#I trust the next chapter because I know the author. ⸻ Answers

[a-neverending-story]

❝I have licked the fire and danced in the ashes of every bridge I ever burned. I fear no hell from you.❞ 

Cora Sophie Marren aka 𝙻𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚒𝚛𝚊; a walking disaster ☾ ─── ⋆ 32-year-old reincarnation of a witch who roams America (and the world) in search for answers. Constantly running away from her past. In the perpetual company of shadowy women that no one can see or hear but her. She is addicted to the pleasures of life and spends most of her time in bars and clubs on the hunt for the next drink or pill that will make her forget the presence of her spirits.

21+ - MDNI!, crossover and multiverse-friendly, Smalltalk Deeptalk+Plots, mutuals only, low to semi activity, currently 𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽 for Plotting. Crafted for but not limited to FakeVZ. ⸻  CARRD

𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚗 : ⋆ witchcraft ⋆ ghosts ⋆ jobhopping ⋆ drgs ⋆ childhood trauma ⋆ trust issues ⋆ chaos ⋆ abuse ⋆ twin-brother ⋆ violence ⋆ knives ⋆ crime ⋆ pickpocketing ⋆

[luvvixu]

mind over matter pt. 4

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: ok, im such a bad author now huhu, i always broke my promises about updating the new chapter :((( should've just wrote in advance but i'm afraid i don't have that enough free time oqsjjanswjaj anyways, here's the anticipated chapter!! THANK YOU FOR Y'ALL PATIENCE <3 MWUHEHEHHEEHHE

previous / masterlist / next

the next day comes and you've got yourself some visitors. megumi, yuuji, nobara, maki, and inumaki was in your room and they were all seated around you as you talk.

panda and your two third years were not around at the moment because this is a non-sorcerer hospital and people would freak out to see a big ‘talking’ panda. during your two third years, they were out of town and were on a mission but they still text you to get well and even send you some fresh flowers.

“wait, i still can't believe that he's your husband.” nobara couldn't explain his shock at the revelation. out of all, she didn't think that her goofy teacher was someone's husband.

you chuckled at her reactions as you turned your gaze on megumi, who's still his mouth hanging. “megumi, i thought you're getting a hint?” you tease the boy. although it was true, you actually thought he already had an idea because you've known him for almost his entire life and even once lived with you as a kid.

“no…” was only his answer.

“so, gojo-sensei was the one you're talking about when you said that he was a busy man. most of his job requires being out of town. but he never fails to shower you with love and he is making sure that you two would still communicate despite his busy schedule?” your eyes widened when yuuji literally just said what you had said from before, word-by-word!

“i—i supposed he is.” everyone in the room sweat dropped at your answer.

what do you mean you supposed?!

“y/n-sensei, is it okay if we ask your baby?” maki chooses the gentlest approach because she heard that post-pregnancy can make the mother quite crikey, sensitive, and is prone to depression. but to her relief, you respond to her warmly.

“oh, the baby is being treated since they're premature. i really can't wait to meet them once i get better. but right now, shoko was the only one who had seen my baby.” you smiled softly at the thought of your baby.

“gojo-sensei still hadn't seen the baby?” maki’s eyes went wide.

you nodded. “yeah, he said we should go together so i must heal quickly for that to happen.”

the door suddenly opened and it revealed your husband with food in his hand. you smiled at the packages not because you're hungry, but because you had finally persuaded satoru to go out and leave you even for just a few minutes.

how did you do it? well, you just give him an earful after what he did yesterday night and he's like;

“i don't know how you did it but you should've just gone to the convenience store or the hospital canteen just for an oatmeal and eggs. and look, i'm not upset over the fact that you just had the ‘very easy to get’ food delivered on this doorstep. what concerns me is you seem not to trust me very well to handle myself— well in fact i've been doing it since i was a kid and blah, blah, blah, blah…” it was your turn to yap but a little longer than he did. you even probably bought up some of his minor mistakes like not taking out the trash on random sunday night.

and he was like, “i'm sorry. i won’t do it again ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)”

“y'all done backstabbing me?” satoru teasingly smiled at you all.

“oh, we're just getting started. so why don't you take a seat and hear us out?” you patted the empty space of your bed beside you.

satoru playfully huffed and gave the foods to his students and let them distribute it themselves. sitting beside you, he gave you the separate plastic with food and helped you feed yourself. the two of you had your moment with you telling satoru to just let you be and stop feeding you like a kid, but satoru was like nuh uh—and it goes on and on.

meanwhile, the students watch you two with surprise in their eyes. they still couldn't digest the fact that you two had managed to hide your marriage for like five years or so. and out of all spouses out there, they couldn't believe their eyes that you married a guy that is a total opposite of you.

“i still cannot really believe that you're married and have a baddie wife.” nobara almost never tears her gaze towards you two.

“yeah, much more is that they look so in love!” yuuji agrees to what nobara said as his words made you two stop bickering instantly.

like a cold water being poured, you two were suddenly experiencing a reality check that this so-called in love was very far from the two of you actually is. coughing slightly to hide his awkwardness and nervousness, he just let himself chuckle. while you? you're an expert at this, you maintain a smiley expression and wordlessly (and also forcefully) agrees to what the boy said.

“oh my, do we?” putting a hand on your cheek, you smiled with your eyes closed. your act looks so legit but satoru has seen this multiple side—he knew this facade was all fake.

maki suddenly puts herself into attention by calling your name. “anyway y/n-sensei, i've noticed you two don't have a ring—” before she could even finish her sentence, you already beat her to it.

“that's because the two of us, mostly him, are constantly fighting curses and both involve using our hands when we use our techniques. it would be risky to wear it and we're scared that we might get it lost or damaged.” you explain meticulously.

you watch the students agree to your explanation, while satoru is looking at you with meaning. you stared back at him too, hoping that he would get your telepathic message.

“alright guys, your y/n-sensei needs to rest now. we'll just see you guys soon or you can all just drop by tomorrow after your training.” satoru called everyone's attention by clapping his hands then started to playfully shoo the students.

you watch them pack their things and wave you a happy goodbye, in which you return their enthusiasm as well. when they all left, you let out a sigh and started to gently lie your body on the bed. satoru, who was done cleaning just now, sit at the end of your bed and carefully massage your legs.

“did you have fun with them?” you just lazily hum at his question and proceed to rest your eyes.

“i…i'm surprised you managed to convince them about our marriage.” satoru continued quietly.

opening one of your eyes and looking at him, you said, “of course, i've been doing it to a lot of people for the past five years.”

that alone made him shut up.

satoru looked down to his hands, which were still busy massaging your legs. you've noticed that his eyes were casted down and his behavior was somewhat familiar to you, he's feeling something that is related to guilt and regret.

clicking your tongue, you're in no mood to deal with his behavior today. so to find a solution to this problem, you just put yourself to sleep and let all of this just go on without a single care.

it has been two days and you're getting better day by day. today was probably the bestest day so far because you're about to finally see your own baby!

“calm down, mama. do you want your stitches to open again?” shoko holds your knees to stop it from shaking anxiously as you were currently sitting just right outside the neonatal intensive care unit (nicu) where your baby was.

you understand that the doctors need to prepare the room first before you all come in, but you wished that they speed it up.

“but sho, i'm finally seeing my baby!” you squeal at your friend who just ruffles your hair and tells you to be patient—in which you definitely can't.

meanwhile, satoru, who was standing beside you while you and shoko were sitting together, has been eyeing you since this whole waiting. he understands that you're excited about seeing the baby because he is too, he is excited. but he couldn't help but to feel a sensation that you would rather share your excitement with others than him.

he knows that he sounds ridiculous and undeserving to say that in the first place after what he did to put you through, but he still couldn't help it and he wouldn't even dare to say it to you.

the door of the nicu just opened and it revealed the doctor who was wearing protective gear to keep bacterias and viruses from entering the room and harm the baby. before he lets you all in, he first instructs you all to change the same gear as him and then proceeds to give you all some explanation in which you actively listen and take notes.

and after that, he finally lets you go inside.

the moment your eyes traveled on a crib, you saw your child laying down there with some breathing apparatus that is connected to their little body. you could feel your eyes swell with hot tears as you inch yourself towards the bundle of joy who's their crib was also protected with glass and only small holes on both sides were there.

satoru and shoko watched you with pure warmth at your sight—it was a nice scene of mother's love. finally, a tear escapes your eyes the moment you get a whole view of your child.

“isn't he pretty?” shoko said beside you, someone who you didn't notice had come near you.

you gasp, “he? m-my baby is a boy?” your cries go even harder, but it was just pure happiness. you couldn't bring yourself to tear your gaze away from your child even though he looks fragile for being premature but you love him dearly.

“can i touch him?” you look at the doctor who assisted you earlier without caring that you might look like a crying mess. you're far more thrilled to be with your child than to be pretty at this moment.

the doctor smiled at you and he agreed. he pointed out the small hole on the side, telling you to stick your hands out to feel your baby. you do what he said with your shaky hands, and when your fingertips touch his warm skin—you feel like you could die from the burst of euphoria.

“my b-baby, my baby is n-now here!” you really can't hold your emotions back as you keep on passing your fingers through your baby's arm until it reaches his closed hands where you slightly and gently open it for him to grab index finger. and when he does, your smile becomes even wider.

“hi baby~ this is me, your mommy. it's so nice to finally see you.” you whispered softly, hoping that despite the glass, he could hear your words.

this is the bestest day of your life. your baby was here and that's all you need.

the scene continues to unfold with you still getting emotional and shoko was just watching you with a smile on her face. while satoru, the father of the child, the husband of the mother, was a little distant but he could still see the baby. he was all quiet and couldn't bring himself to utter a word but he's not speechless.

his eyes behind those glasses were trailed on the child, but most of his gazes were on you. satoru watches you become all smiley—this is probably the happiest smile he had seen on your lips for the past years of your marriage.

and he would absolutely never forgive himself if he breaks it—but he already did.

shoko notices his odd behavior and promptly leaves your side for a while (but you're busy having a baby talk with your baby to notice her leaving) to go talk to him.

“what? you're just gonna stand there and watch y/n?” yup. still the same as before, hostile towards the man. satoru let out a sigh and didn't give her attention. instead, he walked towards y/n and just focused on his family.

“you’re so tiny!” you continue to cooed at your son who keeps on moving slightly which is a good sign that your son is responsive and fighting. you also noticed that satoru was now right beside you and is looking at your son too with adoration tinted in his eyes.

“i don't think i could let myself be away from him anymore.” you said. your cheeks were now hurting from constant smiling but you don't mind.

satoru only looks at you briefly because his attention was now on his son, fully. “hello, it was nice finally meeting you.” his eyes trailed on his own flesh and blood with the most care of all.

on the other hand, you're not dumb to not notice that satoru was acting hesitant towards this scene and you knew what his reason was. you think that satoru thinks that he was undeserving to be here, and you're correct about his assumption.

but as a woman who grew up with an experience of being inside a shattered family, you absolutely would not want that to happen to your own child. and as much as you would also like to satoru be away at least for now because you're still that sensitive about what he had said during those conversations in the clinic and hallway, you respect his role as a father.

you'd give him a chance to prove his worth as a father to your child, but he's far worse to have a chance to prove his worth as a husband to you. if he messes this up real bad and without any proper explanation, this will be all over—satoru would no longer have you and your child as his own family.

“stick your hand on his hole, that way you could feel him.” you guided his hand towards the hole that you had said before and watched his hands turn shakey as he reached for the baby.

once satoru had finally experienced a skin-to-skin touch with his baby, he wanted to cry so badly but he didn't allow himself to, at least not yet. he felt like this was one of the best moments in his existence.

satoru would like to punch himself for questioning the baby for his plans as he seemingly thinks it would affect him. but just when he look and touch his baby, all of his recollection about the mixed emotions he felt when the baby is on the board has suddenly vanished and it was replaced with gratefulness and adoration for both of you.

it was like a full 360 degrees turn was done after the early birth of his first born. plus, he had seen you be ever so happy that you are with him. and deep inside him, satoru deniably hopes that this kid, this child, can at least help him save this marriage that was destined to fail and doomed.

because he now finally realizes that you're slowly wrapping him around your tiny fingers.

your tears had made him be a better person, your recent experience had made him behave. it almost cost you and your baby's wife just for him to realize the importance of your five years of marriage, and he's planning to tell you that soon.

“have you finally decided what name we should give him?” shoko asked you and she didn't fail to see your eyes sparkle at the mention of name.

ah yes, baby names.

that was something that a mother and father should decide together because it comes very crucial because the name that your baby will get is a symbol of you two's relationship. but the thing is, you and your husband hadn't talked about a single thing or just anything related to this matter.

that's probably why you're still embarrassed whenever you think about nanami accidentally seeing you open a website into one of the school's computers about unique baby names with its meaning.

you're four months pregnant at that time and you're spending your free time in a teacher's lounge. you're very invested in your mini research to the point that you didn't notice an old friend peeking at your screen. you actually only notice his presence when you're about to stretch but accidentally bump his torso, and to your surprise, he was there.

and then the rest becomes a story and history. nanami helped you pick baby names for both genders or even unisex until you came out with…

“kazuki. let's name him that.” a soft smile was decorated on your lips as you watched satoru, who's looking at you, plays with the hands of your son.

“kazuki…that's a nice name, y/n.” satoru said happily. however, you can see his disappointment behind those words and you know why. you didn't even invite him to search for your baby's name because why would you?

“does it have any special meaning?” shoko asked you.

you nodded and said, “of course, kazuki means hope of peace—and i really need that.”

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[part 5 will be just there right around the corner — ©luvvixu2024]

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter two:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: none <3

➴ word count: 2.5k

➴ author’s note: this is pure fluffiness, the calm before the storm, the hughes being the best family in the world and jack making my heart MELT (i literally wrote him). i hope u guys enjoy this too. let me know what u think of this one:))

“AND that, my loves, it’s a wrap on ‘rip to my feelings’!” Grace yelled, and everyone yelled too.

You were in your studio with all of your producers and song-writers, plus Grace, and you had just finished recording the last song on your album.

You were beyond happy. Finishing this meant getting over everything Harris did to you. It was like closure. It was like restarting again.

“Guys, I’m so fucking happy, I love you all so much I could kiss you on the mouth right now,” you said, hugging John— the main producer.

“Don’t think Jack would appreciate that,” Grace mumbled when you hugged her, and you smacked her butt.

Jack.

You had sent him the demo of the album as soon as it was sent to your phone, not really sure why. You just wanted his opinion, that’s all.

Not much fuck buddy of you but whatever!

“Fuck off, Grace Morgan,” you fake whispered, laughing.

You all celebrated and laughed for hours, the time passing quickly whenever you spent it with the people you loved. You were grateful for having so many amazing people in your life, helping you to make your dreams come true.

Your phone rang, and you picked it up, unlocking it and smiling when you saw who had texted: Jack.

It was funny seeing how he complimented you in his own little, weird way. It made your heart beat in the wrong— right— way all over again.

“Did he just ask you on a date?” Grace whispered, probably reading your texts over your shoulder. Everyone else had already left— it was late, after all— and only Grace was left. You were sure she was probably going to sleep at your place anyway.

“I guess? We never just ‘hanged out’ before.” You sighed, replying to Jack’s texts.

“Woah,” she whistled, sitting back on the couch, looking at you funny. “Are you in love?”

“What?” You laughed, locking your phone. “What do you mean, we’ve been fucking for six months only. Chill.”

“Girl, like time matters to you!” She raised her arms. “You fell in love with that piece of shit in like three weeks, imagine with Jack, who fucks you every other week and treats you like you’re the most precious thing ever.”

“Excuse me? Are we talking about the same Jack?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Jack doesn’t treat anyone differently. Besides his family, that is.”

“Like the shit he does for you isn’t anything special, right? Like knowing your Five Guys order, or your favorite movies, or how you eat apple pie before your concerts,” she started listing those things on her fingers.

“He doesn’t know those things!” You raised your voice, trying to convince both you and her.

“Girl, I love you but stop playing dumb. He knows and you know he does! Why are you pretending that he doesn’t care about you? He just asked you on a date, for fuck’s sake.” She rolled her eyes.

“First of all,” you started, mentally listing your reasons. “We don’t know if it’s a date. He just said: dinner. He didn’t say ‘I wanna take you out on a date’. Second of all, I’m not denying anything, but I think I would know if I was in love with him, wouldn’t I?”

Actually. The answer was probably no. Harris fucked up your perception of love, and even though it’s been more than a year that you broke up with him, you still feel like you can’t really trust anyone anymore.

So you wouldn’t exactly be able to tell if you are in love or not. At least, you don’t think so.

But talking about love with your fuck buddy? Hell. No.

“You piss me off.” Grace bickered, turning the TV on. “Go change to your little date. I’ll be here, all alone and sad.”

“Pff, shut up. You’re just alone because you and Nico are dumbasses.” You said like it was a matter of fact and left the leaving room, leaving a very pink Grace behind.

Changing didn’t take long, and applying a light makeup didn’t either. You weren’t going to do anything special because, let’s be real, if you and Jack decided to be reckless and fuck somewhere, that makeup wouldn’t last long. So, why bother?

You left your house, saying goodbye to Grace and kissing her cheek. Jack’s fancy ass car was in front of your garage and you smiled, entering it.

“Hi, Jackie boy,” you greeted him, noticing how fucking good he looked, wearing his burgundy suit. Thank god to whoever created the suit rule in hockey. You’ll forever be grateful.

“Hey.” He greeted back, and did something surprising. He kissed you. Softly, and not like any other kiss you’ve shared in the past.

And that didn’t do anything to help the little cardiac arrest you had every time you were around him.

“Are we ready to rock our lasagna?” You asked, half embarrassed and half confused with what you were feeling. Food always made it better though.

“We sure are.” He smiled before starting the car again.

The silence was comfortable but your thoughts were too loud so you took the liberty of turning the radio on, scaring yourself with how loud the music playing was. And, shockingly, your music. Already Over was blasting through the speakers.

You looked at him, and he just shrugged, cheeks red.

“Were you listening to my music on the way to my place?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s good,” he blushes so cutely you find yourself wanting to chomp a piece of his cheek.

“You’re so cute, Jackie. Thanks, means a lot,” you had a feeling you were blushing too, and you thanked God he wasn’t looking at you. “I’m excited to release it.”

“When are you doing it?” He asked, making a U turn.

“Beginning of the next month. Now I have to take pictures and set up the concept for it. It’s my favourite part.”

“Are you doing any music videos with a guy dying?” He asked and you stared at him, once again surprised. Had he been watching your music videos? All of them? “What?”

“Are you a fan?” You giggled, genuinely happy. Harris hated to talk about your work, and he never listened to your songs for more than ten minutes.

“Nico forces us to listen to your songs and watch your music videos,” he answered, nonchalantly. You smiled, nodding your head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You played dumb.

“Like that. You have this little minx stare that you do whenever you’re plotting something.” He smiled this time, and God if the sight didn’t make you feel full.

“You’re no fun,” you sighed, looking at the view. “Also, where is this restaurant? We’ve been driving for at least twenty minutes and nothing in Jersey takes more than that.”

“The restaurant is actually my parents’ house.” He says, like it’s nothing.

“What?!” You yelled, turning your head in his direction. “What do you mean you’re taking me to your fucking parents’?”

“Yeah. Ma’s making lasagna for you.”

Your cheeks were burning hot and you had this bubbly feeling inside of you. You were feeling something really weird and you started to wonder if Grace was right and—

“Soph?” You heard his voice, gentle and soft. You looked at him, noticing that he wasn’t driving anymore, and that the car was now parked in front of a big, beautiful, colonial house. His parents’ house. “We can go back if you want to, baby. Ma won’t be angry or anything like that.”

Stop making me want to trust you, Jack.

He caressed your cheek, and you snapped out of it. “No, it’s fine. I just… you could’ve said something, y’know? I’m wearing sweatpants.” You tried to make a joke, smiling. He smiled too.

“I’ll put on some sweatpants too, so we’re matching,”

“Right.”

You left the car, taking a deep breath. It was just his parents. You weren’t even dating so it would be fine.

Wait.

“What did you tell them? That you’re bringing one of the girls you’re fucking home?” You asked just before you walked in their property.

He raised an eyebrow at you, scowling. “First of all, I’m not fucking anyone else. It’s just you. Second of all, I told them I’m bringing a friend.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to do anything else.

He’s not fucking anyone else? Jack Hughes? The man whore of the NJ Devils?

Yikes, sure.

You both walked into the house, Jack not bothering knocking before entering it. A delicious smell of fresh tomato sauce and herbs reached your nose and you could swear your mouth was watering.

“Ma, we’re here!” Jack yelled, making you jump a little bit. You eyed him before facing the woman in front of you, who was absolutely gorgeous. She looked so fucking young and pretty, and you were biting your tongue, trying not to say something stupid. “Hi, Ma, this is Soph. Soph, that’s Ellen, Ma Hughes,”

“Hi, Mrs. Hughes. Nice to meet you.” You said, certain that your cheeks were on flame.

Ellen took a step closer, smiling. “Hi, darlin’. No need for formalities, dear, it’s just Ellen. I would hug you but,” she pointed at her apron and shrugged. “A bit dirty.”

“Thank you for having me.”

“No, thank you for making this guy over here visit me,” she slapped Jack’s shoulder, both of them smiling together. “He only called because he said you wanted to eat lasagna and he loves mine so that’s why he’s here.”

If your face wasn’t going to melt before, it definitely was now. You were going to kill Jack. For real this time.

“Come on, Ma, I can’t be worse than Luke and Quinn. They don’t even remember your address anymore,” was Jack actually pouting? Jesus. Your heart was not ready to see that.

“Stop throwing us under the bus, dickhead.” Luke’s voice was heard and you and Jack both watched as both Quinn and Luke entered the room. “‘Sup, Soph.”

“Hi, Luke. Hi, Quinn,” you greeted them with cheek kisses, not even wanting to acknowledge that you had actually missed them. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Soph,” Quinn quietly answered, not a single thought behind those eyes. “Great to see you.”

“I hope you’re all hungry because your mom outdid herself tonight,” Jim, the dad, said, smiling when he noticed you. “Hello there. I’m Jim.”

“Hi,” you whispered, mortified with all the attention you were getting. Some would think that performing for big crowds would make you less anxious to meet people. Nope. “I’m Sophia. Thank you for having me.”

“It’s fine, as my baby was saying, we do need our son to visit more.”

As they discussed why Jack didn’t visit them more frequently, you felt Jack’s arms around your waist and his mouth on the tip of your ear. You froze. “Yeah, they call each other baby and honey. Sorry about that.”

You managed to smile, trying not to get his family’s attention. They certainly wouldn’t understand why he was this close to a friend.

“I think it’s cute.”

The dinner went awesomely well. The lasagna was amazing and Ellen and Jim were the cutest couple ever, you could see how they’ve raised three amazing men.

They asked questions about what being a postar meant nowadays, and what was it like during your tours, and how could someone sing and dance at the same time, and have you ever met Adele?

They’re great people. Even Quinn and Luke, who had talked to you before on different occasions, made sure you were included in every topic, and Luke even asked for a signed cap so he could wear it at UMich.

“Do you guys know what we should definitely do?” Ellen started, after forcing all of the boys to organize the kitchen and do the dishes, while you sat with her drinking wine. Yeah, you loved her. “Karaoke. Let Soph here show us how good she is.”

“Maa,” you could hear Luke whining, while running his hands through his beautiful curls. “You do this every time.”

“You’ll make her work on her day off? That’s wild, Ma.” Jack joked, putting his arms around your shoulder. You froze again, looking at the expressions of his family, trying to picture anything out of place.

No one was looking at you weirdly, besides Ellen who plastered the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen, which made you smile too.

“I don’t mind singing…” you said, softly.

“Perfect!” Ellen stood up from her seat, pouring more wine on her glass. “Jim, set the karaoke thing on.”

“It’s called YouTube, Ma.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Leave your mom alone, ugly face,” Jim called him out, on his way to do exactly what Ellen asked. “Sophia, can you sing some Elvis?”

“Yes, ‘course.” You also got up, discussing with Jim which song he wanted you to sing.

“Tell her to sing our song, honey!” Ellen yelled from the dinner table.

“Ah, yes, yes.”

Turns out that their song is Can’t Help Falling in Love, which was so freaking sweet. You sang the romantic lyrics while Jim and Ellen danced with each other, swinging slowly and delicately.

Quinn and Luke were recording themselves with you singing in the background, while you waved happily to the camera.

Jack was sitting on the couch, watching you sing. You could feel his eyes on you, observing your every move, smiling whenever you’d hit a high note or change the song’s rhythm.

It was nice. So, so nice. The Hughes were such nice people and you felt so safe and adored around them. They asked you to sing more songs and when you noticed, you were singing an upbeat song with Jim and dancing between Quinn and Luke while Ellen filmed everything. Until Jack grabbed you again and made you sing in front of him, for him. And boy, how you wanted to kiss him. His blue eyes were shining brightly and he looked just as happy as you felt.

You ended the singing when it was around midnight, everyone exhausted and sweaty— even if it was winter.

You started saying your goodbyes and thanking Ellen and Jim for the best lasagna you’ve ever eaten and for the hospitality too.

“I hope you come back soon.” Ellen whispered in your ear when you were hugging her, and you held her slightly tighter.

When you left the house with Jack, you couldn’t contain your happiness inside you. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him until you were near his car, and standing on your tiptoes, you kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, both of you moaning inside each other’s mouth. His tongue made its way inside your mouth, pillowy and so soft. You were finally melting into Jack’s arms and nothing could be better.

Until you realized what was going on.

You had just had dinner with Jack’s family, sang and danced with them, and now you were in the middle of the street of a fancy neighborhood, with Jack Hughes holding you close to his chest, while devouring your mouth.

And instead of not feeling anything, instead of keeping things casual, you were feeling everything. Each tiny part of every emotion there is in this world were making their way into your heart and, unfortunately, you didn’t want to take them out.

Because for the first time in more than one year, you wanted to feel.

[seirindono]

TMS - Author's note (Arc 1)

Today I'm stepping up to talk about TMS for a while. It's going to be a lot of blah blah, no TLDR, so hang in there or save it for later if you're brave enough, haha (¯▿¯)

So, another chapter of TMS draws to a close, with the difference that this time it's a whole saga that's coming to an end! That's a big relief for me, given that we recently celebrated the comic's 4th anniversary! That's almost the entire duration of my college life, and that's both an impressive and terrifying achievement lol.

The comic is divided into 3 arcs, each separated by an interlude. The first runs from part 1 to 8, with 201 pages total (wow!). In it, you are introduced to Mel, a young skeleton with a rather unclear past, who accidentally arrives in a a foreign timeline, along with other well known skeletons. Nowadays it's just an isekai haha. Throughout the arc, she proves to be a cautious Monster, quiet and somewhat withdrawn compared to the other skeletons we come across, notably Rus, Blue and Axe, who each got their own sequences.

Still, Mel in the last few scenes is starting to show more initiative, and the interlude will make this even more obvious, but we can expect her to open up a lot more during the next Arc, about her past, motives, goals and thoughts.

I could go on at length about what's in store for us in the interlude, but given that it's due for release sometime in 2024, I'm going to talk about the general story line instead. Although we follow Mel who is foreign to what's going on in this universe prior to her arrival, the other characters and events suggest that strange phenomena are taking place in Ebott, leading many people to become embroiled in a highly unusual affair. Crossing timelines, earthquakes, mysterious apparitions in the forest, something is afoot and the situation seems to be at a turning point when Mellow gets here.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with the situation and what to do next. Some are serious and pragmatic, like Black, others optimistic, like Blue, and others, like Papyrus, find themselves completely backed into a corner, forced to do their best to fix whatever needs to be.

A special case, however, is Axe, whom Mel meets in the forest as she investigates Mt. Ebott. The two have diametrically opposed views of their current condition. One wants to return to her world by any means necessary, regardless of the advantages of a peaceful world. The other, not so much. Both refuse to talk about their past and ignore the other's circumstances, but a sense of familiarity drives them to try to convince the other to stay or go. These are two stark positions to reconcile, and while we can expect Blue and the other skeletons to have their own views on the subject too, Mel and Axe are strangely "committed" in this interraction and resort to violence, spurred on by a unknown substance that causes Axe to momentarily lose control.

Mel is wounded, Axe unconscious, and the status quo disrupted. Other consequences follow this confrontation, and several questions are raised: Can Blue really help Mel when Axe accuses him of having already given up on going home himself? What is this mysterious entity Axe came across a few days earlier? The vibrations? What was that substance that made him go berserk? And what made him stop? Can we trust Mel and what she tells us? And many others.

Because as I'm sure many of you have come to realize, Mel has proven to be a rather unreliable narrator (or at least character since you don't follow her actual POV). Blatantly lying or omitting facts to others and readers alike, it's hard to know her next move and whether she's genuinely forgotten important infos (for it's well established at this stage that she has hazy memories and that they continue to deteriorate. The same applies to her health).

In the same way, each part of TMS so far has raised more questions than it has answered, but I can confidently say that the road is paved for Arc 2 to answer and put in perspective most of them, ahah.

Ah, this is also the moment when I can announce that ALL skeletons will be featured in the Interlude. Should be. Hopefully.

I'd also like to point out a few narrative changes for Act 2! The central characters, in particular. Original cast characters such as Undyne, Metatton and a veiled character will be more formally introduced, but we'll also meet up with characters we've already bumped into, but in a much more concrete way, such as Frisk and Alphys. I can't wait for you to get to know them! You can also expect more pov changes, more elipses and so on. Things are moving fast.

But that begs the question. When is it due? As said before, the first Arc lasted 4 years and I'm entering my last (and most crucial) year of college. I still don't know if I'll have time to get much of it done in 2025, but on the other hand, I'd like to strike while the iron's hot lest TMS be discontinued after a 1-year hiatus and my entry into the working world. Student loan, life and all. There are still plenty of things I'd like to bring to this project, and I now have the skills to actually carry them out, but on the other hand, the time involved has also increased exponentially.

Tbh with you, as an animation student, it's been one of my dreams since 2020 to do one of TMS's sequences in animatic or full anim, or even a trailer for the comic! But as a solo team, it's just unreasonable and I know it. But the parasite ----. Don't get me wrong, I could, but it would take me months and it's just not realistic when 80% of my time has to go into professionnal work that goes into my portefolio or adult stuff. I can't affort to invest time in solo-ing it or to recruit and lead a team over one side project of mine ( ´ ▿ ` ) So we'll most likely stick to classic pages.

But the same goes for collabs, community events, side stories, asks, edits, dubs, testing other platforms, regular animatics. Love all of that. Really. But I never have the time to because, man, I'd love to actually finish TMS someday ahah. It all comes back to the age-old problem of “lots of ideas, little time”, and it's so frustrating but, it's a choice I have to stick to, so bear with me as I vent my frustration. Just for tonight (´ ∀ `, *)

So, yes. Act 2. Next year? Probably? It's a long interlude, so you'll get smth in the meantime, but it's likely to decide the future of TMS and whether Act 2 sees the light of day as I imagine it or if...well, something else replaces it.

bringing back this doodle cuz it seems fiting lol

Anyway, I also wanted to thank you for your engagement with Part 8!

I don't know how other comic artists experience it, but for me it's a very isolated work, and as much as I love working alone, I enjoy the interaction with readers most of all.

Seeing people losing their mind over a serious scene, or chuckling at a dumb gag, or just simping over the characters and art. It's just great, and very rewarding. Likewise, I have a blast answering questions about the TMS universe, reading tags and receiving memes, witnessing people go increasingly mad with messages full of indecipherable screams and hearts. Makes me giggle and kick my feet everytime and I can't wait to drop the next lore bomb or funny scene bwahahah

And while we're on the subject, I'd like to say a special word of thanks to the legions of rebloggers who make it their business to spread the word about TMS. You sweet, lovely, candy scented folks. And to my dear mutuals - with whom I interact objectively so little - who have no idea how a single message or note from them drives me bonkers. Thanks for dropping by. And of course to my super Patreons who support me despite the sparse updates, but to whom I'm more than grateful. Love you all.

Sounds like a farewell message. It's not lol. Just making sure they get the love they deserve.

The post is getting long and I'm kind of done pretending I know how to write organized notes so to wrap things up, here's an exhaustive list of what I'd like to get done this year and/or discuss in more detail another day. •Make a new masterpost (for Act 2) •Analyze/Comment certain sequences from Act 1 to clarify or give context •Redraw and rewrite part 1 and 2 •Make more bonus content again *ahahahahahaha*

•Re open or close the Discord (partially abandoned and it's all on me, but I'm still mulling it over).

•Finish the Interlude and enjoy and nice hiatus

And that's about it? Congratulation for reading this and making it this far! You were there!

Be well, and see you next time.

Seirin-

First part | Prev | Next (INTERLUDE)

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[lyraoftheevergreens]

The Realms Enchantress

Chapter 3

NSFW MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Reader!Niece, Daemon Targaryen x Niece!Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen x Female!OC,

Summary: For years Daemon never had a care in the world just, sex, wine and a good battle. With the exception of his favorite niece. His little dragon he called her. He swore to be there for her and he got himself exiled when she needed him the most. Now, he returns from war at the step stones and is determined to get her back. No matter the cost.

Warnings: minor errors in spelling and grammar, Targaryen Inscest, mentions of sex, oral female and male receiving, talk of nudity, mentions of death and blood, mother murdered, dead babies, depression, periods, vulgar language. If your watching hotd than you should already know that stuff written about it will not be clean in the slightest.

Author Note: Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out, life happened and as we all know it tends to suck at times

Word Count: 4.4k

Previous Chapter

“Come join me! ‘Tis quite warm!”

“No, how can I trust you speak the truth? I am quite content here enjoying the view.”

“Daemon! Please!” You yelled to him. In time he eventually caved and undressed to join you. By all means who was he to deny you what you wanted.

“You lie! It’s fucking cold!” He yelled walking to you.

“I don’t lie, I’ve just been in long enough that it’s quite nice.”

He wrapped his arms around you pulling you into him, stood in the ocean.

“I could live here, till the end of my days.” You whispered, head on his chest.

“On Dragonstone?”

“In your arms.” Just the two of you.

Eventually you both decide to return to your chambers for rest. Walking up with daemon barefoot in his breeches and you barefoot in his tunic. The staff looked at the two of you wide eyed as you both walked through the halls laughing and talking.

“Oh do you remember that time Rhaenyra got drunk?”

“I’m sorry, Rhaenyra?” He looked at you in disbelief given she is only 4 and 10 years of age.

“Oh no! You were away! I shall tell you the story than. She was only 10 years of age and I believe it was my father’s name day and he was drinking his wine at a faster pace than usual as well as consuming my mothers because she was with child as always. Nyra saw it fit to help him finish his own glass when he turned to drink mothers. Nobody had noticed what she was doing.”

“Well clearly you noticed if you are relaying the events.”

“No, actually. It was her who stumbled in laughing pissing herself into my bedchambers. When she woke the next morning I questioned her as to what she had gotten her self into the night prior and she told me. Although the fact that she was dancing and telling jest to about any lord or servant that would hear her should have given her away.”

Daemon listened to you as the two of you walked to your bedchamber. A fondness in his eyes. The servants were in shock and some shied away from watching the Rogue Prince appear happy. He smiled with you. None of them had seen him smile.

A warm bath was already prepared when the two of you entered the room. The maids knew not to linger. You laid against his chest as you both laid in the hot water enjoying each other’s presence. It was Daemon who spoke first ruining the silent bliss.

“We must start our journey back to Kings Landing on the morrow.”

“You swore 4 days to me.” You answered him back.

“We’ve stayed 3, our journey together will be the fourth. We won’t arrive till the hour of the wolf.”

“May we return here to Dragonstone as we wish?”

“If your father does not have my head for bringing you here then yes.”

“Daemon.” You whispered.

“Yes?” He answered. You turned between his legs to face him, the water spilling from the sides of the basin.

“I want you to…” you were unable to finish your own sentence from your own nervousness. Your face red unable to express your wishes to him.”

“What is it you want sweet girl. Tell me.”

“I want you to, to. Touch me.” You whispered the last part.

“Touch you how?” He asked feigning naivety.

“Fuck me.” You whispered. He threw his head back and groaned.

“Oh my sweet girl, how I wish I could. We must time such things. If I do so now your father will have my head and he will marry you off to the first lord who will take you.” He tried to reason with you. It was hard to given that he barely got 3 words in before your hand gripped his cock. Once in your soft hand he was rock solid. It took everything with in him not to have you as he truly wished every night here on Dragonstone.

“Wed me. In the tradition of our house, take me as your second wife.” You told him now working your hand up and down his length the water begins to rock due to your hand movements on his length threatening to spill from the tub.

“You are so much more than a second wife zaldrītsos.” He moaned out eyes clenched closed as you continued your movements. He laid there enjoying the feel of your hand working his length. His own hand never being able to bring the same relief yours was bringing him. He knows once he has your cunt wrapped around him, you will have ruined every whore for him, He will solely crave you.

Once the bath was ruined from his release the two of you got out and prepared for bed. Once in bed the two of you drifted off to sleep in each others arms. The next morning Daemon kept his word and the two of you left on Dyrax at sunrise and started your journey to Kingslanding. Once arrived at the hour of the wolf you and Daemon used the secret passageways to your chambers. The two of you held each other one last time. Tasted each other one last time.

When you woke the next morning it was Rhaenyra who had awoken you by jumping into your bed.

“You’ve returned! Oh I thought you would never return from Dragonstone! How was it with Daemon?”

“It was lovely. A much needed rest from court. I must ask. Is father aware?”

“He is unaware to my knowledge.”

“Perfect.”

“Tell me y/n!” She shouted at you, now realizing you would have no choice but to tell her everything. Well, excluding the intimate details. Your day continued on as usual as if you hadn’t been away for 5 days. Daemon returned to his gold cloaks, day time training and nightly patrols.

Otto fucking Hightower. You had returned to court your second day back from Dragonstone. When Otto the cunt of a hand asked you how your time at Dragonstone was, infront of your father.

“You were at Dragonstone? When?” Questioned your father.

“Just 2 days past. I needed to be alone to grieve mother.”

“Did you not arrive at the hour of the wolf with Prince Daemon?”

“Yes I did. It was his idea and it helped. I enjoyed the waters of Dragonstone and I was able to cry and sleep as I pleased. No court, no politics, no murmurs of my mother and brother’s death around the castle. Silence and rest.”

“That sounds lovely my girl. I’m glad you are rested.” Your father responded. One thing Otto didn’t know, is your father would be sure not to upset you after watching him choose a son over his wife. Now he has no heir, no wife and could possibly loose his two daughters.

“Thank you father.” She said smiling to him.

“We must discuss Daemon and the way he is abusing his city watch status. He is acting as judge and executioner, 2 horse pulled carriages were used to rid of the carnage. Many would say it a massacre and abuse of power. His first night back and the people are met with his blade.”

“Has crime not gone down?” You spoke up.

“Excuse me princess?” Answered Otto abruptly.

“He instills fear in criminals, should the people of kings landing remain honest, not steal and not rape than they should have nothing to fear by the gold cloaks nightly patrols.”

“The city watch is not to instill fear.” Otto retorts.

“Maester Fredrick, get me the crime reports please. From the last 3 years.”

“Yes princess.” Said the maester and quickly left.

“Ser Harwin strong was lead commander while your uncle was away. Crime remained down and there were no live slaughters.” Oh how Otto got under her skin.

“While that may remain true how long till the city’s criminals retaliate. If they don’t fear death or loss of limb who is to say that crime won’t raise once again. Daemon has returned, I propose we allow a fortnight to compare results and we will see if the matter requires further discussion with Daemon present. All who agree?” And with that everyone agreed, your father spoke.

“Marvelous idea my dear. We shall allow a fortnight and we will proceed from there. Your king is tired, if there are no further matters that require my attention I shall retire for the evening.” With that he stood, everyone else stood and he left. Once you exited the room you had crossed paths with Maester Fredrick and the records.

“Have them sent to my chambers please.” You asked.

“Of course princess.” He left in search for your handmaid, what you assume. Once you retired to your room’s Rhaenyra came running in.

“I can’t believe the way you put Otto in his place!” Rhaenyra threw herself onto your bed laughing.

“Do you notice the way it absolutely angers him that father allows me a seat on his council.“ you said laying down next to her.

“Yes! I really thought father was going to storm out the council room in search for Daemon after what Otto said.”

“As did I. Truthfully I’m relieved he didn’t further question it. Or that Otto didn’t press into it. You think Otto has spies on Dragonstone?”

“No. I don’t believe so. You?”

“No.” You laid there thinking about if Otto did. Surely he knew something to bring up your leave with Daemon.

Two days later another council meeting was called. You all took your seats and Otto spoke first. “Before we begin your grace, I have a report I feel compelled to share. Last night Prince Daemon bought out one of the pleasure houses on the street of silk to entertain officers of the city watch and other friends of his. He toasted Prince Baelon styling him the heir for a day. After he goes on to say how it will be him and his seed who sit the iron throne. “If his heir won’t sit the throne at least mine shall after I fill his daughter with my seed.” I corroborated this report with three separate witnesses. The evening was by all accounts a celebration.”

You sat in shock at Otto’s words. You watched as your father ordered his guards to have Daemon sent to the throne room. You left to your chambers. Rhaenyra followed close behind. Once alone she spoke first.

“I’m not sure what’s more upsetting, our uncles words or your betrayal.” Rhaenyra speaks coldly.

“My betrayal? Pray-tell sister, how do I betray you?”

“You let him take you to Dragonstone like some whore. Was it worth it? Being sullied by him just to have him run into the arms of another whore.”

“You dare call me a whore? You know nothing baby sister, don’t you dare act as if you do. I remain as virtuous as the day I was born. He may have ran into the arms of his whore but he has never had me! I swear it on the memory of our mother, I have not laid with Daemon in the matter of which you accuse me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Rhaenyra began to cry. You embraced her in a hug.

“It is alright. I forgive you. I know, what we heard was upsetting. Father will talk to him and then I. I will get us answers. I swear this to you.”

“Okay.” She whispered holding onto you. You waited a while before leaving to Daemons chambers once Rhaenyra fell asleep in your bed.

You found him being watched by a knight of your father’s kings guard as he packed his belongings.

“Leave us.” You command as you enter.

“I can’t do that princess.” He says.

“You can and you will, your princess commands it. Shall he escape I will ensure you will not face the wrath of the king. Now leave us.” You promise him. With this he takes your word and waits outside the door while you talk to Daemon.

“You heard.”

“Heir for the day?”

“Y/n.”

“No! I can’t believe you Daemon,”fill his daughter with my seed.” What kind of nonsense is that?” You shouted at him, all he could do is reach out to you. You quickly stepped back.

“Do not touch me after you lay with your whores. I truly hope it was worth it because you will never have me not after this. You swore you would be here for me! You don’t even last a fortnight before you get your self exiled! You made a mockery of my dead mother and brother. Of me!”

“Who is to say I want you! I’ve never made such a proclamation!” He shouts back at you. You stare at him in shock, was it all in your head? Did he just see as another one of his whores when you bare with him on Dragonstone, the nights spent in his arms. The kisses and care in his touch. You step back from him.

“Y/n” he reaches for your arm once more. You step back again.

“No. I apologize uncle. I believed something that was not there.”

“Y/n.” He called your name once more.

“I’m sorry I ever believed you to be the man I need.” With that you left him there and made your way back to your chambers. The guard escorted Daemon to the dragon pit. You heard of your father exiling your uncle to the vale with his wife. You stayed in bed. For days on end.

5 months after Daemons exile your father called you and Rhaenyra to the cellars of the red keep.

“What is it farther.”

“My darling girls. It has been sometime.”

“You have not talked to us in 6 months” Rhaenyra states.

“And I apologize. When you see dragons, what do you see.”

“Father what is this?” You question him.

“Just tell me what you see.” He repeats himself.

“I suppose I see us, they say Targaryen’s are closer to gods than men and they say that because our dragons. Without them we are just like everyone else.” Rhaenyra says.

“I’m sorry Y/n, Rhaenyra. I have waisted the years since you were born on wishing for a son. You are the very best of your mother and I believe it and I know she did that you could be a great queen, ruling queen.”

“Father. Daemon is your heir. Y/n your first born.”

“I understand but I believe that it is you that can unite the realm when the time comes. Only a strong ruling king or queen can do that. While you are strong and passionate Y/n is level headed. Y/n you will need to protect your sister, guide her as heir to the throne. It is you who I believe can do that best. You are caring and quick thinking, you have always protected and cared for Rhaenyra, more so now while you both mourn the loss of your mother you have remained strong and reliable through it all.”

“With Rhaenyra on the thrown and you as her council, her hand. The realm will remain strong long after my death.”

With in 3 days time the realm was pledging their loyalty to the crown, to king Viserys and heir to the throne Princess Rhaenyra. And while you would never admit it to your sister, you were hurt that your father named her heir and not you. You knew in your heart it was punishment for your time on Dragonstone with Daemon. Nonetheless you bent the knee pledging your loyalty to your sister.

~time jump~

1 month time has gone passed. Your mother dead 7 months. Your uncle gone for 6 months, squatting on Dragonstone. Apart of you wanted to fly to him be done with the politics, for him to take you as his wife in exile. But you were still hurt by the last words he spoke to you, and you were needed in kings landing. Your father, Rhaenyra. You sit at the small council table while your sister remains cup bearer. Frankly you and Rhaenyra are exhausted of hearing talk of your father needing to remarry. Lord Corlys keeps pushing for father to marry Laena. While you and Rhaenyra understand it was to happen with time, the vultures push to rush.

An emergency small council meeting was called. You and Rhaenyra hurry your way to the council room. Upon entering there is dragon keeper waiting to speak.

Ziry occurred isse se blackness hen bantis, issa lords, during se hour hen massa. Se thief eluded īlva pursuit

(It occurred in the blackness of night, my lords, during the hour of the Bat. The thief eluded our pursuit.)

Skorkydoso iksos ziry possible bona nykeā zaldrīzes’s drōmon istan stolen hen hen hen gōvilagon tolī than tōmēpsa zaldrīzes keepers?

(How is it possible that a dragon’s egg was stolen out of from beneath more than fifty Dragon keepers?)

Ziry istan prince daemon qilōni istan se culprit, aōha dārōñe…

(It was Prince Daemon who was the culprit, your grace…)

“Daemon?” Your father spoke in a questioning tone, questioning himself as to why Daemon would do such a thing.

“The prince left a missive, which I believe might explain.” Spoke Otto.

“It is the pleasure of Daemon Targaryen, the prince of dragonstone and rightful heir to the iron throne, to announce that he is to take a second wife in the tradition of Old Valyria. She is to assume the title of Lady Mysaria of Dragonstone. Her grace is with child and is to have a dragons egg placed in the babe’s cradle in the custom of House Targaryen.” Maester Mellows pauses. “The prince has invited you to his wedding, your grace. It is in two days time.”

“Gods be good” mumbles Tywin Lannister.

“Who is Lady Mysaria-“ Corlys begins to question but is interrupted by Otto.

“Daemons whore. This is nothing less than sedition.”

“I strongly agree, sire.” Agrees Lyonel Strong.

Skore drōmon gōntan daemon gūrogon?

(Which egg did Daemon take?)

Se drōmon istan dreamfyre’s, prince. Keskydoso drōmon bona ao iderēptan syt prince baelon’s cradle.

(The egg was Dreamfyre’s, Princess. The same egg that you chose for Prince Baelon’s cradle.)

That was all it took for your father to finally take action. Seeing the hurt in Rhaenyra face. It was one thing to try to get a rise out of your father but to hurt his daughters was another issue.

“Assemble a detachment, Otto. I will go to dragon stone and drag daemon back to face justice myself.”

“Your grace! My apologies your grace but I cannot allow it. It is to dangerous. Daemon is without limit. Let me go to dragonstone.” With that Otto begins to give orders to Ser Harrold to gather men to prepare the ship to set sail to dragon stone.

Rhaenyra pulls you aside away from your father and the other men. “We are going to Dragonstone.”

“Nyra. No.”

“It’s to prevent blood shed. You know just as well as I do Daemon would love nothing more than to have Otto’s head on a spike.”

“I suppose. I don’t see the harm that though.”

“Y/n. I can retrieve the egg and if Daemon sees you and Dirrax it will force him to keep his temper under control.”

“I’m not his keeper. If Daemon wishes to kill. He will. Nonetheless I shall go. Only for you though.”

I will meet you at the dragon pit at the hour of the bat in 5 days time. The journey will take a long while, especially with Syrax never having done the journey. Prepare him for it. We will arrive when the ships arrive.”

Thankfully she listened to you, and in 5 days you both had changed into your riding leathers and met at the dragon pit. You opted to wear your black cloak over yours and to take the secret passage ways. You followed her closely behind on Dirrax who was double the size of Syrax.

Once at dragon stone Otto’s men had already arrived both sides with their swords in hand. And a woman in white with brown hair stood next to Daemon. Must be his whore you thought to your self. You had heard of her, never seen her. Your heart ached to think that she was carrying his child. While it had been 5 days since you learned of his betrayal, you hadn’t allowed your self time to process it fully. Being to busy with Rhaenyra. You hear Caraxes screech as he crawls the hill behind his rider. He must sense Syrax and Dirrax who begin to screech in response. Rhaenyra and Syrax land first, and you second behind her. It is then that the men “sheath the fucking steel” Otto yells. Rhaenyra dismounts from her dragon while you remain on yours. You have faith in her ability to handle your uncle.

“Issa kepa brōstan issa prince hen zaldrīzesdōron. Bona iksos issa sombāzmion ao issi living isse, kepus.” Rhaenyra spoke first.

(My father named me Princess of Dragonstone. That is my castle you are living in, uncle.)

“Daor ēva ao become hen age. Plus hae iksos aōha mandia” your uncle remarked.

(Not until you become of age. Plus as is your sister)

“Ao emagon angered aōha dārys.”

(You have angered your king.)

“Nyke don’t ūndegon skoro syt. Bisa iksos nykeā tubis hen biarves. Nyke naejot sagon.”

(I don’t see why. This is a day of celebration. I am to be wed.)

“Ao emagon nykeā ābrazȳrys.”

(You already have a wife.)

“Daor mēre hen issa.”

(Not one of my choosing.)

“Se bisa ao naejot laodigon issa lēkias drōmon?”

(And this required you to steal my brother’s egg?)

“Ao se aōha mandia rūsīr nykeā zaldrīzes skori ao istan āzma. Nyke jaelagon keskydoso syt issa riñnykeā.”

(You and your sister shared a cradle with a dragon when the two of you were born. I want the same for my child.)

“Aōha naejot emagon nykeā riñnykeā.”

(Your to have a child?)

He looked back at his whore.” Mēre tubis.” (One day) with those words you scoff as you watch your uncles whore leave.

“I’m right here, uncle… the object of your ire, the reason that you were disinherited. If you wish to be restored as heir you’ll need to kill me. So, do it. And be done with all this bother.” With that he looked at the Otto and the other knights, to rhaenyra. To you. And turned to walk away and quickly tossed the egg to Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra placed the egg in pot of fire and mounted Syrax. She left on Syrax thrilled at her accomplishment, she yelled with joy as she flew away on Syrax. While y/n and Dirrax stayed on the wall.

“Sōvēs Dirrax.” Once well in the air y/n let out all her emotions. Crying and screaming

“Dirrax. Dracarys!” With that Dirrax let out a large breath of fire that filled the sky. And they stayed behind Rhaenyra the whole way back kings landing.

A knight alerts your father of yours and Rhaenyra return. You both are then taken to his chambers.

“You fled kings landing without a word. And you acted without the crowns leave. You two are my only heirs. You both could have been killed.”

“May we sit.” Rhaenyra ask.

“You went to dragon stone.” Your father repeats himself.

“And retrieved the egg without bloodshed. A feat I’m not sure Otto could’ve accomplished alone.” Rhaenyra points out.

“Yes, well…” he laughs. “ I sometimes forget how much you both are like your mother. Your mother’s absence is a wound that will never heal. Without her… the red keep has lost a warmth that I dare say it will never recover.”

“It pleases me to hear you say this. To know that y/n and I are not alone in our grief.”

“I wish I had known better what to say to you both in the aftermath. I struggled to realize that both my daughters had so quickly become women grown. But I know she understands what is now expected of me.”

“The king must take a new wife.” Rhaenyra says fighting back her tears.

“I could never replace your mother. No more than I intended to replace you as heir but you both are my only heirs and our line is vulnerable, to easily ended. And by marrying again, I may begin to ensure that we are better defended.”

“Against whom?”

“Whomever may dare to challenge us. I do not dare to make us estranged. The three of us.”

“You are the king and so, your first duty is to the realm. Mother would’ve understood this. Just as I do.”

“And I.” With that you and Rhaenyra leave to your chambers to sleep. And nothing could have prepared the two of you for the council meeting that would be held in the morning.

Your father stands at his chair with a nervous expression on his face. He looks to and Rhaenyra for reassurance. Rhaenyra nods her head and smiles in reassurance to him and he begins to speak.

“I intend to marry…. The lady Alicent Hightower before springs end.”

“This is an absurdity, my house is Valyrian. The greatest power in the realm.” Says Lord Corlys now stood from his seat.

“And I am your king.” With the Corlys leaves. And Rhaenyra fights back her tears in shock and betrayal. She then leaves before anyone else can see her emotions.

“Yes if you were to marry Laena. Not her only friend. This is a betrayal from not only you but Alicent as well. You mislead us both into believing you were to marry Laena.”

“Rhaenyra.” Your father calls out to her. Once she is gone your father looks to you.

“Last night, she said she understood.” He says to you.

“You assumed-“

“No! There was never any mention of Alicent in any of your conversations to wed. You walked with Laena. You questioned your council on whether marrying Laena was the proper thing to do.”

“Y/n.”

“No, now if you will excuse me. I have a mess to clean up that you have created.” With that you left to comfort Rhaenyra

~

Chapter 4

[a-neverending-story]

There was always someone who knew someone. This time, Lily was that person. Her friend didn't turn up at the party he'd told her about, but that was okay. Lily knows how to party without knowing a single person. The fact that the people here were all younger than her didn't bother her until the party reached an alcohol level that Lily couldn't handle unless she was that drunk herself. Drinking more, however, was out of the question. Now she was sitting outside the house. The party had reached its peak at this point, while she smoked a cigarette and stared up at the night sky. A beautiful voice interrupted her thoughts, but that wasn't a bad thing. Lily could lose herself when she stared at the stars and her thoughts began to fly, so the woman's voice was a nice interruption. She lifted her head and her blue eyes focused on the woman. The corners of her mouth lifted. “No. Sit down.” Lily moved to the side so the redhead could sit down, and she offered her one of her cigarettes and a lighter if she wanted. “That outfit suits you. You look really cute in it! Where did you get your boots?” As she gazed at the woman, Lily's eyes lingered on the women's boots. She herself was wearing Doc Martens as usual. She was also wearing her ripped skinny jeans, one of her BMTH band shirts and her leather jacket. Piercings sparkled on her ears and face. A strand of her blonde hair got caught in her ear piercings and Lily carefully tucked it behind her ear. “Lily,” she introduced herself and held out her hand. “It's pretty crazy in there.” Lily motioned towards the house with a nod.

🎉

Parties weren't necessarily Bonnie's cup of tea. A little get-together with friends was always fun and since the witch hasn't seen her friends for a while now, she decided to give it a shot. The later it got, the more alcohol flowed and even though Bonnie wasn't much of a heavily drinker, she had some shots of tequila. Saying no was giving her a hard time and her friends enjoyed the party, so she played along. "You look like a little school girl in your outfit, Bonnie." Caroline shouted over the music at her, her eyes quite glassy and foggy. She had too much alcohol, but had a full cup in her right hand nevertheless. The words of her childhood friend stung. Until she heard what Caroline said about her outfit, Bonnie felt good in it. "Well, thank you, Caroline. That's not a nice thing to say." Without paying her any more attention, Bonnie turned around and left the house to get some fresh air. She shouldn't pay attention to what Caroline said about her outfit, maybe she didn't meant what she said. As soon as Bonnie left the house she saw a blonde woman sitting on the steps in front of it. Bonnie couldn't remember to have seen her here before but it was an open party after all and half of the visitors weren't from around here. "Do you mind if I sit down next to you?" The tequila did its thing - Bonnies head was thumping and she wished herself far away from here. She took a glance at the blonde woman, sitting there smoking a cigarette.

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (V)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You go back to Ostirith to complete the task given to you by Adar and even though you know that what you are about to do will cause doom, you still are not aware of its extent. In the meantime, you feel strong presence of Sauron nearby.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This chapter is slightly shorter and the Reader is mostly alone in it (well, with Glûg) but I simply had to include it because it is important for the plot – of the show and of this fanifc. 😉 In return, I can spoil to you that in the next one, there will finally be a reunion between the old lovers! 😙

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship, dead bodies (including Reader's father) – she must go back to Ostirith to complete the task and they are still there after being slaughtered by Adar's army

WORD COUNT — 4,660

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (V)

Accompanied by the sounds of the battle nearby, you could hear your own heart ringing in your ears as you were running through the forest alongside Glûg. He kept an eye on you and you kept yours on him – none of you trusted each other fully but you hoped he would not turn against you at least for now, before the task his Lord Father cared so much about was finished.

When you began to see the ruins of Ostirith between the trees, you slowed down your pace, feeling a little calmer now; knowing that you were far away from danger.

“Do you happen to know why Lord Father wants to open the dam?” You asked the Orc. “It does not make sense to me why such a task is so important to him,” you added.

“We have been digging, Dark Lady…” Glûg explained, trying to avoid your eyes. “Digging tunnels…. Underneath,” he was visibly trying to hide something from you but when you gave him a concerned look, expecting more of his explanation, he glanced down, already feeling guilty for revealing too much.

You were standing on the edge of the stone bridge leading you to the fortress but you refused to take another step. He froze and turned around, waiting for you as you squeezed the hilt of the sword covered in the dirty rags.

“I must know, Orc,” you ordered him harshly and he tilted his head. “Uruk,” you fixed yourself. “I must know what I am about to do.”

“Create a home for the Uruks,” Glûg answered mysteriously. “A land where we do not have to hide from the sunlight.”

You furrowed your brows at his words. The Southlands turning into the realm of dust and ashes was what Sauron had been telling you about before. Was it possible that your lover and your husband shared similar goals? If so – it was only better for you.

You took a deep breath in and finally entered the stone bridge leading to the ruins of your home. Whatever you were about to do, you were sure it would serve Sauron’s purpose as well. And that was motivating enough.

You knew exactly what was the crevice Adar had mentioned. You had been born in this fortress and you had been raised in it, playing in every corner of it as a child. However, now, when it was all in ruins, it would take you some time to find it.

And finding yourself amongst those ruins, surrounded by the bodies of your friends… It was deeply unsettling to feel all this death. And it felt deeply wrong to leave them be just like that, without a proper funeral.

“We should hurry, my Lady,” Glûg tried to rush you.

“They deserve a burial,” you pointed out, looking down at the dead Elven bodies underneath the stones of the fallen towers and walls.

“They will be covered in ashes soon like all of the Southlands,” Glûg answered and you nodded at him. He was right, even though you still had no idea how this whole thing would work and how opening the dam could cause the Southlands to be covered in ashes.

“I want to find my father first… Then we can finish our task,” you informed him and he was visibly frustrated with you but he would not dare to scold you, so he groaned a little and began to look through the bodies, hoping to help you.

While he was digging through the bodies carelessly, you paced slowly and gently around the courtyard and you froze at the sight of the holy trees. The same ones you had gotten married under. They were crushed with the towers now but some branches kept bravely sticking out and there were still leaves on them.

You approached the trees and gently caressed the branches you could reach, picking a few leaves along the way. You hid them away inside your sleeve and that was when you looked down and spotted your father’s body.

“I have found him!” You informed Glûg and he froze in the middle of his own search, nodding his head and moving away slightly as if he wanted to give you space.

You crouched down and looked up and down your father’s form. You tried to think of some words to tell him but you could not think of any. The emptiness in your mind and heart at that moment confused you but it also gave you power to carry on with your task.

You straightened your back and stood up, taking a deep breath in before turning around and finding Glûg’s eyes.

“Let us go now,” you ordered and this time you led the way as he followed you closely.

You circled around the area where the crevice should be, toying a little with impatient Glûg. You knew that the Uruks were dying at the moment during the battle and you wondered how your husband was doing. But it did not truly matter – what you were about to do was a thing that Sauron himself had wanted as well. And for him, you would burn the whole Middle-earth to the ground. For him… and for the way he was making you feel.

“Stay in the shadow,” you addressed the Orc and pushed him away slightly to make him stand under a big tree nearby. He nodded and hid from the sunlight, watching you with his small and curious eyes as you dropped the dirty rags off of the hilt and stared at the item.

Adar had mentioned using your blood to extend the sword. Blood magic was extremely powerful and dark – in fact, it was forbidden. It was giving you a thrill that you would do something of this sort. But for Sauron and his schemes you would bleed out completely… just to make him happy.

You dug the sharp edge of the hilt into the skin of your forearm and watched the blood slowly leak out of the fresh wound, streaming down your hands and covering the hilt. And right in front of your eyes, the sword was extending itself until it finally reached its full form. You gasped at the sight since it was beautiful as you lifted your hand up and squinted your eyes at the rays of sunshine reflecting themselves in the blade.

In the reflection of it, you saw the world around you but in a different, darker form. Covered in dust and ashes as if it was showing you the future, which was terrifying but also beautiful in a way. Surely it would mean something to be the person who would push the final button of bringing the Southlands into their doom.

With a pounding heart, you inserted the sword into the crevice and turned it. At first, nothing happened, but after a short while, you could feel the ground underneath your feet trembling as the stones moved, starting the mechanism to open the dam.

“My Lady!” Glûg called out for you and you removed the sword from the crevice before hurrying to his side. You both had to get out of there as fast as possible.

And so you ran ahead of you, trying to leave Ostirith before the bridge would crumble down and cut your way out of the ruins. When you were on it, it was tumbling down already. With your Elven skills, you managed to make a swift and long jump to safety but Glûg behind you stopped, feeling insecure about the chasm on his way.

You hesitated for a short moment as his eyes filled with fear when they reached you. There was so much anxiety and pleading in them that for a moment you managed to feel true compassion towards this filthy creature.

You rolled your eyes and extended your hand as much as you could, helping him to make his jump, seconds before the bridge crumbled down completely.

“Th-thank you, my Lady,” he breathed out when you let go of his arm once you both were standing on the safe and solid ground.

You only nodded at him and you two ran into the woods, stumbling on the way because of the ground shaking underneath your feet. The enormous power of the water released from the dam was now flowing deep within the ground, through all the tunnels that were made by the Orcs for reasons that were still unknown to you but you could feel the very foundations of the earth being shaken.

You were standing on the hill and watching the Southlands from above when it happened. Orodruin – the mountain standing proudly and sticking out the most out of all the peaks nearby as if it was watching over the realm; known for being a volcano as well; that some said had been created by Morgoth in the First Age – erupted.

You stood there in complete shock, squeezing the hilt of the sword, finding it hard to believe what was happening in front of your eyes. All the ash and fire coming your way was not about to harm you because you were an Elf, so you just stood there and watched the wave of darkness coming towards you to take over the Southlands as Glûg hid behind the bushes, trying to pull you down with him.

However, you stood there still and ignored him for a moment. You closed your eyes and felt the wave crashing over you. And when you opened your eyes again, the land around you looked completely different than it had before.

“I have brought doom to my land,” you said out loud. “I, daughter of the Lord and Lady Guardian of the Southlands, am the very death of my realm.”

Glûg stood up, looking around with curiosity and widened eyes. He seemed to be as shocked as happy and you cracked a smile at that, trying to look kind and… generous. 

“You have a home now, Uruk,” you told him. “A place where you do not have to hide.”

“M-my Lady…” Glûg bowed his head in front of you and you knew that if Adar was there, he would scold him for that gesture but you were not going to do that.

You stood there, staring at him in an almost challenging way. What you had just done… There was no way back from it. You had sealed your fate and even though it was scary, it was also exciting in a way. It surely made you feel powerful and in control.

“We should go…” Glûg pointed at the path and you nodded at him, following him deeper into the woods.

He led you to the abandoned hut in the middle of the forest. You walked inside and looked around, confused.

“You wait here, Dark Lady. I will go and find out what is happening in the village,” he informed you and you stared at him for a moment, not sure if you should believe or trust him.

“Alright then. But if you abandon me here, I shall find you and–”

“M-my Lady, I would n-never,” his voice stuttered a little as he bowed down again before leaving you.

You sighed and sat down on the floor, resting your back on the wall behind you. It seemed like Glûg was perceiving you differently now, after witnessing the act of complete destruction coming from you. It was good. Very good.

Now, when you had a silent moment for yourself, you looked at the dried up blood on your forearm and you caressed the wound with your fingertips. And then you felt it… Him.

You gasped, letting go of the sword and placing your hands flat on the wooden floor as if you could feel Sauron’s energy reaching you through the ground. 

“M-my love?” You whispered, trying to get to him somehow. You pressed your ear to the ground, desperately. “I can feel you, my love. Sauron. You are here. You are back. You are nearby,” you kept repeating as if you were in a frenzy, scratching the wooden floor with your fingernails. “You are here…”

This very new wave of energy crashing over you was so overwhelming that you were out of breath. After the centuries of loneliness and yearning, now you were certain that Sauron was not only back but he was also nearby. You cried happy tears and as they streamed down your cheeks, you gathered strength and courage to keep on fighting and scheming.

“Come and find me, my love, come and find me,” you kept whispering over and over, losing the sense of time and place.

And that was how Glûg found you many minutes later, entering the hut and tilting his head at you. You sniffled your tears back and straightened your back but he chose to ask no questions, perhaps thinking that it was some sort of sorcery that you had been performing.

“And?” You asked.

“Most of the army is hiding in the forests, waiting for the Lord Father’s return. He was taken as a prisoner alongside other Uruks by the Númenórean cavalry,” Glûg explained, visibly worried a little and you furrowed your brows at the news. Adar being taken prisoner could mean he was dead now. And what were you supposed to do? 

Search for Sauron, obviously… But how? Where to start? You were lost.

“We shall join them then,” you grabbed the sword and stood up.

“No, my Lady,” Glûg protested. “It is not safe. Too close to the village. We should wait here.”

“I am no coward,” you told him and held your chin up. He did not have to know that the very reason of your courage was coming from the overwhelming comeback of Sauron’s presence.

“My Lady, I am supposed to watch over you. That was the task given to me by the Lord Father,” Glûg insisted, watching you with curiosity.

“I am Adar’s wife and when he is taken away from his children, I shall not abandon them,” you pointed out and walked out of the hut.

Glûg had no choice but to lead you back to his brothers and sisters that were hiding in the woods and waiting for either Adar’s return or the news about his death. You, on the other hand, began your mission to gain their trust and respect in case Sauron needed his army sooner than you had been expecting.

It was difficult to say what time of the day it was when you finally joined the Orcs in the woods. The skies were orange now as the volcano kept burning and filling the Southlands with more ashes and more dust. Your surroundings – the green, green grass of your home – presented itself like hell now.

The Orcs went silent when they spotted Glûg leading you to them. There were warriors holding onto their weapons tightly as female Orcs were pulling their crying babies closer. You felt deeply unsafe being surrounded by them without your husband to protect you and with the image of what they had done all those centuries ago to your lover.

“Our Dark Lady,” Glûg started, “was the one to open the dam and awake the mountain.”

Long silence occurred and you found yourself in the middle of the circle, surrounded by the Orcs from all sides. You tried your best to hide your nervousness as you rested your wrist lazily upon the hilt of the sword.

“Uruks!” You addressed them and, thankfully, your voice did not tremble because of the courage you found in the knowledge of your lover’s return and being nearby. “Your Lord Father – my husband – is taken away by our enemies. He is, however, strong and cunning. I truly believe he is coming back for us… To us,” you nodded at them, trying to assure them with a hint of worry and compassion. “After fulfilling the task he had given me and creating a home for you, I could have remained hidden away as Glûg here suggested,” you nodded at him, “to protect me. But how could I abandon my husband’s children in such an hour? Their army might have attacked us and the losses might have been many but it is the day of our victory!” You exclaimed, making an attempt to excite them. “Look around! Look at the ashes, the dust, the black clouds blocking out the deadly rays of sunshine. Cast off your cloaks and your helms. You can be safe now, you can be free; no longer burdened by the day... In a land that no human or Elf will ever call their home. It is yours now and I have given it to you,” you blinked your eyes a few times as if you were batting eyelashes at your lover and they cheered.

“Dark Lady!” Some of them chanted and you smirked.

“They want to go to battle,” Glûg whispered to you and you nodded at him, raising your hand up to silence the Orcs’ chanting because there was more to say.

“We shall wait here for your Lord Father’s return because I do believe my husband would never abandon us. If he does not come back, however, we shall attack the Númenóreans remaining in the village to remind them that this is our home!” You pointed at the path leading to Tirharad and the Orcs around you hummed as they nodded their heads. “For now, we shall wait and rest after the battle. You deserve it, Uruks,” you reminded them and they took a few steps back to let you pass as you walked away and sat on the tree that had recently fallen over.

You sighed and kept caressing the blade of the new sword, feeling the prying eyes of many Orcs upon you as they whispered between each other. It was not your intention to take them over just yet because that would be suspicious and you knew that despite them being grateful for your sacrifice, they were not stupid. They knew you had only been following Adar’s orders and they did not trust you fully just yet. However, in case of his death, they would become leaderless and you just knew that would be the moment when your lover would step in. But you would have to be the one leading this army to him and convincing them that he was worthy to follow.

As you were sitting there and wondering, trying to reach out to Sauron somehow with your silent pleas, one of the Orcs approached you carefully. You looked up and squeezed the hilt of the sword in case he came to attack you, which was quite a possibility as well.

“My Lady?” He asked and bowed his head as low as he could.

“What is it, Uruk?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“In case Lord Father is dead–”

“Let us not–” you winced and looked away, pretending to be in pain at the mention of such a scenario. “He is not, I just know it. It is too early to discuss such matters,” you insisted and he nodded.

“But, just in case, we wanted to know…” He looked back at some of his friends standing behind him as they nodded at him, encouragingly. “Would you lead us?” He asked and you kept staring at him, surprised.

“It is not a good idea,” you sighed humbly. “A leader should be someone that the army would follow. Do you truly believe that your brothers and sisters would follow me?” You asked.

“We would make sure,” one of his friends stepped in. “My Lady…” He bowed down. “You gave us home and you are the wife of our Lord Father. We would follow you and we would convince others to do so as well. Our kin should be united no matter what happens and after Lord Father’s death… You are the only one now who could do it because you are his spouse,” he explained and you wondered if this group was the most loyal to Adar or were they just the most stupid ones to come to you like that.

“I shall lead you,” you promised them, “...if I must,” you added and they nodded at you before walking away, visibly relieved.

You shook your head as you watched them walk away and you yawned. Despite being an Elf, you were getting tired, too, sometimes. Especially after a night and day so eventful. The battle, the sudden and unexpected attack of the Númenórean cavalry, the eruption of Orodruin… Your body was begging for the rest now, when it was finally all over.

But when you looked around, you could not feel safe around those creatures enough to just close your eyes and fall asleep, even though they seemed to be busy with their own errands and many of them were taking naps as well.

However, your eyelids were growing heavier and your senses were going weaker. You had no choice but to drift off on the grass, holding onto the sword with your back pressed to the fallen tree.

You felt someone nudging you softly, which caused you to stir in your sleep but you ignored the interruption and just tried to move away from the touch. The hand, however, kept shaking your arm slowly, which finally forced you to open your eyes. And when you did, you saw Adar’s face as he was crouching down in front of you with Glûg, a few other Orcs and a human who had been loyal to your husband for a long while now – Waldreg. They all were standing behind him, looking down at you.

In an instant, you were brought back to reality and remembered everything that had happened recently. And at the sight of your husband, your heart truly filled with joy because it was so much better to have him by your side than to be surrounded by nobody but the Orcs.

“Adar!” You sighed with relief and surprised him by throwing your arms around his neck to pull him closer to you in a hug. “You are back.”

“The Númenóreans retreated,” he explained calmly and moved away slightly to take a better look at your face. His rough hand caressed your cheek and brushed away all the hairs that covered that side of your face. “You have completed the task,” he pointed out and glanced at the sword next to you, moving his hand down to caress the wound on your forearm.

“Have you doubted me?” You teased with a smirk and Adar cracked a smile before moving up and helping you to stand up.

You squeezed his hand tighter, allowing him to pull you up. Then, you reached for the weapon that had been lying next to you for the past few hours and you offered it to him.

“This sword belongs to you, I believe,” you said.

Adar looked at it in silence and visibly hesitated, thinking intensely about something.

“You keep it, my Lady,” he finally laid his cold eyes upon you. They were filled with admiration now as you realised that perhaps a huge part of his army still doubted you but not him. Not as much as before, at least.

“A-are you sure, my Lord?” You asked.

“You have earned it,” Adar caressed your cheek again. “Do you know how to use it?”

“Barely,” you admitted. You had received some basic training on how to wield a sword but it had never been the most important part of your studies.

You had sometimes watched Sauron train with his own blade but he had been always saying that you were far too delicate to learn that yourself. 

“Perhaps you can teach me, husband?” You asked Adar as your eyes sparkled at the thought of finally being able to protect yourself at least a tiny bit.

“I can,” Adar nodded with a smile as he kept staring at you with admiration. It was Glûg clearing his throat that finally made him take a deep breath in and turn around to face his children. “I have returned and our enemies departed,” he said. “Your Dark Lady’s efforts have ensured that it is our land now… Our home,” he put his arm around you as he addressed his children and they cheered for the both of you.

“Hail Adar and (Y/N), Lord and Lady of the Southlands!” Waldreg shouted immediately, trying to prove his loyalty once more. He was a filthy creature, in many ways disgusting you even more than the Orcs around him. But he could still be useful one day, therefore you decided to ignore his presence most of the time.

“Hail Adar and (Y/N), Lord and Lady of the Southlands!” All the Orcs shouted as a shiver went down your spine at the sound of it.

Being in Sauron’s bed had been making you feel special and powerful before but this was the very first time you felt that you had actual power over anything real. There was an army of dangerous creatures cheering your name – now more confidently than before because now your reign was solidified by your husband’s presence, but still… It was making you feel as if nothing was impossible.

On the other hand, you also felt a little unsettled. You had always dreamt of power that Sauron had been promising you because you had never had any taste of it in your life. And now, when you were presented with a hint of it, you realised what a burden and responsibility it also was. Standing next to Adar in front of his children already felt special enough and it violated some of your privilege of being an unknown and free woman – because now you were a leader. 

Suddenly, the idea of ruling the whole Middle-earth scared you because it would be what you felt at the moment – only intensified hundreds of times more. It was the very first time when you felt fear instead of excitement at the thought of becoming Sauron’s Queen.

Those thoughts, however, disappeared as quickly as they showed up. Power might have been scary but it was intoxicating as well. And it would surely feel wonderful to be worshipped by more than just the Orcs. To hear your name being chanted by all the beings of Middle-earth – those much more graceful and pure as well.

Adar felt your uneasiness and pulled you a little bit closer, reassuringly squeezing your arm as the Orcs kept shouting Hail Adar and (Y/N), Lord and Lady of the Southlands!

“No…” Adar interrupted them finally as he raised his hand and they all went silent at his word. You looked up at him, wondering what he would say now. “That is the name of a place that no longer exists,” he reminded everyone.

“What should we call it instead, Lord Father?” Waldreg asked him.

“Mordor,” Adar answered. Land of Shadow in the language of Quenya – the speech only you and him spoke amongst all the creatures gathered around you. He looked down to meet your gaze as if he waited for your approval and you saw all the Orcs staring at you intensely, waiting for your head to nod.

Perhaps you should think now if it was a name that Sauron would approve of but you did not. He still had not answered your calls and prayers to him and you felt his presence less prominent now as if he had left those lands already. Perhaps he had never been here and you had been haunted by nothing but an illusion.

You wanted to make this decision yourself because it was your homeland that had been transformed and it was you who had transformed it. And so you made that choice by nodding your head to agree on the new name, looking deep into your husband’s eyes.

The Orcs glanced at each other and just like that, they had a new chant to shout:

“Hail Adar and (Y/N), Lord and Lady of Mordor!” 

MASTERLIST

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.6k

Warnings: angst, fluff

Summary: Just because you're brought back to him doesn't mean you're going to stop doing what you love. You tried to make a life for yourself by going to college for fashion design. You want to keep normalcy even though you're far from it.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: image prompt (U1) (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Then

After promising yourself you’d read more this year, you decided to read a few chapters every night before bed. You were sitting in the comfortable reading chair your grandma let you have when she got sick. She used to sit on this thing and read to you all the time, now it was your turn to sit and read to her. The only noise was coming from the TV where you put on a YouTube video of rain sounds. It wasn’t raining but with that video, it felt like it. You picked up your glass of wine and took a small sip just as you finished chapter five.

Someone knocked on your front door loudly, causing you to spill your wine in shock. Only a few drops but if you let the stain sit, you were never going to get it out. Who could be knocking at your door this late at night? You set the wine and book down before you walked to the front door. You peered through the peephole but it was completely black which meant that whoever was on the other side was covering it.

“Who is it?”

“Bucky.”

You practically ripped the door off the hinges once you heard his voice. He was leaning against the door frame, blood all over his clothes. He was hurt and if the blood didn’t tell you that, his pained expression did. Bucky came crashing inside but you caught him before he could fall to the ground. He was a very heavy man but you did your best to hold him up. You didn’t care if blood got on your clothes.

“Bucky, are you okay? Shit, I should take you to a hospital.”

“No hospital,” he shook his head.

“Bucky…”

“I said no,” he said again, this time a lot firmer.

“Fine. Come on.” You dragged him to your bedroom and let him lie down while you prepared to take care of him. “Don’t move.”

You ran into your adjoining bathroom and grabbed whatever you could find that might help him before rejoining his side on the bed. When you did, he had his shirt off. Even with all the bruises and cuts, he still looked like an angel to you. An angel marred by humanity. An angel with black wings. You sat next to him on the bed and used gauze to start cleaning the blood off his skin.

“What happened to you?” He refused to answer you. It was always like this. This wasn’t the first time he’s gotten hurt like this. “Bucky, please tell me what happened to you.” You pressed the gauze against one of his wounds and he hissed in pain, causing you to wince as if you were the one who was hurt. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m sorry for showing up like this.”

The more you took care of him, the more tears welled in your eyes.

“You’re always getting hurt,” you sniffled. “Where do you go? What do you do?”

“Let’s just say some men I talked to didn’t like what I had to say. It got physical.”

“Where are they?”

“Right where I left them,” he chuckled.

Once his wounds have stopped bleeding, you carefully cleaned them with a damp rag and some antiseptic.

“Are you going to tell me what you do for work?”

“No,” he said quietly.

“Do you not trust me?”

“If you can believe it, you’re one of the few I trust right now.”

“Do you not love me?”

He reached up and caressed your cheek. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes slightly.

“It’s because I love you that I can’t involve you in this.”

You bandaged his wounds as best as you could, and while you were throwing everything away, Bucky got comfortable in your bed. You joined his side and slipped underneath the covers. You carefully laid your head on his chest, the part that didn’t hurt.

“You know I worry about you, right?”

“I wish you wouldn’t. You don’t need to worry about someone like me.”

You smiled and kissed the tip of his nose delicately.

“I worry about the people I love.”

Bucky gripped your jaw gently and kissed you. Bucky was definitely keeping secrets from you but you decided to put that on the back burner for tonight. That night, all you needed was Bucky.

Now

You’re enjoying a quiet morning eating breakfast in the kitchen when your phone goes off. It’s a message from an unknown number. You look at the chef to see her engrossed in her duties, and you pick up your phone to see who could this message be from.

UNKNOWN: Hey, it’s Gio. I’m hoping I made a good enough impression for you not to forget me already. YOU: Hey, Gio! No, I didn't forget you. GIO: Good. Look, I wanted to check in on you after everything that happened at school with the shooting. You’ve been gone for a while YOU: Yeah, I needed a week to calm down after all that. I’m okay, though. GIO: Glad to hear it. Are you going to be in school today?

You bite your lip nervously. Bucky wouldn’t like it if you stepped one foot outside this mansion without him. Fuck that! He’s not the boss of you! He can’t keep you prisoner here. Go to school if you want to go to school.

YOU: Yes, I am. GIO: Cool! I look forward to seeing you in class :)

You finish breakfast before heading upstairs and getting dressed. There is a reason you’re in college. There’s a reason why you’re taking fashion design classes. You’re not going to let someone like Bucky take that away from you. After getting dressed in something warm, you head downstairs. You’re looking at your phone so you don’t see Bucky before you run right into him. He grips your shoulders to prevent you from falling, and you look up at him in shock.

“Sorry.”

“Where are you going?”

“School.”

“You can do school here.”

“Not for the classes I need to be in person for, and since you wrecked my car, I need to leave now to catch the bus.”

Bucky’s jaw ticks in anger or annoyance, you’re not sure. You can practically see the cogs turning in his head. He rolls his eyes at losing his inner battle.

“Fine, I’ll take you to school.”

“With no bodyguards. I don’t need Sam and Steve lingering in the classes like weirdos.”

“Only if you promise not to run.”

“I thought you liked chasing me.” Bucky smirks slightly but decides against saying anything else. You finally have time to see what he’s wearing and your mouth waters when you see his very loose gray sweatpants that hang low on his hips. No! Bad girl! Don’t think about that! But he’s so delicious and you really do miss the way his body feels against yours. Don’t make me smack you. Fine. “I’ll wait by the car while you get dressed. There’s no way you’re leaving the house wearing that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirks.

God damn it. He leaves while you wait by one of his cars. You’re not sure which one he is going to take since he has about a million of them inside his garage. He joins your side wearing a three-piece suit. He must be going to the office today. You’re not sure if you prefer him wearing sweatpants or in a suit. Sweatpants. Definitely sweatpants. No shirt. Obviously.

He picks the Range Rover and you climb into the passenger seat. He never lets you drive now or when you two were dating. He often claims that you always have been and will always be his Passenger Princess. Not that you minded much because it gave you the opportunity to stare at him. Ahem. Admire. Apparently, there’s a difference.

“Lose something over here, pisică?” he smirks. You snap your eyes forward and pretend like you aren’t admiring how good he looks. You look in the mirror and see another black SUV trailing behind that no doubt has Steve and Sam in. “What are you going to school for?”

This is a safe topic to discuss and you relax in your seat.

“Fashion design. I really want to start my own line of clothes.”

“I remember you were saying something about that,” he smiles.

“Well, I only just started college. It’s a few classes while I get my general out of the way, but I like it.”

Bucky pulls up to the side of the campus where your first class is. You’re not sure what to say. You look at your phone to see you have forty-five minutes before your class starts.

“Thanks for the ride.”

You’re about to get out when he stops you.

“What time does your last class end?”

“Three.”

“I’ll pick you up then. Right here.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You leave the car but the feeling of his eyes on you doesn’t go away. You’re about half a football field away from him when you turn and look at him. He’s still staring at you so you scurry off with a blush. He chuckles and pulls away from the school, deciding to trust you that you’ll be there when he picks you up. Your first two classes go by without a hitch and your third class is your favorite--Fashion Design 102. The classroom is set up like a lab with desks that can only fit two people. The walls are covered with fabrics, the ground splattered with paint, and a bunch of mannequins are scattered about. Gio sits at one of the long tables and smiles when he sees you.

“Rayne!”

Oh, yeah. You told him your name is Rayne. Since Bucky found you, there’s no reason to keep that secrecy. You take a seat next to him and blush slightly from embarrassment.

“My name isn’t Rayne. It’s Y/N. I was going through stuff when I told you my name, but I’m okay now. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Gio chuckles in amusement. “It’s no problem. I know a bit about running from your past. I get it. I like Y/N better, anyway.”

“Thanks.”

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah. I needed time to process what happened.”

“Again, I get it,” he nods.

There’s no way you’re going to tell him that what happened was because of you. All you want to do is focus on your design class. Gio is interested in designing men’s clothing which you know he will be good at. All his sketches are amazing. The professor has people teaming up to create an article of clothing so naturally, Gio asked you to be his. Before you can start designing, you have to have sketches.

Gio wanted to make a suit while you wanted to make a dress. You two compromised and you’re making a dress. He’s picking the color and fabric while you two create the design.

“So, what’s your deal?”

“With what?” you chuckle and continue sketching.

“You’re gorgeous, there’s not secret about that. You’re funny and very smart. Last I remember, you don’t have a boyfriend, right?”

Bucky immediately comes to mind. If you were to tell Gio no, he’d kill him for sure. Technically, you never broke up with him. You just ran away. Gio sees the look on your face and chuckles in amusement.

“It’s complicated, I guess. Like I said to you before, it wouldn’t be fair to you if I couldn’t give you my all, you know?”

“Yeah, I do. Friends?”

“Yeah, friends,” you smile.

The class ends once you finish the design on sketches. You only have three classes but the fashion one takes two hours. Bucky pulls up to the meeting spot exactly at three and looks for you. He sees you walking with a man taller than you. He looks younger than Bucky and leaner than him. He still has muscle but not nearly as enough as Bucky have. You’re leaning into his side with a smile on your face, laughing at something he said. Bucky tries to let it slide that he’s standing so close to you but when Gio pulls you into a hug, his blood boils. He honks his horn and you jump away from him in shock.

“Sorry, that’s me. I gotta go,” you chuckle nervously. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You walk over to Bucky’s car and get in the passenger’s seat with a frown on your face. Bucky has a grumpy smile on his face and you roll your eyes as you put your seatbelt on.

“Don’t give me that look. I’m allowed to have friends.”

“Friends don’t touch your ass when they hug you.”

“He wasn’t.”

“Do you remember what happened to that man in my meeting?”

He doesn’t have to say the words for you to know what he means. You whip your head toward him and glare as hard as you can.

“Don’t you fucking dare. If you do, I will leave again, you’ll never find me, and we’re done.”

Bucky is silent for twenty minutes before smirking.

“Are you saying we’re not done now?”

You can’t stay mad at him. You want to be pissed at him but then he says shit like that and makes you fall for him even more. The rest of the car ride is spent in silence except for the light stream of music coming from the speakers. Bucky pulls up to his mansion and escorts you inside. The first thing you see is a trail of rose petals leading from the door to the kitchen. You gasp when you see the table set for a romantic dinner for two. Candles, flowers, hot food, and alcohol.

“What is this?”

“I figure I owed you dinner after everything.”

“You didn’t have to do all this.”

“I know. I wanted to.” Your stomach flips upside down and your heart swells in happiness. “Plus, I slaved over the stove all day for you.”

As happy as you are, you can’t help but feel sad. Bucky have proven he can be this sweet and good man, so why the hell is he in the most dangerous business? He’s messing with your head and you’re not sure what to think. Don’t think. Just be in the moment. All your problems will still be there tomorrow morning. Right. Be in the moment.

That’s what you do, and you and Bucky have a nice dinner where your problems slide into tomorrow and nothing else matters but you two. After dinner, Bucky walks to you to your room as if he’s walking you home after a date. You know what happens after a date. Bucky did the same thing after every one of yours, so you’re not sure what’s going to happen here. You stop outside your room and look into Bucky’s blue eyes.

“Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.”

Bucky reaches out and cups your jaw. You part your lips and he runs his thumb along your bottom lip. He cups the other side of your jaw and pulls you toward him. He kisses you desperately and grips your hair to keep you in place. It’s been so long since you’ve felt his lips on yours and it’s making your knees weak. He slides his tongue into your mouth to meet yours and licks every inch he can. By the time he is pulling away, your brain is numb.

“Goodnight.”

“Night,” you mumble.

It doesn’t matter how hard you try to stay away from him. You can’t.

x

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[lucienarcheron]

Spirit Meets the Bones XXXIII

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Author’s Note:  Thank you for reading <3 I hope you enjoy this next chapter and where the story is going :)

thank you @elidelochans for always being my beta <3

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @zenkindoflove / @animezinglife / @rosewood-cafe / @vanserrass / @positivewitch / @clockwork-ashes / @carnythian / @secret-third-thing / @runningwiththeoceans / @that-golden-lyre / @thedarkinmansfield / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @mali22 / @readthelastpaage / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @feysandfeels / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @gracie-rosee / @mage-neve / @illyrianvalkyrie / @saint-stella / @rainbowsnowflake / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens

Find it all here.

When two days passed, Eris gathered with his brothers and mother in her garden. For this conversation, Iris stood by his side. He had carefully shielded their scents and if his brothers noticed, they didn’t comment. 

He may trust them but as he shared a glance with his wife, Eris couldn’t help but want to keep this…gift to himself a little longer. If they made it through this, Eris would let himself reflect on how the Mother had a strange sense of humor; to give him Iris with the possibility of losing her. 

Then again, the Mother knew this would be a hard fight. Sending his mate only gave him more reason to insist on making it out. 

“You don’t think it’s too dangerous to be gathered like this in one place?” Lady Enya asked in the silence, her hands wringing in her lap. 

“I glamored us as we arrived,” Eris assured her. “No one saw us coming in.” 

But his mother was more nervous than usual, which added to his stress. Eris could tell she was tired and it made him want to choke his father more viciously than usual; that fucker knew his wife hated his guts and yet he kept his paws all over her. 

Forcing the thought from his mind, his expression tight, he addressed his mother with a nod. “Are you prepared?” he asked. “Do you have everything you need?”

Lady Enya nodded, her hands clenching in her gown. “Yes,” she answered, clearing her throat. “I don’t wish to take anything with me but the clothes on my back. I have nothing of value that I shared with him.” 

The words made him grimace. He knew his mother hadn’t meant her words to be about her sons but it didn’t stop the sting of knowing how she had held herself back. It didn’t hurt any less that she had endured all this because of them. For them. 

The brothers shared a frown.

“I’ve checked with every one of my sources and nothing seems to be amiss,” Emil said, his arms crossed. “My soldiers are ready.”

Izak, seated next to their mother, nodded. “The same with mine. Everything is going according to plan.” 

“What about Lucien?” Finn asked. 

“I’ve been in touch. Everything is fine on his end.” Eris confirmed. “Winter and Dawn have given us passage to winnow from the court lines.”

“No questions asked?” Iris inquired carefully. 

“Lucien has enough connections that no one bats an eye when he mentions he’s passing through with people,” he explained. “Especially when Helion and Rhys are welcoming. There’s no reason to object when there won’t be lingering.”

“Does Rhys know?” Lady Enya asked quietly. 

A muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw. “Rhys has always known this day would come but he doesn’t ask questions. He knows it’s near.” 

Finn shifted on his feet. “We’ve checked and triple-checked everything. Things are going according to plan and yet…why does it feel like something isn’t right?”

“Because we’re a bunch of paranoid motherfuckers.” Izak said then glanced at his mother. “Apologies, mother.”

The corner of Iris’s lips twitched as her mother-in-law rolled her eyes at her son and she couldn’t help but let her gaze shift between the brothers and their mother, feeling slightly out of place. This was her first time meeting Emil and Izak personally and other than an awkward greeting, they kept their distance; the tension lining Eris’s back and the way he watched his brothers with every breath they took near her had Iris do the same. Given what Eris had shared with her about each of them, Iris couldn’t help but have a soft spot for the brothers who were all trying to find the light with love as they battled their own demons. It didn’t change how close Eris had her stand and if anything, his brothers understood his possessiveness too well, even if they didn’t know to what extent.

The last two nights seemed to escalate his levels of stress and Iris had watched him have to expel his anger, nearly setting their whole suite aflame to get himself through the day. He’d leave her early and return late, checking in with her periodically throughout the day and whenever he did, they would end up releasing his stress in a much more intimate way. Iris had found that whenever his body was draped over hers, was the only time he actually relaxed. 

Even in his sleep, her husband struggled and she found herself awake more often, watching him as he shuddered through every breath. 

Iris kept her eyes on Eris as he ran his tongue over his teeth, sharing a look with Emil. “We did find one idiot who was ready to sell out,” he said carefully. “He was hoping to get in with the High Lord and rise through the rankings.” 

“And what happened to him?” Finn asked, his tone casual.

“By the time Eris and I got to him, our sentries had let him know exactly how they felt about ruining our chances,” Emil said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “We aren’t the only ones desperate for change.”

“I would’ve cut out his tongue.” Izak huffed.

“Emil did,” Eris said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Then we hung him in the center of the training ring with a knife lodged in his throat.”

“That seems unnecessary.” Lady Enya muttered mildly.

But Finn nodded at them. “Nice.”

“You have a very odd definition of nice.” Iris said with a raised brow and Finn’s answering grin was a little too sinister. 

“I would’ve carved out his internal organs to hang him by and then pinned his body to the wall with knives so he could bleed to death, slowly and painfully. What they did was nice.” he said and Iris couldn’t help her grimace.

“Please –” their mother started and glanced at Eris who sighed.

“Let’s focus,” he waved a hand. “We have another week before this hell is over. Keep straightening things out. If you hear even a whisper of something, you let me know immediately.” Eris glanced back at his mother. “We wait for the signal that Helene, Theo, and Cosette are fine. We dance. We mingle. Once Father gives his bore of a speech like every year, Emil will be walking you to where you will meet Mikel and then to where you will meet Iris and Oren. From there, you two will pretend to walk towards your gardens until you cross the gates. Serphan will winnow you to Lucien and then report back to me. Helion will also be waiting.”

Lady Enya swallowed, a hand rubbing her throat. “And they – Lucien knows what to do in case something goes wrong?”

Eris nodded then gave them all a pointed look. “Rumor has it that our youngest brother was invited and he may be making an appearance,” he said. “Should he need to use it, he knows the code. Each of our sentries has a uniform color. Lucien knows my insignia and who he can ask if needed.” 

A silence fell on the group and Iris’s gaze couldn’t help but flicker between them all. She couldn’t imagine how long they’d been waiting for this and how these last few days were causing more agony than anything else. 

Lady Enya broke the silence first, rubbing a shaky hand to her forehead. “I’m – I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry to be causing all this.” 

A collective noise of disapproval rang from the brothers and she looked at them with a watery smile. 

“But I am. I always will be,” she added, her grip tightening in the folds of her dress. “If I could stay and help avoid all this, I would but I  — I can’t anymore.”

“Mother.” Finn chasted her gently and his expression tightened when Izak wrapped his burly arm around their mother’s delicate frame and kissed the top of her head. 

“Don’t apologize,” Izak said. “We can’t keep living this way regardless.”

“Enough is enough,” Emil added solemnly. “We are more than what he’s forced us to be.” 

Eris met his mother’s gaze. “You are a phoenix ready to rise from the ashes, remember?” he asked quietly. “Don’t look back now.” 

Lady Enya glanced at each of her sons and then took a shaky breath. “You are all the light of my life. I am proud of each of you and know you will always be more than he could ever dream. Better than he could ever dare to be.” she said softly. “I love you.” 

And Iris had to look away from them as each of the brothers, including her husband, flushed lightly at their mother’s words. But she could feel their content, felt how it filled them with joy and Iris felt an ache in her chest. She hadn’t met her own mother but Lady Enya had easily and so quickly filled that role. This wasn’t her moment and yet Iris felt so honored to be a part of it.

Clearing his throat, Izak gruffly mumbled, “We love you too.”  

Lady Enya chuckled and patted Izak’s cheek. “I know, my beautiful boy,” she said, then sighed quietly, straightening. “Do not underestimate him. He will not respond well and I know he has something up his sleeve.” 

“The bridal party waiting for us isn’t for nothing,” Emil mused. “He’s invited every influential family in the court and somehow, they all have eligible daughters.” 

“We dance and we mingle,” Eris repeated his instructions firmly. “Lying is a form of art we’ve excelled at for years. It won’t kill you to dance with a potential bride to keep up the ruse.” 

“Yeah, but Helene might kill me.” Izak mumbled and Finn snorted as Iris’s lips twitched. 

“Considering Father might kill you first should you not dance, you’ll have to risk it,” Eris said dryly. “He’s surrounding himself with people like him for a reason. He believes in the strength of numbers and has purposely kept some of the guest list names from mother.”

“I think it’s a mighty coincidence that this particular ball is the one he’s having potential brides from powerful families attend,” Emil said. “If the High Lord is promising your daughter a prince, you’d be more than happy to side with a tyrant than against him.”

“It might not be to the extent that families have turned,” Finn said. “But it doesn’t help us if he has some of them present.”

Izak shook his head. “Those families have always been in his pocket, they keep each other comfortable. We knew this.”

“Those families are full of nothing but lofty words.” Lady Enya added. “Nothing in the preparations should change but I still don’t think you should trust them.” 

Finn glanced at Eris. “Once we’re done with Father, we get to clean out the garbage, right?”

“Whoever does not bend to the new ruling will be taken out immediately,” Eris said, his expression tightening. “We know who these people are. They have one chance to make the right choice or they won’t live to make another one.” He glanced at each of his brothers. “This is the only shot we have to disinfect this court and make it into something worth living in. This is bigger than just us.” 

“You should anticipate your father being there.” Lady Enya said to Iris. “He was one of the people the High Lord insisted on adding to the guest list and I don’t see Aron declining the invitation.”

Iris grimaced, her fists clenching at her sides. “I have no doubt he’ll be there,” she said then glanced at Eris. “Even if he knows he’s not wanted.” 

“Especially if he knows he’s not wanted,” Eris muttered. “He knows what awaits him should he step one toe out of line.” And he forced himself to roll his shoulders back, pushing back the surge of anger thumping in his chest at the mention of his father-in-law. He glanced at Izak instead and waved a hand for a letter to appear then flicked it to his brother. “Lucien let me know this morning that Helene and her mother have been settling in nicely. She sent you a letter.” 

Izak caught it and held it tightly, nodding at Eris. “Thank you.” 

Eris nodded back and then glanced at Emil. “Cosette?”

“She’s ready to leave.” his brother answered tightly.

“Adler?”

“He knows his orders.” 

Eris nodded again and ran a hand through his hair. “We have to be on guard for anything.”

“I know.” 

Eris shifted as he stared at his family, feeling the blood pumping beneath his skin. “If –”

“Eris.” Emil’s calm tone cut through his. “We’ve done every single thing we could. The only thing we can do is set it in motion and make it through.” 

Taking a breath through his nose, Eris let his head fall back, his eyes on the open air above them. “I won’t pretend I’m not filled with dread and it’s been getting harder to tighten the leash on my powers,” he mumbled then fixed his gaze back on his brothers. “I set fire to one of the stables yesterday because Father made a snippy comment.”

“What a pity he wasn’t standing in it,” Finn said, his lips twitching and Eris snorted. 

“Pity, indeed.” 

Iris’s gaze locked on Eris and his tightened shoulders and she couldn’t help stepping closer to him, her hand sliding to his back as she leaned into him. He glanced at her with a thin smile then cleared his throat, addressing them all. 

“He’s going to make this a hard fight. We fight as dirty as he does.” Eris said firmly. “Whatever it takes.”

It fell silent as his brothers nodded. His mother’s eyes welled up again, and Eris had to look away from her so it didn’t pain him. He glanced at Iris instead, and even though her smile was a small sad one, it managed to loosen a breath from his chest. Whatever it took, he would crawl his way out of this and back to her. 

“Well,” Finn began and Eris let out a long-suffering sigh echoed by Emil and Izak. “He can’t kill all of us, right? One of us has to survive him to continue the Vanserra line.” 

“Finn.” Eris warned as their mother made a noise of distress.

“What? I’m only reassuring you once again, that if the task comes to me, I would be happy to marry all your lovely ladies and take care of them should you all bite the dust at the ball,” Finn said graciously.

“Don’t you have a certain someone in your life?” Iris asked, holding back a laugh and Finn waved a hand good-naturedly.

“He’s very reasonable, you’ll love him,” he reassured Iris as he wiggled his brows at her. “You won’t mind having sister wives, right? As the wife of my oldest brother, you would be my first wedded, of course.”

Before Eris could do more than snarl rather viciously at his brother’s teasing, Iris held a hand to her husband’s chest and raised a brow at Finn. “It’s sweet you think you can handle one wife, much less three,” she said then turned back to Eris. “If you bite the dust as your brother says, I promise I won’t marry him.” She patted his chest gently. “But, you’ll be perfectly safe so there’s nothing to worry about. You don’t need to punch him.” 

Eris scowled then narrowed his eyes at Finn’s smug smile. “I still want to punch him.”

“We can save it for another day. When all this is over.” Iris couldn’t help but glance at the rest of them. “When we’re all safe. You can punch each other all you want then.” 

“Your wife is an optimist,” Emil noted, tilting his head at her curiously. “What a fate to be married to a Vanserra.”  

Iris’s lips twitched then made a show of stepping back to run her gaze down Eris’s body and back up. Eris’s brow lifted as she made a noise of approval. “Well, he is pretty so it balances out all the struggle,” she said and Eris rolled his eyes as she turned back to shrug at his brothers. “It isn’t much, but it’s honest work.” 

Izak’s head tipped back with a laugh as Finn hooted and Emil couldn’t help his chuckle. 

And Eris wanted to devour her when she gave him a cheeky smile that made him roll his eyes again. “Hysterical,” he deadpanned, the tips of his ears heating at his mother’s small smile. 

“I told you she was funny,” Finn said to his brothers. 

“My wife’s jokes and Finn’s enthusiasm to marry females who won’t want him aside –” Eris began, warning Finn with a look when his brother opened his mouth. “We’ve lingered enough, I think. Should anything else come up, be quick and be discreet.” 

The brothers let themselves slowly disperse with Emil vanishing first then Finn. Izak delayed for a moment and approached Iris with a thin smile. Eris’s brow quirked up as his brother ran a hand over his beard, his expression curiously cautious. “I just wanted to say…I think you and Helene would get along well,” he said and glanced at Eris before meeting Iris’s gaze. “It’s not easy being married to a Vanserra but…I think you two could be friends. If – if you wanted.” 

Iris’s smile was warm. “Based on what Eris mentioned to me, I think so too. I look forward to meeting her when I can.” she said then added quietly, “Congratulations on the pregnancy.” 

Izak flushed, pleased as he nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you again at the ball.” 

As Izak departed and only his mother remained, Eris gave her a moment as she took in her gardens, her expression tight. He knew this place had always been a sanctuary for her and though she’d be leaving it behind for a better place, he knew it wouldn’t be easy. 

“Mother.”

Lady Enya turned towards him. “Yes?”

“If needed…will you be ready to use your magic?” he asked carefully and his mother took a breath, nodding.

“Yes. Whatever I can do, I will support your every step,” she said, her expression shifting into grim determination. “Whatever it takes, Eris.”

He nodded at his mother then shared a glance with his wife and Iris’s smile was tight as Eris promised, “Whatever it takes.” 

-

Eris blinked and as the ball crept closer, he barely slept. He went about his daily routine, spent time with his wife, and plotted through the night. He tried to be more relaxed, tried to stay focused but as everything slowly came together, he couldn’t help but anticipate that something would go wrong. He’d readjusted his plan with Oren, Mikel, and Seprhan twice already; he was driving his friends crazy. 

The feeling intensified when it was finally the night before the ball and his Father summoned him to the throne room. Eris had hesitated for only a moment in front of the door, the memory of the last time he was summoned here lingering in the back of his mind. But he forced himself forward and allowed himself a glance around the room as he walked towards where his father stood, taking in the splendor of decor as he went. His mother always outdid herself with the way she planned for these events. He knew how this particular event was one of significance and didn’t miss the little signs around the room. The abundance of gold. The wisps of fire magic. The miniature phoenix art scattered around the room. His lips couldn’t help but twitch. 

Eris paused a healthy distance from the High Lord who stood with his back to him, facing the throne. As his Father deliberately took his time to acknowledge him, Eris ran his tongue over his teeth and made himself take a deep breath, schooling his expression into that careful calm he desperately needed around his least favorite person. 

After a few moments of silence, Eris clenched his fists behind his back and cleared his throat. “You called, Father.”

Beron glanced over his shoulder and then made a noise of disapproval as he turned to face his son. The two watched each other in silence and though Eris was used to his father’s mind games, something about this summoning felt…sinister.

Beron gestured for Eris to come closer and immediately, his shoulders couldn’t help tensing further.

But Eris moved and stopped at the place Beron had pointed to, right in front of him. “Do you know why I called you here, son?”

“I really hope it’s because you missed me,” Eris said with a thin smile. “Otherwise my feelings will be hurt.” 

Beron snorted. “Funny,” he said and shifted his head slightly as he watched Eris. “I wonder if you get your humor from your wife. I hear she’s very funny.” 

A beat of silence passed and Eris felt his heart nearly leap out of his chest. “Pray tell, who has been passing along her jokes?”

His father’s answering smile made Eris’s fists tighten. “The wind carries all kinds of whispers, son. I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

The moment stretched between them and Eris tried to keep the beating of his heart calm as his father watched him. What did that even mean? Who was talking?

The High Lord’s mouth curled and Eris tried to tamper down his agitation as his father added, “Then again, everything about your wife would be a secret if it was up to you.” 

Eris’s expression flattened. “Are we really doing this again, Father?” he said and tried to keep his tone even. “I thought we were past this.” 

“Of course, of course,” Beron said casually. “Though how sensitive you are about her is still concerning, I suppose we have other things to worry about with our big event tomorrow.”

Tension lined Eris’s spine as he watched his father watch him, every sentence loaded with words left unsaid, and Eris’s mind scrambled to catch it all. “Indeed,” he said carefully. “What can I assist you with, Father?”

“Always so eager to assist, son,” Beron said. “Sometimes I forget just how much.”

Eris’s gaze narrowed slightly in confusion. He didn’t want to believe his father was bored and wasting his time like this. Eris could barely keep awake these days; with this last night, he wanted to be alone with his wife. His mate. He wanted that fucken time with her. 

Yet here he was, squandering that time with this.

“Is there anything about the event tomorrow you’d like me to do? I do believe everything has been taken care of.” 

“I didn’t call you here for that.” Beron said and Eris lifted a brow.

“If not that, to what do I owe the pleasure of being here?”

The words seemed to cause a slight shift in his father and Eris noted exactly when his expression went from amused disdain to anger.

“You overstep and I tire of it.”

Eris blinked. “Oh?”

“You are my eldest son. I acknowledge that a certain load of responsibility has been expected of you and even added to your shoulders. You have always done your duty as required and yet…” Beron pursed his lips, his gaze narrowing. “The past few months, you have overstepped so very often.”

Eris forced his expression into polite indifference. “Is there something I did in particular that bothered you deeply enough to summon me?” he asked and his father’s eyes narrowed. “I would like to ensure I apologize profusely for my errors.”

“You and that fucken mouth of yours.” Beron snarled and backhanded Eris so quickly he barely took a breath, his face snapping to the side and Eris nearly swore at the sheer force that went into his father’s hand. 

Oh, the High Lord was pissed to be this triggered by his tone.

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth, slowly facing his father again and he knew there was nothing to be done about the anger that coursed through his body – anger he knew the High Lord felt despite the bland expression Eris managed to push through on his face. “That seemed rather unnecessary.” he managed to say lightly, even though his fisted hands were shaking violently behind his back. “Was it something I said, High Lord?”

And this time when his father lifted his hand in warning, Eris leaned back, his expression flattening again. “I can handle words, Father. You don’t need to put your hands on me to tell me when I’ve supposedly wronged you.” 

His father’s mouth curled in anger and the High Lord stepped into Eris’s personal space even further. “Back away from me again and a flogging pole will be the least of your worries.”

A strained silence pulsed in the air between them and Eris knew he was venturing into dangerous territory when he couldn’t hold in his humorless laugh and his father’s eyes narrowed.

“And get blood all over the floor? That wouldn’t be the kind of welcome you’d want to give our guests.”

Beron yanked Eris by the front of his tunic. “Keep speaking in that sarcastic tone and your body hanging by the gates will be what welcomes the guests instead.” 

Eris felt his fire nearly burst out of him, his anger shooting up his spine but he held that leash on his magic and held it tight because he wouldn’t blow up here. Given the kind of pressure he’d been under the last three weeks, it would be so fucken easy to unleash everything and be done. 

But no. Not now. Not when they were so fucken close. Not when they could wipe the slate clean in front of the whole court and step into a new age with history on their side.

Nevertheless, Eris couldn’t stop the steam from pouring out of him and he certainly couldn’t stop his glare when his Father’s cold smirk appeared. 

“I don’t know if that would match the theme Mother’s going for this year.” Eris said tightly as he tried to reign in his anger even as Beron’s answering chuckle was laced with cruelty.

“You keep speaking to me that way and your mother will have more things to worry about than her tacky theme.” Beron spat then shoved Eris back. “Fix your face and apologize.” 

A muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw as father and son stared down one another. They had barely started talking and his father was already goading him just to lay hands on him. Had the High Lord sensed anything amiss? What was it that seemed to be putting his father in such a foul mood? 

Eris’s hands remained behind his back, flexing his fingers then fisting them again as he forced himself to bow his head and as calmly as he could choke out said, “Apologies, High Lord.” 

Beron’s head cocked to the side. “An apology should come with a full bow, boy. Do not disrespect me.” 

Eris’s expression blanked immediately and he forced his body not to react negatively, not to tense further. His well of power would not be blown away on this. This was nothing. He’d tolerated more. 

So forcing himself once more, Eris bowed fully to his father and said as dull as possible, “Apologies, High Lord.”

His father said nothing for a moment and Eris took the opportunity to glare at the sparkling floors they stood on. When another minute ticked by in silence, he couldn’t help but lift his head to find his father smirking at him. And that was never good.

Especially when he opened his mouth and said, “Your wife says my High Lord. You should say it the way she does.” 

Eris’s body straightened before he could stop himself, his vision going red and the only thing that managed to hold him back from ripping his father’s throat out was the laugh that slipped out of the High Lord’s mouth, mocking him.

“You’re so easy to rile these days.” Beron taunted. “Which goes to show you how bad of an influence that wife of yours is.” Giving Eris a sly look, his father continued, “Maybe you should pick out a new bride tomorrow.” 

Eris didn’t bother fighting back his eye roll, despite how much his clenched fists were shaking. “This conversation is getting tedious, Father,” he said curtly. “May I please know what it is you wish to discuss with me?”

The High Lord’s expression filled with contempt as he stared down his son, the silence between them was heavy with trepidation. 

“Tedious, you say.”

“Yes. We both know there are about a thousand other things we could be doing instead of this little dance between us.” 

Beron made a disinterested noise. “I had no plans other than to fuck your mother this evening. Though her lack of enthusiasm doesn’t make it as enjoyable as it could be, it is better than nothing.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eris snapped and nothing could stop his fists from catching flame. “Show some respect when you speak about her.” 

And Eris knew his father’s fist would fly out. H​​e let it. He let the taste of blood fill his mouth as he staggered back a step from the blow. His father seemed to be spiraling. He had lashed out at stupid things before but this? To this extent? Eris felt the pit of his stomach give out. Could it be that something had slipped through the cracks?

“I will speak about my wife as I see fit. You do not get to insert yourself between us.” Beron spat and Eris wiped a hand at his mouth with a huff of disbelief. His father’s expression of disdain remained as he took a step closer to his son. “This is your problem. You are always inserting yourself in places you don’t need to be. You do it with your mother. You do it with your brothers. You did it in a meeting the other day with our council while I was in the room.” The High Lord glared and Eris had to fight with all the willpower he had to calm his shaking hands – to smother his flames. “You know why I called you here? To discuss how you intervened between me and your brothers the other day. An intervention I did not welcome.” His father’s gaze raked over his face. “I’ve tolerated your overstepping in the past because you followed orders – you get things done. However, I will not tolerate your overstepping tomorrow, especially in front of the many important guests that will be present. You will remember your place and watch how you behave.” 

The High Lord’s voice was nothing but a lethal threat as he said, “The next time you get between me and your brothers so carelessly like that, you will take the brunt of their discipline.” 

Eris tried to keep his expression from shifting at the promise filled with violence. This whole conversation was bringing all the stress he had been carrying and crashing it down on his head. It seemed that indeed, his command of his brothers had finally seemed to bother his father enough that he was finally saying something about it. What convenient fucken timing. 

Beron’s expression morphed into one of cruel amusement. “Your hair is only just starting to grow out. It’s too early for another new look, don’t you agree?”

And the warning was clear – a reminder of what the High Lord would be happy to do again in this very room. 

Eris pursed his lips, his heart thundering in his chest at his father’s gaze filled with violence as clear as the tone he used. He nearly choked as his magic surged up again, desperately wanting to answer it but instead, Eris forced himself to breathe slowly, the leash on his magic held tight as he said carefully, “I merely wished to help, Father. I didn’t realize it would bother this much.”

“I do not require your help to make your brothers fall in line. You should be falling in line with them.” the High Lord snapped. “Your help has become an insult.”

Eris’s jaw worked and again, he forced himself to bow his head graciously even though he wanted to do anything but – his father had already laid his hands on him twice; he couldn’t afford to keep giving him reasons to lash out. So Eris only said, “Duly noted.”

Silence stretched between them and Eris waited, knowing a threat was coming up. His father liked to play games and loved to waste his time. Minutes ticked away and Eris couldn’t help the flare of his nostrils when his father’s mouth curled up.

“Eris.”

“Father.”

“Tomorrow is a very big day,” Beron said slowly and took a step closer to him. “I’d hate for things to go wrong should any of you decide to do something foolish.” 

A chill skittered down his spine but Eris’s expression remained politely bored. The comment didn’t have to mean anything. His father didn’t know anything. The High Lord was only lashing out because Eris hadn’t said the right things to him, because he wasn’t being as careful as he could be. He would blame it on the stress and would not let himself believe anything else.

���Other than drinking excessively,” he said as nonchalantly as possible, “I don’t foresee any trouble.”

Beron hummed, watching Eris in a way that always made his skin crawl. “Your father-in-law will be in attendance. I expect you and your wife to behave accordingly.”

Annoyance flashed on Eris’s face before he could stop it. “I am aware. He’ll do well to steer clear of us completely, Father. That is my only request to you.”

“And if I refused?”

Eris forced his expression to blank pleasantness again, noting the movement of his father’s hands. “Then I cannot promise there won’t be trouble should his path cross ours.” 

“Is that a threat, son?”

“Never, Father,” he said with a small smile. “I am merely setting expectations.”  

Beron’s eyes narrowed and it was a deadly type of silence between them, the type of silence that Eris knew, had his father not needed him to be presentable tomorrow, Eris’s face would’ve met his fire rather than his fist. “You were my favorite son.” his father said quietly. “I do not like who you’ve become.” 

Eris could only slowly shrug his shoulders. “I’m sorry to be of constant disappointment, Father,” he replied and wished he could tell his father exactly how sorry he was – how much being the so-called favorite had cost him. 

Beron scowled and grabbed Eris’s face with a hand, tugging him closer. “Do not think I haven’t noticed how abysmal your attitude has been lately but I will warn you one last time,” his father said quietly, enough violence in his tone that Eris knew not to move. “Should you do anything that isn’t a direct order from me – anything that isn’t what I expect of you, I will make you pay in ways that’ll be worse than your nightmares.” Beron shoved him back and Eris couldn’t help his expression darkening at his father’s glare. “All this family has ever been is disappointing. Let’s hope you and your useless brothers don’t make matters worse for yourselves tomorrow.” 

The High Lord shoved past Eris but paused half a step away and Eris turned his head without a word, only raising a brow at the loaded silence between them. 

But then his father’s nostrils flared and Eris felt his blood run cold. He didn’t dare breathe and mentally checked his shields, knowing he had reinforced it around his scent before he came anywhere near his father, and yet…what exactly was the High Lord sensing?

His father merely gave him a once over then spat, “I’ll see you and your wife tomorrow. I hope you remember to make good choices.” 

And the High Lord’s goodbye felt like a promise full of death. Eris waited a few moments in tense silence, his blood thumping in his ears and when he was sure he was indeed alone, he closed his eyes to let out a deep shaky breath, feeling steam rise from his hands. His anxiety had returned in full force at his father’s departure. His father couldn’t have sensed anything, could he? Eris had glamoured his scent well; no one could note his mating bond, especially without Iris near him. If his father had scented his wife on him, that wouldn’t be unusual but Eris was too careful even for that. 

He ran a shaky hand through his hair and let himself linger for another moment, eyes flickering around the room, letting himself see it as it was for the last time. With a sigh, he turned on his heels and left the throne room. 

He needed to warn his brothers. 

–

Iris watched as Eris finally stepped into their suite and slammed the door behind him. He had taken longer than she had anticipated and the anxiety that had been squeezing around her chest immediately loosened when she saw that he was whole and unharmed. Her heart had stopped when Eris had told her about the High Lord’s meeting and the only reason Iris had survived waiting was because she distracted herself on the piano. 

Everything was supposed to be set. Everything was in place and yet, the tension that seeped into the room with him made her nervous. She hated that what could be their final night together was filled with such emotions. 

She rose from her place on the piano and walked over to him then stopped in her tracks, noting the slight bruise on his cheek, the cut on his lip. “What happened.” 

Her voice was more hushed than intended but if not for that, Iris knew she would start to panic. She moved closer until she stood before him and let her healing senses reach out, not wanting to touch him just yet – not until she was sure he wanted her touch at this moment. But she sensed nothing amiss aside from the evidence on his face and had to swallow when she met his blank stare. “What was this about?” she asked softly.

Eris had to calmly count to ten and let out a long breath before he could speak, “I seemed to have gotten under the High Lord’s skin when I supposedly overstepped and intervened between him and my brothers the other day.” he explained and Iris watched with a grimace as his fists tightened at his sides. “He wanted to remind me of my place and to watch my tone because apparently, my sarcasm doesn’t translate well.” 

“So he finally noticed and said something about it?”

“Funny how he’s always benefited from me doing all his work for him and now has the nerve to get annoyed by it,” Eris grumbled then shook his head. “He wanted to warn us – me to behave tomorrow.” 

Iris felt her heart stutter in her chest. “Warn how?” 

“He wanted to make sure I didn’t intervene in my brother’s whore parade so they could pick wives.” 

Iris brows furrowed. “Given that they’re all in committed relationships, I don’t think it’s going to go the way he wants.”

“Hopefully, by the end of the night tomorrow, he’ll be dead and we won’t have to worry about him at all,” Eris spat and rolled his head back, breathing deeply and Iris felt his frustration seep off him.

She frowned and stopped in front of him, assessing his expression then reached out a hand to gently touch him. She waited a heartbeat, giving him the chance to push her hand away if he wanted to but Eris couldn’t seem to help but shudder at the touch, and after a moment’s hesitation, he turned his face to kiss her hand softly. “You’re almost there. Tomorrow, you all will be free of him. You’ve prepared as best as you can.” she said softly, letting her magic wipe away his hurt.

“I know and yet, I don’t feel prepared at all,” he said quietly and Iris had never seen his eyes so tired. “I feel like it’s going to all go to hell and I’m going to drag you all down with me.” 

Iris cupped his face and forced him to meet her gaze. “Everyone is ready to go down swinging with you, Eris. This is not on your shoulders alone,” she said. “Please…unburden yourself.” 

He shook his head slowly and pulled her hands from his face to hold in his own. “My head isn’t wired to do that,” he said. “I’m thinking about all of the things that could go wrong.”

“But what about all the things that could go right?” Iris asked, squeezing his hands.

Eris’s chuckle was weak. “How I ended up with an optimistic wife really is a comical event. You truly did marry into the wrong family.” 

The corner of Iris’s mouth lifted. “Fate does work in mysterious ways.” 

“Indeed,” he agreed, then took a step back, his expression shifting. “Do you have all your items prepared for tomorrow? Aside from the bag we sent ahead to Lucien and Elain’s.”

She tried not to let her face fall and nodded. “I have a small satchel and daggers to hide beneath my dress.”

“You know where you’ll be meeting Oren?”

“Yes.”

“And the drop-off location where you’ll winnow to reach Lucien?” 

“Yes, Eris,” she said wearily. “We went over all this in the morning.”

“And we shall review it again tomorrow. I cannot take any risks when it comes to you.” he said and Iris gave him a knowing look.

“I know,” she said quietly. “Do you want to try and get some sleep? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

Eris shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep. I’m too tense. Too nervous.” he said and licked his lips, glancing at her in a way that made her pause.

She waited a heartbeat then asked, “...Is there something else?”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, his expression tight but with a sigh, Eris explained quietly, “When he was walking away from me, he paused a step away and…seemed to sense something in the air next to me.” 

Iris froze in his arms. “And you think that means…he knows something?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Why else would he do that? You mentioned in the stables he seemed to sense something around you. What if he sensed something from me? What if he knows?”

“Eris –”

“Iris, I can’t – how can I —” he growled and his grip on her tightened. “If he knows and pulls some shit tomorrow that would harm you in any way I —”

“Eris.” Her tone was firm enough that it made him pause, his expression stricken in a way that made her chest ache for him. “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“How can you –”

“And what if he does? What does it matter?” Iris asked. “Tomorrow, things will change regardless. What does it matter if he finds out about our bond now?”

Eris’s expression fell and his whisper was hoarse, “Because this is the one thing – you are the one thing that is all mine. I don’t want his mark on it.” 

Iris felt her heart crack, the same way it always did when she thought of the way he’d lived his life constantly on edge, constantly thinking and planning and scheming. She didn’t want this particular night together to be this way. He needed some peace and Iris needed him just as badly as he needed peace.

“It doesn’t matter what or if he does anything,” she said quietly but not weakly. “I am yours and you are mine and whatever tomorrow brings, we will face it. He doesn’t get to win.” 

Eris struggled not to tremble at her determined gaze. That he had someone to worry about was one thing but to have someone — her — worry about him like this? He could truly never bring her peace and yet – she looked at him like this. Like she lov— loved him. 

As he loved her.

“What do you need?” Iris found herself whispering, reaching out a hand to gently touch his face again and a thrill always did go through her at how many times she could make him shudder with her touches. Iris waited, watching as he worked his jaw, swallowing before his eyes met hers. Without saying anything, she could feel his every emotion and concern. The thread at her ribcage was a path to his every thought and she gently tugged at it as for once, her husband let his emotions flicker across his face. The panic, the worry, the desperation, and Iris would do anything to bring him ease. 

After an eternity, his response was a broken rasp, “You. I only need you.”

Iris softened and stepped closer, Eris's arm immediately wrapping around her waist to pull her into him. “You have me,” she said softly and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I am here, with you. I am yours.”

He licked his lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly, without saying a word, the look they shared conveyed exactly what he needed – wanted, and always craved. He needed her in every way. He needed to only see her tonight. To only feel her. 

Her eyes didn’t waver from his as she slowly slid a hand down his chest. She knew exactly what he needed to be able to get through this night and Iris wanted nothing more than for them to feed into their feelings. Her hand continued down, past the waistband of his trousers until her hand wrapped around his impressive length and Eris hissed as she squeezed him, slowly pumping. His arm tightened around her, tension lining every inch of him even as their mouths were a breath apart.

“Tell me what you need,” she whispered but Eris couldn’t do anything but watch the blush across her cheeks, trying not to have his eyes roll back as she tightened her grip. His breath stuttered as she leaned in closer to him, pumping him leisurely as she spoke, “Do you want me on my knees? Should I take you in my mouth?” Eris groaned and closed his eyes, leaning into her slightly when Iris quickened her pace and then slowed down. “Tell me what I can do to make you feel good.”

“I want you everywhere.” he rasped and opened his eyes, his gaze filled with a desperate kind of heat that Iris felt seep into her bones. “Anything you want. Everything you’re willing to give me. I want this night to be just about you and me. For nothing else to matter.”

“Then nothing else has to matter right now,” she said softly. “It’s always just you and me.”

Eris licked his lips, his request for permission written all over his face, and every desperate thought and emotion he had spilled into his next word, “Please.” 

All it took was a nod from his wife and any restraint Eris had snapped. His kiss was as desperate as he felt, chasing her lips and Iris whimpered into his mouth, her hands digging into his back, quickly backing her into the table of their dining room.

“I — I can’t be gentle right now.” He said urgently in between his kisses, his hands moving as quickly as hers, both trying to undress the other. “If you don’t want that — please tell me now I don’t want to —“

But she held up her hand and Eris froze immediately, breathing heavily with her barricaded between his arms. Tonight, there would be nothing gentle about their coupling. With how high stakes everything would be tomorrow, all Iris wanted – needed was him. “I don’t want gentle," Iris said quietly. "I want whatever you'll give me.”

The demand in her tone had a noise he never thought he could make slip from his throat and Eris surged forward to claim her lips once more, searing himself into her.

His hands couldn’t move fast enough; he shoved her dress down her body, undergarments with it and Eris only got a second to admire her body before getting distracted by Iris’s own hands practically ripping off his clothing and in an instant, he helped her send them flying. He turned her around, pushing her body down and Iris hissed at the sensation of the cold table to her heated naked body. She couldn’t help but lean forward even further, presenting herself to him, and couldn’t stop the mewl that slipped from her lips when he smacked her ass. 

She looked over her shoulder and found Eris’s eyes on her, spreading her legs and Iris couldn’t stop the arch of her hips, biting her lip with a soft moan when his fingers slipped into her already wet folds.

“This is going to be hard and fast. I promise to be nice to you later but now…now I need to fuck you, wife.” He said and the low tenor of his voice made her hips arch back further, her breaths in time with his fingers teasing her entrance. “You understand?”

“Then you better fuck me hard, mate.” she said and Eris’s breath shuddered as she whispered, “I’m all yours.”

“Brace yourself,” was all he said before Eris thrust into her without preamble, and Iris let out a ragged moan, clutching onto the table as he had her. Eris fisted a hand in her hair and fucked her at a vicious pace and she could do nothing but bend over further for him, whimpering helplessly.

Her body took him and his brutal pace, Iris groaning as Eris grunted into her ear and Iris felt her impending release slowly start to build. The sensation of his tight grip on her hair, his other hand firmly on her back to keep her down was fueling a lust like never before in her.

It made her realize that she desperately liked it when he unleashed himself on her. That in fact, she loved that he was fucking her like this, especially as he thrust into her so hard again, he hit a spot she hadn’t thought existed until him. 

Looking over her shoulder, her breath quickened at the sight of the fire blazing in his eyes as he claimed her.

“Husband.” She gasped and Eris’s eyes snapped up to her, the hand on her back sliding to her ass and squeezing.

“Wife.”

“Harder.” She demanded and Eris’s eyes glazed over, the words driving him into a frenzy. He growled so deeply, goosebumps erupted all over her and the hand fisted in her hair pulled her head back so he could claim her lips, bruising her with a kiss.

“Gladly, mate.” he purred.

She shuddered and tried to meet his pace but Eris had unleashed himself completely and her husband was gone. Pushing her down fully on the table, the grip on her hips was deliciously painful as he thrust wildly.

There was no hope for her to catch up and Iris happily let him claim her, her release creeping closer – knowing how much they needed this with all that tomorrow would bring. The sound of his heavy breathing, the sound of their bodies meeting, and finally when he smacked her ass hard enough she knew there would be a mark, Iris shattered with a delicate cry.

Eris grunted and didn’t give her a moment to shudder through her climax as he pulled out, his length hard and wet with her release. He turned her over so fast and before she could realize what was happening, her husband had her flat on her back on the table.

Yanking her to the edge, he spread her legs for him and slapped her cunt, rubbing the slickness of her release in her folds. “I didn’t ask you to come.” He purred, his tone just a little mean and Iris arched her back off the table with a throaty groan as he slapped her sex again. “You like it when I slap your cunt, wife? Your cunt that belongs to me?”

But Iris was having a hard time getting her mouth to form words and could only breathe heavily, nodding. 

“I want to hear your answer, little gazelle.” he growled and slapped her cunt again, the sting a little harder and Iris cried out.

“Yes.” Iris wouldn’t bring herself to be embarrassed at the whimper that left her lips when he did it once more with a savage grin.

“That’s my good girl.”

Iris’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as his hips snapped into hers and held, the sensation so overwhelmingly good she could already feel another release building. 

The blaze in his eyes become more prominent, predatory as he pulled back only to pound into her again, his thrusts frantic and the pace merciless, watching her take his cock; a choked sob slipping from Iris’s lips when he pushed her legs further apart and held down, the angle deepening his reach. Her hand slid to her clit and his smirk was wild as he watched her play with herself, her pace trying to match his.

“You take me so fucken good, wife. I need to fuck you in front of a mirror so you can see the way my cock fills you up. So you can see how your swollen cunt drips with need for me.” His voice was guttural and Iris bit her lips, the words only igniting more fire in her – more want. “You like it like this? You like it when I lose control? When I fuck you like an animal?”

“Yes.” She breathed and Eris clenched his jaw, his thrusts now desperate. 

“My hand — your throat.” his words were barely understood as another choked whimper slipped from Iris and she begged, 

“Please.”

Her plea had Eris’s hand slide to her throat and Iris’s mouth fell open at the sensation of his grip tightening slightly.

“You like that?” He ground out, snapping his hips into her hard enough, it caused her to shift back onto the table slightly.

But Iris could only gasp as he pulled her back to the edge of the table with a growl, his grip on her throat heightening all her other senses, her free hand clenching the hand on her throat desperately.

“I’m —“

“I’ll have you dripping all over this table momentarily, wife.” He snarled. “Patience.”

And Iris let him lose himself inside her as she lost herself in him. The feeling of being at his mercy like this would’ve had her breaking out in hives once upon a time but now she trusted him so thoroughly that giving him this type of control — control he needed – was so freeing. She was free falling and the sound of his rough grunts as he fucked her senseless sent her right over the edge once more with a tight moan.

“I said pati — fuck.” He growled and his thrusts became even more erratic as she clenched her walls around him, her body bowing off the table with a silent scream, her release coursing through her.

“Eris.” She whined and the sound of his name whispered from her lips undid him.

Eris cursed, pumping hard as he spilled himself inside her and Iris watched him through hooded eyes, relishing the way his eyes closed, the hand not on her throat gripping her thigh tight enough she knew it would bruise. He leaned over her, resting his head in the crook of her neck,  his breathing unsteady as his thrusts slowed and Iris could only moan softly when he pressed himself in her and held again, his cock still pulsing inside her. Her thumb caressed the hand still wrapped around her throat and Iris licked her lips, pleasure still coursing through her. 

When he finally opened his eyes and pulled back slightly, the sight of her underneath him, splayed beautifully, almost had him come again; he couldn’t bring himself to pull out of her, and judging by the way her walls still tightened around his shaft, Eris was sure she didn’t mind. He loved being inside her, loved it when she warmed his cock.

The fingers around her throat stroked her neck gently before he let go and peppered it with soft kisses that earned him a breathless sigh from his wife’s lips and he couldn’t help his small smile when he pulled back to meet her gaze.

And Eris felt his whole being crumble when she smiled softly at him and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing her with such tenderness that Iris felt her heart break a little. This was the way it was between them – a little rough balanced in with a little soft; she was the only one who made him realize how much he needed that softness. 

She pulled him closer with a hand on the back of his neck, the other on his chest, and wrapped her legs around his waist, the movement pushing him deeper inside her, and Iris had to bite her lip to swallow the wanton sound she knew would come out of her mouth. But she wanted to wrap her very being around him and keep him close to her heart, where he would be safe and whole and hers. She wanted him forever like this, in her arms as he kissed her and touched her and looked at her like she was the only one who mattered.

Their kiss deepened and when he shifted slightly, she wasn’t sure who made the breathless noise between them as she tightened around his cock again.

He shifted slightly, brushing a hair out of her face. “You’re trying to torture me, aren’t you?” he gasped and Iris giggled. 

“I’m only giving you what you wanted.” 

His gaze was smoldering and Iris felt her whole body heat as they shared a breath but Eris forced himself to pause, his eyes roaming her face. “Are you okay?” He asked quietly and Iris felt his nervousness start to creep up. “Did I —“

“You didn’t hurt me.” She said immediately and leaned up to leave a quick kiss on his neck, running a hand down his chest. “I liked it. I liked it a lot. In fact –” Iris slid her hands up his toned arms then down his back slowly until they settled on his backside and she squeezed, digging her nails into his flesh. Her cheeks flushed as he groaned, rocking into her. “I think you and I are far from finished.”

Eris’s eyes flashed with desire as her words ignited a fire within him; she always knew what he needed without saying a word. His wife. His friend. His mate.

She was his and he was hers and Eris – who had never even dreamed of this, would hold on to this glowing thread between them like the lifeline it was.

“You’re right,” he said and his voice was a sensuous caress as he leaned closer. “I am far from done with you, little gazelle.” 

Little else was said as the two moved, and there was nothing soft about this claiming, nothing gentle about the need and desperation in their touches. Everything would change tomorrow and Eris couldn’t stop himself from letting himself be all wrapped up in her. For having this night of forgetting. 

And Eris promised himself he would do whatever it takes for their tomorrow to have a tomorrow. Whatever it takes to bring them peace. Regardless of how many pieces he had to break himself to do it. 

[hestzhyen]

Chapter 53 Fear Posting

Hello, kind internet void. What a chapter, huh? Not much to say other than I need someone to heal Chihiro's pain pronto.

That's a lie, of course- there's always a yapfest from me. Thanks for tolerating my nonsense as usual.

Hiruhiko Gets Fucked

Ch. 49

Ch. 53

How it started vs. how it's going for our playful psychopath foil

I loved this moment. Instead of shaking the protagonist and making him question himself, Hiruhiko's trolling just shows us that Chihiro is already well aware of how people see him.

Hiruhiko tried to call a bluff with the ol' reliable "I'm just like you" to make the MC question everything he's done, but it backfired in a huge way. He should have been paying attention since the start:

Chs. 1 & 6

Chihiro wasn't just being edgy in these moments early on, Mr. Discount Mahito.

I enjoy when the author has the protagonist confront that they really aren't so different from their sworn enemies. When done well, it helps the character clarify their moral stance and adds depth as they incorporate some of their enemy's ideals into their own worldview. But Sojo already forced Chihiro to do this. So what value would Hiruhiko doing the same have? Is it different just because they're close in age and Hiruhiko said he already understood Chihiro?

Nope. The meaning comes from Hiruhiko posing a different question.

Sojo asked: who gets to have the final say over Kunishige's intent? The answer Chihiro came to is: the one who's willing to go the farthest to fight for their vision.

Hiruhiko asked: are you aware of how evil you appear to be by going so far? Chihiro answers that he is, and always has been.

I'm really pleased with this turn of events! The flippant piece of shit doesn't get to waltz in and completely upend the protagonist's worldview by pointing out that he's killing people for once. Instead, we get an amazing inversion of the scenario that makes me want to cry for Chihiro. I trusted Hokazono-sensei to do a crisis of conscience arc well but this is a much better outcome IMO. It's never too late to try and exploit a character's cognitive dissonance between their beliefs and actions, so good try Hiruhiko. You just tried to fuck with the wrong traumatized MC. Enjoy being two arms lighter for the next few chapters.

Seriously though, fuck Hiruhiko. I appreciate his role in the narrative and I'm looking forward to what he does next, but he's kind of on the same level as Soya for me. I will cheer his death and not mourn one bit when we move on from him for good.

But we shouldn't be glad when people are killed, should we?

On Death and Killing Intent

This chapter had many jaw-dropping action moments but they're all so sad.

In my Chapter 51 post, I went on a bit of a tangent about how the adult cast all seem to have a heavy burden that they're using to try and steer the younger generation. Samura, Shiba, Kunishige, and Uruha all reject the idea of being "heroes" and the first three are shown to be reluctant to take lives if they can help it. Because killing is a wrongful act that leads one to hell. Doesn't matter what one's intentions are- taking a life is an act of evil. The adults didn't want the younger generation to revere them or try to follow in their footsteps.

But Chihiro chose to do so anyway, and he's taken their mindset to heart to help himself commit to the bit.

Doesn't matter that Chihiro tanked all of Hiruhiko's attacks to let the audience escape. Doesn't matter that he held back to avoid accidental casualties. Doesn't matter that he's ridding the world of the Hishaku's evil. He's a killer - a monster- that's going to hell. And he's resigned to it. He doesn't even have the excuse of saving lives or fighting a war to hide behind- he's steeping himself in sin for selfish reasons.

I was wrong about Samura having to teach Chihiro how to buckle down despite knowing he's walking the path to hell- Chihiro can already do it. So Hiruhiko was right. They're both drenched in blood with no chance for redemption. But that wasn't what Chihiro was pissed about last chapter. It was Hiruhiko assuming their reasoning for killing as being the same that got to him.

Chihiro doesn't find pleasure in killing someone, obviously. Not even Sojo, who was an objectively evil child torturer that wanted to use Kunishige's works to massacre innocents. But when Chihiro's alone against true evil, like his fights against Sojo and Hiruhiko, he goes full-on villain mode to meet them where they are. He's walking straight to hell and doesn't care about how it makes him look when the people he cares about aren't there to see him at his worst.

I posted a little bit about how loved Chihiro is even if he won't let himself realize or accept it, and it's true more than ever now. Chihiro's not a good guy. We shouldn't be thinking he's a purely wholesome person. But he's a damn sympathetic protagonist who is in a truly unbearable amount of pain, and I want him to just... let himself cry or something.

We don't mind that he's a murderer since we see him focus on doing what good he can, like taking detours for abused orphans and risking his life to save helpless captives. He's not the same as the vile scum he kills. Chihiro, though... "All scum go to hell!" is one of the earliest taglines of the series. Pretty sure he would apply this to himself, too. He's in a self-destructive spiral and we're just now seeing how far gone his mental state is.

What's that saying... the road to hell is paved with good intentions?

Chihiro and Samura

Seems like Kunishige was (or could have been) quite the warrior himself based on Shiba's comment... putting a pin in that.

Samura's got a ton of death flags, sorry to say. He's just scooping them up and dumping them all over himself. Not gonna stake my life on this or anything but Tobimune is probably going to be usable by the Hishaku somewhat soon... I hope Chihiro gets to reunite with him one last time before that happens though. Surely next chapter is where the gang gets back together...? Hakuri will probably teleport Chihiro to the temple once he's recovered, so it'll just be a matter of Chihiro getting Hiruhiko to talk enough before that happens.

Not that the type of food has deep symbolic meaning, but Chihiro and Samura are sharing traditional tea snacks; probably higashi (干菓子) of the rakugan variety. They're extremely dry and sweet, so I doubt Chihiro enjoyed them- is that why they're untouched? Maybe Chihiro wasn't actually willing to stop looking at Samura as a hero despite what he said? I don't want to make guesses about the meaning of the food being uneaten. I've been too fried by IRL stress to have much time to think about fun stuff lately. Just know that this is another food=connection/understanding moment that's a bit strained instead of comfortable. (Hakuri's still the only person we've seen Chihiro willingly accept an offer of food from and actually eat... hm.)

No wonder Chihiro considers himself a monster if a "hero" like Samura talks about himself like one. Noble beliefs (hi, Hiyuki!) don't shield you from the horror that lurks in your conscience. It's really respectable of Samura to be so blunt about the reality of what he did and try to steer away Chihiro from admiring him, but the consequences we see now are...

None of them could have known that Chihiro would end up like this a little over three years later (hopefully). He took the lesson of "killing=monstrous" to heart a little too well, sadly... so who can help him break that mindset? Assuming the author wants to say that Chihiro's not the villain he thinks he is, at least. Which is reasonable. He might not be a hero, but he's not truly a monster either.

It depends on who else knows about how he's faring and if Chihiro will let anyone in to help. Keep close tabs on how he interacts with Hakuri and Hiyuki, IMO. One or both of them will probably be the key to him at least stabilizing his metaphorical descent into darkness. Even if they can't pull him out, they can walk through hell at his side.

Hakuri's more than willing to do this already- I wouldn't be at all surprised if he considers staying with Chihiro to be the best part of his life so far, despite all the hardships that he will face. He was already in hell when they met and Chihiro helped pull him out of it. Hiyuki's the bigger question since we hardly know anything about her right now. Her faith in Chihiro as someone who only kills bad guys is important, though. As of this chapter, I can see her helping him out if she believes it's the morally right thing to do.

Spaghetti Queen Thoughts

I'm a little surprised we've left Hiyuki behind for most of the arc to this point, so I do wonder where she'll factor in and how much.

She's set up to be just as important as Hakuri was during the Rakuzaichi arc thanks to her strong ties to the Kamunabi. And there are issues with her that are completely unexplored; namely, her convictions clashing with how the Kamunabi operates. Maybe we'll see her again with the other two bearers? Or when things shift back to Kamunabi HQ for the blood test reveal and such?

I wonder how she'll be motivating Chihiro. They squabble like siblings already; she's the only one who genuinely gets under his skin (which is very cute if you ask me). Both of them are headstrong and idealistic, but Hiyuki doesn't seem to be down on herself and what she does nearly as much as Chihiro is. So maybe that'll be the angle... hard to say when there are so many unknowns, so obviously she needs to come back ASAP to give us more insight!

Thanks for letting me ramble, kind void... see you next week if I make it there.

[sugar-grigri]

Have you seen Fami's right ear ? Because I haven't.

The game of interpretation in reverse, or focusing on what seems to be avoided by the chapter, not shown, works! and even if it doesn't work, it's still fun and leads to wild theories, which I love to imagine. And this post is no exception to that rule.

We had chapter 155 where we interpreted backwards to find answers to Denji and Nayuta's existential crises.

We also interpreted backwards to better understand the inconsistencies in Yoshida's behavior and the implications for chapter 156.

In my opinion, chapter 157 is no exception to this rule. Focusing on what the author refuses to show in order to find the answers fits in well with a mangaka fascinated by cinema.

Not convinced? Chapter 156 ended on Asa's legs, like a superhero ready to take on the big bad alone. The next chapter directly contradicts what it had already demonstrated. But why? Because you shouldn't trust either the author or the way the characters present themselves to you. That's what this whole chapter is about.

What matters to you may not necessarily matter to the characters. Our focus on the first page would be on Asa's missing arm. Yet she brushes it aside, as if she were dismissing our concerns with a wave of the hand: what's important to her, strangely enough, is wearing her uniform!

Which raises another question... have you seen much of Asa without her uniform? Yes, we've seen her without it, but more often than not, it's her fetish outfit for readers.

I could tell you that, once again, this is to emphasize the fact that we don't have the same temporality on the characters, and that Fujimoto insists more and more on what he refuses to show, but I'll be accused of over-interpreting, so let's carry on.

Fami's statement that appearing to be a high-school student is the best cover for me immediately brings to mind a specific public hunter, who also appears always dressed in his uniform! But people will tell me that I'm being too defensive of this character, so.... Let's continue even further

Asa manages to turn the guns on those who were going to shoot them, all by imagining that she had been able to redeem them.

It's precisely because she's disconnected from reality that she's able to create the illusion that her power works

And I repeat: disconnecting from the events we see in Chainsaw Man helps us too.

Asa is able to create weapons without even needing to touch them, i.e. to touch the concrete, the agent who watches over them is right to recognize her but wrong in believing she's there to help the church members in the basement, when in fact she's there for Chainsaw Man. It's normal for him to think that!

Because that's how she was presented on TV!

Which shows what? That you can't trust everything you see

Just before, we had a focus on Asa's legs, particularly through her walking, the fact that she's almost running

Let's interpret this in reverse again. Did you see Fami's hands? Yes, we see them, but never up close and never open.

What was important was obscured by the fact that, at the end, it was noted that she did have something in her hands, but the chapter focused on Asa's legs, even though she had slipped.

Pay no attention to what was emphasized to guess what happens next

In the title, I'm talking about Fami's right ear, because she is abnormally shown on the same side throughout the chapter.

Because it's hiding an earpiece? I'd have liked to, but I don't think so. As someone pointed out in the previous post: you can still see her ear on page 2.

The point is not to think that Fami is tilting her head to hide something in her ear, but why is she shown so much the same way?

The fact that she's bent over reminded me of chapter 140, when Denji visits the CSM church for the first time. At the end of that chapter, Barem presents an ultimatum: which side is heavier? Chainsaw Man represented by that cable on Denji's torso or his peaceful life with his family?

The chapter 140 is called "Scales", evoking the weighing of these two choices, and Fami, who is supposed to represent the church, is already tipped over.

Why? Because the choice has already been made

Denji chose to be Chainsaw Man, but when he realized it, he was faced with the fire in which he lost his cat and dogs.

When he transformed, he found himself endangering his little sister Nayuta

The scales tipped in Chainsaw Man's favor, to the detriment of his family.

The way Fami was always presented on the same side was to make it clear which way his head was tilting : to the left.

Okay, but how do you explain Fami's head being tilted the other way in other earlier chapters? It's normal, Denji's choice is very recent! He hesitated until now!

All this makes even more sense with her Chainsaw Man earrings, which represent cables.

And then you'll tell me "it would work if she had a cable earring on the same ear, but it's safe on both ears so it doesn't work", yes it does, trust us, we'll carry on.

When does Asa fall in part 2? Often when death is near, almost like a bad omen announcing it. She falls crushing Bucky, she falls with Yuko who later dies prematurely, she almost falls when her mother sacrifices herself...

So death is near.

And two things can explain it :

Fami is bent over to symbolize the fact that Chainsaw Man has been chosen over his peaceful life.

The chapter again emphasizes that Asa can save Chainsaw Man by attacking Chainsaw Man, because Chainsaw Man prevents Denji from having access to his peaceful life, hence the fact that Fami is bent over.

But let's think about it another way: in chapter 155, Denji emphasized the fact that he didn't know what a family was, having committed patricide, how could he possibly understand this notion?

Denji killed his father, his brother, his sister died for him...

So Chainsaw Man has always put his family at risk, which seems logical given everything we've said.

But remember that in this same chapter, we found an answer: Chainsaw Man is an empty shell filled with the people he loves, his family, and his aim is to protect them.

When Denji says he wants to be Chainsaw Man, it's to protect his family, who fill him as an empty shell.

When Fami says we must kill Chainsaw Man to save him, she's right.

Maybe not because there are 2 Chainsaw Man, since Pochita and Denji are inseparable.

But because to protect what has filled Chainsaw Man's heart, you have to kill the source of his misfortune, himself.

And that's why it all works, even if Fami's two earrings are cables, because even killing Chainsaw Man, the empty shell, saves what filled it - his family.

That's why Asa falls, because the end and Denji's sacrifice are close at hand.

But second interpretation.

Remember, when Asa falls, it means that death is near. So.................. who's next to her?

Obviously, this is pure theory, but I find it amusing.

Why does Fami only show one side? Because she didn't present herself well.

If Fami has insisted on anything from the start, it's that we call it Fami, not Famine. Why is that? Because she renamed herself just as quickly as Yoru did, choosing a name that hid her true identity.

Remember how Yoshida told her she was terrible at choosing names, to which Fami retorted that she didn't care if anyone found out who she was?

Is that really the case? Wasn't it to reinforce the fact that she was supposedly the devil of famine?

The first time Fami appears, in Asa's school, she introduces herself as the war devil's big sister (= true), which she does again at the aquarium, introducing herself as the famine demon (= false), called Fami (= true).

But as we've seen, you can lie about a devil's name, just as Fami did with the fire demon, presenting him as the devil of justice.

So what's to stop her from lying about the fear she represents too?

I know it sounds crazy, but what happened when the devil of eternity appeared? People were hungry!

And the first time Fami didn't intervene, the more time passed, the more the hunger grew, the stronger the demon seemed to become.

What's to stop the devil of eternity being the devil of famine?

You : "it's a tactic for Fami to use the power of the demon of eternity to starve them out". Yes it's true! But my theory about the wrong choice of devil names is possible too. The trick is not to say that what's been presented to us doesn't work, but to try and question it.

The famine devil falsely called the devil of eternity could be defeated by Denji twice: in part 1, because he had overcome the famine by becoming a public hunter

In part 2, because he fed Asa!

If Fami has insisted on anything from the start, it's that we call her Fami, not Famine. Why is that? Because she renamed herself just as quickly as Yoru did, choosing a name that hid her true identity : the Death Devil.

So, since the answers lie in what we can't see, what's stopping Fami from tripping Asa?

Which explains Asa's shocked face.

But above all, it implies that his fall was not an unintentional one, as it always is when death is near, but that it was caused by death.

So if we line up the interpretations: death doesn't want mankind to disappear.

How do I know this?

Because she said so! She loves pizzas.

Death wants to kill Chainsaw Man to remain the sole end of beings. To stop it, all you have to do is eat her.

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ l went through like a fuck ton of shit [Broke up with my boyfriend of two years, entrance exam, and uh I lost some friends] and 2024’s barely started lol sorry for the late update, i am,,, extremely deep in hurting 👍

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @adorefavv @l0starl @your-girl-mj @nyumeii @iheartamajiki @yoluv-tiannaaa--212 @bakauwu @callsignwidow

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟐: 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐎𝐧 𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Miles and Eddie make an exchange. A certain nightmare plagues his thoughts. Your insanity unfolds, and so does Miles’ suspicions.

[Warning: Blasphemy, mentioned of fucked up things and crimes, deranged thinking]

MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

“Miles, what would make you hate me?”

The memory was so long ago. Well, to be exact, perhaps it’s been a month or two since it happened. Miles could still so clearly remember the way you leaned your head against the damp wall, your eyes far off into the void of whatever haunted you. At that time, his feelings had been but a spark budding within his chest ever so delicately, a butterfly ripping out of its cocoon in his stomach.

“I don’t know.” Miles whispered into the air. “I don’t think it’s possible to truly hate a person when you know them personally.”

At that moment, you looked at him, with your head half-buried within your hood.

“Why’s that?” You asked, fiddling with the ends of your hoodie.

Miles took a moment to think about how to word his answer.

“When you recognize someone enough to know that they’re not evil people who’d do random shit for shits and giggles, you learn to realize that they’re not really a monster.. At least, not as much as they seem.” His lingering gaze travels towards the ample of your cheek. “I can’t hate you when I know you. You’ve got a name, and you’re somebody’s sister, daughter.. Well, you don’t have to be all that. You just need to be somebody, and you’re somebody to me, and that alone’s the reason why I can never hate you.”

“That’s.. Interesting.” You whispered. “So technically, you humanize your enemies.”

“That’s one weird way to put it, but yeah.”

“But what if it’s a façade?” The words rolled off your tongue seamlessly. “What if.. They’re not exactly the person you thought they were. What if they’ve done more harm than good?”

He thinks about it for a moment.

“It’s not my job to humanize people. People humanize themselves.” Miles answered. “If there’s truly nothing at all about this person that makes them human, or makes me feel like they still have a relatively active conscience inside of them.. I can’t.”

“So you’re saying thay if they’re not human, you’ll hate them?”

“No!” He rapidly shook his head.

“No, ‘cause Miles, I’ll be fair with you. Ion think there’s anything more monstrous than humanity. We are our own enemies. Nothing else causes more pain to a human other than its own body or its own kind, which is why hatred is such a natural thing.”

“Hatred is a natural thing for you, because you grew up only having to think about yourself.”

“Because if not me, then who would?” You spewed. You didn’t mean to sound overtly bitter, but you were. “Unlike you, Miles, my family ain’t the shit. It’s me against the world always— I-If, had I gotten a remote opportunity to care about anyone other than myself, maybe I wouldn’t be this hateful.”

“Well, you got a chance now.”

“How so?”

“You got me.”

You paused, wondering if you’ve heard correctly.

“… I’ve got you?”

Whatever did that statement mean? You’ve heard about a million pick-up lines, but what the hell was this?

“F’course you do. We’re friends.”

Friends.

“Friends?” Just friends?

Miles hums. “Buddies. Amigos.”

Ah, right, that’s how it always starts. Just friends.

Miles snuck his hand into one of his pockets, plucking out something round that you were too lost in your haze to even notice. He seems to fiddle with it for a moment, digging his fingers into its plush before nudging it towards you.

“You want some?”

You turned around and realized he’d peeled you an orange. “.. What.. These are so expensive these days. How’d you even get one?” Your hand reaches out for the fruit, examining its tiny size. You’d heard about the sudden inflation of prices, so fruits inevitably turned into a luxury for most. Miles parts the mandarin and places the larger half on top of your hand.

“.. I stole one from my neighbor’s garden. God did say generous people prosper, so I did him a favor.”

“I’m pretty sure there was a ‘thou shall not steal’ in one of the commandments, Miles.” You laughed, plopping a piece atop your tongue. The tangy, sweet, yet sour flavor bursts right in, making you grimace ever so lightly. “Oh, that’s sour.”

Miles took after you, similarly cringing. “Eugh.”

“It’s probably not all that ripe yet. It’s fine though,” You plopped another into your mouth. “I like oranges— sour things as a whole. They snap me back into life.”

“That sounds sad.” He mumbled, turning to look at you. “Kinda worrying, if you ask me.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking.” You plucked out one of the seeds from your teeth.

“Right, ‘cause you never ask.” Miles took another bite. “You only answer.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know.” Miles shrugged. “I like saying random shit to tick you off.”

You rolled your eyes, trudging your way up from the floor as you staggered from the cold. “Thanks for the orange, Miles.” Running a hand through your hair, you looked out and sighed. He couldn’t help but feel surprised at the lack of your sass.

“You’re welcome, princesa.”

Your brow cringed. “Don’t call me that.”

His finger twitches. He watched as you froze for a moment, turning to look at him. With gentle steps, you approached and leaned down— tufts of your hair brushing against the temple of his forehead. At that moment, he swallows while taking in the scent of your perfume and its ridiculously sweet stench. How could everything about you be so sweet?

You plucked your pen out of his hands. “This is mine.” You reminded of him. Miles didn’t utter a single word til’ your eyes met. Even in the darkness, you saw, but you ignored— well, rather, you tried to ignore it, but it stung.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Miles turned his head, forcibly pushing down the butterflies fluttering like haywire in his stomach.

Hands clammy, heart haywire, eyes unable to meet yours.

“Sure, whatever.”

That day ended there, but Miles knew then. He knew.

Eddie Brock couldn't look past the television store, as his eyes were drawn completely to the news. Not that he couldn't afford a paper, or a gadget of his own— he was simply nervous, figdety, and this ominous pit that holed itself into his stomach unnerved him like a pig carved up for the butcher. He'd known of the news already, honestly, something along the lines of the daily murders and crimes that weren't all too unusual to be fair, and rather than the screen's bright technicolored themes, he was hyper focused entirely on one thing.

The face of Will Barlowe, the almighty senator. Eddie had long been staring at that man's creased, brown skin and slick, blonde hair that was fading into this falsified shade of platinum all because of his whitening strands.

Damn the rich, all of them.

Eddie was no one, like everyone else. A drop of water in the ocean, a needle in a haystack. He was one, like the rest, with the hard workers who carried the economy with their white, blue, pink-collared jobs. He thrived, initially, three years ago. He was an activist then— a journalist in a crisp collared shirt and black dress pants, warning the young about the dangers of climate change, and speaking outwardly in regard to politics.

Now, he was nothing more but a wrinkled jacket-wearing, eccentric and amusing conspiracy theorist scraping the tiniest bits of his dignity to post videos on Facebook or Youtube shorts about how fucked up and dystopian America's grown to become.

When the Prowler, the younger one, decidedly linked him a location allegedly shared by the elites, Eddie wanted to think of it as a chance to shine, to end everything once and for all, and to avenge Anna. For Anna, and for what could’ve been their happy, serene life. But when he arrived, painstakingly clad in plaid while forging the identity of a lost tourist, he was disappointed entirely to find out that the warehouse had been burnt down.

He could still recall the charcoaled crevices of what could’ve been his salvation— that masked boy, the Prowler, promised him salvation in a what-could’ve-been some rich guy’s attempt of a house barbecue.

“Did I make ya wait long?”

A voice reminiscent of a growl. That same shade of neon magenta lingered, popping like a change of color in the melancholy of great Harlem. Eddie tries not to look, but the presence of the boy simmered like fire even as he hung like a spider from the ceiling. He was always like that— the Prowler. The boy was a tall, lanky thing who walked and talked suave. Dominican, he initially assumed. Eddie figured this little vigilante was likely a high schooler with hopes consequently dimmed by the recession.

“Nope.” Eddie attempted to appeal cooly, instead, he only crumbled more. “I’d been watching the news this whole time, tryna check if there was anything about the fire.”

He hears a metal click. “They prolly wouldn’t say nothin’. See, if they didn’t wanna hide it, it’d be all over the television. But it ain’t there, so that means the Chávez’s are hiding the fire from the other families. They prolly paid the witnesses to keep their mouths shut or bribed all the television networks to say it’s some barbecue party gone bad.”

A few passersby couldn’t help but squeak at the sight of the infamous vigilante hanging from a store sign, but they all seemed to know better than approaching him. Trouble was wherever he was, after all, or something the daily bugle said along those lines. They shared glances, sure. Curious, amused glances like how people would marvel at a lion in a zoo.

“It’s,” Eddie finally looked at him. “it’s something ‘bout the Chávez’s?”

With a momentary pause, the Prowler released his grip from the metal poles and dangled down for a second before decidedly letting his feet hit the ground. He was tall— truly, around an inch or two taller than grouchy Eddie. His braids seemed much longer than he’d last seen them. Did he recently get them redone?

“.. That’s right.” Prowler hummed. “.. But we might wanna move some place else to have this conversation, Mr. Brock.”

And where the cat went, curiosity followed down as it made its way to the dark alleyways.

Eddie had a million questions, like any other normal being. The Chávez’s, the Primos, the Barlowes, the Fisks, the Osborns, and all of the other wealthy families connected to one another were all listed down on his kill bill naturally, and he’d been dreaming about the day of crossing out their names with ink made from their blood. Cliché, but a threat either way. Eddie wasn’t a writer, but a journalist anyways. Creativity in terms of wording his hatred was limited and it wasn’t his forte.

“In your past facebook post, you mentioned the Chávez’s briefly,” The boy began, halting by the corner dampened by rain. “I need information about the whole family.”

“… Aren’t you supposed to know the basic information about your enemies?”

“If it were that easy, I wouldn’t be needing your help.” The two white shapes that proxied as his eyes narrowed, grimacing ever so lightly. “There’s little information about them in the black market, and within the scarcity, most of them aren’t factual.”

“They’re rich enough to be able to squander their wealth on silencing people,” Eddie kicked at a can. “Of course no one knows, but I do.”

“How so?”

Picking at something in between his cheek, Eddie sighed a long sigh.

“… My wife worked as their private attorney.”

He watched the boy take a step back. “.. Your wife?”

“Yeah.” Eddie nodded. “My wife, Anna. She was taught to keep silent about their crimes, and to find a loophole in every case.” A lump formed in his throat.

The Prowler stared. He couldn’t make out whether it was an empathetic or judgmental one. “.. So your wife covered up the Chávez’s crimes?”

“A part of it.” Eddie mumbled. “There’s more to the elite than we know, Anna had to burn her files after every case, so she couldn’t snitch or post them after she quits.”

His head turns. “… I see.”

He sees the boy shift, weirdly, fidgety. He couldn’t particularly describe the unease this young vigilante conveyed. It was almost like he was on the verge of asking something, but his mask made it harder to read what he was desperate to know about.

“.. So can you tell me?”

A simmering silence sunk into the gaps of their conversation.

“What’s in it for me?” Eddie asked, knowing he shouldn’t have, as it was obvious and painstakingly accusatory.

“Why do we have to have transactions when it comes to justice?”

Eddie paced. “Capitalism.”

“Fair point.” The Prowler sighed, rocking on the ends of his neon shoes. “Well, what d’ya want?”

Eddie thinks, and thinks. What could a conspiracy theorist— no, a journalist want? Could he ask for a man’s death? The head of Barlowe? The head of Chávez? Or could that only be achieved after this gamble? He looked at this boy, and Eddie pictured this teenager basking his hands in blood.

What would make him any different from the elites?

“… When you went to the warehouse, you guys.. Took evidence? Even a USB, right?”

He stared. “Yeah, we dug it up and we tried sending it to every news outlet we could find.. All of them rejected the information.”

“Why?” Eddie furrowed his brow. “Was the information incomplete? Did you send the evidence beneath a credible name as a source?”

“Credible name?”

“Yeah, if the information comes from a credible source, they might do something about it. Likewise, if the information is complete, they might take the risk, after all, the Chávez’s are old money, and they have a lot of influence in regard to politics. If they publish anything against them, without complete information, or if you’re just a bunch of trespassers regarded as criminals by the media,” Eddie held out a finger. “Someone will get shot.”

The boy swallowed.

“If not you, if not your partner, it’s the journalist. Always the journalist.”

And Eddie’s seen too much of his co-workers wound up as mere victims in a headline. ‘Journalist shot dead.’

And he didn’t want his name to be reduced to a John Doe in one of the many causes people are too afraid to fight for.

“… I’ll tell you all about the Chávez’s, if you give me the records you stole from the warehouse.”

The Prowler stood, seemingly caught up in his thoughts for a moment. “.. Okay, but I’m telling you, don’t make a large move without consulting me first.”

“I still want my head attached to my head, of course I’ll consult y’all first.” Eddie chuckled, his fingers pouring into his pockets. “Then, what do you want to know about the Chávez’s?”

Without missing a beat, he answered.

“You can give me all you got. Recent scandals, fuck ups.. Perhaps, you got anything from the collapse of the Aureum building three years ago?”

“The Aureum building,” Eddie echoed, reminiscing like a veteran released from war. “That was the messiest thing I’ve ever witnessed in the last ten years. The lawsuits, the bribes, and the social media mayhem—“

“The deaths.” Miles cringed, remembering his father. “Surely, that was the most fucked up thing.”

“Aside from the architecture? Sure.” Eddie pulled out a box of cigars from his pocket, wringing out a single stick. “Weak scaffolding, quick-dry cement.. Put two and two together, and everything collapsed as soon as the opening began.”

Miles wallowed, grimacing at the sight of the habit. “Could it have been planned?”

With a flick of his lighter, Eddie took one breath in and sighed. “Could? There’s no ‘could’, boy, it was planned.”

Planned? Planned by who?

Were the Chávez’s really masters at self-sabotage? Or were their enemies really just each other?

“You see, the Chávez’s specialize in human trafficking, slave trade, and child labor. The people they ship work tirelessly for other businesses without a fee— because we, you and I and the rest of us who had the freedom to earn education, refused to work under hellish circumstances and poor environments. Without us, precisely, without the poor, the rich are nothing.”

“Then the Aureum building?”

“The Aureum building was a cover-up for a bigger scandal.” Eddie tilted his head. “The people inside were likely witnesses, or people who knew about the human trafficking.. And when the building collapsed, they sued the construction companies involved, got the money, but damaged their reputation.. And I don’t see why they’d do all of that just to damage their reputation.”

Miles pondered and pondered.

“.. It was probably someone from inside the family who planned everything.”

“That’s what I think so too.” Eddie added, blowing off another puff of intoxicating smoke. “Someone who won’t suffer from the damaged reputation.. Yet someone who still manages to benefit from it all financially.”

“… Could it be.. Any one of the siblings?”

Eddie takes a step back, likely thinking about it. “.. Well, the other one’s in London, the other one’s too stupid, and the last’s a minor.”

“Minor?” Miles repeated. “How young are we talking?”

“.. Well, the last time I heard about the girl.. She was thirteen, and it’s been three years since then, so she’s probably fifteen to sixteen.”

It’s not as though a thirteen year old could possibly plan out such a meticulous plan… Well maybe, or maybe not, it’s not as though Miles was the only genius capable of great things.

“You know any of their names?”

“Names.” Eddie furrowed his brow. “The last girl’s protected by the law, since it’s illegal to paparazzi minors.. But the first two are Montrell and Anthony.”

Montrell. Mon. Three children. Two older brothers. One girl. Sixteen, sixteen years old just like you.

Miles swallowed.

It’s as though he could feel your hands blocking your vision, whispering sweet nothings into his ear.

He falters, alerting Eddie. “What’s wrong?”

“.. My head just hurts.” He mumbled, turning his head. “I think I kinda overworked myself. I still got a date.. Need to.. Rest.”

“Date?” Eddie blew. “That’s right. You’re quite famous, ain’t you?”

Miles rolled his eyes, able to freely express his distaste for the supposed compliment behind his mask. “I try not to be, don’t wanna make her think about it too much. The broad shoulders don’t help as much, though.”

“She know all ‘bout your..” With his cigarette squeezed between his ring, Eddie gestured at him. “Your little vigilante thing?”

Leaning his head against the brick wall, Miles crossed his arms and shrugged. “She better not. Don’t wanna make her daddy even madder.” He lowers his gaze a bit, his mask naturally zooming into the title of Eddie’s cigarette box. It was the same brand as your brother’s, likely a different flavor. Mint or something. Everyone around him smoked too much.

“She from the finer part of York or what?”

“The finest.” He recalls your brother’s luxury car. “.. But I think she’s tryna hide it.”

Eddie plucks the cigar out his teeth, a sort of accusatory yet mundane expression scribbled all over his scruffy face. Eventually, he laughs it off. “That’s all of what’s wrong with our society. The poor pretend to be rich and the rich pretend to be poor. They like romanticizing poverty but likely won’t be able to find comfort if they walked in our shoes for ‘bout a damn mile.”

“She ain’t nun like that.” Miles butted in. “She’s sweet, my girl. Cruel, sometimes, but that’s how ladies gotta be from time to time— seeing as how the world fucks them up every now and then.”

“.. That your first date?” Eddie asked.

“I guess. We’re kissing, but we got no label.”

Eddie scoffed an old man’s scoff. “Your generation’s got me fucked up. Y’all and your situationship bullshittery.”

“It ain’t like that.”

“It’s always like that.” Eddie narrowed his eyes. Miles similarly cringed, wondering how Eddie could be so bitter— having to remind himself seconds later that the man’s poor wife was dead. Dead as hell. As dead as his father. “If she can’t even be upfront about her wealth, she’s likely hiding something from you.”

“My man, I’m lucky she even looked my way. You know nun ‘bout her, don’t be like that.”

“And what if she’s from the oligarchy, huh?” Eddie exaggerated. “What if she’s a Fisk? A Barlowe? Hell, even worse, what if she’s a Chávez?”

Miles didn’t reply.

As the puff of smoke emanated through the damp air, suddenly, Miles pictured you holding a cigarette while grinning at him wickedly— and somehow, that tantalizing air.. Suited you like the slip of a glove.

“I’m just kidding w’ya, man.” Eddie laughed, flicking the cigarette away, crushing it with the sole of his wrinkled boot.

“Ain’t funny, Ed.” Miles grumbled. “People I loved died in Aureum.”

“But she’s still rich, though. You can never be too sure ‘bout the kind of secrets her family’s keeping. If push comes to shove, will you still be able to love her if you do find out that her family’s fucked up?”

“Stop it.” He angrily seethed. “Stop.”

Eddie watched with a certain stank in his eye.

“… Y’know, there’s a rumor that one of the Chávez kids are illegitimate.”

.. Miles left seconds after.

It’d not been his greatest day, and earnestly speaking, his gut’s been clamoring at him to listen, only for him to reject its pleas. He’d thought about listening— to whatever higher being was calling upon him to stray away from you.

His Mama told him to pray throughout his struggles. She’d not been a zealot, his mother. But she was no stranger to the novena, to pray and to call for help in such long days. He’d been subjected to it early on: the novenas, the masses, the lingering of frankincense in the air. Though she never truly coerced him to participate in the church, Miles simply titter-tottered throughout those dull Sunday evenings.

He didn’t want some higher being to stop him from becoming a horrible person; Miles wanted to be good on his own accord.

But you.. You made him question. Not you, but himself.

Though his dad always told him to question everything while he’s young, Miles couldn’t question you. How could ever question you?

An illegitimate child. Which one was it?

Your brothers, who had everything?

Or you, who had nothing?

And although Eddie left the alleyway unscathed, Miles felt that blood had stained his hands.

And you could still taste blood in your mouth.

You could still hear the crunch of that man’s neck echoing in your ears, his tiny pleads of self-preservation before the snap to his death. It rang and rang behind your eyes, between your ears, like a haunting melody you couldn’t help but repeat.

The memory of his fear merely energized your veins, but left you gawking in dauntness even as you worked your way through the hotel— showing Montrell the ropes and tending to the preparations for the upcoming charity event. The snap, the way it snapped— the way his neck snapped was a musical lyric that pulsed and pulsed in your mind.

Snap.

Snap.

ＳＮＡＰ.

The idea of fear intrigued you, cannibalism, however, not so much. The symbiote immensely argued with you, that it wasn’t your body in particular feasting on human flesh, but the symbiote itself. It needed to be fed, and it needed sustenance— but you didn’t know where else to find that sustenance.

“Miss?” Charlotte, the head housekeeper called out to you, snapping you back from the profanities of your mind.

Suddenly, you’re back staring at the new, tall, stained-glass windows— basking you in the glory of pale lights in shades of ethereal yellow and blue. It’s been under construction for quite a while now, but after your father had approved of the idea, you were willing to wait long enough to see its outcome. You’d only gotten the news just a few hours ago in regard to its completion, and now you’ve been staring at it for a while now.

“Yes?” You stifled airily, wallowing in a hundred emotions.

Charlotte bows her head for a moment, unveiling an approaching guest.

Before you could even process to question who it was, Montrell and his gentle eyes appeared before you. He seems to marvel at the windows before you as he takes another step up the stairs.

“Wow,” He huffed. “Is this.. Your design?”

You simply looked at the window with crossed arms and a smile. “I couldn’t forget about the windows when we went to Veronica’s wedding. I liked.. The colors and the drama it endowed.” You smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “.. This was my final project in the hotel.. I’ve done so much to rebrand everything, but we still can’t do much ‘bout what happened in the past.”

The lights dawned upon the both of you.

“Does it hold any special meaning?” He asks.

You shrugged. “It varies on the person, I guess. I think, those who don’t really know me will try to put meaning into all that I do, but those who really know me know that my art is plainly.. Meant for aesthetic.”

Montrell frowned. “How can you make art without passion?”

“.. You pick up a pen.” You carved a smile. “And you just draw.”

You draw, and you draw. Carved it in, like how a knife would pierce a sack of flesh. Murder the canvas with each stroke, and if they ask you ‘why?’, answer with ‘why not?’.

“I think.. Only Miles can place meaning in my art. After all, my passion resides in him.”

“Like a proxy.” Montrell darkly laughed, shaking his head. “.. I wonder how hard you’d break once you lose him.”

You turned your head to look at your brother’s charming face.

“Is that a threat?”

“A warning,” He remarked. “After all, how could he ever love you once he realizes that our family’s responsible for his father’s death?”

You turned your head back to the windows. “… I feel guilty, actually. I don’t really know how to approach Miles if he ever comes to realize my identity.”

“.. Don’t you feel lonely having to constantly push away the people you love?”

You shrugged. “I’m a pretty girl. Pretty girls are never lonely.”

“Sure.”

Montrell looked at you. To be precise, he eyed you, and he looked at the way you casted your eyes downward. From a mile away, one would believe you fostered insecurity and shame in the way you’d stare, but knowing you and the way you were, that downcast gaze of yours imbued disinterest and a heightened sense of.. Superiority.

No matter how hard you try to appear empathetic, you were always and inevitably still a Chávez. Even in the way you pursed your rouged lips, or spoke with eloquence, or held your head high.. You and your siblings, who were forged to become heartless from the beginning, were never bound to be kind.. Or good.

But could Miles do it?

Could he actually change you? Humanize you?

Make you kind and loving, and normal?

You tightened your grip over your arm. “I.. Was going to escape tonight, originally.. For our date. He wanted us to have a halloween date. It’s so dorky. He’s so dorky.” The way you fawned was genuine, though. He could see it so clearly. “But after daddy mentioned the USB, I didn’t know how to face him without feeling guilty.. I came to meet Miles with the intention of using him to get his dead dad’s stuff but I ended up.. Falling for him. I never knew I was capable of feeling like this.”

“.. When we’re too busy to survive, it feels frustrating to have to care for someone else. That’s why our family doesn’t feel like one.” Montrell whispered.

“We’re not a Greek tragedy.”

“Exactly, which would mean,” He turns to you. “You’re likely still savable, [N/n].”

You lightly winced. “.. I haven’t heard that nickname since I was twelve.”

Your brother chuckles at the reminder. “.. We called you that since you couldn’t pronounce your name when you were three.” Montrell heaved a long breath, as though he were a dreamer reminiscing the times. Ah, he truly is a sucker for what’s long gone, huh? “Antonne and I were so excited to have you. Your first word was my name, actually, Mon. I had to sneak up into your cradle every night just to make you practice say my name. Mama used to hold you in her arms whenever I got home from school, and she used to read out my cards with you in her other hands ‘cause you were one energetic kid.”

Oh, so like a normal family?

We were capable of having that this whole time?

…

“[Y/n]?”

You snapped yourself back to reality, Montrell’s voice leading you out of your internal monologue. “Did you hear my question?” He queried. “You kinda zoned out there.”

“Sorry, I was thinking ‘bout something. You were saying?”

“Once you get the USB.. Are you going to leave him?”

The question seemed far fetched from the previous topic, which caught you off-guard. You turn your head. “.. I don’t know. I’d rather make him hate me, and have him leave me first, because I don’t think I can ever bring it upon myself to leave him.”

Such a romantic.

“Do you think you can handle it?”

“.. It’s not a question of whether I can handle it, it’s a question of whether Miles can handle it.”

Montrell murmured. “.. What if he gets revenge?”

“Revenge?” You repeated, the idea sounding funnily dramatic. “Revenge on me? I didn’t throw that building over his father’s head.”

“Ah, yes, but there’s a thing called karma.” Montrell spoke as thought to remind you. “It’ll be out there to get you, or at least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

You couldn’t help but aimlessly ponder. “… Why do poor people believe in futile things such as karma?”

The way you worded it, and the way it exited your tongue seemed unusually natural. Montrell, who’s been too used to such words, only shrugged. “Cause there’s nothing else to save them. That’s why they have a god, [Y/n]. They can’t save themselves, and so that’s why they believe something otherworldly will.”

Before you could speak, Montrell looked out into the glass windows before turning to you.

“Speaking of which, I think you should use daffodils for the upcoming party.”

“.. Daffodils?” You repeated.

Your brother nods. “Yes. I find them to be quite lovely.”

Since when did he have an interest in flowers? You internally squirmed. “Where the hell am I going to get daffodils in autumn?” You groaned. “We can use other yellow flowers for the golden theme.”

“Well, you’re not in charge anymore.” Was his attempt of a tease. “Surely there are still daffodils here in this season. We’ll have to find the best greenhouse in town.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

You sweetly casted a glance at him, smiling as a thought crowed at you.

A sharp pain shoots through Miles’ head. A pulsing, familiar pain— resembling a bullet, dove straight into his subconscious.

He stumbles back as darkness clouds his vision, a sort of slithering and slimy feeling coursing through his system like a snake seething beneath his skin. His heart was hammering against his chest. It was like that time during the warehouse, where he felt genuinely uneasy and unsettled. The eyes of that figure behind the window, watching him tremulously stare back.

In the cage of his mind, Miles finds himself inside a dark void— where the silence was loud enough to hear the sound of a pin drop.

Then there was this drumming.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The melody was unfamiliar, but the voice nostalgic. Miles crawled amidst the darkness, searching for the voice, only to look up and catch the sight of a pristine, delicately made shoe. It kicked against the front of a desk, making a rhythmic pattern. Thump. Thump. Thump. With each passing moment, his eyes continued to linger upward, from the shoe, to a leg, to a waist, to your pretty face.

You sat there, above the desk, with your pretty hair and your pretty eyes, puckering up your pretty lips along with the song. You were so idly calm, so leisure while singing so softly, he could hardly make out the words exiting your mouth. A dim, green light cascaded against the silhouette of your figure, further accentuating the pink of your lips and the darkening of your gaze.

You smiled, but your eyes held nothing. Like you never knew what kindness was, even in his presence. You never looked at him like that before— like you hated him enough that you wanted him to die.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The thumping was growing faster and faster with each second. Upon seeing his struggle, a stifled laugh laces the lyrics.

Miles tried to move, but his whole body writhed in pain— like he was beaten, defeated. His arms itched in burns and scars. With the sound of your hum, Miles looks up, only to see you cross your arms before your chest, the tip of your shoe gently grazing against the skin of his temple. He feels as though he was being watched, idly, by an audience that had no interest at all in intervening. Like everyone was amused to see him.. Kneeling before you.

Click. Click. Click. The cutter clicked in your palm as the blade rose higher.

It’s like your presence alone was enough to blind him, and his conscience kept crawling back to you no matter how hard it tries to stray.

Really, who are you, [Y/n]?

Why was it whenever you lingered in his dreams, you were the cruelest person to exist?

And why was it that Miles knew that he’d probably still adore you with your hands around his neck?

“.. Miles?”

From a gentle shuffle, Miles awoke to the sound of his mother’s voice.

Miles jolted up, his skin half drenched with cold sweat. Unfortunately enough, his awakening was nothing avian. On the contrary, his awakening felt like a somber chore. The material clung onto him like glue, making him utter a groan. For a while, he helplessly looked around like a child lost between rows of linoleum aisles, his mind hopping from question to question. 'What just happened? What was I dreaming of?'

Like some hungover drunkard, he gently peeled himself away from the sweat-stained sheets and begrudgingly sat upright. Rio’s gentle hand cradled his aching head.

“Rest, mijo, you’re exhausted.”

“Mama, I—“ He broke, running a damp hand over his head. For a moment, he flinches, checking to see if his hands were covered in blood. “What happened?”

His mother’s dark curls lightly brushed against his temple. Her eyes were just as exhausted as he was, with dark circles rimming the doeness of her gaze. “I got home to you taking a nap but you kept squirming. I was so worried. Que paso?”

He looked around, realizing he’d dropped himself unconscious atop the sofa.

“.. Nightmare.”

Night terrors, to put it precisely. It’s been haunting him since the death of his father three years ago. He thought they’d long vanished after meeting you, but after his suspicions arose, his anxiety came crawling back like a dreadful stench.

Rio handed him a glass of water, to which he gulped down to its very last drop— like he’s been thirsting for all his life.

“Mama,” He called out. “… What do I do?”

His loving mother creased her brow, shaking her head. “What is it, mijo? What’s wrong?”

He runs his hand over his face, wondering how to begin. At that moment, Miles recalls your sweetest smiles, your loudest laughs, and your warmest hugs.

You held his hand, dragged him out of that maze, and you vandalized the hotel together. You tore yourself away from the expectations of your family, and went to him.

You chose him.

But could he go so far to assume that you loved him?

Rio shifted comfortably, trying to appear more welcoming to whatever catastrophe Miles was about to unleash. “What’s wrong, Miles?”

Miles couldn’t even admit it to himself, though he’d long noticed, he preferred to remain ignorant ‘til the truth was spilled from your own lips.. But he didn’t know how much longer he could last. Blood runs thicker than water, but both feel the same when your eyes are closed— and that could mean many things.

“A lot, ma.” He buried his head into his hands. “And Ionno if I could deal with it all.”

“You don’t have to deal with everything, Miles.” Rio frowned. “You’re only fifteen. Eres demasiado joven. Con el tiempo todo se arregla.”

“Me duele la cabeza.”

“Ponte vaporub.” Rio stood to grab the small, blue ointment. As she unscrews its green cap, Miles was immediately hit with its loud, minty scent. Digging her fingers into the substance, Rio smears the vaporub all over Miles’ forehead. “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sana hoy, sanará mañana.”

He lightly moved away with a sigh. “I’m not a kid anymore, ma.”

“I’m your mother, you’ll always be my kid.” As the cooling sensation sunk into his skin, he felt his mother’s palm cup his cheek. “And since you’re my kid, I always get worried about you. I know we ain’t got nothing much, but we got each other, Miles. You’re a great kid bound to achieve great things.”

He wasn’t too sure about that. That whole great kid thing. You had your fingers entangled all over his puppet strings, and it made him hesitate.

But what if that was exactly your plan? To ruin him entirely for your benefit?

“.. Ma, what would you do if the person you liked lied to you about their identity?”

Rio sat in silence.

“.. Que?”

Ah, fuck. That’s a stupid question.

“Nothing.” Miles turned his head. “Sorry, that was a stupid question—“

“No, Miles. I didn’t mean to— I just, you like someone? A girl?”

Miles shifted uncomfortably. Rio softened. “A boy?”

“No, ma!” He exclaimed, embarrassed. “I-It’s a girl. I like a girl.. Por los clavos de Cristo.”

“Oh, I was preparing myself.” Rio placed a hand over her heart. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d accept you no matter what, I just didn’t have a long wonderful speech prepared for it.. But what’s wrong with the girl?”

“Well, ma, it’s just..”

“Did she cheat on you!?”

“No! We’re not even together yet, ma. We were gonna have our first date today, but.. But her family’s been treating her horribly, and her older brother picked her up while we were out buying costumes for our halloween date only for him to directly tell me that it ain’t happening.”

“And then?”

“She talked ‘bout her dad throwing a fit, and now she hasn’t replied the whole day.” He slipped his fingers through his hair. “I even woke up at six in the morning just to get my braids redone at Tasha’s… And they invited me to a party at their house on Sunday.”

“Sunday? Then— that’s great!” Rio exclaimed, placing her hands over her son’s shoulders. “That would mean they’re open to getting to know you. Well, I think you can borrow some of your dad’s old clothes for the party, you two look great in suits anyway.”

“W-Well, ma, that ain’t entirely the problem, she’s..” He swallowed. “Ma, I think she comes from a very rich family.”

“Okay, and?” Rio raised a brow. “Did she ever make you feel inferior for having superior wealth?”

“.. No? Well, she’s been trying to keep it on the down low this whole time, but.. Whenever I see her, she acts so.. Proper and polite when she don’t even notice it. And her brother’s British too, and I— Ionno how the hell that happened, but he sound like the type to spit out tap water if I ever brought him to a restaurant.”

“Well, you’re dating the girl, Miles, not her brother.” Rio sighed. He thinks of it for a moment, then shrugs. Only then he notices his mother’s wide smile, her shoulder nearly glued onto his.

“So.. Who’s the girl?”

Miles fiddled awkwardly, unsure how to answer. Rio seemed adamant for an answer, so, after a while of internally mustering up sentences, Miles replied. “Her name.. [Y/n].”

“Mhm.”

“She uh.. Sixteen. I-I met her three months ago.. And we started doing graffiti together since then.”

“Oh, so she’s an artist?”

Miles gaped. “S… Sum like that, yeah.”

Your art varied. Your colors were blander while his, more vibrant. But there was something about the way you drew, that was so meaningfully realistic that it captured entirely how your mind pondered in its darkest moments. An art style that captured entirely the darkest of what life could bring.

He remembers going through your sketchpads, how your dabbles consisted of dull realism. Maybe it was only dull because it was exactly what New York’s become— cold and calloused.

But in contrast, you were able to set his world on fire in a way he’s never seen. Only you could paint over the dullness with scarlet, in a way that had him choking from the smoke emanating from your fire.

But he couldn’t tell his mother the way you’ve worsened him.

His mother wouldn’t let him get too close to someone as bright and dangerous as you.

“Why haven’t you mentioned about her before? I could’ve helped!” Rio tossed her dark curls to the side. They’d always reminded him of the dark sea. “Es puertorriqueña? Puede hablar español?”

“No,” Miles thinks about it for a minute. “I-Ionno, actually. She never told me anythin’ bout it, but she can’t speak Spanish so I ain’t sure.”

Rio attempted, no she really did try to attempt— to hide her disappointment. Were her grandkids bound to forever be free of her culture? How saddening.

“Pero creo que ella está estudiando español.”

“Oh?”

“Sí.” Mile seemed to lightened up. “She’s so cute. She can’t even pronounce ‘roja’.”

“But she’s trying.” Rio could not be any happier. “She’s trying! Eso es bueno! Ella ya me gusta. Not everyone tries these days, you know.”

He wondered if his mother was faking her enthusiasm just to ease him. He’d expected her to be more.. Angry about it.

“.. I’m surprised you’re not upset, ma.”

“Upset?” Rio furrowed her brows. “Miles, how could I get upset? You’re experiencing what every other teenager experiences, that’s great!.. I know you’ve been trying to act like an adult to help us, and you’ve given up so much just to keep us afloat. I’ve been getting worried that you’ve been focusing too much with adult responsibilities that you’re forgetting that you’re just a kid. You’re allowed to go around and be a kid. You’re allowed to like a girl— so long as she’s not a bad influence.”

Miles pushes back the thought of you being a smoker.

“She’s not a bad influence. She’s.. Just going through a lot.. She makes me happy, ma.”

Rio looked at him proudly. Only then, she wondered if her dearest husband ever brooded like this too upon realizing his feelings for her. She wondered if Jeff ever pouted the way Miles did, and looked out into the world with such admiration in his eyes as though he were shaping the void into an image of her.

Jeff loved, and thus, Miles could love too.

“If she makes you happy, then I’m happy.” She beamed. “So long as she’s not a brat or an alcoholic, or a racist, or any of those bad people, I’ll accept her.”

The mother shared a loving glimpse of her son, making out an image of her late husband in the way he smiled. Suddenly, she pats her lap and stands up. “Bueno, I’m making adobo.”

“I can help—“

“No, sit down, you’re tired.” Rio held out a finger. “Take a rest, Miles.”

“But Ma—“

“Rest.”

And he did.

Well, he tried. It was a subtle attempt. A poor one, at that. He sat upright by the sofa, listening to his mother chop up the potatoes. He tries to discreetly look into your messages, only to find you’ve finally texted back.

her ♡ || two minutes ago.

sorry i haven’t texted!! 😭😭

remember the party this sunday? my dad is making me help with the preparations so i couldn’t go to our date

i’m really sorry 🥺 don’t get mad

if you want, we can do it tomorrow.

Miles pouted. He didn’t want to reply immediately. He didn’t want to look desperate.

So he waited for another five minutes.

.. Even though you made him wait for six hours.

He switches the television on in attempt to distract himself from your message.

‘Last night, a horrific murder happened within Brooklyn, as the body of a beheaded man was discovered outside of a local bodega. Witnesses claim that an alien disguised as a teenage girl had ripped off, and eaten the man’s head.’

“The hell?” Miles burrowed his brows upon being greeted with the news on television. “An alien?”

He watches as the screen switches over towards one of the witnesses, a scruffy man with reddened eyes— evidently too lost in whatever he was taking to speak too calmly.

“.. They’re prolly high as hell.”

‘I’m ain’t even [censored] with y’all— some [censored] ripped off Kyle’s head— it was a horrific looking piece of [censored] made out of black goo or whatever the [censored]. The government’s [censored] making alien [censored]!

‘So far, there have been no records of the scene, as the cameras had been blacked out.’

“What the f—“ Miles grew mindful of his language upon realizing his mother was in the other room. “How the hell did that even happen!? Blacked out my ass.”

It was more or less, likely a murder related to the elites. One of their kids must’ve been hanging out with those junkies and killed a man for fun.

A phone begins to ring. Miles turns his head.

“Miles, can you get that for me?” He heard his mother, who was too busy chopping up something, call out.

He turns off the television, hops out of the sofa and heads straight into his mother’s room. As he flicks the light open, a king-sized bed greets him with its gray, large glory. He used to jump on that bed too much when he was a kid. Now, it looked.. Desolate, and almost deserted. With how large the bed was, he couldn’t help but ponder how lonely his mother must’ve felt, sleeping in a bed less warmer than three years ago.

Miles passes by the closet, and after foraging for a bit, he manages to find his mother’s phone atop a drawer— swiftly grabbing the gadget before turning to leave.

As he turns, his foot accidentally nudges against a box.

He peers through it, before kicking it away.

Making his way back to the kitchen, he hands the ringing phone over to his mother before curtly returning to the room to close the lights.

But as his hands reached out towards the switch, his eyes were drawn back to the sight of the box.

It looked like it’d been cast aside beside the closet.

Hearing his mother speak over the phone lightheartedly, something about something. Miles trudges towards the orange, cardboard box, kneeling by the floor with a single knee down on the wood. His hand curiously glazes over the top, feeling a pile of dust collect over his fingers.

Hesitantly, he takes off the lid, finding a familiar white, collared shirt. He pulls it up to the ceiling light and watches as it unfolds into a larger sheet.

This belonged to his father’s.

He looks right back into the box, finding a pair of black, dress pants neatly folded into a square. Meekly, he tugs on it, hoping he wouldn’t uncover anything sinister like a severed hand or an eyeball. After pulling the whole thing out, a longer line of black unravels.

A strange array of emotions lingered inside him.

Nostalgia. Wrath. Happiness.

It smelled like dust, and it was forever devoid of its owner’s scent and warmth.

“Miles, do you want juice?”

“Huh? Y-yeah.” He stammered. “Grape juice would be nice.”

His mother’s comment slips past his ears. For a moment, he pondered about wearing this to the Sunday party, but he couldn’t help but think how it likely wouldn’t fit him. His father was a giant, and he was quite lanky.

Upon hearing his mother’s footsteps, Miles hurriedly and clumsily attempts to refold the clothes, only then hearing a soft clatter. He pivots his head to the side.

There was a USB.

“For the florals, I think daffodils would be great.”

Your hands skimmed across the air in attempt of drafting an idea. From afar, you manage to earn a wider view of the banquet hall. Workers left and right helped with tidying up the refectory, scrubbing up windows and mopping up the floors. “It would match the golden theme, don’t you think?” You asked of Charlotte, who nodded wobbly with her dire age.

As of that moment, you’d been preparing for the layout of the party. As much as you didn’t want to listen to Montrell’s suggestion, you figured getting on his bad side would be a bad move.

The fundraiser, originally hosted by your aunt, was planned out to gather enough money to support Senator Barlowe’s projects. Your family was to auction off high-priced materials such as clothes, jewelry, paintings, and even estates for the sake of meeting the goal. Which would also mean that the highest of the elite would be attending the party.

And you were less than thrilled to be its co-host.

Charlotte marvels at your suggestion, taking it with a smile but a pique. “However, daffodils can’t usually be placed with other flowers, so I’ll have to make a special request to the florist to do the preparations extensively.”

You raised a brow. “Why can’t they be placed together with other flowers?”

One of the maids carrying a porcelain vase walk past you, making you gently remind her to put it aside.

Charlotte parts her palms. “They secrete toxins into the water. So whenever it’s placed among other flowers, the rest die.”

“Oh,” You widened your gaze, processing this newly found information. “How did you know that?”

Charlotte blinked, trying to think back. “.. Well, daffodils were used for your mother and father’s wedding. It was a struggle, since the day of the wedding, half of the bouquet had already wilted.”

You stood back in surprise, crossing your arms before your chest. “Mama must’ve been furious.”

Charlotte shook her head. “Your father plucked flowers out from the gardens and made her a bouquet himself.”

Wait. What? WHAT?

Wow, who knew your daddy was quite the romantic?

I’m just as shocked as every other person.

“M-My father?” You dumbly repeated. “My father plucked out the flowers himself? Or was it Mr. Nigel?”

“Your father, himself, Miss.” Charlotte laughed, finding your shock to be quite amusing. “He’s quite great at it too— flower arrangement. Your grandmother taught him from an early age.”

“My father truly arranged the bouquet for him and mama’s wedding?” You couldn’t believe your ears. “He has that sort of talent?”

“Why, of course!” She beamed a warm beam. “Like you, he used to oversee the interior of the hotel. He has great taste when it comes to color, and you’ve inherited that side of him.”

You tried to think about it, your father— who was now an old man with a permanent sneer on his wrinkled lip— arranging flowers in his youth, picking out pastel and cream curtains for the parties, and overseeing the menu. It didn’t seem like something he’d do, at all. Then again, your mother used to describe him in a way that made it tragic.

A good man, never a good father. Torn between yearning to be held in arms that never welcomed him and finding his worth beyond the standard of his own father.

You tried to sympathize with him. Your father.

Though he was who he was, he cared about you, in a twisted, fucked-up way. Your engagement with Richard Fisk was privately decided after the hotel went near-bankrupt had it not been for the Fisks and their mystical talent for cover-ups— and your father simply took most of your managing rights away just so the family you’d marry into wouldn’t use you for their own greed.

The fate wasn’t entirely horrible either. You’d marry into new money, sure, but their wealth would most definitely preserve the comfortable life you’re living right now.

It was your own greed that was worsening you.

Your desire to have a tantamount of power.

But what if you never needed it?

“Miss!”

What if all you needed was a peaceful life? Marry into the Fisks, host parties, and care no more about anything?

“Miss [Y/n]!”

.. But what about Miles?

He hadn’t answered any of your texts yet.

“Miss [Y/n], a call.” One of your secretaries came crashing through the doors with his phone. How you hated that word. Call. A signal of what would definitely exhaust you. Where was Montrell? Why weren’t they calling out for him? Were you really the only one able to handle all the messes in here? Workers left and right stopped as he trudged up the stairs, nearly tossing the phone over to you. You slip it close to your ear, making your way down with each click of your heel.

Charlotte watches as you listen to the caller with such intent. Silently, you eyed your surroundings before heading out.

As you reached the patio, you looked out into the dimming violet evening that was fading out along with the scarlet of the sun. The caller rambles on, something along about the recent incident.

“I’ve bribed the higher-ups to rush the investigation and to arrest the witnesses. We’ll release the story that they had murdered their friend after taking drugs.”

“Good.” You plucked out your vape from your pockets. “Report to me immediately once you find all the records about their families and their identities.”

“Understood.” You hear the sound of Morrison’s computer typing. Likely writing up a list. “I’ve also halted the investigation of the fire. I’ve told your father the information was tracked from an accidental leak after a delivery of the samples to one of the families had the address exposed. Sir Anthony will have to take up the blame since it was his idea.”

You took a long huff. “Good job. You did well.”

The smoke lingers, and you close your eyes.

Sorry, Antonne. You’ll live, I guess.

“Morrison,” You called out to him. “.. How’s Miles?”

The typing comes to a halt. For a moment, the two of you shared a moment of silence. You picture him pushing his glasses up higher off the bridge of his nose.

“.. I’ve spent most of my attention on other things, so I haven’t been able to check up on him yet.”

“Ah, is that so?” You mumbled. “Never mind then, just continue on with halting the investigation. I’ll take care of the rest, and remember, if any of the witnesses start describing my face—“

Clack.

You turned your head.

What was that?

ＳＯＭＥＯＮＥ‘Ｓ　ＨＥＲＥ

No shit.

Beyond the gardens, the skies were beginning to dim. That familiar shade of magenta, it lingered like a ghost and it haunted you like your past. There was a click that set your mind off, and suddenly you couldn’t help but feel like the world was integrating itself into a technicolor, dotted comic.

Then and there, spying on you from the top of the six Corinthian columns of the garden, sat the young Prowler.

“Miss [Y/n]? You were saying?” Morrison pried from you.

You parted your phone from you ear, a side of your grin heightening into a catty smirk.

“… If any of them start describing my face, take care of it.”

Then and there, you ended the call with one light tap. You remained stubborn with your posture, seemingly amused and befuddled by it all while keeping your head high. The boy watched you curiously but stiffly, as if he were unsure of what to do. You were mutually frozen, but you couldn’t allow any sort of weakness to seep through the cracks of your confidence.

You took a step close, and he tenses. The sound of your heel clicking against the tiles sends an echo into the garden.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You greeted of him with sincere politeness, placing a hand over your hip. Was it an attempt to appear idle or what? “… It’s quite an honor to have you here as a guest.”

“Who are you?” The boy growled, voice delved baritones deep. “Really.”

You tilted your head.

“Who would you like me to be?”

His gauntlet unfolds, and suddenly, he launches himself at you, grabbing you by the neck.

[A/n: I PASSED MY FUCKING ENTRANCE EXAM GUYS]

[mentallyisekaid]

「 ✦ Fatui Harbingers x Signora's Sister! Reader, PART 2 ✦ 」

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Part 1 [Part 2] Part 2.5 Part 3 Part 3.5

It's highly recommended to read the parts in order, otherwise few things will make sense!

Author's note ~ From this chapter forward, Y/N will develop a strong, somewhat intimate bond with her fellow Harbingers, but it's still, essentially, platonic. After coming up with the full storyline for this series, I figured it'd best to keep romance to a minimum, so it won't distract me or the readers from what's happening plotwise. But make no mistake - all of them care quite fiercely about you... it's not labelled "Harbingers x Reader" for nothing :) And of course, you're free to interpret their relationship in any kind of way you prefer <3

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Featured in this chapter, we have (drum roll, if you please)... Scaramouche, Childe and Columbina!

Warnings: brief/indirect spoilers regarding Sumeru's Archon quest and Scaramouche's lore

Word count: 3k

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A month had passed since the funeral, and the day you'd become the 12th of the Fatui Harbingers at Pierro's request.

*Note ~ Even though Signora's dead, I still consider her to be one of the 'Eleven Harbingers', and thus Y/N's position will be the 12th!

Truth to be told, you hardly cared whether such a dubious position had been offered to you out of respect for Rosalyne's legacy, or merely because they'd wanted to keep an eye on the immortal girl who possessed two Visions.

For the past five centuries, your life had lacked any clear purpose - perhaps this new title could change things to something a bit more... colorful?

Perhaps they could be the change.

On that note, there was something quite peculiar you'd come to notice about the infamous Harbingers.

Despite joining their ranks, you had kept the reason behind your questionable situation as a secret, so on a very essential level they still knew next to nothing about you (except for the Director who definitely knew enough to make you very uncomfortable!) In this regard, shouldn't they have considered you a stranger, or at least a high security risk?

Yes, yes they should have.

Yet not only did they treat you as one of their own, but it appeared that for some reason, these people cared about you to an extent beyond just professional relationships, always looking out for you in weird ways, like making sure you didn't overwork yourself, stayed healthy and never lacked any weird luxuries like expensive bath salts - that, and the fact that they were almost constantly lingering around you...

As someone who'd grown used to getting by on their own, you didn't really know what to make of their behavior. Or how to return it.

But did you dislike it? Not really. Why? Well, you were still sort of figuring that out.

You were currently sitting in Pantalone's office, looking through some financial reports while the Regrator himself was away on a business trip. As things stood, this was pretty much all that your title as a Harbinger was good for - assisting your colleagues by handling the less direct approaches to their duties as diplomats of Snezhnaya. It was only natural that you weren't yet expected, or trusted, to do any actual fieldwork.

So, your days were mostly spent being surrounded by endless piles of documents...

*knock, knock!*

...and them, as you might have guessed.

You sighed, placing the papers down on the desk when another round of impatient knocks came in. Clearly, that someone was going to invite themselves in regardless of your answer, and it wasn't hard to narrow down the list of possible suspects since only the highest ranking members of the Fatui were allowed in this part of the headquarters - frankly, the doors here tended not to be Harbinger-proof?

But it's not as if you really minded, breaktime was due anyway. Also, their company was always vastly more entertaining than work!

"It's not locked, you know" you commented, leaning back on your chair.

A scoff was heard before the door was rudely pushed open, and an unfamiliar character marched with such arrogance you'd think they owned the place. This made you raise an eyebrow; what an admirable sense of superiority? It wasn't someone you'd met before, but judging from the way they carried themselves, you recognized them nonetheless.

The man with child-like features (and a rather beautiful face) stopped in the middle of the room, staring curiously, though somewhat condescendingly, at the girl behind the desk.

"Are you," he started, "perchance the Director's newest recruit?"

"It's already been a month, but I suppose... in any case, what can I do for you, mister?"

"Mister?" The Harbinger crossed his arms, both amused and irked by your way of addressing him. "Ha, do you not know who I am?"

"Oh, no, I'm fairly certain I do," you sighed. "A presumptuous attitude, and a strikingly non-traditional kasa hat... the Balladeer, I presume? I heard you were busy playing a god in Sumeru with one of Dottore's segments, so I thought it might be a while before I get to meet the last one of my colleagues. But here you are - Scaramouche, was it? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He was being rude too, you were just returning the discourtesy.

Scaramouche held back a chuckle, the bells from his hat jingling.

"Ah, yes, that would be me. And as to why I bothered coming all the way from Sumeru just to meet you, miss Twelfth..."

"I have a name. It's Y/N."

He clicked his tongue, taking a step closer.

"Yes, yes, whatever. Now, sit there and listen. I was in the middle of my little experiment on blasphemy when I suddenly heard that the Jester had recruited a new Harbinger, who, incidentally, has two Visions and is supposedly immortal - but she blatantly refuses to reveal anything about herself. Surely, you can imagine my slight annoyance at this, seeing as you, on the other hand, seem to know an awful lot about us."

You smiled a bit, fiddling with the quill pen in your hand.

"Yes, I don't exactly go around advertising my past to others. But aren't you same in that regard, Scaramouche?"

"I won't amuse you by answering that." He smiled eerily. "The point is, I don't like being kept in the dark - it gives people the chance to stab me in the back, and that's not something I'm particularly fond of."

"Ask the Director, then. I can assure you he knows all kinds of scandalous things about me - about all of us, no doubt."

He shrugged. "That won't be necessary."

In the blink of an eye, Scaramouche was no longer where he'd been standing before. The Sixth Harbinger had suddenly jumped on top of your desk, scattering the paperwork you'd spent hours organizing. He leaned forward with a smug look on his face, grabbing your chin between his delicate fingers.

"So, our little miss Harbinger refuses to reveal her secrets? We'll get those out of you, don't you worry~"

"My goodness?" Your previously dull eyes sparkled a bit. "What a bold move - it's certainly... something. I must say, I find your character quite fascinating, Balladeer."

"Likewise."

Behind that ruthless, indigo gaze, was a forlorn soul that had faced so much injustice...

When travelling around Teyvat for the past centuries, you'd caught bits and pieces of hearsay about Scaramouche's tragic past - most of it probably accurate. But it wouldn't have been wise to bring up such matters when you'd only just met him, especially since the Balladeer was widely known for his foul temper.

Though, judging from the way was looking at you, he probably knew what you were thinking. Even so, there was no ill intent in his eyes.

A new voice suddenly interrupted your odd encounter.

"I hope you're not harrassing our princess, dearest Scara!"

Tartaglia waltzed in to the office with an ominous smile. Scaramouche jumped down from your desk, scoffing at the sight of his ginger colleague.

"Ha, barely! I just happen to find her very intriguing."

Childe laughed a bit, stepping forward to pat your head.

"Well, I did tell you she was special, comrade. And to think you didn't believe me? Yet, here I find you. It seems Y/N Lohefalter is capable of drawing the attention of even the Balladeer himself, ahahhah~"

You followed their interaction, thoroughly entertained - compared to your previous uneventful life, this was certainly refreshing.

"Foolish boys," yet another familiar voice was heard, and Columbina strode in gracefully. "Avoiding your work to disturb Y/N with these shameful antics? Pierro would be quite displeased. Now, perish."

Damselette then turned her attention on you, smiling sweetly.

"Would you like to have an afternoon snack with me? I hope you've been eating enough, my dove."

"Now, now, don't be greedy..." Scaramouche taunted. "It's rather obvious that she and I were having a conversation."

You smiled a bit, pointing at each one of them with your pen.

"Technically, you're all are here equally uninvited. And on that note - as much as I'd rather do anything else right now - I really should continue with these documents or they're going to pile up..."

"Hey now, you know Pantalone doesn't like it when you overwork yourself, Y/N," Childe pointed out, crossing his arms.

Columbina smiled gently. "Yes, how about we go and have some tea instead?~"

Scaramouche raised an eyebrow at this.

"You sure speak to this girl in an unprofessional manner, Tartaglia, Damselette - if I didn't know better, I'd say it sounds almost intimate. Trying to snatch her away from me, perhaps? But you've already known her for a month; it ought to be my turn to get acquainted with our new little Harbinger. Y/N and I have some things to discuss, after all..."

"Oh?" Childe raised an eyebrow. "Then what exactly were you and her chatting so intimately about before I came?"

"Enlighten us, Balladeer," Columbina chuckled.

You shook your head a bit.

"Let's not go down that rabbit hole-"

"No." Scaramouche cut you off with a smug expression. "These two, and the rest of them... would agree with the opinion I shared with you, don't you think? Surely it's something that we've all been wondering about."

Columbina and Childe shared a brief but knowing look - it wasn't hard to guess what the Balladeer had said to you, and though he should have gone about it a more discreet manner, they couldn't deny their curiosity either.

The angel-like Harbinger walked next to you, brushing back a loose strand of hair from your face.

"I'd rather hear this from you," she hummed.

Her touch was a little cold but gentle, not at all unpleasant. You just weren't used to this kind of physical intimacy, or rather, it had been so long since you'd experienced any kind of intimacy, that it caught you a bit off-guard whenever your co-workers offered these weird gestures. It's not like you... really minded this. But it did make it hard to refuse when they the asked you for something.

You sighed, leaning back on the chair.

"Of course, I... know you're all somewhat displeased that I'm keeping these secrets from you, about my past, that is - how I've lived for this long, and how it's possible that have two Visions. It might be difficult for you to trust me because of this, but even so, I am not obliged to reveal anything. And you know as well as I do that the Jester already knows what there is to be known; he wouldn't have let me join otherwise."

Scaramouche narrowed his eyes, not content with your answer.

"Yes, but I also know that the Director is a man of his principles - either those secrets are shared of your own accord, or not at all."

"Then maybe you don't need to know? Maybe you're better off not knowing?"

Tartaglia frowned, leaning against the wall next you.

"Being a part of the Fatui already means that we're in way over our heads when it comes to anything questionable that's going on in Teyvat. Your... situation, is included in that, even more so because you're one of us now. And in case it's not clear yet, we do care about our own, even if that often gets a bit lost behind our agendas and differences." He put a hand on your shoulder and offered a reassuring smile. "So, we'd like to know more about you, Y/N. I'm sure that's what Scaramouche has been trying to tell you too, albeit he has a weird way of choosing his words."

The Balladeer crossed his arms. "What a speech, Childe." It sounded like a snide remark, you somehow sensed that he didn't mean it as one.

"For once, I agree with these two," Columbina said. "Though both are going about this in a rather thoughtless manner. Regardless of her past and whether or not she chooses to disclose it, she is a Harbinger - and that does not necessarily mean we should know all these things about her. Her only responsibility is to serve the Tsaritsa, after all."

She smiled at you. "But it is a shame you don't seem to trust us very much, Y/N."

Reverse psychology? Smooth.

"I think you've misunderstood me, though. It's not about trust."

You stood up from Pantalone's fancy office chair, stretching a bit.

"At this point, revealing those things might or might not cost me, but I'm pretty sure I won't gain anything from it either. If that's the case - well, is survival not about keeping the trump cards you have, or at least not giving them away for free? And information is often more valuable than Mora."

"You sound like the Regrator, though I'm sure he would disagree about the Mora part." Tartaglia chuckled. "But I like the way you think! So, what is it that you'd like in return for those secrets?"

"I'd be happy to arrange whatever it is~" Columbina singsonged. "Within the bounds of good taste, of course."

Scaramouche clicked his tongue. "What an insufferable girl - what is it you want, then?"

You tilted your head, wondering why these people were so invested in you. One day, you'd surely understand... but in this moment, you could only think about their offer and how it was just slightly too tempting to refuse.

"Well, right now, I'm craving for some excitement. Something more thrilling than this paperwork I'm drowning in day after day. I don't suppose one of you has a solution for that?"

Columbina's soft laughter jingled in the air.

Scaramouche was glaring at you.

Childe's eyes were sparkling.

"Excitement, you say?!" the ginger exclaimed. "Oh, that won't be a problem. How about we make a little bet, Y/N?"

"I'm listening."

"Let's fight a bit~ I've been wanting to see what you're capable of, and a match against the Eleventh Harbinger is far from playing around, so I'm sure it would prove exciting enough for you." He nodded toward the two gemstones hanging from your belt. "Use those Visions, any weapons and all the shenanigans you can possibly come up with - if you think you can. I promise to make it worth your while. Naturally, you'd have to share some of your past in exchange..."

You raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. "...if you manage to win, that is?"

Columbina chuckled. "Careful, Y/N. You'll get Tartaglia too excited~"

Scaramouche rolled his eyes.

"I'm not sure you understand what you're agreeing to, miss Twelfth. But by all means, go play with this idiot - I'll gladly come and watch, it ought to be entertaining. The next phase of my mission in Sumeru is not due in a while anyway." (And if by some miracle you do manage to beat Childe, I'll come up with other ways of discovering those secrets.)

The Balladeer as well had grown quite captivated by you.

Childe smiled innocently. "How about it, Y/N? Are you in?"

"You bet."

---

...who in their right mind had recruited this maniac?

Sure, the Harbingers had inhuman abilities, but this was pure madness. Tartaglia had yet to even demonstrate his Hydro powers, much less a Delusion, but merely by using his agility and a pair of escrima sticks he had already brought you to your knees.

It's not as if you considered yourself to be a particularly skilled fighter, but you did have five centuries' worth more experience than him, and quite a few tricks up in your sleeve. But Childe only ever gave you the time to use your polearm - no Visions, no shenanigans - and even so, you didn't manage to land a single hit on him.

You lay on the floor of the training grounds, breathlessly gazing up at Tartaglia who was pinning you down with his knee.

"Ready to yield, girlie?"

"Ha... I'm not, *huff*, giving up that easily..."

He smiled, putting a bit more pressure on your chest - not in a painful way, but it was still enough to diminish your remaining fighting spirit rather quickly.

"Alright, alright, fine... please, *huff*... stop, Tartaglia... I, *huff*... give... up..."

"You can call me Ajax, by the way."

The ginger stood up, gazing down at you with a grin on his face. Well, at least now you knew that the rumors about his martial arts prowess weren't exaggerated? Neither was the fact that whenever he did fight, there was this euphoric (honestly a bit scary) aura around him. Reminder - think twice before you accept a challenge from this guy in the future!

That said, you had quite enjoyed yourself...

Ajax offered his hand to you, and you meekly took it, allowing him to pull you up from the ground.

Columbina and Scaramouche, who had been silently observing from the sidelines, appeared slightly amused and certainly pleased by the end of your struggle. This outcome had been more or less expected, but ever so welcome. A Harbinger never backed on their word, after all~

"Now then, my angel..."

"...you better keep that promise."

The three of them led you to a small lounge, dimly lit by a fireplace and deserted from any members of Fatui. Exhausted, you slouched down on a couch and closed your eyes.

Damselette came next to you wordlessly, laying down and letting her head rest on your lap. This was a habit of hers that you didn't mind; while admittedly rather intimate, it was something like this that you had long yearned for.

Childe leaned against a nearby wall, smiling at you encouragingly. For some reason, you always felt at ease around him. He was like an "older" sibling - more than she ever was, the one you'd already lost before her death.

The Balladeer was sitting on an armchair, observing you with an unreadable expression. The slight softness in those cold eyes was perhaps only noticed by you; an abandoned soul recognizes its own kind.

"Now then, Ajax, Scaramouche and Columbina. Allow me to tell you a story - one that discloses how my first Vision came to be. While I'm at it, I suppose I might as well reveal why Rosalyne and I shared such a difficult relationship..."

(to be continued)

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (06)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, drama, OC cusses excessively so watch out

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

← Previous Chapter (05) | Next Chapter (07) →

****

Six Years Ago, 2017

As much as Jungkook hated to admit it, you were right. This venture with Jimin was doomed.

"Jungkook, what should we do?" Jimin paced back and forth, a rare image of anxiety painted on his face. Jimin always gave Jungkook the perfect picture of a calm adult who knew exactly what he was doing. As such, Jungkook naturally looked up to him. Jungkook was also an adult, but his reliance on Jimin was of another level, allowing him to see that there was something to look forward to in life.

"We have to kill him, Jimin-hyung~." But darkness still loomed over the younger man, only that it was masked by his starry eyes, giving people the wrong impression that he couldn't and wouldn't harm even a fly.

Truth be told, Jimin sighed, but he cast an affectionate look at Jungkook as if Jungkook were his mischievous younger brother who did not propose murder but simply a joke of putting salt in someone's food instead of sugar.

"Jungkook-ah, I'm serious, okay? This can potentially harm our employees. I need you to think of something."

"Who said I was joking?" Jungkook deadpanned and crossed his arms lazily. "You said it yourself. This will harm our people. Why not get rid of the root cause first?"

"Jungkook," Jimin warned, his voice turning serious.

The brunet pursed his lips into a thin line, petulant. He wished to kill Francis Fitzgerald, one of Port Mafia's board members and their certified public accountant. Naturally, Francis dealt with the company's financial statements.

Unbeknownst to Jungkook and the others, Francis used the company's money for his own gain and concealed that the Port Mafia was incurring debt.

"This is all my fault." Jimin blamed himself. He was dating Francis and blindly trusted him, but Jungkook did not want to blame Jimin.

"That son of a bitch is cunning. He'd find another way to hide this from us even if we didn't give him freedom."

Admittedly, the only reason why Jungkook and Jimin found out about Francis' scheme was because Jisoo sent a formal request to inspect Port Mafia's book. Jisoo had been wanting to increase her investment, but she didn't want to jump into the fire immediately. She wanted some sort of proof that Port Mafia was doing well. She couldn’t buy this whole unicorn company thing. Something must be up.

"Maybe we should report this to the authorities. Does anyone else know?"

"Only the two of us, Jisoo and her independent auditor," Jungkook answered. It was all thanks to your sister's painstaking effort that the anomalies were discovered. "You don't have to worry about Jisoo-noona. She'll keep her mouth shut."

"We're really going to hide this?" Jimin was uncomfortable, but what other choice did they have?

"It appears that's the only thing we could do. Unless you change your mind about murder." Jungkook shrugged off. They would just discreetly force Francis to 'resign' and slowly correct his wrongdoings. Jisoo said she knew many reliable accountants and auditors who could handle issues like this silently. Jisoo also said she was willing to buy Francis' shares, though she had no interest in being a board member.

Jungkook was a cunning man, but he had to admit he couldn't exactly figure out why Jisoo was willing to help Port Mafia clean its mess up. Thankfully, Jimin gave Jungkook the go signal to work with Jisoo while he continued to manage their business operation. It gave Jungkook the time to scrutinize Jisoo. He had done the same thing with others before, dining and sweet-talking them until they willingly opened up to him.

"Why the long face, Jisoo-noona? Did you change your mind about helping us~? Or maybe you're just looking for a little extra persuasion~?" The corner of Jungkook's lip ticked up. They were at Jisoo’s house because Jungkook proposed to cook for Jisoo to thank her for helping Port Mafia. He slowly poured wine on Jisoo's glass while maintaining eye contact with her.

Light teasing and flirting usually worked, but Jungkook didn't see the blush on Jisoo's cheeks. She indolently picked up her wine glass and swirled it to release its aroma.

Jisoo did not drink her wine. She furrowed a brow at the younger boy, "Jungkook-ah, tell me. How much do you love my sister?"

Her question stunned Jungkook, causing his throat to get dry. For a moment, Jungkook didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth to speak but pursed his lips at the last minute.

It took a while before Jungkook settled with an answer.

"It's complicated." While it was indisputable that you were his best friend, Jungkook also knew that his bond with you transcended all superficial feelings, such as love. Yes. Love, among other things, was superficial compared to what you were to him.

People often wondered how you and Jungkook remained friends for many years, considering that all you did was fight, but none of those people saw you two’s desperate glances and how soft they actually were. No one understood that while it was easy to buy crab spring rolls, you would rather make them at home and add some pureed vegetables so Jungkook could eat healthier.

Or how no one understood Jungkook's intention of cutting you some slack after all the hurtful words you had said because he knew he'd be damned to take an angry woman’s words at face value.

Love was there—it was easy to say and feel that, but it was a different story, knowing that you might hurt each other. However, at the end of the day, you and Jungkook were each other's constants. You would return to each other's embrace no matter how fucked up the situation was.

People like Jisoo would not understand that, so Jungkook could only settle with a simple "it's complicated" response.

As expected, Jisoo shook her head. She didn't look enthusiastic to hear Jungkook's answer, as her question was merely rhetoric or a preamble.

Jisoo's intention was to tell Jungkook how much you meant to her.

Jungkook smiled. "I know, Jisoo-noona. Everybody loves your sister."

"No, Jungkook." Jisoo stopped swirling her glass. She caught Jungkook's eyes, voice serious. "You don't understand. I love that kid with my life."

You and Jisoo had absent parents, so Jisoo basically raised you.

Jungkook remained silent, sensing that there was more to Jisoo's admission of her feelings for you.

And he was right.

Jisoo stopped swirling the glass; she looked at the crimson liquid intensely, a bitter smile blooming on her face. "This wine seems quite tasty."

"You would know." Jungkook took a sip of his wine. "That's your fourth cup, right—"

Jungkook was abruptly cut off when Jisoo poured the wine on the floor. Its splattering reverberated through Jisoo's dining room.

Then she confessed:

"I'm dying, Jungkook."

The wine glass shattered, broken pieces falling on the floor.

"Jisoo-noona." Jungkook was by Jisoo's side in a flash. He enveloped her in an embrace to get her to stop shaking. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Jungkook sat Jisoo on her couch, bringing a towel to wipe at her hand. He didn't know when their playful banter turned into something this gloomy, but that should be his least concern.

"Are you with me, Jisoo-noona? Come on, breathe." Jungkook usually did this with you. You had quite some temper. Jisoo was the relaxed one, almost always gracious. Her smile was reserved for big occasions only.

It was an...experience to see her like this.

"You're okay, Jisoo-noona. Jisoo." Jungkook learned it was effective to utter someone's name when they were in distress. Fortunately, it worked on Jisoo. She released a deep breath before swallowing thickly.

"You good?"

Jisoo nodded. "Thank you, Jungkook-ah."

"Not a problem," he hummed. "Care to explain to me what you meant earlier?"

Perhaps Jungkook's tone was gentle, so it made it easier for Jisoo to open up. It was part of her plan, anyway. She knew Jimin and Jungkook must have been curious why she still invested in Port Mafia. The truth was, it was all for you.

Cancer.

Jisoo recently found out that she had cancer, and her days in this world were numbered. Jisoo didn't want to leave you alone, so she could only place her bet on Jungkook.

She knew that Jungkook would be in trouble if the authorities found out about Port Mafia's anomalies, and who would care for you if she died and Jungkook ended up locked up in prison?

"I've researched about your company. It would have been good if Francis did not mess up. I see the potential in Port Mafia; that's why I'm risking with you."

As long as Jungkook and Jimin stayed vigilant and not let scums like Francis come back, then Port Mafia would continue to prosper. By the time Jisoo was gone, all her investment would be passed down to you. That was her goal. She wanted you to enjoy a financially stable life with Jungkook.

"Are you going to tell her about your health situation?" That was all Jungkook could say.

Jisoo puffed a breath, kind of like a snicker. "Are you going to tell her  about your business situation?"

There was a pause in the air.

And then they both laughed. They both knew the answer to their question.

"Did you know why exposing Fitzgerald's crime to the authorities is not an option?"

Jisoo shook her head at that. She had meant to ask that; luckily, Jungkook made it easier.

Francis Fitzgerald was not the only one who had something to hide. Jungkook and Jimin weren't exactly clean.

Port Mafia was a business process outsourcing company. Everyone around Jungkook thought that he chose to venture into this kind of business for money, and while that was true, it was not his primary goal.

Park Jimin opened Jungkook's mind to what was happening to the world—how unfair it was and what they could do to make it slightly better.

Their solution was to make Port Mafia a catalyst for changing immigrants' lives. Not just immigrants but illegal immigrants. These people had built a life in Incheon and would never choose to go back to their own country that couldn't provide them with a proper lifestyle because of war and corruption.

Jungkook and Jimin hired these people to give them a chance at a better living. If they were to expose Fitzgerald's crime, there was no doubt that the government would also pry about how they conduct their operation. Everything would be exposed, and their employees would be at risk of deportation.

It was a band-aid solution, and Jungkook and Jimin were aware of that, but how cruel could one be to just sit and watch those people suffer?

"It's a different feeling, Jisoo-noona. I know their lives shouldn't be reduced to my feelings because Jimin-hyung often tells me it's not about us, but you're not there. No one else saw how happy those kids are..."

Jungkook never liked kids, but he would never forget when one of the kids ran to him, hugging his leg and telling him how happy he was. He didn't have to eat the bitter chocolate anymore—the bitter chocolate being dirt.

"This world is cruelly unfair." Jisoo felt defeated. One thing about sick people was how easy it was for them to be covered in a mist of bluishness. Jisoo did not see the point of living anymore. These days, all that prevailed was regret of how she lived her life and hope of how she could make someone else's life worth it.

"How much time do you have left?"

Jisoo shrugged noncommittally. "Depends. Longer with chemotherapy, shorter without chemotherapy."

"And what do you plan on choosing?" Jungkook just couldn't shut up with his damn questions.

"Are you kidding me?" Jisoo scoffed, feeling a bubble of anger rise in her. She furiously wiped at her mouth, the trace of lipstick gone. This was the only time Jungkook had seen her lose her cool. "I don't want to die with no hair. Fate is cruel enough to me. This."

She pointed at her lips and continued to wipe them with her bare hand, "Is of no use to me anymore. I can apply makeup and all those expensive skincare, and it will all be for nothing. Can't I die with my hair? Can't I die looking like me?"

She did not want to be remembered as someone sick. She wished to die simply as Jisoo, the girl with a reserved and pretty smile.

"Jisoo-noona," Jungkook called when he noticed Jisoo was shaking again.

She shook her head aggressively. "I'm so fucked up, Jungkook."

Jungkook held her hands, squeezing them. "You're not alone."

Tears trickled down her cheeks.

"We're so fucked up."

"We're so fucked up." Jungkook agreed.

They were inches away from each other.

"My sister can't know about this."

Their noses touched.

Jungkook hummed, cupping Jisoo's face, "Your sister will not know about this."

The first touch of their lips was like fire, hot enough to burn all evidence of their messed up life. They seemed to agree on one thing:

Grief.

They grieved about their imperfect lives, which they so badly wanted to share with the person they loved the most (you ) but couldn't.

You couldn't know about this because your life was perfect. You had everything, a good educational degree, friends and family who loved you, and a life where you wouldn't be scared to wake up thinking it was your last day as a free man or a living man.

With every touch and thrust, Jisoo and Jungkook grieved a life you had, but they could never have.

In each other’s wretched body was where they found the solace the world took away from them.

And come morning, when they were both sober, all that was left were sadness and fear.

← Previous Chapter (05) | Next Chapter (07) →

***

A/N: This is a short chapter and I might regret posting this immediately, but it's here and I'm going crazy. Anon people in my inbox, thank you for reading this fic, but I noticed most of you are so stressed. Please hhuhuh not to be that person, but...the fictional characters are not in the room with us right now. It's okay. I love you all.

Not gonna lie, I am thinking it's a mistake to turn this into a JJK fic, because as a soukoku fic, the characters' actions just make sense, you know? But here...things are just different, I guess. But anyway, enough rambling. It's going to work out in the end. When is the end? I don't know. hahahaha

I recently posted a light JJK oneshot, read this if you want to calm down. This is pretty much fluff and crack 😆 click here

Good night. <333

[malarign]

Request - y/n (female) taking care of Jake when he has a stomach bug and she has to pick him up from the company because he doesn’t feel good and the boys call her 🤔💞

sick

(when he is sick and you take care of him)

contains: idolbf!Jake x fem!reader | genre: fluff | tw! kissing, mentions of stomach problems | wc: 1,0k

reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!

author’s note: just before you proceed with reading, thank you Anon for requesting! i really enjoyed writing this one! ❤️ also, i didn’t proofread this one 😬

“Are you sure you shouldn’t just stay at home today?”

“I’m sure babe, I’ll be fine,” Jake said kissing your forehead. He smiled when he noticed how you still had the same concerned expression on your face. “I promise I feel better,” he spoke putting his right hand on the left side of his chest.

His enthusiasm to go on practice with the rest of Enhypen made you smile and trusted him. But you had a really bad feeling about it. For the past few days whenever he came back home from either dance practice or vocal lessons, he complained about his constant stomach aches, making you worried. But every time you tried to make him stay and visit a doctor he refused, either saying it’s not that bad or that he feels better, just like today.

“I’ll be home pretty late, love. Our comeback is near!” he announced like the excited puppy he is.

The sight of his signature pose made you giggle and pull him by his collar for a quick kiss. Well, you intended for it to be quick but he certainly had other plans. He kissed you gently while keeping you in place by placing his hands on your waist. This made your hands travel up to his neck. You noticed how hot his neck was but before you could say anything the sound of his phone ringing made him go out hurriedly. You waved at him when he disappeared behind the corner and run to catch a lift.

You decided to brush off your observations and just spend your day as you planned. You packed your bag and headed over to one of your favorite coffee shops nearby in order to study for upcoming exams.

The day was perfect for studying; the weather recently became warmer so everybody around you wore light outerwear finally saying goodbye to winter clothing. Once you sat down and ordered your beverage you started revising the chapters that were the most problematic.

No matter how much you study you just don’t seem to get your head around that specific subject. Anytime you had problems with some questions you had Jake who was always willing to help you with hard topics.

You didn’t even notice how much you started thinking about him when you noticed your phone started ringing. Looking at the caller ID you smiled seeing Jungwon’s name.

“Jungwon! What’s up?” you asked taking a sip from your cup.

“Y/n, are you busy right now?” His serious tone made you nervous. You left the cup aside and answered.

“No, is everything okay?”

The other side was quiet for a while when he spoke: “Well it’s about Jake.” His words made you even more anxious, knowing what he was going to say next, but instead of Jungwon’s voice, you heard Jay.

“Y/n could you maybe come and pick him up? He really doesn’t feel the best.”

Not wanting to make them wait you almost immediately raised from your seat and went straight home.

“I’ll be there soon.” Not waiting for his response you ended the call and ran to your apartment, where you left your books and took the keys to your car. Driving through almost whole Seoul was quite problematic at this hour, with roads packed making you stay in long lines of cars. Once you arrived at his company’s adress you quickly got out of your car and ran to the entrance.

“Y/n!” You noticed Sunoo calling your name and waving at you smiling brightly. “That’s such a relief that you could come here. Honestly I’ve never seen him in such state. I mean, it’s not that bad! But, you know him, he always tends to neglect his problems, especially health ones,” he spoke quickly while walking with you to the elevator. His words made you regret that you had let him go today to work.

Both of you arrived at the right floor, and headed to Enhypen’s practice room. First thing you noticed was somebody’s figure laying on the floor covered with what seemed to be Sunghoon’s and Jay’s hoodies. Soon realizing it was Jake lying under the pile of clothes you run up to him. You squatted next to him and placed your hand on his forehead. You were shocked how hot his skin felt against the palm of your hand.

“Thank God you’re here,” said Heeseung walking up to you. “He kept on trembling even during the practice,” he spoke while pointing clothes he was covered by. “Was he okay when he was leaving for work?”

His question made you cover your face in your hands. “No, he wasn’t. But he told me he’ll be fine. Gosh, I shouldn’t have let him go out today!”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Heeseung laughed a bit and patted your shoulder slightly. “It’s not your fault, you know that. He’s stupid for neglecting things like this,” he said making Jake open his eyes a bit.

“Hey, not stupid!” he huffed and winced at the pain he felt suddenly in his abdomen.

“Okay, let’s go,” you said taking the clothes off of him and handed them to Heeseung. You helped him get up, heart practically breaking at how shaky and trrembly his fig to sure was. Heeseung helped you with transporting him to your car and you hastily bid your goodbyes.

The ride home was quiet, gulit trip eating you from your insides, feeling ironic pain in your stomach. When both of you arrived to your shared apartment you helped him change clothes into more comfortable and warm ones. You silently checked his temperature and gave him proper medicine. While doing so he kept on looking at you, somewhat apologetically.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked softly, hoping for negative answer, but instead you pouted and looked at him, brows knitted in a frown.

“Honeslty, I am a bit. You lied to me.”

“I really thought I’ll be better though.” He tried not to giggle at your expression. You looked so cute in his eyes whenever you pouted. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not, stupid. Now I need to make sure you feel better before Bang PD murders me.” You smiled and brushed his hair off his face.

“Hey, not stupid!”

thank you for reading! back to the masterlist

[therealvinelle]

(A question for both you and muffin)

What speed do you guys write?

I feel like you guys must write at such an incredible rate based on the work you produce in such a short amount of time. Any tips if you have any to increase output would be appreciated!

You were lost in the drafts! I'm so sorry.

To answer your question: it depends a bit on the fic, but typically we write as fast as we're typing, then get distracted, then write, then distracted. Sometimes we take turns being distracted.

It used to be we'd outline the entire chapter in great detail, but as we've gotten this down to a routine it's bullet points.

It's very relaxing and meditative.

As for how we're able to write that fast, I think it's threefold:

We're both picturing how a given scene should unfold, and then writing down what happens. I don't come up with a character's dialogue, I'm just writing what he said and describing how he says it or what he's thinking. Slowness or hesitation mostly occurs when we don't know what happens next or disagree.

No second guessing ourselves over one word or sentence for more than two minutes, no obsessing over getting that perfect sentence down. It was hard at first to get used to, but watching @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin get ahead and write the good bits while I was contemplating how to phrase the last sentence of a random paragraph taught me to just make a decision.

Validation - whenever I'm unsure about something, or catch Muffin writing some thing I don't love or she catches me, we can discuss right away. While it does happen that we write something, then afterwards one or both say "Hang on. That was really bad!" for the most part writing jointly means there's two people have looked at the text and found it satisfying.

My best advice is to just write, get used to just writing without worrying too much about it, and get yourself an honest person whose opinion you trust (there is a LOT of atrocious advice out there!).

(I also have an anecdote for this: there is an author I follow on a social media, who has written a fairly popular story. They also, like most of us, have reoccurring weaknesses as a writer. They mentioned having gone to a writing group or class (I don't remember which), and receiving feedback on these specific weaknesses. Rather than accept this feedback (which they had sought out by joining the group to begin with!) they came to their followers for validation, making fun of the advice and talking about how stupid the advice-giver was.

The lesson to be learned: constructive criticism can really suck because even though you sought it out, and the criticism you get is constructive and useful, you didn't want to hear it. Therefore, decide before you go if you actually want to risk being told something you didn't want to hear, and choose the criticism-giver carefully because they could be wrong.

The reason I bring this up in a post about writing speed is that you write very slowly when you're unsure of yourself, and insecurity forms a terrifying wall between yourself and that "publish" button. At least, my speed has improved vastly since @theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin became my beta and later cowriter.)

You also want to be careful with planning the story. Planning isn't writing and it often isn't really planning either, it all too often slides right into coming up with headcanons and aesthetics for a complex daydream. If that's what you want to do, go forth, and god knows there's an audience for moodboards and headcanon posts, but if you're serious about wanting to get the story down in writing then you've got to ask yourself whether your plans for the story are in fact plans or not.

I will also advice, insofar it is possible, to not pour too much of yourself into your writing. If it's your darling who owns your whole heart, you're fiercely proud of it, then having somebody say "Hey, this could be a lot better" is all the more discouraging. Abandoning it if it loses traction or you're not sure where to go with it is also devastating. You should love what you do, by all means, but don't tie your self-worth as a writer in the individual things you produce. Even the greats have flops alongside their masterpieces, or just less good works. Focus on having fun and enjoying what you do, drop a project without guilt if you lose passion for it, put it on pause if you want to pursue a different project, and be clear on what feedback you want from beta readers. Fanfiction writing is a hobby, and unlike most hobbies it's completely free. Treat it as such.

Best of luck!