her pops owns the three boxing gyms in the city. That means after she’s done with you - if she tells pops at least one of the guys will catch you outside” he continues and Davis looks between you and the man with resentment before standing and finding somewhere else to be in the bar. You feel your heart race and try to get yourself together before you turn around.

There he is, in all his glory somehow more attractive now than he’d been all those years ago. Your eyes catch a tattoo on his neck and he slides you your third drink but that's way too dangerous now with him in your midst.

“You were never afraid” you mutter and he smiles.

“Ahh, I lack good sense remember. Your pops only had one gym at the time” he shrugs using the line you used in your break-up. He’d done you dirty, broke your heart and then thumbed your nose in it. He was a part of the reason you never came back home.

“Right” you nod and he looks at the drink with an amused expression. It hadn't been all bad. He could still vividly remember all the nights he spent looking up at his ceiling because the morning couldn't come soon enough. He couldn't wait to see you, feel you, kiss you, sneak you into his house while his granny was working. Nobody topped the feeling you gave him till this day. The two of you had been inseparable and he never cared what people said - he was in love with you and wearing it for everyone to see. It was why your rejection hurt so bad and Nick’s betrayal cut so deep. You never listened, never stopped to hear him out while hurling insults through tears. He couldn't get a word in and then you never spoke to him again - not even when he tried being civil at your graduation.

“How long are you back for?” Rio asks testing your energy towards him.

“None of your business” you respond, making him smile.

“So it’s like that?” he asks.

“It’s like that” you respond.

“So what? Are we gonna be beefing forever?” he asks.

“Why are you behind the bar? You aren’t nice enough to be a bartender.” you comment sipping slow.

“You know me well. I'm the owner,” he says.

“Makes sense,” you nod, looking him over again. The prime location and atmosphere, along with the internet reviews was a signifier of success. “Graduated from illegal to legal impairment” you swallow.

“Look, enjoy your drinks, if you need a cab have my boy call you one” he snaps in bad humour before walking away. He didnt take shit from anyone these days and that would never change. The edge is back on so you scroll looking for another bar and when you find one you head to the bathroom to sober up. Finished from relieving yourself you re-apply your lipstick and fix your hair in the mirror when Rio enters locking the door of the swanky bathroom behind him.

“What's all this?” you ask genuinely confused.

“In case I never see you again I didn’t sell drugs on the job that summer. I stopped like you asked and it fucked Nicks business up because I was the money maker. He asked me to come back and I said no because I was all in on us and the naive shit we had planned. Nick being the spiteful bitch he is, set me up, he knew you’d dump me and you did. You wouldn't hear me out and I couldn't say shit to the cops or my granny would have had two of us inside at once. Couldn't write it in the letters you didn't read either cause they read it and you wouldn't be near me.” Rio says and you look into his eyes. One thing remains true - you still can't tell when he’s lying. Your brain wants to say something smug and spiteful but your heart wants to accept it as truth and move on.

“I was alone and I needed someone to be angry at - it couldn't be my parents so I made it you. Don't sweat it” you shrug, opting for something in the middle.

“Your pops misses you like crazy” he surprises you.

“How do you know that?” you ask.

“We have dinner together once a month, he signed on as my mentor as a part of my probation. Even gave me a loan for this place” Rio says, telling you things you’ve never known.

“He always liked you,” you nod.

“Yeah we’ll I only really meet with him to hear updates about you, every fucking time I hold my breath hoping that I dont hear youre married or engaged because in my head youre still mine” Rio declares speaking directly to your heart. It was the Rio you knew and not the one that got in a relationship with one of your classmates when he was free from his stint in juvie. Although you knew it was just to hurt you, it still did.

“I’m gonna go” you whisper walking forward but he doesn't move around the barred door. He’d been your safe place through the most turbulent times and you’d not returned the favor. Tears well and you wipe them away feeling the effects of the alcohol. Rio catches your arm as you reach for the lock, his eyes lowering as he looks down at you. A thumb swipes away the tears.

“I’m sorry” he whispers, maintaining eye contact. You're seventeen again and find your face scrunching up embarrassingly. Rio continues wiping the tears away feeling emotional himself as he takes you into his arms cradling you into a hug. There was so much that was different, your perfume, your shampoo, how your body felt in his arms, the heels instead of sneakers. The bathroom bar instead of sneaking into the one at your fathers gym. His love for you was unrivalled. The tears slow to a halt after a few minutes and Rio’s hands slide lower down into your lower back. When you look back at him his eyes are encouraging. It's a relief that he finds no satisfaction in your moment of weakness.

“Fix your make up, stay pretty” he says kissing your temple in a gesture so casual it could only be out of love. You don't question him getting your items from your purse again and doing a quick touch up. When you're finished Rio examines the armour you’ve crafted to protect yourself from your own vulnerabilities and gives a nod of approval. Your heart swells with love for him. He takes your chin leaning in for a kiss. It had been too long since your lips had known his. Too long since his tongue claimed yours while being body to body. Since his hands grabbed handfuls of ass and trailed up against the skin of your torso. 

Loud knocks on the door ends the steamy moment.

“I need to PISS” someone slurs on the other side of the door. You smile, stepping back and ridding the smudged lipstick from Rio’s lips. He does the same for you, unlocking the door and moving aside. The drunk patron rushes into a stall paying neither of you any mind.

“Let me take you home,” Rio offers.

“I don't want to go home” you respond.

“You’re going home, I’m not touching you again until you're sober. I need you to feel and remember my shit, you don't get to pretend to forget after I’ve been waiting this long” he says holding your hand. You can't help but smile at his mean ass. He drags you to his office where he gets his keys and to the black truck waiting in the barking lot. He gets your door like old times adjusting the seat to your comfort. His heart races the entire trip to your hotel and he stays in the car knowing he doesn't have the will power to refuse you twice. He watches you turn around and he rolls down his windows so you can see him instead of the tints. Smiling makes you feel optimistic for the first time this entire trip. Hand to lips you blow him a kiss. He smiles, unable to maintain his hard exterior.

“Fuck me” he laughs knowing hes down bad for you. 

Heading to the hotel you hum along to the Christmas music playing in the lobby, sucking on another peppermint you smile at the nostalgia of your and Rio’s good times. Excited to be back home and for the promise of a very merry Christmas.

authors note: thank you for reading, i'm working my way through the holiday requests so yes this will be a one of one, since I'm pretty sure we all knows what happens next. it rhymes with next without the t 😉

Writing for this amazing community is such a joy, and your support helps me keep creating.

If you enjoyed this fic: ❣ Like the post to brighten my day! ❝ Comment—whether it’s a detailed review or a single emoji, I’d love to hear your thoughts. ↺ Reblog to share the story and connect it to others who might love it too.

Vote below and let us know which trope has your heart! ❤️

tags: @meadows5 @wnbweasley @becauseimher @ariiaeltheedonn @woahthatshitfat @miniaturehideoutmentality @kokobells @ffenthusiastt @sowhatariyana @1xtral1983 @theegoddessofmelanin @fictionalreads @roxytheimmortal

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Anything for You - Pt3

daemon x daughter!reader 

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: The King and the Hand come up with a plan to get you and Daemon to come back to court. Daemon is barely able to contain himself when he lands on the docks of King’s Landing. 

Warnings: 18+ different PoVs bc i was feeling it, swearing, pregnant!reader this chap, coercion into like kidnapping?, the rogue prince fr, death(not mc), blood, swords, threats, p in v

Authors Note: idk why i locked in writing this like i planned to keep it cutesy and i was like wait 🤭 short hair daemon in his armor 🙂‍↕️ i never intended for this to be more than a one shot but here we are 😶 literally stopped writing my other stuff and was sat

Word Count: 3.8k 

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King and Hand PoV

The King and the Hand sit in the empty council chamber trying to figure out the best course of action. Daemon and his daughter have been gone for almost three moons now and the Keep is starting to speculate. There’s been no word from Dragonstone which could either be good or bad. Whispers around the realm speak nothing of the two, leaving the King at a loss. The King looks at the Hand waiting for his next idea on how to get at least the Princess back to court. 

The King has put in his best efforts to push back the prying Lords who were vying for the Princess’s hand. They come around the council chambers and throne room like vultures awaiting her return. The Queen tells the King daily what she overhears from the Ladies and her handmaidens and it’s been causing his temper to rise. 

“Even the Queen is being questioned about their location.” the King sits back exasperated. “I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do.” he looks at his Hand. 

“I will send out our best men to sail to Dragonstone. If they find the Princess they’ll bring her back to us.” the Hand pulls a blank piece of parchment in front of him. They spend the next couple of hours picking the company to send and decide on having her guard lead them. They hope she’ll take kinder to him and return with the men. The Hand has the King write a note to place in the Princess’s absence for Daemon. 

“If she’s there and we can get her,” the King shakes his head. “Daemon will not take this lightly.” he looks to his Hand with worried eyes. “Might it be best if we just leave them?” the Hand scoffs. 

“He directly disobeyed your commands. As he does time and time again. You are the King. If you can not control your own brother the realm will begin to see you as weak.” the Hand tries not to let his annoyance show. “The Princess’s hand can garner us alliances, armies. My King, it’s never my wish to speak so poorly about Daemon-“ 

“Yet you never seize the opportunity to do so.” the King shakes his head leaning back in his chair. 

“He’s undermining you. He knows he’ll keep getting away with it.” the Hand searches the King's eyes. “I urge you to send these men out at daybreak.” the King exhales at the Hands plea. 

“Fine. See to it then.” the King waves him off. “Pray to the Gods Daemon will see reason.” the King looks to the ceiling as the Hand goes to make the preparations. 

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Your PoV

I always heard stories of how the mornings were unpleasant when carrying a babe but I’ve never felt more at peace. The maesters here say I am the most relaxed princess they’ve had the pleasure of helping with her pregnancy. I know my father is the one to thank for that. He absolutely worships me morning, noon, and night. The moment my eyes open he’s pressing his lips across every inch of my body whispering sweet words. He stays attached to me until I plead him for a break. 

“I’ll go fetch your handmaidens to bathe you and get you ready for your garden walk.” he presses his lips against my brow before slipping out of our chambers. 

I’ve quickly grown fond of my new company of handmaidens here. They dote on me and have a gentler touch than the ladies I left behind in King's Landing. They pour milk and flowers into my bath and keep their hands on me until I’m resting against the back of the tub. After they bathe and lather me in oils and perfumes they pull a flowing dress over my head and help escort me down to the gardens. 

I quite like being on Dragonstone again. I forgot how quiet and peaceful it is. The low grumbles and songs of the dragons bring me such a sense of comfort and I feel truly calm and at home here. I don’t need guards hovering around me and I can walk in the gardens at my leisure. I let the leaves and petals brush against my fingertips. I stop and bend down to smell the lilies that wash over my senses. 

I delve deeper into the gardens and smile when I approach my bench. It sits near the edge of the gardens and overlooks the Blackwater. I lean back and pull my feet under me as I watch the waves lap against the shore. I tilt my head back and shut my eyes to allow the sun to kiss my skin. Its warmth engulfs me and a smile starts to spread across my face when I hear approaching footsteps. 

“I was wondering if you were going to join me today.” I hum turning. My face falls as I see my guard from King's Landing. “What are you doing here?” I tilt my head. 

“Hello, Princess.” he bows his head before clearing his throat. “Your father wanted to surprise you with a ship to bring you back to King's Landing. If you’ll follow me.” he outstretches his hand and I look at it.

“Where is my father? Why wouldn’t he just fly me back on Caraxes?” my brows furrow. 

“He has a couple more things to finish up here and then he will join us.” he nods his head. I study him curiously but I can’t find a reason not to trust him. He’s protected me my whole life, surely he wouldn’t cause me any harm. 

“Okay.” I rise and grab his arm. He sets a piece of parchment on the bench and begins to lead me back through the gardens. “Why are we taking this way?” I look up at my guard and he keeps hauling me down the back steps.

“It’s much faster this way.” his words seem rushed but I shrug this off. 

As we make it to the dock I see a couple other men I recognize waiting for us on the boat. Once I’m on board the boat begins to move back out into the Blackwater. I watch as we move away from Dragonstone and take a seat on the bench watching it become smaller and smaller. I watch as some of the men on the ship clap my guards back and offer him hushed words of congratulations. 

“When will my father join me in King's Landing?” I look at the man closest to me. He ignores me and goes over to the cluster of men causing a frown to form on my face. My chest tightens and I begin to feel alone and foolish for not going to my father first. A tear slips down my cheek at the same moment I hear Caraxes roar ripple across the Bay. 

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Daemons PoV

Daemon had been waiting for his Princess to return for well over thirty minutes now. He knows how she likes her time in the gardens so he didn’t think anything of it at first. He enjoys seeing her so peaceful here so he doesn’t pay it any mind. When an hour goes by he rises from his seat and starts into the gardens. 

He strolls through them silently admiring and keeping an eye out for his wife. He tries to listen and see if he can catch her humming but all he can hear is the breeze through the leaves. When he doesn’t spot her on the main path he starts in the direction of her bench. He curses himself for not starting there but when he approaches he finds it empty. He looks across the Bay before going to turn back to the castle until he spots a piece of parchment. He lifts it and begins to read. 

Brother-

It is not my wish to anger you or fight with you. You are both wanted and needed back at court. The Hand and I have sent her guard and a group of men to sail her back to King's Landing. We have many potential suitors for her that can look past how you’ve sullied her. I have called some Ladies to court as well to hopefully satiate your appetite. I wish to see you come home.

-The King, Your Brother 

Daemon growls, crumpling the note and throwing it in the Blackwater. He curses loudly off the edge of the cliff and Caraxes deafening answering roar comes from out of the pits. He runs back to the castle and makes his way to the doors that lead to the docks. He rips them open and sees the guard standing just on the other side. He slams his fist into his face and his vision goes red as he continues to pummel the guard in front of him. 

“My Prince,” the guard gurgles. Daemon slams him onto the stone. 

“You’ve let my wife be taken from right under your nose.” Daemon repeatedly hits him as the guards movements begin to lull. 

“My Prince, a moment,” guards from inside the castle try to stop him. The last blow lands with a crunch and the sentry goes limp on the stone. 

“Clean this up and wash the stone.” Daemon barks out before storming back into the castle. 

He takes two steps at a time and pushes his way into their chambers. He grabs Dark Sister from the solar and makes his way down to the pits. He quickly puts his armor on and places his helm before walking out on the platform as Caraxes approaches. Daemon grabs onto Caraxes snout and looks him in the eyes. 

“We are getting her back.” Caraxes blinks at him and Daemon takes to his mount. 

Caraxes drops them off the edge before shooting them forward. Daemon stays on high alert looking for the ship that is carrying his wife. The breeze carries them quicker and Caraxes turns his snout slightly and pushes on with purpose. Soon they’re circling above the ship and Caraxes serenades them with his song. Daemon watches as the sails sway and has Caraxes fly higher. He wishes to land on the boat and claim his wife once more and end this farce but he doesn’t know if the ship will maintain its integrity under Caraxes and he won’t risk his wife and their child. 

He curses under his breath and tugs Caraxes in the direction of the docks at Kings Landing. Caraxes circles above the city grumbling and lets his tail trail across the roofs. He makes his way back over to the docks and sees the ship approaching. Caraxes heeds the command to land at the docks and the common folk who don’t move out of the way quick enough forfeit their lives to the rogue Prince and his dragon. Horses and guards break through the crowds and the Hand comes into view. Daemon stays atop his dragon as he looks down upon the man. 

“The King commands you to stop this.” Daemon laughs at the Hand's words. 

“I do not see the King.” Caraxes tail whips closely to the Hands feet. He turns as the boat begins to dock and the men aboard look to the Hand nervously. “Surely, you knew I would come.” Daemon drawls. He starts to slide off the side of Caraxes and lands to the ground with a thud. He unsheathes his sword and points it at the Hand. “You would take a pregnant wife from her husband? Steal her away and marry her to another?” he tilts his head, stalking over to him. “And be daft enough to think there would be no consequences?” he laughs, pushing the tip of his blade into the Hands chest. 

“If you kill me here the King will never forgive you.” Daemon clenches his jaw knowing that the Hand is right in this matter. 

Caraxes pushes the Hand back with his tail and he tumbles to the ground. Daemon turns and stalks over to the ship to retrieve his wife. His brother would be unforgiving if he took his Hand but for the men who took his wife? He could find ten more of them on the street. As he approaches the boat he calls out for his wife and she comes forward with red cheeks. He sees the tears staining her perfect face and how puffy her eyes are. It’s going to take all of his resolve not to burn down the entirety of the Red Keep. 

“Come here, sweet girl.” he hums and she walks up to him and folds into his arms. He rubs her back as he feels her sobs rack through her. Every sniffle has him seeing a darker shade of red. He pulls back and cups her cheeks. “Did these men cause you any harm?” he searches her eyes. 

“No. Only taking me from you and my gardens.” her voice is soft and his nostrils flare as her tears continue to flow. His hand rests on her stomach before he kisses her brow. 

“Go to Caraxes. Hug his neck and don’t look behind you.” she nods her head and he watches as she wraps her arms around his dragon. He takes one step onto the ship and the guards have their swords out in a blink of an eye. Daemon lets the rage take over him and pour out through Dark Sister. As the men continue to surround him he smiles as he slashes and slices through them. He nods at the last man standing who looks at him with a heaving chest. 

“My Prince, I was only-“ his head falls to the wooden floor. 

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Your Pov

I jump as I feel a gloved hand wrap around my arm. I turn around and look up and see my father. My tears start anew and I cling against him. He holds me tightly and presses his lips to the top of my head. He unwraps me from his embrace and helps me mount Caraxes. He wraps a hand around me and holds tightly to the reins and shots us into the skies. My stomach drops as we approach the Red Keep and he begins our descent inside the inner courtyard. 

As we make our way down we see people scrambling to get out of Caraxes path and once they see my father step foot on the ground they run even faster. I hold onto my fathers arm and he begins to walk us into the Keep. He wastes no time taking us to the throne room and upon entering I see the King sitting with a frown. My father takes his helm off and lets it drop to the floor with a thud.

“How dare you take my pregnant wife from me.” I watch as my father stalks toward the King. I shuffle quickly up to his side not wanting to be away from him. 

“Enough of this Daemon. I am tired of the cease-“

“Your Grace,” the Hand bursts through the doors, panting with a dozen guards on his heel. The King dismisses the guards and the Hand composes himself before taking his place next to the King. “He’s killed countless men today on the docks.” the King looks at his Hand with raised brows. 

“What did you expect? You truly thought he would allow this? Did I not warn you yesterday?” the King glares at the Hand. 

“I urge you to punish him.” my father lets a laugh slip out. 

“My wife and I will be returning to Dragonstone. Where we will remain for the rest of her pregnancy, unbothered. If you send anyone else to try and take my wife I will send you what is left of them.” his words are laced with promise and the King continues to stare at us.

“You cannot possibly be considering allowing this.” the Hand looks at the King, taken aback. 

“If we would’ve left them, none of today's events would have occurred. She’s with child. You planned to marry her to some Lord but her babe will come out with silver hair. What else would you have me do?” The King looks to his Hand exasperated. 

“You are the King. It is your choice.” the Hand looks forward blankly. 

“And you are my Hand, my council.” the Kings voice rises. 

“Mm, this seems as if it’s a personal dispute.” my father hums. “We’re leaving.” he dips down to grab his helm while his other hand encases mine and we begin to exit the throne room. 

“I wish to pack a bag. I want some of my dresses and jewelry.” I whisper up to my father. 

“Of course, sweet girl.” he smiles down at me and leads me up my chambers. 

He seals us into my chambers and I walk over to my wardrobe. I turn and give a slight jump as my father is standing there with a bag. I look up to him and slowly take the bag out of his hands. I continue to look up at him and nibble my lip. His cheeks are still lightly flushed and his hair is askew from his helm. 

“What’s wrong?” he tilts his head with a scrunched brow. 

“I think you look handsome in your armor.” I mumur. 

“Is that so?” he chuckles, caressing my cheek. 

“Very handsome, my husband.” I nod my head as his eyes darken at my words. 

“Mm, I quite like that title for me on your tongue.” he pulls me closer. “My little wife.” he presses his lips against mine and I melt into his touch. 

“Thank you for saving me.” I mumble against his lips. His back straightens as if he just remembered today's events and ushers me back over to my wardrobe. 

“I will always come for you.” his words cause a blush to creep up my neck. “Pack your bag so I can take you home.” I quickly pull down a couple gowns and toss them into the bag before doing the same with most of my vanity. 

My father leads us through Keep and the guards step back in his presence. We find Caraxes snapping his jaws as the guards who are brave enough to stay in their stations outside. He dips his wing down and once we’re settled into the saddle he carries us into the skies. My fathers hands are wrapped tightly around me the entire flight back. 

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I wake in the middle of the night to the hearth still breathing warmth into our chambers. My father has his arms wrapped tightly around me and his breath is tickling the back of my neck. I squirm in his arms and his response is to pull me closer. He presses his nose against my nape and presses his lips against it a moment later. 

“Go back to bed.” his voice is thick with sleep. 

“I want some water.” I trail my fingertips across his arm. 

He slowly unwraps his arms from me and walks over to the table. I admire his nude form in the firelight and watch as his muscles flex as he walks back over to me. I reach up for the cup but he shakes his head and brings it to my lips. I take a couple sips and he sets the cup on the bedside table. I reach out and press my palm against his torso. I trace my fingers over the defined lines and he steps closer.

“I was scared today.” I whisper looking up at him. 

“Of what, sweet girl?” he looks down at me tenderly. 

“That they were going to take me from you.” my eyes start to fill with tears. “That they’d make me marry someone else and take my babe from me.” my voice breaks as I start to cry. 

“I will never let that happen.” his brows furrow and I reach out and pull him closer. “You’re safe. No one is taking our babe. You’re mine and only mine.” he crawls back into bed with me and I tug at his arm until he’s hovering over me.

“I don’t get why they can’t just let us be.” I sniffle as tears continue to fall down my face. 

“They will after this if they’re smart.” he presses his lips to my forehead. “If they try again, I’ll burn the whole fucking city down for you.” he whispers against my brow. 

“I need you, daddy.” I wrap my arms around his neck. He lets out a soft chuckle before placing his lips on mine. His hand travels between my thighs and I spread them waiting for his touch. His fingers slide up my slit and I writhe beneath him. “Please,” I wrap my fingers around his length and he groans, resting his forehead against mine. I guide him to my core as he swirls around my bud. I arch up as he slowly pushes into me. 

“Gods, you’re such a good girl.” he slowly rocks into me as I gasp into his neck. With every roll of his hips he pulls whimpers from my mouth. His hands rest on either side of my head as our lips mash together. He pats my thigh and I wrap them around his waist and he groans into my mouth. He kisses down my jaw and makes his way to my neck to suckle and bite. 

“Daemon,” I breathe out his name and his hips snap into mine. 

“Sat it again, sweet girl.” he purrs in my ear, rolling his hips.

“Daemon, please,” I gasp as his hips begin to fall into mine faster. I rock against him as my pleasure begins to coil quickly. He bites down onto my shoulder and I dig into his. “Daddy,” my toes curl as I fall apart around him. He groans into my neck spilling his pleasure into me. 

His lips find mine and we continue to cling to one another. He pulls out of me and pulls me back against his chest. His arms wrap around me and one of his hand splays across my stomach. He peppers kisses across my shoulder blades while slowly tracking patterns onto my stomach. 

“I love you so much. I will never let another day like today happen. I promise you this.” his arms tighten around me at his declaration. 

“I love you. Thank you.” I scoot back into his chest and hold his arms around me.  

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masterlist 🔌 

and if i say we’re having three more parts of this and two of them are already done - one of them being a prequel to part 1 🫣😏

Part 4

taglist ✍️

anything for you tags: @mamawiggers1980

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld @nz2004