#eventual found family

[yournaothings]

***Please be aware; there is violence and mentions of death in this chapter. After all, it's the Murder Time Trio.***

Yo! Here comes another chapter!  Reader, you have a nickname. Also, remember! These murderous skellies are based off of CJ_Does_VA's Killer, BlankSceneVA's Dust, Anger_Is_Flawed's Horror, and CallmeSlate's Nightmare.

With that being said, please be aware of the original creators of these characters. I forgot to mention them in the first chapter, whoops.

Killer Sans: Rahafwabas Dust Sans: Ask-Dusttale Horror Sans: Sour-Apple-Studios Nightmare Sans: Jokublog

->

After the three murderous skeletons had their laugh, Horror was nice enough to help the human back up onto their feet. "Hehe, that looked like it hurt! Here, let me just-" He reached closer with a hand towel he had grabbed from the counter and helped clean the blood off of their face. The human's face contorted in pain as Horror wiped away the blood, their face sore from hitting the tiled floor so hard. "Thanks, Horror." They sighed once he was finished. "I appreciate it." 

"It's no problem, heh." Horror tossed the now dirtied hand towel behind him, landing on top of Dust's head. The bloody part of the towel slapped him in the face, while the rest rested on top of the hood that covered his skull. "Ugh! Horror! What the fuck!" Horror hummed as he turned to see why Dust was so upset, only to laugh at Dust. "Hah! That's hilarious!" Dust glared at Horror as he tossed the towel aside. "I'm going to kill you." Horror tipped his head towards Dust while pointing at him with a wide grin. "You can try, buuut~ You won't be able to." 

The human laughed softly while the two bickered back and forth, their hand raising to hide their smile. Killer chose that moment to steal his human's guest's attention away from the others.  "So, now that that's over with! I never asked! What's your name, human?" 

"Oh," The human smiled at Killer, easily forgetting that he had just been holding his knife way too close to their face several minutes ago.  They introduced themselves.  "It's nice to finally meet you, Killer. Regardless of how it all started, I'm very excited to be here." Killer's grin widened, giving off such a mischievous look.  "It's nice to meet you too, toots. But, I think the name Angel is much better for you." He grinned at them. "Anyway! Like I said before, be aware of your surroundings and you'll be juuuust fine. Or not. You can never know when it comes to me~"   Despite the warning yet again, they smiled.  "What did you have planned for the day anyway? Anything in particular?"  "I'm glad you asked!" Killer grinned at them gleefully, before grabbing their hand and started to drag them out of the kitchen and towards the back door. Angel eagerly followed, hoping whatever Killer had planned was going to be exciting! 

The other two skeletons finally stopped arguing with each other as soon as Killer left the kitchen. "He's going to kill them." Dust states as he and Horror watch Killer drag the human guest out of the house and to the backyard. "Yeah, probably." Horror hummed. He turned to glance down at Dust then to the back door before deciding to follow after their chaotic skeleton buddy. Dust sighs from exhaustion, before he too followed after the others. 

Killer placed Angel in front of a tree that clearly has been used as target practice with very sharp objects. "I really don't think this is a good idea, Killer." Angel said, feeling themselves sweat nervously and giving Killer a fearful look. "Ah, you'll be fine~! I never miss~" 

Angel fidgeted in place while they waited for Killer to prepare. Killer grinned mischievously, spinning his knife around expertly. He turned around to adjust his camera, grinning to his audience. "Are you guys ready to see something great?"  Just as Killer turned around and prepared to throw his knife, Nightmare wrapped his tentacle around Killer and lifted him off of his feet before he could do anything harmful. 

"What are you idiots doing now?" Nightmare asked, annoyed with Killer. He glanced back at the human-  "Oh, I forgot about you." He turned fully towards the human, frowning.  "Really, boss?" Killer asked as he spun his knife around and stabbed it into Nightmare's tentacle. Nightmare's expression shifted from annoyance to an irritated glare and he tossed Killer back towards the house and out of frame from his audience. Killer screamed as he flew and crashed into the porch; Horror and Dust finally stepped out of the house. There was silence for a good solid minute before Dust leaned over, pointing and laughing at Killer's pain.  

"You fucking idiots." Nightmare sighed heavily in annoyance. He pinched his nasal ridge, his one eye socket closing as he felt a headache coming on. "I don't know why I still keep you three." At the sound of the human's snickering, Nightmare straightened his posture and shot them a glare, making them press their lips into a thin line and straighten up. He could see the grin they were trying to hide, as well as feel the bit of fear they had. 

"I never get tired of watching Nightmare toss you around like a ragdoll." Dust said as he started to calm down from his laughing fit.  "That was pretty funny."  "What did you do this time, Killer to make Nightmare throw you?"  Dust asked, all three clearly ignoring Nightmare, who remained in place.  "Well, he popped in right before I got to show off my nice knife skills to Angel and the audience. I may have stabbed him a little too hard~" Killer grinned excitedly; he wasn't fazed by Nightmare tossing him. 

"You idiot." Dust huffed out, before returning to his usual calm and volatile self. "Heh-" Horror snickered before turning his attention to his boss. "Oh, uh, hey there, boss!" Nightmare sighs, rolling his cyan eye light. "Get the fuck over here, idiots." 

Angel leaned against the tree while Dust and Horror made their way closer, Horror moving to check on them. Angel smiled reassuringly up to Horror. All the while, Killer struggled to get himself unstuck from the outdoor furniture he got trapped under. 

Killer dusted himself off before teleporting over to stand beside his boss.  "So, what's going on, boss? I thought you were busy with work?"  Nightmare glared haphazardly at Killer, then Dust. "Come on, you're a part of this now, too~" Horror told Angel, as he placed a hand on the back of their neck and firmly nudged them towards Dust's side- Killer was on Dust's other side. Nightmare remained in front of the four.  

"I have a mission for you all. One of my conquered AU's is being overtaken by my brother and his stupid Stars. I need you three to go and cause more chaos and negativity." Killer pulls out his knife and spins it expertly while giggling with excitement.  "I'm game~"  Dust shrugged; "Sure." Horror grins and summons his axe.  "Sounds like fun~!" Nightmare relaxes his tense shoulders, before gesturing towards the human.  "Take the human with you." Killer grins and salutes his boss. "You got it, boss!" 

Nightmare rolls his singular eye light before telling them which AU they were going to, before melting into a puddle of goo and disappearing. Killer giggles as he teleports beside Angel and wraps an arm around their shoulders.  "You're gonna love this! Oh!" Killer perks up and turns to his discarded camera. He walks over and picks it back up, booping his audience.  "Heheh~ don't worry, everyone. I'm bringing you along, too~" 

"Which AU are we going to, anyway?" Angel asks, smiling; however, it didn't quite reach their eyes. They were a little worried. Actually, worry didn't begin to cover how they felt. They were afraid. What if they got hurt? What if the three murderous skeletons left them behind? They fully expected to go home after their time with the Murder Time Trio. 

"It's another Classic AU, but the humans made it a game to hunt and kill monsters." Killer explained, grinning. "If Dream and his Star boys have been meddling in that universe, then the humans and monsters may have found peace. Which means, we get to kill whoever we want and blame it on the opposite side!" Killer laughs as he spins his knife once more, before finally pocketing it and preparing to teleport to the AU with his team.  

Horror pulls Angel close, his larger arm wrapped around them, as Killer gripped their hand, his other hand gripped Dust's hand. Dust shot Killer with a small glare, before he took Horror's other hand. "Let's get this over with." Dust huffs. "Aw~ Don't sound too excited, Dust~" Killer snickers. Dust stares straight ahead- right at Angel and grins.  "Try not to get yourself killed, human. I suggest you find a hiding spot until we've finished." Angel tensed, their heart racing within their chest; this was a really bad idea. "I'll do my best to stay alive. Don't leave me behind, though, okay?"  Dust grins underneath his hood, yet his two colored eye lights glowing ominously.  "No promises~" 

---

There was a heavy atmosphere of negativity that seemed to be slowly lifting away and being replaced by what Angel would describe as positive energy. 

"Ugh, you can definitely feel Dream's magic here." Killer grouses as he watches the mayor speaking to the group of humans and monsters just ahead of them. The young human ambassador was making a speech with the King and Queen of the underground; they were indeed making a truce. A deal of peace. 

Thanks to the strange trio of stars, both humans and monsters have seen eye to eye and wished to bring this unnecessary war to an end. 

Yuck. 

"Alright, boys." Killer grins, his liquid hate dripping much faster from his eye sockets. His grin was sharp and dangerous, his eye sockets narrowing in a predatory glare. He was ready to go! "Remember what Nightmare said. We've got to get rid of Dream's positivity." 

"Yeah." Dust nods as he adjusts his scarf around his neck.  "It's about time to gain more LV." He glances back at Angel, notices how they grew even more tense since they arrived.  "Hey, I'm serious. Don't get yourself killed. Find a hiding spot and we'll come find you later." Angel frowned, they kind of wished Nightmare didn't make the trio bring them along.  "Okay." 

"Actually," Killer interjects as he continues to watch the ambassador, the king and the queen on the stage.  "I've got a little job for you."  Horror and Dust turned to look at Killer, curious as to what he had in mind.  "Break up their little meeting, you can do whatever you'd like. Make them scared, so they can start scattering like frightened sheep." 

Angel looked surprised, then uneasy. "Um, are you sure, Killer? What if something bad happens." Killer glances at Angel, his grin sharpening. "Don't worry, Angel~ We've got your back~ I know you'll do great out there." "Heh, yeah! We won't let any of these losers hurt you. All ya gots ta do is scare the crowd. We'll do the rest." Horror explains to Angel, his own grin wide and dangerous. Angel stood before the three skeletons as they stood at the ready for the attack. 

They knew these skeletons were murderers. They knew this, yet they followed Killer's streams and other servers. During the streams, Killer was a lot of fun to interact with, to watch and play games with. It was so easy to forget that he was a, well... Killer. Now, standing before him and his teammates, the reality settled in. Today should have been a fun day hanging out with the Murder Time Trio. They were supposed to go on fun trips, or play video games! Not... Not this. 

Killer isn't asking for you to kill anyone.But, he wants me to be a part of this mission. Which will lead to so many individuals' deaths. Would you rather run and hide, or show the three skeletons that you're up for the task? You're brave, after all, right?Right... I.. I can do this. They said that they wouldn't let anyone hurt me. Right, I can do this.

Closing their eyes and taking a deep breath in, Angel prepared themselves for their simple task of scaring the crowd. The rest would be up to the murderous skeletons.  Angel exhaled and opened their eyes, nodding to the three. "Okay, I'll do it." 

Killer's grin widened, his grip on his knives tightening.  "I know you'll do great!" He encouraged them, then gave his signature laughter.  Angel couldn't stop the grin that lifted their lips. His laughter was contagious, and surprisingly helped calm their anxious nerves. Turning towards the crowd, Angel breathed in deeply once more, held it for a few seconds before releasing it.  I just have to scare the crowd, then go find a safe place to wait out the rest of the mission. With their task in mind, Angel hurried towards the crowd. 

"They're something else, eheh." Horror chuckled, his grip on his axe tightening as he readied for the attack. "You shouldn't have included them." Dust said to Killer, the hooded skeleton's gaze remained on their human guest  before looking at the crowd- specifically on one individual.  "They're going to get hurt."  "Aw," Killer's usual gruff voice was mixed with bloodlust. He was going to let his audience watch him and the boys in action, but there would be too much going on that would trigger his viewers. He may be a murderous monster, but he was careful with those he enjoyed having around; therefore he wished to protect them if he could.. Sorry, audience. There won't be any cool fight scenes this time. 

"From this day forward, there will no longer be any more violence between mankind and monsters-" "It's a lie! While the ambassador, king and queen were speaking, they had monsters set out to kill innocent humans!" Angel shouted, startling the crowd and upsetting the King and Queen.  "What-? That's not possible. Everyone is here-" "Then why did the monsters try to grab and kill me?!" Angel pointed to their still sore face, (how did they not start to bruise from their fall this morning?)  "They're on their way here! I managed to escape them to warn you!" 

"There are no monsters attacking humans! If you're just trying to start something-" The Undyne of the AU stepped forward, trying to stop the panic before it caused chaos.  

"Oh no!" 

"I see them! They're here!"

"Liars!" 

The humans began to scatter like startled mice escaping their predator. Many humans shoved monsters out of the way, some even started to fight the monsters. The humans didn't play fair, either. Attacking the weaker monsters, while others didn't mind attacking the stronger ones. 

The Queen called out to everyone, trying to get everyone under control again, but it was already too late. She gasped when she saw a monster jump into the frightened crowd, knife raised high above his head and landed on top of a monster. A blast of magic caught her attention, followed by painful and horrified screams. The Queen covered her mouth with her furry paws, her soul aching with dread and sadness as she watched not only the monsters, but the humans be slaughtered by these strange monsters. The bodyguards and security were quick to usher the King, Queen, and Ambassador off the stage and to a private black in color vehicle. However, before they could climb into the vehicle, a large and heavy axe came crashing down onto it, destroying the front end of the vehicle. Another monster stood before them with his dangerous and predatory grin.  "Heh, no one's leaving, 'm afraid." 

Chaos flared around the stage. No one bothered the retreating human as they hurried to a safer place and waited for the boys to finish. Honestly, Angel didn't really want to watch. As much as they enjoyed watching the boys playing their violent video games, Angel wasn't one for a front row seat to real violence. In fact, they could feel their heart racing with anxiety. They had to get to a safe place, where they could calm down and not think about what their favorite streamers were doing. 

They didn't get very far when a familiar skeleton cut off their pathway to an empty shop. Angel struggled to stop before they ran into the skeleton. "Oh shit!"  "heh, you're right. oh shit is right." This AU's Sans wasn't happy at all. Instead of going after Killer, Dust, or Horror, this Sans came after them.  "got a question for ya, kid. you wanna have a bad time?" Angel tensed, but stood their ground. They straightened up their posture after having almost run right into Sans. They knew there was no lying their way out of this. It was Sans, after all. Hell, even if they told him the truth, Sans would still try to fight them. They were sure of it. 

"I'd rather not have a bad time- Shouldn't you be trying to help your monster friends?" Angel asked, yet was shocked when Sans didn't get angry with them, or at least more than what he already was with them.  "shouldn't you be helping your monster friends? where exactly did you four come from? i knew it wasn't a good idea to let those others stay."  "You mean Dream and the Star Sans'?" As soon as they said it, they regretted it. Stupid! Why did you say that?! Sans narrowed his eye sockets, his grin tightening with uneasy and distrust.  "you know them? are they a part of your team as well?" Angel thought about this for a moment, thoughts whizzing through their head as they thought their options over.  

"I know of them, but I've never met them before. Dream is not on their team-" Angel started to explain. Sans cut them off, immediately.  "whose team are you on? and don't think about lying to me, kid. i'll know if you are or not."  Angel felt nervous, but they would be okay. The boys said they'd keep them out of harm's way. They just needed to get away from Sans, or at least distract him.  

Killer's cackling echoed from the stage. Screams were heard, kids crying, and yelling as some humans and monsters fought against the Murder Time Trio.  Angel turned to watch them. They left the young children alone, but killed the parents. Angel's heart squeezed in heartache for the children.  The Ambassador would probably reset again, and judging by Sans' skull dripping with sweat, he didn't want that. Just thinking about it was making Angel regret their decision to help. This AU was finally getting to a happier chapter, and the Murder Trio swept in to tear away that peace. And worse of all, Angel had helped them with it.

Sans noticed the hesitation in Angel, the guilt and regret were written clearly on their expression. This AU's version of Sans was quick to summon a bone attack, aiming it right at Angel. An attack that was meant to strike down the enemy was wasted when Angel snapped out of their thoughts and dodged the sharpened bone. They stumbled on their feet and paused to look at Sans in shock, before they provided themselves a quick getaway;  "I wouldn't waste my time with me. You better go check on your brother, instead." 

This didn't help them in the least. Sans pretended to be relaxed, and unbothered at the idea of his brother being hurt. His grin grew tight from this intense situation. His eye lights were only white dots within his darkened eye sockets.  "my brother can take care of himself, kid. you should worry about yourself instead."  With this being said, Sans pulled Angel into an encounter. They hadn't thought about this happening, what if they weren't able to run away? What if Sans actually hurt them or worse? Angel took a deep breath, willing themselves to relax. 

"I don't want to fight you." Angel said, refusing to fight and instead tried to reason with him. Sans chuckles once it was his turn and attacks them again.  "sorry pal, i don't see eye to eye with you." He says, closing his right eye socket, while his left eye light ignited with his magic. Angel was able to dodge most of the bones sent their way, but got nicked in the arm a few times. Hissing in pain, Angel took a moment before they made their next move. Again, they refused to fight.  

"Please, just let me go, Sans. I don't want to fight you. Go protect your brother and everyone." Angel told him. Sans' grin tightened, his eye sockets narrowed. "i never told you my name, kid." Angel froze, their eyes widening once he pointed out their mistake. Shit.  Sans prepared his attack and sent a cascade of bones at them. This attack was harder to dodge, but Angel did their best to avoid getting too severely injured. They received several cuts, most were shallow. They knew they were going to be bruised up badly. One bone shot up from the ground and pierced through their left calf, tearing through skin and muscle. Angel cried out in pain as they fell to their knees once the bones disappeared. 

Angel had a hard time catching their breath, the pain made it hard for Angel to focus on Sans. It was their turn now... They raised their head, shaking from the pain, and looked Sans directly in his eye lights with a look of determination.  "I'm not going to fight you, Sans." 

"jeez, kid." Sans chuckled, sweat dripping from his skull, unnerved by the stubbornness and determination this human had. "what's your deal, kid?" He chose to not fight this round, unsure if that was the right decision or not. Angel sighed and finally was able to spare Sans. "I wasn't lying when I told you that I didn't want to fight." Sans stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling uneasy about letting the human go.  "I just don't understand you, kid." Sans sighs as his shoulders drop from the tension before walking over to the human and reaching out a skeletal hand to help them up. 

"Hey." 

Sans and the human jolted at the dark and murderous voice and looked over to see Dust standing nearby with his Gaster Blaster preparing for an attack.  "Don't touch them." Angel bit back a scream, afraid that they'd be hit by Dust's attack. However, Sans had teleported away, only for Dust to already be two steps ahead of him. His Gaster Blaster shot the energy beam, decimating this AU's version of himself. 

"Oh shit, Angel!" Killer was suddenly beside them, helping them to stand up.  "That's a nasty wound there." The human released a heavy sigh, letting the tension fall from their shoulders.  "It hurts like hell." They were still bleeding, but they were glad to see that Sans had missed hitting an artery. "Oh man, little one." Horror grumbles as he finally joins the two skeletons. He gave them a worried look, from their injured body to their contorted painful expression. "You alright? Lookin' pretty beat up there."  The human nods.  "You can say that again.. But, I think I'm alright. I just need to be taken to a hospital-" 

"We can't do that, Angel. Thankfully! We have Cross! He knows a little about healing humans. Come on, let's get you back to the house." Killer said and gestured for Horror to pick them up. They yelped when they weren't quite prepared to be moved so suddenly, but relaxed in Horror's arms. "Don't worry, little one! I'll be gentle with ya. Good ole Cross will take care of you when we get back." Angel peered over his shoulder to see piles of dust and humans laying around. "You're all finished..?" They asked, feeling a little sick to their stomach.  "Yeah," Dust responded first, his gaze fixed on the pile of dust from this AU's Sans, before turning to look at the human.  "Sorry for not getting here sooner."  The human slowly blinked before offering Dust a smile.  "Don't worry, Dust. You made it over just in time. Thank you." Dust hummed as he looked away.  

"Okay, seriously guys. Let's get our human home." Killer said, as he prepared for all of them to teleport home. He squeezed Dust's hand a little too tightly, letting Dust know that he was upset that the human was still showing favoritism towards Dust rather than Killer.  Dust glanced over at Killer and grinned slyly.  "They still like me better."  "Ugh! Shut the fuck up, Dust!" Killer snarled as they teleported out of the AU. 

---

"What did you guys do to them?" Cross asked, sounding exasperated as he looked over the human's injuries. They sat on the counter yet again, where Cross carefully looked at the injuries.  "Dude! They fought a Sans, and won!" Killer exclaimed with his usual excitement.  "Can you fucking believe it?! This amazing human fought another version of us and won!" He grins at Angel, nudging their side.  Angel jolted from the bit of pain that came from his elbow pressing against their sore side. Yet, they laughed softly and felt their face flush from receiving such praise.  "I actually thought I was going to die." "But, you didn't!" Killer's voice raised as he hyped them up. He suddenly turned towards his camera, his audience finally back to see the aftermath of the mission.  "Did you hear that?! Angel fought against a Sans and won!" 

Cross simply ignored Killer's excitable energetic self while he carefully rolled up the human's pant leg to get a better look at their wound.  "This doesn't look too bad, but we do need to clean it. I don't think the Boss has anything for that, so I'll go grab some supplies from the store." He glanced up at the human, looking perfectly serious, just how he always did.  "Stay put, I'll be back." Angel nodded and blinked a few times when Cross suddenly disappeared from sight. 

Killer was busy talking to his audience, explaining to them how the mission went and the aftermath of his human's fight with that AU's Sans. Horror was busy cooking up some food, claiming that the monster magic will help with Angel's healing. Dust was already sprawled out on one of the sofas and snoring. Angel heard a noise and glanced over to see Nightmare slipping out of the shadows of the hallway and walked into the kitchen, his expression contorted to one of disgust.  

"What the hell happened to the human?"

"Boss, Boss!" Killer spun around so quickly, Angel wondered if he gave himself whiplash. Did skeletons get whiplash? Hm, I wonder.  "Angel fought a Sans and they won!"  "Who the fuck is Angel?" Nightmare sneered, glaring at the energetic Killer.  "Silly! It's our human here!" Nightmare's gaze left Killer to look at Angel.  "Oh, uh. Good job." Nightmare pat their head, before noticing the nasty wound on their leg.  "Why are you letting them bleed out in my kitchen?" Killer chuckled before turning to grab another towel to lay under Angel's leg. "This isn't really your kitchen, boss. Remember? It's CJ's." Nightmare sent a half-hearted glare to the annoying skeleton.  "I don't care, you're allowing blood to containment the area where we cook." He then glanced over at Horror and narrowed his eye socket at him. "I'm surprised you're not getting upset with Killer for this." 

"Hmm~ Huh? Oh, yeah. It's not sanitary to have blood near the food- but, it's okay, Night. We'll clean everything up!" Horror said before going back to humming while he finished up the little snack he was making for everyone. "Oh! Annnd~ Here we go!" He used his magic to summon the plates and silverware, placing the food on each plate before sending them to Killer, Angel, and Dust. Killer caught his plate, his food shifting a little from the impact. Angel gently took their plate and thanked Horror with a smile. Dust's plate fell on top of his face, smashing against him before falling onto the floor and spilling all of the food. Dust snorted and sat up, looking around. "Who the fuck did that?!" He snarled, angry that he was awoken from his nap. "Aw, Dusty Rusty Mus-" Horror began to say, pouting a little from his delicious food being wasted.  "Finish that fucking name and I'll murder you." Dust threatened, his eye sockets narrowing as his eye lights went out. 

Horror only laughed and took that as a challenge, his good eye socket narrowing as well.  "Dusty Rusty Musty Poo~" Dust off the sofa in a split second, his Gaster Blaster summoned and ready to blast Horror away.  Nightmare sighed in annoyance and sent his tentacles to grab Dust and pull him away. "No fighting in the house!" Dust sputtered as he freed an arm and pointed accusingly at Horror, who stood in place, giggling and happily chewing on his food. "Horror started it! What the fuck!" "Yeah? Well, I'm going to finish it!" Nightmare raised his voice, threateningly. Dust sputtered a moment longer before giving up and fell limp in Nightmare's hold. Pleased with this, Nightmare dropped Dust onto the floor, where Dust just laid and pulled his hood over his head even more. A clear message to not mess with him any longer. 

"Okay," Cross appeared again, his arms full of human bandages and cleaning liquids. He dumped them on the counter beside the human.  "Just so you know, this is going to hurt." Cross warned Angel, before he acknowledged Nightmare. "Oh, hi, Boss."  "You didn't tell me you were back." Nightmare grumbled and crossed his arms.  Cross frowned and tried to hide his face in his scarf.  "I forgot..." Nightmare sighed as he pinched his nasal ridge. "Ugh, just don't let it happen again." Cross nodded as he got busy cleaning the human's wound. "Yes sir." 

Cross began to work on cleaning around the wound before carefully cleaning the wound itself. Angel hissed from the pain, but managed to sit still for Cross to finish.  The silly goofball of a skeleton known as Killer provided them with a distraction as he suddenly appeared beside Cross, his chin hovering just above Cross' shoulder.  "What're you doing, Crossy?" Killer asked in his gravelly voice. This surprised Cross, making him almost hurt the human. He glared at Killer before shoving him back.  "I'm taking care of your human. Why did you let them get involved in the mission? What would have happened if they died?"  Killer laughed. "Oh, Crossy~ I knew the human was going to be okay. But, that's not important. What is, is where you have been all morning! I wanna know!" 

Cross leveled a look at Killer from over his shoulder, before going back to fixing up the human's calf.  "Boss gave me a solo mission. It's none of your business." Killer grinned, yet it didn't reach his eyes- in fact, his bone brow twitched from the irritation Cross was causing.  "Aw, come on, Crossy~"  Nightmare's heavy sigh hardly caught Killer's attention, as always; Cross and Angel glanced over at Nightmare, watching him struggle with trying to remain calm from Killer's antics. "I gave him the solo mission because I knew you fuck ups wouldn't be able to complete it!" Nightmare growled, glaring at Killer and Horror- Dust was still on the floor, snoozing.  "Wait, what?" Horror asked, sounding a bit crestfallen. "Hey, that was really mean, Boss!" Killer playfully pouted, moving over to lean closer to Boss. "We didn't fuck up this last mission! We did exactly what you asked!" Angel frowned, their eyebrow raising in curiosity. "Nightmare wanted you to kill everyone?" 

Nightmare glared at Killer, his tentacles whipping from his irritation.  "We didn't kill everyone! Just the nobodies!" Killer explained, grinning at his Boss.  "If I find out that you idiots caused another reset in that AU, I'm killing you." Angel felt bad for saying anything-  "You're not really going to kill them, are you?"  Nightmare turned his glare at Angel. "No." He grumbled.  "I'm just going to beat the crap out of them." "Haha! I knew you cared, Boss!" Killer laughed, before he was suddenly tossed out of the kitchen by one of Nightmare's tentacles. "Whooa!"  

Horror snickered and started to make more food. After all, Dust had wasted his food- even though it was somewhat his fault. Besides! He was still hungry! Oh! And don't forget about the human! They needed enough magic to help that wound and their sore body! 

"There," Cross said as he finished wrapping their wound. He straightened up and offered a small smile to Angel.  "It's not perfect, but you'll be fine." Angel smiled as they finished their snack. "Thanks a lot, Cross! I appreciate it!"  Cross' face glowed from his purple blush, and he mumbled an embarrassed and quiet, "You're welcome." He hesitated for a moment before turning away and leaving to go spend his free time elsewhere. 

"I hope you've had fun, human. It's time for you to go home." Nightmare said as he stepped closer and gave them a small glare. Angel smiled at him, which perplexed him. They should fear him! Or at the very least be uncomfortable around him.  "I suppose I am ready to go home. Thank you for letting me come hang out with your boys. It was a lot of fun, even though I ended up hurt on a few occasions." 

"What?!" Killer was suddenly in the kitchen, pouting at his boss. "Come on, Nightmare! Please, please, please don't send them home, yet!" Nightmare turned to face Killer and frowned at him. "I'm not sending them home; you're going to take them home. Take Horror and Dust with you." Killer perked up, excited to see which AU his favorite human fan lived. "Wait, really?!" He turned to grin at Angel, Horror and Dust having turned their attention towards the human. "Hear that, Angel? We're taking you home! I hope you're ready for me to see where you live! Heheh~ I just might stalk you, too!" He laughed. Angel was excited, yet nervous. They lived with their friend, and they were sure their roommate was home. "I can't wait." Angel said and smiled nervously.

This might end up in a disaster... 

((Note from Author: I just want you all to know that literally half of what happened in this chapter was NOT on my plot list. -crying face-))

[phantom-peachie]

hhhh,,, skyward sword,,

screams incoherently

[chez-cinnamon]

So I was talking to some friends on Discord and we were discussing how some movies had cartoon characters with this white guy driving car scene.

I'm just stuck thinking about Fionn and the Welcome Home cast crammed into a car having this same exact moment and it's cracking me up xD

It definitely starts out that way LMAO

[mydarlinglaszlo]

they're holding hands! for the last time (on this documentary) 🥺💕

[lazylittledragon]

Your novel excerpts are incredible and I would love to see more. The warmth and care you put into it shines through and I just want more of it!

On a side note, incredibly unfair that you can draw AND write so masterfully. A true power house, haha.

aaAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH :'DDD

as a treat you can have some more akdffd

if the main plot is 'Fantasy Murder Mystery' then the biggest subplot is probably 'Snow is Not Doing Well'

[deadbaguette]

Some Athena thoughts and headcanons for the ‘Diomedes goes to Ithaca AU’

Headcanon that Athena moves around completely quietly (like how owls hunt). So, Telemachus meeting Athena for the first time he gets the shit scared out of him. Diomedes by now knows the tells of Athena being here (and he has the magic eyes) so he’s the one basically warning Telemachus if Athena is in proximity

Telemachus: are you even listening???

Diomedes staring intently at the dodgy looking owl (Athena) in the tree: …yeah

Athena is very much still cool aunt. But I wanna characterise her as a little more mischievous (which could be interpreted as cunning ig) than she probably is in the original mythos. She keeps a close eye on both Telemachus and Diomedes. Most specifically Telemachus! While she cannot reveal to him that Odysseus is alive directly (she cannot incur the wrath of her uncle just yet), she does help him in starting his little Telemachy. It helps boosts his confidence and helps reassure him that maybe his father is alive. HOWEVER, the sudden disappearance of Telemachus causes the stress meters of Diomedes and Penelope to exponentially rise. And Athena finds this a little funny, so she still withholds the information from them.

Telemachus: Athena… sometimes I wonder if father is dead :(

Athena in disguise clenching her fists to try not reveal anything: … he’s too stubborn to die, have a little more faith in him

Athena:

Athena: Hey, I have a great idea if you’re worried about your dad

-

Penelope stressed out of her mind: WHERE IS HE???

Diomedes equally stressed: I DON’T FUCKING KNOW?.?.????

Athena: *eating popcorn knowing she’ll make sure Telemachus is safe*

Athena is keeping this family very blessed. She is the patron goddess of both Odysseus and Diomedes, and I like to imagine maybe in a more subtle way to Penelope too (I mean… she’s smart, beautiful, AND she can weave???). She’s much closer to Telemachus in this AU than in the original Odyssey, but not like in the way of EPIC?? She keeps her distance from him nonetheless bcs she’s a god and whatnot, but him being close with Diomedes, I imagine Athena has more of an excuse to be around Telemachus growing up.

Telemachus: so.. you knew my father and Diomedes growing up?

Athena trying to act nonchalant, but she’s so proud of them both: you could say that

[edwinisms]

you ever think about how edwin got like. no warning, no time time to process, nothing, when he reappeared on earth faced with the fact that virtually everyone he knew in life is dead. his parents? probably died in the 1950s or so (at best) almost forty years prior to edwin’s return. if any of his classmates were still around, they’d have been elderly, possibly senile, and in a few years they’d all be gone– except, of course, edwin. nothing looks the same, cars look like spaceships, there actually are spaceships, he can no longer see the stars, and everyone he knew is dead.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Third Wheeling Your Own Marriage

F!Non-Sorceress CEO Reader X Gojo Satoru X Nanami Kento

Summary: You should be overjoyed that Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento are your husbands. But you feel your skin crawl as you become the third wheel in your own marriage.

Trigger Warnings: Contains Spoilers: Angst with a side of crack, CEO drama, Overprotective besties, Ex-MI6 Haibara chaos, Silent menace Megumi, Trillionair MC problems, Pregnant and done with everyone, Emotional whiplash, Unhinged humor, Found family dynamics, Themes of betrayal and emotional manipulation, Media harassment, Brief mentions of past trauma (non-explicit), Characters acting unhinged but hilarious, Emotional conflict with undertones of reconciliation, Snarky banter and crackfic energy, Dysfunctional Relationships, Haibara Acting Like a Serial Killer, Gojo Satoru & Nanami Kento Regret Everything, Slow Burn Karma, Reader gets the last laugh.

A/N: This chapter has it all: private revenge, public drama, bodyguards with questionable morals, and reporters who are downright nosy. Expect some absolutely unhinged banter to balance out the angst, all while following one very pregnant CEO who isn’t here for anyone’s nonsense. Don’t let the opening scenes fool you—things are about to get wilder. I’ll keep the spoilers to a minimum, but you might want to have a stress ball handy. And remember, comments are my lifeblood! If you laugh, cry, or find yourself questioning your existence while reading, please drop a note.

Chapter 10 (alt ending 2.1) - Silent Reckonings (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 11 (alt ending 2.2) - Snakes & Mirrors

Neither man spoke, but the shared look said everything: they would not lose you for the twins .

Silence blanketed the room, broken only by the steady hum of the machines monitoring your vitals.

More time passed, but neither left your side. Once the IV and the machines were removed and you seemed to be comfortable, exhaustion finally pulled them under. Gojo’s head dropped onto the edge of the bed, his hair splayed messily across the blanket, one hand protectively resting on your stomach. Nanami leaned back against the headrest, his head tilted back, arms limp at his sides—a rare moment of surrender from a man who never allowed himself to falter.

Your body shifted slightly, a faint twitch that had both men snapping awake, their exhaustion forgotten in an instant.

They didn’t move; their eyes locked on your sleeping form, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest like it was the only thing keeping them sane.

After a while, they both laid on opposite sides of you and fell asleep again, and the room settled into an uneasy peace, punctuated only by their soft, whispered apologies.

---

When you woke, it was pitch black. The air was thick with the scent of cologne—familiar. Regret clung to the room like a second skin. Your body ached in places you didn’t know could hurt, but the ache in your chest was worse: a hollow, gaping void that pulsed with every breath you took.

You were home.

Fuck.

The sheets beneath you felt alien, the fabric too soft, too clean—like they’d been stripped of the weight of memories. But they couldn’t erase everything. Your mind dragged you back to the last time you’d been here.

You’d been curled up on this very bed, smaller than you thought possible, their whispers wrapping around each other like silk cords, choking the air out of your lungs. You remembered Gojo’s voice—low, careless: “Why not? She’s asleep.”

The sheets had burned against your skin that night, and the sobs you muffled into your soul felt like they would never end. Your body curled away from their warmth; your back to the cold men, the barrier between you and the betrayal beside you. They hadn’t even noticed. Or maybe they had. Maybe they just didn’t care.

The memory struck like a hammer. You thought of the nights before it all crumbled. Nights when Gojo would crash through the door, arms full of takeout and stories he couldn’t wait to share. When Nanami would follow with tea, slower, quieter, his eyes soft as they found yours. They would pull you close, the three of you tangled together in laughter and plans, in a love that had once felt unshakable.

But love wasn’t unshakable. Love could break. And they’d proven that.

One night, before the distance became unbearable, you had reached for Gojo. Your fingers grazed his back—a quiet, desperate plea for connection. For something, anything, to remind you that you still existed in their world.

Even in sleep, he shifted away.

Subtle.

Cruel. 

Like your touch had been an inconvenience he couldn’t bear to endure.

And Nanami.

Nanami, who had always been your constant. The one who had held you together when you couldn’t hold yourself. He lay silently beside Gojo that night, his breathing steady, his presence frigid. You knew he wasn’t asleep. You knew he felt you breaking apart. And yet he turned his face—toward Gojo.

Gojo’s arm had landed on Nanami’s abdomen, and Nanami had done nothing but pull him closer with an arm under his head, firm and certain. A sight that once would have brought you comfort now left you cold, abandoned like an afterthought .

Like a shameful secret, they couldn’t wait to leave behind.

Like you were a ghost, and they were moving on without you.

Like you never even existed.

You had tugged on your earring hard; the sting grounded you in a way their love no longer could. The pain was proof that you were real, even as they erased you from their lives one touch at a time.

Did you love them so much that they had you questioning your reality, your existence without even saying a word to you? Was there a word for this type of gaslighting?

And now, here you were again.

You turned your head toward the figures beside you. Nanami’s hand rested just below your chest, his brow furrowed even in sleep, as though guilt had chased him into his dreams. Gojo’s arm draped lazily over your waist, his mouth slightly open near your belly, soft snores escaping into the silence.

Vulnerable. Peaceful.

So far removed from the wreckage they’d left behind.

You closed your eyes, willing yourself to summon the warmth of their love. The love that once was. But the ache in your chest deepened, a familiar companion now, its weight as suffocating as it was constant.

But you felt nothing. No rage, no sorrow, no flicker of warmth. Just a vast emptiness.

Just the cold, hollow void where their affection had once lived. 

You wondered if you would ever feel whole again.

You had to get out from under their limbs, their bodies, their lies.

The blankets clung to your skin as if they wanted to hold you hostage, a smothering reminder of everything that had gone wrong. According to your husbands—it seemed that five of them, along with the blaring heater—weren’t enough to keep the cold at bay. Or maybe the cold wasn’t in the air but in your chest, festering like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

You peeled the blankets away, your hands trembling, and carefully lifted their arms off you. You placed Nanami’s arm over Gojo’s chest, where it seemed to belong now, and slipped away from the warmth that once felt like everything you had dreamed of.

Your feet hit the cold floor, the icy shock cutting through the haze in your mind. You moved toward the door, each step heavier than the last. Your breaths were shallow, almost gasps, as flashes of their hands snaking around your body in Norway invaded your mind. The way their desperation had bled into their actions. The way their fear had turned them into something monstrous.

Did your leaving make them go to such extremes?

Was this love?

Or were you just a possession they had lost — something they thought they owned and could reclaim whenever they pleased?

Your heart sank lower with each thought.

If they had truly loved you, wouldn’t they have noticed you slipping away?

Wouldn’t they have stopped before you became nothing but a ghost in their home?

Instead, they left you to rot in the shadows of their penthouse, forgotten in a corner like an unacknowledged rodent, an insect?

Going through the motions—taking care of their eggs?

Not even coming back most nights? Especially weekends.

You thought of the weekends they spent together, posting their outings on social media like they were the picture of domestic bliss. Like finishing the week was a victory, they celebrated with each other, never once thinking of the woman left behind.

You thought of the cold dinners and the dinners you’d often forget to eat because there was no one to care or notice if you ate, the empty bed, the sound of your own voice echoing in the silence because no one was there to hear it.

Then they didn’t even bother to notice you were gone for six weeks.

How could they? One needed to come home most nights to notice that a permanent fixture in their penthouse was missing.

And when they finally did notice, they couldn’t just shrug it off like they had shrugged you off that night when you begged them to tell you if they loved you.

No, they went straight for the one thing that brought you joy, the one thing that kept you distracted from the bleakness of your existence. They targeted the dream you had built from the ground up—the dream that had fueled you when you had nothing else to hold onto.

They went after your company. The one you had built alone.

Especially without them!

They went after the innocent people who worked there, targeting them with brutality that left you reeling. You had to intervene with Haibara and Higuruma, even in your pregnant state, when you should have been shielded from all this violence.

So what if they didn’t know you were pregnant?

Did that justify their descent into becoming terrorists just to get to you?

It had the opposite effect; instead of feeling safe, you were now terrified of them, terrified of the fathers of your babies.

But you weren’t weak. You would never let them see that fear.

Then Gojo even grabbed Nanami’s pecks mid-fight like they hadn’t learned anything. They even obliterated your reputation, making you extremely commonly known—leaving you unable to walk down the street without being noticed and humiliated. You were now constantly terrified that someone might grab you, that a mob might form to make an example out of you. All you ever wanted was to keep your life private, to enjoy the simple pleasures without becoming a target for their disdain.

Without becoming a typical CEO, up their own ass.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

Turning around meant shattering—a kaleidoscope of lost selves, and you were already a ghost.

A shell of the woman who once dared to drop her armour to let them in.

You wouldn’t make that mistake again.

If they wanted to own you, they could have the hollow echo of your name, but they’d never reclaim the woman who loved them unconditionally— the one who’d spent sleepless nights massaging their aching bodies after they returned home, broken from battles you couldn’t fight for them— not twice, not in the same breath.

That version of you was gone. You had squeezed out her last breath like a forgotten dream, her spirit crushed beneath the weight of expectation to obediently stay, to accept what they never gave. No amount of regret could resurrect her.

Toji was right— never trust the sweet-talking serpents, the ones who wrap their lies in honeyed words .

And Megumi? He saw through the facade; he knew the truth behind the smiles.

God, how you missed Megumi, the only one who understood the cost of love, the price of freedom .

Maybe this was your karma for betraying the only people who truly cared for you—the ones who stood by you while your own family beat you senseless each night, called you a whore for the simple crime of being born a girl, laughed at you when you told them you’d been assaulted as a child since six years old.

In the shadows of your past, you wondered if this pain was the price you had to pay, a twisted reflection of the loyalty you once turned away.

The thought of your best friend and his father almost brought tears to your eyes, but you willed them away; this was not the place; these were not the people you would allow yourself to be vulnerable around.

If they ever had been, those husbands of yours had died, and you were their widow now, staring down the men who’d abducted you, the ghosts of your past clashing with the harsh reality of your present.

In this modern maze of betrayal, you stood alone, a survivor in a world of whispers, ready to reclaim your shattered pieces and make them regret dragging you back.

They had always seen the gentle you. The soft you. The kind you.

The woman who laughed too easily, forgave too quickly, always saw beneath their surface and helped even if they could never really do the same for her.

The one who smiled through the pain, the one who let their words cut deep without retaliation.

Now, they would know how you became a billionaire at twenty-one, with no family, no money, just scraped knuckles and your wit. They would see the side of you that Toji raised— not by his blood . The one who taught you and Megumi that survival meant striking first and harder.

When the door clicked shut behind you, the silence of the house deepened, wrapping around you like a shroud, a reminder of the strength you had yet to reclaim.

And they didn’t stir.

Pathetic.

There was no point in running; you knew that. They would chase you to the ends of the earth. But it wasn’t fear that weighed you down—it was exhaustion. You were too heavy and tired for the chase, too hollow for the fight.

Your steps carried you to the guest room. A space untouched by their betrayal.

Your hand found the doorknob, but something caught your eye.

The ring.

That wretched ring.

It had somehow found its way back onto your finger, its weight burning like acid on your skin. The sight of it made your stomach churn.

Without thinking, you yanked it off, the motion so violent your knuckles throbbed. It glinted mockingly in the dim light before you hurled it at the hallway mirror.

CRACK!

The sound shattered the silence, a perfect echo of your splintering patience. You heard movement behind you—the groggy shuffle of feet and scared voices.

“Babe?” Gojo’s voice was hoarse, panicked.

“Wait,” Nanami’s voice followed, desperate.

You didn’t look back. You didn’t care to.

Your hand twisted the doorknob, and you stepped into the guest room. The door shut firmly behind you, the lock clicking into place with a finality that made your heart race.

“Baby, please—” Gojo’s voice cracked, his bravado gone. “Just let us talk.”

“Let us explain,” Nanami added, calm but edged with desperation.

You leaned against the door, staring at the barren room in front of you. Their voices blurred into the background, muffled apologies bleeding into the walls.

You didn’t answer. Didn’t scream. Didn’t cry. You were done wasting your energy on them.

This wasn’t forgiveness. This wasn’t understanding.

This was survival.

And you would thrive.

Climbing into bed and turning the nightlight on for the awful nightmares you had these days—you closed your eyes, letting the darkness swallow their voices.

---

Sometime later you stirred in bed, the weight of your belly making it difficult to find a comfortable position. The twins seemed to sense your restlessness; their tiny kicks were a bittersweet reminder of their presence. With a sigh, you realized the inevitable—another trip to the bathroom.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, feeling the strain in your back and the pressure on your bladder. The room was dark, save for the soft glow of the nightlight. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the journey ahead.

Each step felt like a monumental effort, your swollen feet protesting with every movement. Was that oil on them?- Nevermind . The distance seemed longer than usual, but you focused on the goal ahead.

Finally, you reached the attached bathroom —thank god, because if you had to see those two right now, you’d kill a man . Inside, the light cast a soft glow as you gripped the doorframe for support. Relief swept over you as you sat down, the tension in your body easing for just a moment. The tears threatened to spill over from all the stress and hormones, but you blinked them back, determined to stay resilient. You had cried enough.

When you approached the sink to wash your hands, a glimpse of a couple of bandaids caught your eye, their placement suggesting something sinister. Fear washed over you.

What had they done? Had they tried to harm the babies? You knew they would never agree to them.

But then the twins kicked, their four little feet retreating, pulling you back from the edge of your spiralling thoughts. Your husbands wouldn’t go that far; they had too much to lose—if they harmed the babies—they would never be able to reconcile with you.

It wasn’t just your emotional assumptions—it was the fact that they would lose their leverage over you, the pretence of “ protecting you ,” that would keep you with them.

What a delusional joke.

They were using kindergarten tactics on the wrong person. Seriously? You were a CEO. Predicting bargaining chips, negotiating, and orchestrating hostile takeovers were all part of your daily grind. This was a child's play. If they thought they could outsmart you with these amateur moves, they clearly underestimated your experience or just underestimated you.

In the bathroom mirror, you caught a glimpse of your complexion—surprisingly better than you expected. That only happened when you’d been given some kind of glucose. But the needle mark on the inside of your elbow raised suspicions.

Why did they care about taking your blood? What were they testing for, and what did they really want to know?

You were too exhausted to unravel it all right now. In time, the answers would reveal themselves. You just had to keep your guard up around them.

After washing your hands, you made your way back to bed, each step a little lighter now that the immediate discomfort had passed. You settled back under the covers, and the darkness felt less oppressive. The twins shifted slightly, their movements a strange comfort. They made you feel less alone. You let your head sink into the pillow, exhaustion dragging you under.

---

Outside the door, Gojo sat slumped on the floor, his head in his hands. His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing shallow. Every muffled sound you made from the other side of the door was like a knife twisting in his chest.

“She’s struggling,” he muttered, his voice raw.

“And we can’t do anything,” Nanami muttered, his voice hollow. He stood in the corner, shoulders slumped, head tilted against the wall, looking at the ceiling like he was trying to physically hold himself together. You were taking away the one thing he had always given freely—his ability to care and help.

They weren’t used to being powerless. They weren’t used to being the ones left out in the cold. Watching you struggle—knowing they had no right to fix it—was a punishment they hadn’t prepared for.

And for the first time, they realized this wasn’t a nightmare they could wake up from.

It was their reality.

And they had no one to blame but themselves.

“Let me call Shoko. She asked us to keep her updated,” Gojo said after a beat, reaching for his phone.

//

On the outskirts of Tokyo, Shoko startled awake, her face pressed against your ultrasound report. Her phone buzzed loudly on the desk.

"What?” She croaked, her voice raspy with exhaustion.

“She peed,” Gojo announced solemnly.

“Congrats.”

The line disconnected, and Shoko got up and slumped into a nearby hospice bed, muttering, “Morons,” before drifting back to sleep.

//

“Support railings?”

“Support railings.”

“I’ll order them. We’ll install them ourselves before she wakes up. And no calling any random person—we can’t let anyone know what devil spawns she’s carrying.”

“By we , you mean me ,” Nanami deadpanned, though he didn’t object.

“Of course, my big, strong husband. You know my hands are too soft for manual labour.” Gojo grinned. “Besides, I’ll be contributing by paying for it and staring at your glorious behind as you bend over to install them.”

“And you call yourself her husband.”

“Yes, in every sense of the word,” Gojo shot back, unbothered. “Also, I think your ‘efficient’ technique might help get it done faster without waking her. You know, or she might run away again.” 

---

The sunlight filtered through the blinds, pulling you out of restless sleep. You blinked, groggy, disoriented, and then you remembered again: you were in Japan.

On the wall clock, it was nine a.m.—far too late for work. But your aching body didn’t care.

You scrambled for your phone, only to realize—of course—it wasn’t there. Norway? Or confiscated by your husbands? You cursed under your breath, swung your legs off the bed, and forced yourself to move.

Dragging yourself to the bathroom, you froze at the sight before you. Mommy-and-me kind of products littered the counter. Safety railings lined every edge. The entire bathroom looked like a baby-proofing seminar.

They fucking teleported.

You sighed and went on. After your shower and skincare routine, you cracked the guest room door, peeking out like a criminal checking for the cops. 

Silence .

Faint noises drifted from the kitchen, but nothing in the hall.

The coast was clear.

You darted out, moving swiftly down the hall like a thief in your own home.

Midway, Nanami appeared like a wild Pokémon, holding a glass of something suspicious—probably a ginger shot. But you didn’t stop to inspect. Your feet moved faster than your thoughts, and you bolted past him like a child fleeing a lecture, his startled “Wait—” trailing behind you as you slammed your old bedroom door in his face.

Immature? Maybe. Satisfying? Absolutely.

The room smelled faintly of the cologne and regret. You ignored it, tearing through drawers and closets, searching for your phones.

Nothing.

But then Nanami’s phone caught your eye on the nightstand.

Foolish man hadn’t even changed his password. He couldn’t even cheat properly.

Unlocking it, you quickly dialled your numbers.

Both calls rang out to the robotic voice of Norway’s telecom service: “ The number you have dialled is currently switched off. ”

Your grip tightened on the phone. Of course, the morons hadn’t thought to bring them.

But you were nothing if not resourceful. You dialled a number Toji had drilled into your head years ago.

“Who’s this?”

“I’m back in Japan. Come pick me up for office. Bring a new phone.”

A laugh rumbled through the line. “Didn’t last very long, did you?”

“I’ll sit on your chest like a paperweight and crush the laughter out of you,” you snapped.

“Okay, okay, crazy. Megumi’s in Japan. I’ll bring him.”

There must have been a god listening to you last night. Your heart clenched at the mention of his name, but anything was better than dealing with the two intellectually challenged champions at home.

“And the media’s camped out front, just FYI.”

“Fine. Be here in twenty-five minutes.” You hung up, deleted the call log, and locked Nanami’s phone.

You sat at your vanity, forcing yourself to go through the motions. Foundation, mascara, lipstick—each stroke of the brush felt like a battle. Your hands trembled as you buttoned your shirt, deliberately avoiding the mirror’s gaze. The loose fabric offered some camouflage for what lay beneath, but getting into pants felt like a daunting task. Thankfully, you had some in relaxed fit that would make it easier.

After a quick spritz of cologne, you slipped into the heaviest, most oversized faux fur coat you could find. It still did little to conceal your enormous belly, but you took a deep breath and stepped out of the guest room, ready to face whatever awaited you.

The house was still. Too quiet.

You didn’t check for your husbands. You didn’t care where they were.

Just as your hand twisted the doorknob, Gojo’s grating voice came. “Where are you going?”

You froze, heart sinking. Before you could pretend you hadn’t heard him, Nanami’s calm but firm voice followed. “At least have breakfast. We’ll take you wherever you need to go.”

You didn’t even turn around. You yanked the door open, their startled exclamations muffled as you strode toward the elevator.

The sound of frantic shuffling behind you was almost comical—almost. Gojo tripped over his own feet, cursing under his breath as he tried to jam his socked foot into a sneaker. Nanami, in his haste, had grabbed your old slippers. The sight of his toes spilling over the edges like sad, unbaked croissants might’ve been funny once. Not now.

You didn’t care. Not as the elevator doors opened and you spammed the close button like Toji spammed slot machines. The last thing you saw before the doors slid shut was Gojo sprinting toward you, his face painted with pure panic.

“Wait, baby!”

Nanami immediately abandoned dignity, pivoting to the stairs. He bolted down them like his life depended on it, Gojo hot on his heels. Taking another elevator would not have been faster than their own legs.

The elevator hummed as it descended, a moment of quiet broken only by your heavy breathing.

Idiots. Gojo forgot he could teleport.

When the elevator reached the ground floor, you stepped out into the lobby, your fur coat swishing behind you.

//

The cursed energy hit Gojo and Nanami before they even reached the seventh floor. They skidded to a stop, their gazes snapping to Megumi below.

“Oh, come on,” Gojo groaned, slamming his palm against the glass staircase wall.

“Move,” Nanami barked, vaulting over the railing.

//

The car gleamed obnoxiously in the sunlight, a glaring testament to Haibara’s newfound wealth and complete disregard for subtlety.

Megumi straightened the moment he saw you. His broad frame now mirrored Toji’s, but his expression softened as you approached. He stood beside Haibara’s McLaren 765LT , his tall figure tense and unreadable, broad shoulders casting shadows against the sleek car. His eyes, sharper and colder than they had been in childhood, softened slightly when they met yours.

You walked towards him, your pace steady.

His gaze flicked downward, sensing the cursed energy radiating faintly from your belly. His brow furrowed. “Your…? But you… Did they force—”

“No,” you cut him off, smiling. “Nothing of the sort.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, his voice softer now. He hesitated before pulling you into a brief, firm hug, careful around your belly. It was awkward, but it was Megumi.

Before you could respond to him awkwardly, Haibara appeared behind you, grinning like a maniac as he wrapped both of you in an overzealous embrace. “Yay! You’re pregnant! The deadbeats get to continue their bloodline. Fantastic! We missed you. He’s sorry, you’re sorry. blah blah blah, but please get in the car before the Cracked Conjurers catch up and turn this into another trending disaster within the same week.” He stepped back, mockingly serious.

You didn’t need convincing.

//

By the time they reached the lobby, you were already next to the McLaren. Megumi’s stance had shifted; his body angled slightly in front of yours, protective. His glare cut toward the approaching Maniacal Magicians .

“Wait!” Gojo’s voice cracked as he closed the distance. His long legs carried him to you in seconds, his hand darting out to grab your arm, firm but desperate. He spun you around, his wide eyes searching yours for something—anything. Nanami caught up right next to him.

“Baby, please,” he rasped. “You can’t run away again. Don’t do this.”

Megumi’s eye twitched. His voice was low, venomous. “Let. her. go.”

Haibara’s grin widened, faux cheer dripping from his tone, but he was just getting murder-happy. “Oh, good, the jujutsu bimbos are here. Too bad she doesn’t want to talk to you.” He stepped closer, adding lightly, “But thanks for showing up, I guess.”

Gojo ignored them entirely, his eyes locked on you.

You sighed, still refusing to look at either of them. “Haibara, where are we going?”

“Office, like you asked.”

You caught Megumi taking a step toward Gojo, his fists clenched. Your hand shot out, pressing against his chest. He froze but didn’t back down.

“Enough,” you said firmly, your voice stern.

Nanami by now had caught up on where you were going, his hand landing heavily on Gojo’s arm holding you hostage. “Let her go,” he said with weighted words.

Haibara snorted. “Ah, the blonde babysitter speaks. Do you wipe his tears too?”

Nanami’s jaw gritted, but he didn’t respond. Gojo hesitated; his cerulean eyes burned with desperation, hand lingering on your arm like you’d asked for his firstborn, which wasn’t entirely inaccurate. Nanami sharing the same but slightly more hopeful look.

“Let. Me. Go,” you said, glaring at where his arm was still holding you, refusing to make any eye contact, each word dripping with acid.

Finally, Gojo’s hand fell away, but their expressions made it clear they weren’t letting go in any other sense.

You turned and climbed into the McLaren’s backseat without another glance. Haibara slid behind the wheel, but Megumi hesitated, his gaze lingering on Gojo.

“Megs!” you called loudly, your voice snapping him out of whatever storm was brewing in his mind.

He climbed into the car, slamming the door harder than necessary. Haibara hit the accelerator, the engine roaring to life as the car shot forward.

Through the rearview mirror, you caught one last glimpse of Gojo and Nanami. They stood there like abandoned luggage, their expressions raw and hollow.

Gojo’s lips moved as he stared after you, though you couldn’t hear him. It didn’t matter. You weren’t listening anymore.

//

The roar of the McLaren’s engine faded into the distance, leaving behind an oppressive silence that seemed to echo louder than any sound.

Gojo stood frozen, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps.

Nanami’s composure was cracking at the edges, the tight lines of his jaw and clenched fists betraying his calm.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“She didn’t even look at us,” Gojo said finally, his voice a whisper.

“She shouldn’t have to,” Nanami replied.

Gojo turned to him, his frustration bubbling over. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means we’ve given her no reason to.” The weight of Nanami’s stare bore down on Gojo. “We’ve done nothing but hurt her, Satoru. What did you expect? That she’d forgive us because we showed up and begged?”

Gojo’s face fell further, replaced by something brittle. “I just…” He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands like it would pull the words free. “I don’t know what to do, Kento.”

Nanami didn’t respond immediately. He looked down at his hands, at the faint tremor in his fingers, and wondered if this was what it felt like to truly lose.

Not a battle. Not a mission. But everything that mattered.

“You can’t fix this with grand gestures or empty words,” Nanami spoke finally. His voice was low, laced with the kind of grief that came from knowing he was speaking the truth. “We betrayed her, Satoru. You can’t undo that overnight.”

Gojo’s laugh was bitter, humourless. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see it every time she looks at me like she’s scared of me?” He turned away, his hands clenched at his sides. “She hates us.”

“No,” Nanami corrected, his tone sharp. “She doesn’t hate us. That would require her to feel something for us. Right now, I think she feels nothing at all.”

The words hit like a blow, and Gojo staggered under their weight. His shoulders slumped, his head dropping forward as if the world had grown too heavy to bear.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then Gojo muttered, “She called Megumi ‘Megs.’”

Nanami glanced at him, frowning. “What?”

“She called him ‘Megs,’” Gojo repeated, his voice breaking. “She hasn’t called me anything since she came back. But she called him Megs. Even after he told her to die back then.”

Nanami didn’t respond. There was nothing he could say that wouldn’t make it worse.

Gojo laughed again, softer this time, almost to himself. “I don’t even blame her. He turned out to be right that day.”

The admission hung in the air, burning and suffocating.

“She doesn’t need us anymore,” Gojo whispered.

Nanami closed his eyes again. “Maybe she never did.”

The two men walked back to the penthouse—to at least make you lunch—side by side but worlds apart, thinking of the empty street where the car had disappeared. The silence was a chasm neither knew how to cross.

//

In the car, Haibara glanced at you in the rearview mirror. “So, are we calling this a kidnapping or a rescue?”

“Depends,” you replied. “Did you bring the phone?”

Haibara tossed a box onto your lap, smirking. “Brand new. Untraceable. I even downloaded a few games on it for you. You’re welcome.”

Megumi, still fuming, leaned towards Haibara. “Why didn’t you just block them out? I could’ve set up wards.”

“Because I didn’t think they’d act like stray dogs in a thunderstorm,” he shot back.

“They’ve always been like that,” Megumi muttered. “I should’ve punched that white-haired freak of nature.”

“Wouldn’t have made a difference,” Haibara added. “You’d have to punch him twice. Once for his head, once for his ego.”

You let out a faint snort.

“Are you okay?” Haibara asked, his tone softening.

“I’m fine,” you lied.

Neither of them believed you, but they didn’t push.

“HQ’s fifteen minutes out,” Haibara said instead, changing the subject.

You nodded, gripping the phone tightly as you set it up and changed all your old passwords. Work was the only thing that mattered now.

---

After a tense but apologetic exchange with Megumi, the car pulled into your HQ’s heavily secured back entrance. The roar of the crowd outside was impossible to ignore—flashing cameras, yelling reporters, and chaotic energy that hammered against the armoured vehicle like a storm.

Haibara let out an annoyed sigh, scanning the scene. “They’re here too. Persistent little rats.”

He reached into the glove compartment, tossing you and Megumi black baseball caps that obscured half your faces. Haibara donned his own, tugging it low enough to hide the crazy glint in his eyes.

Megumi leaned forward from the back seat. “We should’ve just gone with the helicopter.”

“Next time,” Haibara muttered, cutting the engine.

The second the car doors opened, Megumi’s elite security team—men in dark suits, built like tanks and trained to perfection—descended. Armed to the teeth and moving with military protocols, they formed a protective shield around the three of you.

The reporters swarmed anyway, desperate for a soundbite.

“Do you think your company can recover from the PR nightmare your husbands caused?”

“How does it feel to be married to two terrorists who stormed your own company?”

“Ma’am, are you still running the company, or are you just a figurehead now?”

“Have you left your husbands for the men with you?”

“Ma’am, are you pregnant?!”

The questions were relentless, barbed and ridiculous.

You didn’t flinch. Years of dealing with vultures like these had made your mask of serene confidence unbreakable.

Haibara stepped forward, his posture relaxed but predatory. His smile was polite—on the surface. Beneath it lay the threat of a man who could snap necks like twigs. “That’s a lot of questions for people who clearly haven’t touched grass in years.”

Beside you, Megumi moved like a shadow, his presence a silent menace. His broad frame created an impenetrable barrier between you and the cameras, a hand resting lightly on your back to steer you forward, not letting the vultures trip you.

One reporter, bolder than the rest, shoved a mic toward him. “And who are you to her?”

Megumi turned his head slowly, his icy gaze enough to make the reporter take a step back. His voice was calm but laced with warning. “Someone who doesn’t owe you an explanation. Now move before I turn your camera into a souvenir.”

The reporter stumbled back, unnerved, but another one yelled, “Are you replacing her husbands? You seem better qualified!”

Haibara let out a humourless laugh, glancing at you with mock glee. “Do I get to punch one? Just one. I’ll even aim for the softest one here.”

“No,” you replied dryly, though your lips twitched in amusement.

The questions kept coming.

“Ma’am, are you using these men as a PR stunt?”

“Are your husbands here today, or are they still hiding after embarrassing you publicly?”

“Are the babies of the men with you?”

That one made you pause, your gaze snapping to the reporter who’d dared to ask.

Before you could respond, Haibara’s hand shot out, shoving the mic away with just enough force to send a message. His grin turned feral. “Keep talking, and I’ll make sure your next headline is about your missing teeth.”

Megumi leaned down, whispering something to one of his men. Within seconds, the security team swept through the crowd like a well-oiled machine. Cameras, phones, and recorders were confiscated ruthlessly.

One reporter, smugly scribbling notes on a notepad, thought he was safe—until Haibara snatched it from his hands. Maintaining unbroken eye contact, he calmly folded it into a paper aeroplane and launched it into a nearby fountain.

“Oops,” he said flatly, his grin widening.

“Let’s go,” Megumi murmured, his hand firm against your back.

The chaos peaked when one particularly brave—or stupid—reporter blocked your path, shouting, “Were you in on the terrorist attack, ma’am? Our sources say it was an insurance scam to profit off the damages!”

You stopped, tilting your head slightly, your expression one of mild curiosity.

“An insurance scam?” you repeated, your voice cool.

The reporter smirked, thinking they’d rattled you.

Your smile turned sharp. “Let me clarify something. My company is insured against such incidents—because I’m a realist. However, we haven’t filed any claims for damages. I paid for everything—repairs, property damages, even severance packages—out of my personal account. Feel free to verify that with your so-called ‘sources.’”

The reporter faltered, but you weren’t done.

“You’re so eager to harass me, but I see none of you going after the men responsible. They’re living their lives unbothered, while I’m treated like the villain because I’m a woman running a trillion-dollar company.”

Your gaze shifted to the reporter who had posed the question, curiosity mingling with a hint of challenge as your eyes narrowed. You stepped closer, causing the reporter to instinctively back away. “I recognize you,” you said, a smirk playing on your lips. “You’re from that charming little news channel that spread those ridiculous rumours about me—what was it again? That I used to be a man? Because no woman could possibly be this innovative as a CEO?” You gestured to your stomach, where the curve of your pregnancy peeked out from beneath your coat. “Clearly, that’s not the case.”

The crowd buzzed, whispers breaking out.

“And yes, I’m carrying their twins,” you continued smoothly. “But don’t make the mistake of seeing my children as extensions of their fathers. I will make sure they are nothing like them.”

You smiled at the reporters, unfriendly.

“So, next time you want to spread baseless rumours, try using more than half a brain cell. Someone might sue you. And it won’t be me—because I have people for that.”

You turned on your heel, striding toward the entrance with Megumi and Haibara flanking you like demons in suits. The reporters were stunned into silence, their cameras and recorders confiscated, notes destroyed, and pride in tatters.

Megumi said nothing, his eyes calculating as they swept over the crowd one last time. Whatever he was thinking, he kept to himself.

---

After addressing your employees in the sprawling courtyard, you apologized again for your husbands’ disastrous acts. The team’s murmurs had shifted from confusion at your sudden appearance to understanding—your candour and willingness to take responsibility were part of why they worked for you. You weren’t one of those CEOs who didn’t take accountability and/or fix things.

“Thank you for your patience,” you’d said, your voice calm but resolute. “This company has survived, and we’ll come out of this stronger. Now, back to work—this DLC won’t finish itself.”

A smattering of laughter followed as you dismissed them.

Once inside your office—a sleek space overlooking the city skyline—you immediately collapsed into your ergonomic chair. Haibara scanned the room, his MI6 instincts kicking in as he checked for anything out of place. Megumi moved to the large sofa by the window, setting up his laptop and pulling out his noise-cancelling headphones. Ready to start his workday for his own security solutions company.

“Breakfast?” Haibara asked, already halfway to the door.

“Something fast and edible for three-in-ones,” you replied, pointing to your stomach. “And chocolate mousse. I don’t care if it’s not breakfast-appropriate—I need it.”

Haibara smirked. “At ten in the morning?”

“Let me celebrate being the first man to ever get pregnant in peace,” you said sarcastically, shooing him away.

He snorted but left without another word.

Megumi had settled into his corner, his focus already glued to his screen. You appreciated the quiet hum of his laptop—it was grounding, steady. Unlike your husbands, he didn’t fill the silence with needless chatter or make excuses to hover. He let himself be there, letting his actions speak for themselves, and you appreciated it more than you could say.

Reaching for the intercom, you pressed the button. “Get me, Dove.”

Your assistant’s voice crackled through. “The one with the unhinged game ideas?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause. “Right away.”

You didn’t miss the confused edge in his voice.

Fifteen minutes later, Dove stepped in. Her oversized hoodie was emblazoned with the company’s latest title, and her caffeine-fueled energy radiated off her in waves. She fidgeted, looking like she’d been summoned to her execution.

“Take a seat,” you said, gesturing to the chair across from you. “Want something to eat?”

She shook her head quickly, her knee bouncing under the table.

You texted her department head: “ Make sure Dove eats today. If she’s caught snorting coffee beans again, you’ll find yourself with no one reporting to you and reassigned to a position where you’ll be working solo. ”

Turning your attention back to Dove, you folded your hands. “You’re the one who suggested turning my husbands into horror game villains, right?”

Dove froze, colour draining from her face. “Uh… yes. But it wasn’t a serious pitch—I mean, I didn’t think it was—”

“Good,” you interrupted. “Make it serious. I don’t care if it’s a DLC or a full standalone title. Make it as unhinged as possible. Tank their reputations if you have to.”

Dove blinked. “Seriously?”

“Excuse me?” Your tone grew authoritative, though the glint in your eye betrayed your amusement.

Her face lit up, a manic grin spreading across her lips. “I mean—yes! Absolutely. This is going to be so good. Thank you for letting me be my true self!”

“Don’t disappoint me,” you said, leaning back in your chair. “HR will be in touch about your promotion.”

But Dove was already halfway out the door, mumbling to herself about game mechanics and voice actors, her hoodie strings flapping wildly.

From the corner, Megumi smirked faintly, his eyes flicking up from his laptop. “You’re really giving her free rein on this?”

“She’s good. Let her cook,” you replied simply.

You shot a quick Slack message to the CHRO: “ Process Dove’s promotion immediately. Increase comp to match senior developers. She’ll be working on something high-risk, high-reward. ”

Soon after, Haibara returned with bags of food, setting them on your desk with a flourish. “Breakfast for three and two,” he announced.

You raised an eyebrow. “It’s safe, right?”

“Triple-checked,” he said, pulling out neatly labelled containers. He handed you one.

Megumi glanced up. “Got anything for me?”

“Of course. You’re still growing, after all,” Haibara teased, tossing him a box.

Megumi caught it with a deadpan expression, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t help it, Grandpa. It runs in the family. You know, like your prehistoric wisdom.”

Haibara feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “Prehistoric? I prefer vintage. Besides, I’m not that much older than you!”

“True,” Megumi pointed out. “But you are older than her, and I’m younger than her, which makes you practically a fossil. Tell me, what was it like inventing fire? Did it take a lot of R&D?”

“Fire?” Haibara snorted. “Back in my day, we didn’t even have matches. We had to walk uphill both ways, barefoot, to borrow fire from the neighbour’s cave. And don’t get me started on dial-up internet.”

“Dial-up?” Megumi shook his head, smirking faintly. “Sounds like medieval torture. ‘Your honour, I sentence you to AOL.’”

Haibara, already chewing, gestured wildly. “Well, at least our self-esteem didn’t hinge on likes and TikTok dances. You lot cry over one bad comment. Back then, we had entire poke wars on Facebook!”

“Poke wars?” You interjected, trying to suppress your laughter. “That sounds like a euphemism for something wildly inappropriate.”

Megumi tilted his head, faux-serious. “Sounds more like an HR summoning waiting to happen.”

You snorted mid-bite, turning your laugh into a mini-coughing fit. “Ugh, I think I just choked on the weight of your outdated humour.”

Haibara grinned, patting your back. “See? Even the food agrees I’m intellectually superior.”

Soon the conversation shifted as Haibara leaned forward, his grin turning mischievous. “So, about that horror game, I overheard the buffering girl muttering about. What if we make one of your husbands cry every time the player loses? Real tears. Full mocap. I’m talking cinematic trauma .”

Megumi chuckled softly, not looking up from his laptop. “Too subtle. Make them bosses you can only beat by insulting them. The more personal, the better.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “Cross-platform compatibility, unhinged marketing, and emotional catharsis? We’d break pre-sale records.”

“Or start a lawsuit,” Megumi added dryly.

“Then we’ll counter-sue for emotional damages,” you said smoothly, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “And knowing Dove, she’s probably already plotting how to make a multiplayer mess with five DLCs.”

“Remind me to never piss you off,” Haibara muttered, shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you replied, chewing.

After that, the three of you ate in companionable silence, the kind only years of friendship could create. Haibara cracked jokes about the absurdity of corporate life, Megumi made dry remarks about Dove’s inevitable rise to cult status, and you—despite yourself—felt the weight on your chest lift slightly.

---

When you left your office to meet a senior VA, Kenjiro Tsuda, the gaming HQ was buzzing with its usual chaotic energy. Mechanical keyboards clacked furiously, RGB lights glowed like a cyberpunk rave, and somewhere in the distance, someone blasted a remix of “ Look at this graph Gone Wrong ” mashed with death metal.

As you walked by, conversations quieted, heads turning in your direction. Employees who were already working doubled down, typing like their lives depended on it. Others grabbed random papers, pretending to read them. One was even reading the in-house lunch menu with the intensity of a SWOT analysis.

“Morning, boss!” a junior developer called out, waving a little too enthusiastically.

“Morning, Jack,” you replied, nodding with a small smile but not slowing your stride. Haibara and Megumi flanked you, their imposing presence drawing whispers.

“Uh… who’s the muscle?” someone muttered, eyes wide.

“Security detail,” another replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

“They’re built like they maxed out strength stats at character creation,” a third chimed in.

“Is that the Exo suit guy? Someone please get me his number!” a product manager whispered, practically swooning.

Haibara caught wind of that. He flexed his bicep without removing his hand from his trousers, and pulled his sunglasses down just enough to shoot her a wink. He continued walking alongside you and Megumi, exuding effortless charm.

The product manager nearly fainted, clutching her keyboard like it was a life raft.

---

By noon, Dove had already assembled a team. The conference room was packed, with employees chatting animatedly as they waited for you to start. The meeting ran smoothly, and by the end, the team had transitioned into post-meeting chatter, unbothered by hierarchy.

That was when Francisca leaned across the table, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. ���Boss, about turning your husbands into NPCs... cool if we give them negative stats?”

“Like charisma set to zero and a special ability called gaslighting,” someone added.

“Or make them lootable!” Haibara chimed in, grinning. “They could drop useless items like half-baked apologies and expired promises.”

Megumi smirked faintly, still clicking away on his laptop. “Program them to flee when faced with accountability. Though the AI coding might be too complex for that.”

You couldn't help but laugh. “If this game ever happens, you’re all getting royalties,” you said with a smile. "Sam, please open a mailing account so employees from all departments can send in their ideas and share the access with Dove’s team to sort them out,” you instructed your assistant, then turned to the team. "Now get back to work before I change my mind.”

The team groaned but obeyed, their chatter following them out.

---

The calm didn’t last.

Around two p.m., the courtyard was alive with laughter as the rare winter sun cast a golden glow over your employees. Conversations ebbed and flowed, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter. You sat with your CHRO and CFO, enjoying a rare moment of levity that softened the lines of tension on your face that had settled in recent months. The three of you were discussing the budget allocation for the 'villain energy' game, as Dove had deemed it in the absence of an official title yet.

“Why are there clowns at the entrance?” Your CHRO whispered, leaning in.

Your stomach sank.

“They’re not clowns,” your CFO muttered darkly. “Clowns have jobs.”

The courtyard fell silent as Nanami and Gojo entered, a contrast to the lighthearted energy moments before.

Your employees exchanged glances, unsure whether to laugh or run. One bold soul—a wildcard who always seemed to be on the verge of a write-up—stood up.

“Can we help you gentlemen find the exit?”

Laughter rippled through the crowd, short-lived as Nanami’s cold gaze swept over them. Conversations died mid-sentence. People stared at the walls, the ground—anywhere but at the two men who had turned their vibrant courtyard into a mausoleum of awkwardness.

You didn’t look at them. Rising from your chair with the help of your CHRO—damn these low sofas and your swollen ankles—and began walking toward the building. Your heels clicked sharply against the floor, each step deliberate.

“Baby, wait—” Gojo’s voice cracked.

You froze for a fraction of a second.

Is he fucking insane?

After everything?! The gall!

Of course, he would; he hadn’t held a job where he wasn’t the all-mighty in his life.

It was humiliating behaviour in the workplace, and Nanami didn’t even bother to correct him.

The sheer nerve of it sent heat creeping up your neck. To call you that here, in your office, after nearly destroying it?

You didn’t turn around. You wouldn’t dignify his words with a response. Your stride grew more aggressive as your CHRO and CFO fell into step beside you. The conference room door clicked shut behind you, sealing them out.

Megumi materialized like a shadow and with a twist of his neck motioned for the men to follow him to the farthest corner of the courtyard.

Once the men had followed him in, he crossed his arms, eyes colder than the winter air outside. “You’re trespassing.”

Nanami, the unpaid diplomat, held up the bag. “We’re just here to deliver food.”

“For who?” Megumi asked, his voice flat.

Gojo’s jaw tightened, his desperation bubbling over. “For our fucking wife ,” he snapped.

Haibara walked in behind Megumi, his presence casual but razor-sharp. He carried his own takeout bags, the logo from your favourite date-night-only restaurant glaringly visible. Nanami’s gaze lingered on it, his chest tightening.

“Why are they here?” Haibara asked Megumi, his tone light but loaded. “Didn’t you want to shoot them if they showed up again?”

Megumi shrugged. “I’m getting there.”

He exchanged a look with Haibara—silent, efficient, unspoken understanding passing between them—that the men had teleported inside somehow and they could not kill them anymore since they gained so much attention on social media, especially with you pregnant with their offspring. It would be too stressful for you.

Nanami felt it like a slap. The connection between them was something even he’d never had with Haibara.

“Hello, Haibara,” Gojo said, his charm forced.

Haibara barely glanced at him, unimpressed.

Nanami’s voice softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through. “You’re still going to act like we weren’t friends?”

Haibara tilted his head, his smile nonchalant. “Hmm. Don’t remember.” He handed a bag to Megumi and gestured toward the conference room door. “Let’s go.”

Gojo looked genuinely baffled. “How do you not remember me? I’m me!”

“That explains it,” Haibara replied without missing a beat.

Nanami would have surprise-snorted if the situation was different. Haibara was never the one who’d understood sarcasm, even if it hit him with a pan. But this Haibara was cunning.

Megumi smirked faintly. “Maybe you should get your name tattooed on that billboard you call a forehead.”

Nanami’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained steady. “She hasn’t been eating properly. She needs homemade food.”

“She’s fine,” Haibara said, holding up his own takeout bag. “See? Covered. Now go cry somewhere else.”

“Please, Haibara,” Nanami said quietly, his tone raw. “We just want to help.”

Megumi’s glare turned lethal. “Help? Like you ‘helped’ her move to another country, isolated her, and left her dependent on you, only to abandon her when she needed you most?”

The words hung heavy in the air, cutting deeper than anything else could have.

Haibara sighed dramatically, breaking the tension. “Let’s not waste time. Give me the food, and we’ll decide if it’s worth sharing. If not, I’m feeding it to the pigeons.”

Gojo started to protest, but Haibara held up a hand. “And no, you’re not feeding the pigeons yourselves. They deserve better.”

He turned to leave, but Nanami’s voice stopped him.

“Yu.”

Haibara froze mid-step.

The name hung between them; a thread tied to a past Nanami wasn’t sure still existed.

For a moment, Haibara didn’t turn around. Then, slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable. “What?”

Nanami hesitated, his voice softer now. “You really don’t remember me?”

---

Within the hour, you sat in front of the camera, the live feed streaming to major news channels and platforms. The room was stark and professional; the company logo displayed discreetly behind you. Your hands rested on the table, folded loosely, your expression calm yet unyielding. You had opted to do this in only your shirt, no coat, for reasons the world was about to learn.

The light on the camera blinked red.

“Good evening,” you began, your voice steady but weighted with unspoken truths.

A/N: Thanks for making it to the end! Now, a quick poll because I need to know where your chaos alignment lies: Let me know your choice in the comments! Bonus points for creative write-ins😏

Next chapter 12 (alt ending 2.3) - Not Heroes (Tumblr/Ao3)

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[thebunnednun]

In the Arms of a Stranger Charlotte Katakuri x Bride! Reader (Part 1)

He's been popping up on my timeline for a while so I think that means he's getting a series. Pretend he's younger, or don't.

This is gonna be a long one folks.

Spolier: Reader ate the "Kage Kage no Mi" fruit.

Summary:

Kidnapped from the safety of your Straw Hat family and drugged into a forced marriage as a cruel act of revenge by Big Mom, you find yourself in a luxurious yet suffocating room with Charlotte Katakuri, the formidable son of your captor. Fear and desperation grip your heart, but amidst the terror, an unexpected truce begins to form.

As Katakuri reveals his own discomfort with the marriage and vows to protect you, a fragile bond develops. Together, you navigate the tension and uncertainty, finding solace in each other's presence.

In the midst of vulnerability and shared fears, even in the darkest times, unexpected comfort and trust can emerge.

Now, on with the show!!~

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

The opulent grand hall reverberated with the lively chatter of guests and the melodious clinking of glasses, creating an atmosphere of celebration and merriment. However, amidst the splendor, [Name] couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of displacement.

Her thoughts continuously gravitated back to her beloved Straw Hat family, from whom she had been abruptly separated due to this arranged marriage. All you could remember was being stolen in the night and being presented before a large pink woman.

The entire ceremony had unfolded like a hazy dream, and now, as the night descended, it marked the beginning of their wedding night.

Your knowledge of Charlotte Katakuri, your enigmatic new husband, was shrouded in intimidating rumors, leaving you feeling apprehensive.

'Fucking shit.'

The heavy oak door to their lavishly adorned chamber clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing ominously in the vast space. Silence descended like a suffocating blanket, pressing down on you with palpable weight. Your breath caught in your throat as you stood in the center of opulence, surrounded by the extravagant display of wealth.

The room exuded grandeur at every turn—the king-sized bed, adorned with layers of sumptuous silk, beckoned invitingly, yet it felt more like a throne of isolation than a place of rest. Ornate furniture, carved with intricate designs, adorned the spacious chamber, each piece a testament to extravagance. The soft glow of the dimly lit chandeliers cast ethereal shadows across the room, adding to the surreal atmosphere.

But amidst the splendor, there was a profound sense of unease, a feeling of being ensnared in a gilded cage. Despite the luxurious trappings, the room felt suffocating, each embellishment serving as a reminder of the confinement you found yourself in. The air seemed heavy with unspoken tension, and the silence seemed to magnify your solitude.

Your gaze flitted around the room, seeking solace in its lavish décor, but finding none. Every corner seemed to echo with a sense of captivity, each ornamental detail serving as a stark contrast to the freedom you longed for. Your heart ached with longing, yearning for the warmth and familiarity of your Straw Hat family, where safety and love awaited.

In this ostentatious chamber, you felt like a trapped bird, yearning to spread your wings and soar back to where you belonged. The opulence that surrounded you only served to emphasize the stark reality of your confinement, amplifying your desire to break free from this golden prison and return to the embrace of those who cherished you most.

In a moment of sheer panic, you found yourself drawn to the large bed dominating the center of the room. Instinct took over as you dropped to your knees, your movements frantic and unthinking. With trembling hands, you crawled beneath the bed, seeking refuge in the shadowy space beneath its expanse. The rapid thudding of your heart reverberated in your ears, a deafening drumbeat of fear that seemed to echo through the room.

As you huddled beneath the bed, your breaths came in shallow gasps, each inhale feeling like a struggle against the weight of impending doom. The confined space offered little solace, but you clung to it desperately, your body curling into a tight ball as if seeking protection from the encroaching darkness.

In the dimness beneath the bed, the world outside seemed distant and unreal, as if you had retreated into a realm of your own making. The shadows enveloped you like a comforting cloak, shielding you from the harsh reality that lurked beyond the confines of your hiding place.

Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, the urgency of the situation pressing down on you like a heavyweight. You couldn't stay here, couldn't bear the thought of what awaited you on this dreaded night. Your only thought was to find your friends, to seek refuge in the familiar embrace of the Straw Hat crew.

But for now, beneath the bed, you allowed yourself a moment of respite, a brief reprieve from the chaos that surrounded you. The stale air hung heavy in your lungs, but you welcomed it, using the precious moments of solitude to gather your thoughts and steel yourself for the challenges that lay ahead.

In the suffocating stillness of the room, time seemed to lose all meaning, stretching out into an endless expanse of silence. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of the wind outside, seemed magnified, as if the very air itself held its breath in anticipation. The weight of the mansion pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket, its oppressive atmosphere adding to the unbearable tension that hung in the air.

And then, like a harbinger of impending doom, you heard the door creak open, the sound slicing through the silence like a knife. Your entire body tensed, muscles coiling with apprehension as your breath caught in your throat, the air thick with trepidation.

With each heavy footstep, Katakuri drew closer, his presence a looming specter in the darkness. The sound of his boots on the plush carpet sent vibrations rippling through the floor, each thud reverberating through your bones and echoing the pounding of your heart. Every nerve in your body screamed for you to flee, to escape the approaching danger, but you remained frozen in place, paralyzed by fear.

Closing your eyes tightly, you prayed fervently that he wouldn't notice you, that you could remain hidden in the shadows beneath the bed. The darkness offered scant protection, but it was all you had, a thin veil of concealment against the looming threat that lurked just beyond your hiding place. As Katakuri's footsteps drew nearer, you clung to the desperate hope that somehow, against all odds, you would remain undetected.

'Please, just go away. Don’t look under the bed. Please.'

As Katakuri's heavy footsteps halted mere inches from the edge of the bed, a tangible sense of dread settled over you like a suffocating shroud. His presence loomed over you, a looming shadow of menace that seemed to envelop the room in a cloak of darkness. The air grew thick with tension, each breath you took feeling like a struggle against the oppressive weight of fear that pressed down upon you.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as you held your breath, every second feeling like an eternity as you waited in agonizing anticipation. And then, mercifully, the footsteps receded, their retreat a faint echo in the silence that followed. The sound of water running in the adjacent bathroom filled the room, a stark contrast to the stillness that had preceded it. Relief washed over you in a shaky exhale, but beneath the surface, the gnawing fear persisted, a constant reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond your reach.

'This is my chance,' you thought, determination flickering in the depths of your eyes as you seized upon the opportunity before you. With a surge of adrenaline, you scrambled out from under the bed, your movements swift and urgent as you surveyed your surroundings for any sign of escape. Your heart sank as you realized the door was securely locked, a barrier that stood between you and freedom.

'No, no, no!' The panic threatened to overwhelm you, but amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a glimmer of hope emerged. You remembered your Devil Fruit powers, a latent ability that held the key to your salvation. With a fierce focus, you channeled your energy, merging with the shadows that danced along the edges of the room. The sensation was eerie, like slipping into a cold, dark void, but you clung to it desperately, knowing it was your only chance at escape.

Invisible to the naked eye, you slipped through the crack beneath the bedroom door, your movements silent and swift as you navigated the dimly lit hallway beyond. Your heart pounded in your chest as you caught sight of Charlotte Opera, his figure looming ominously in the distance, a dagger glinting menacingly under the harsh glow of the overhead lights.

'Perfect,' you thought grimly, steeling yourself for the perilous journey that lay ahead. With determination coursing through your veins, you set off into the unknown, every step a testament to your unwavering resolve to reclaim your freedom at any cost.

As you moved stealthily through the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, every step careful and calculated, your heart pounded in your ears like a thunderous drumbeat. The oppressive silence of the night was broken only by the faint sound of your own breathing, each inhale and exhale amplified by the tension that hung thick in the air. Every corner you turned seemed to hold the promise of danger, every shadow concealing a potential threat.

With practiced ease, you closed the distance between yourself and Opera, your movements fluid and silent as you closed in on your target. In a swift, decisive motion, you snatched the dagger from his grasp, the cold metal of the blade sending a shiver of anticipation coursing through your veins. It was a small victory, but in the face of the looming danger that surrounded you, it felt like a lifeline—a tangible symbol of your determination to fight back against the forces that sought to hold you captive.

Retreating back into the safety of the shadows, you clung to the dagger tightly, the weight of it comforting in your hand. It was a small but significant tool of defense, a reminder that you were not powerless in the face of adversity. With renewed resolve, you prepared yourself for the ordeal that lay ahead, steeling yourself for whatever challenges awaited you.

As the sound of the shower ceased and the lights in the bedroom dimmed, plunging the room into an even deeper darkness, your heart rate spiked once more. The tension in the air was palpable, each moment stretching out into an agonizing eternity as you resumed your hiding spot beneath the bed. Holding your breath, you braced yourself for whatever might come next, your mind racing with frantic thoughts as you prepared to confront the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

'Now I have the advantage but how do I get out of this?'

As you lay hidden beneath the bed, your mind raced with frantic thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. The weight of the dagger in your hand offered little solace as you grappled with the overwhelming fear of the unknown. How would you escape this predicament? What awaited you beyond the confines of this ominous mansion? The uncertainty gnawed at your insides, leaving you feeling small and powerless in the face of the looming threat.

Before you could formulate a plan of action, the bathroom door swung open with a sinister creak, unleashing a wave of hot steam into the room. Through the swirling mist, you caught a glimpse of Katakuri's towering figure, his presence like a malevolent shadow in the darkness. The air seemed to thicken with dread as his cold, unyielding gaze pierced through the haze, fixating on you with chilling intensity.

And then, in an instant, the shadows were banished by a blinding light that seared through the fog, illuminating you in its merciless glare. The stark contrast between light and darkness rendered you vulnerable, exposed to the full force of Katakuri's unwavering scrutiny. Panic surged through you like a primal instinct as his eyes bore into yours, stripping away any semblance of safety or sanctuary.

Before you could react, his hand closed around your wrist with a bone-crushing grip, dragging you unceremoniously out from your hiding place beneath the bed. The sensation was like being ensnared by a predator, helpless against the inexorable force of his advance. With each heartbeat, the reality of your predicament sank in, filling you with a visceral terror so profound it threatened to consume you whole.

"No, no, no!" The words escaped your lips in a frantic whisper, a desperate plea for escape that fell on deaf ears. In the face of Katakuri's relentless advance, you were overwhelmed by a sense of dread so potent it bordered on madness. As he loomed over you, a silent harbinger of doom, you were plunged into the depths of a nightmare from which there seemed to be no waking.

As you struggled against Katakuri's iron grip, fear surged through your veins like a torrential wave, threatening to drown you in its icy embrace. With a surge of desperation, you plunged the dagger into his wrist, a desperate bid for freedom born of sheer instinct. He grunted in pain, his reaction more annoyance than true agony, but it was enough to momentarily loosen his hold on you.

With a gasp of relief, you tumbled onto the bed, your heart pounding in your chest like a frantic drumbeat. Scrambling away, you fought to put as much distance between yourself and your assailant as possible, your movements frantic and uncoordinated. But your escape was short-lived, and you soon found yourself falling off the other side of the bed, landing with a jarring thud on the cold, unforgiving floor below.

As you lay there, your mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion, a thousand thoughts raced through your head in rapid succession. "I hurt him. What now? Will he kill me?" The questions echoed in your mind like a relentless refrain, each one more terrifying than the last. The cold floor pressed against your back, grounding you in the harsh reality of your situation as you struggled to catch your breath, your chest heaving with the effort.

Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a fierce determination took hold, driving you forward in spite of the overwhelming fear that threatened to consume you. "I can't let him catch me. I have to survive this. I have to get back to my family." The words rang out in your mind with a clarity that cut through the suffocating haze of terror, fueling your resolve with a newfound strength.

Though the fear was almost paralyzing, the thought of your Straw Hat family served as a beacon of hope in the darkness, a reminder of the bonds that tethered you to the world beyond this nightmare. With each breath, you drew upon that strength, channeling it into a desperate bid for survival as you faced the terrifying unknown that lay ahead.

As you lay on the floor, your body trembling with adrenaline, the sound of Katakuri's approach sent shivers down your spine, his silent footsteps amplifying your terror. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, your senses heightened to a fever pitch as you struggled to control your racing heart.

'He's coming. What do I do? Think, [Name], think!'

The suspense was suffocating, the air thick with tension, as you fought to steady your breathing against the overwhelming fear that threatened to consume you.

With each step he took, the weight of his presence bore down on you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you gasping for air as if the very atmosphere had turned against you.

'I can't stay here. I can't let him catch me again.'

The thought echoed in your mind with a sense of urgency, driving you to action even as panic threatened to overwhelm your senses.

As Katakuri's shadow fell over you, his form looming ominously in the dim light of the chandelier, you felt a primal instinct kick in, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. His eyes, cold and unreadable, seemed to pierce through the darkness, fixing you in place with their unyielding gaze. Your heart hammered in your chest, thoughts whirling in a frantic blur as you braced yourself for whatever came next.

'This is it. This is my only chance.'

With fear coursing through your veins, you struggled against Katakuri, desperation lending strength to your movements. In a desperate move, you slashed at him again with the dagger, hoping to fend off the looming threat that hung over you like a shadow. But Katakuri's response was swift and merciless; with a single, precise motion, he knocked the dagger out of your hands, sending it clattering to the floor, far out of reach.

Desperation filled your eyes as you whispered into the cold night air,

"Please, don't touch me!"

The world seemed to stop at this notion. Your words hung in the air, fragile and trembling, a desperate request for mercy in the face of overwhelming fear. The room fell silent, the weight of your plea echoing in the stillness as you awaited his response.

For a fleeting moment, Katakuri's intense gaze softened, his resolve faltering in the face of your vulnerability. Slowly, he pulled himself back, giving you the space you so desperately craved. You lay there, still clad in your wedding dress, a poignant reminder of the night's cruel irony. Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over as you squeezed them shut, your body wracked with silent sobs.

In that moment of vulnerability, you were acutely aware of the fragility of your existence, a pawn in a game far beyond your control. The weight of the night's events bore down on you like a crushing weight, threatening to engulf you in darkness. Amidst the despair, a flicker of hope remained, a small ember of resilience burning brightly within you. You would endure this trial, you would survive, and you would emerge stronger on the other side.

But right now you really just needed to have a healthy cry.

Katakuri's massive form crouched down before you with surprising gentleness, his imposing stature momentarily softened by the tenderness in his movements. Despite the weight of his presence, there was a certain grace in the way he watched you, as if he were keenly attuned to the fragile state of your emotions. His usually stern expression bore a subtle shift, hints of compassion and understanding flickering across his features like shadows dancing in the dim light of the room.

As he spoke, his voice was a soothing murmur, low and gentle, cutting through the tense silence like a soft breeze on a stormy night. "I promise I won’t hurt you. I have no intention of consummating this marriage given the situation." His words hung in the air, a lifeline extended to you in the depths of your despair. For a moment, the weight of your fear seemed to lift ever so slightly, replaced by a cautious glimmer of hope.

Slowly, you opened your tear-blurred eyes, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of apprehension and longing. You searched the depths of his gaze, seeking any sign of deception or malice, but all you found was sincerity shining back at you like a beacon in the darkness. At that moment, with a trembling breath, you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a fleeting second, that perhaps there was still goodness to be found in this world, even in the most unexpected of places.

As you looked up at Katakuri, his presence no longer looming over you like a specter of fear, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for him to be a decent man despite the circumstances.

In the tranquil hush of the room, every breath seemed to echo, a delicate symphony of tension and resignation. Katakuri's presence, once a looming specter of dread, now exuded a sense of quiet patience, a silent invitation for you to find solace amidst the chaos of your emotions. The opulence that had once felt stifling now appeared almost ethereal, the soft glow of the chandeliers casting gentle pools of light that danced upon the walls like fleeting whispers.

"I promise,"

His voice resonated like a soothing melody, a gentle reassurance that hung in the air like a fragile thread.

"You are safe here. I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to."

The sincerity in his words was a beacon in the darkness, a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows of fear that lingered in your heart. Tentatively, hesitantly, you allowed yourself to believe him, to entertain the possibility of a sanctuary within the confines of this ornate prison.

Your trembling began to ebb, a gradual release of tension that mirrored the softening of your surroundings. With each passing moment, the weight of your fear lessened, replaced by a cautious sense of calm that settled over you like a comforting embrace.

Though the scars of your ordeal remained, there was a flicker of resilience in your gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the strength that lay dormant within you.

In the stillness of the room, you took a trembling breath, your pulse slowing as you dared to let go of the grip of fear that had held you captive for so long. And as you met Katakuri's unwavering gaze, you found yourself taking the first tentative steps towards reclaiming your sense of agency, your spirit unbroken.

Tears of anguish continued to stream down your cheeks, silent witnesses to the pain that still weighed heavy on your heart. But intertwined with the sorrow was a sense of gratitude, a profound acknowledgment of the small mercy that had been extended to you in this moment of vulnerability. And as you met Katakuri's gaze, you found solace in the silent understanding that passed between you forged by the circumstance you found each other in.

As Katakuri stood before you, his imposing frame now softened by the absence of his wedding attire, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in his demeanor.

His broad shoulders, previously concealed beneath layers of formal clothing, now stood bare and unadorned, accentuating the raw strength that lay beneath his stoic exterior. Black sweatpants hugged his frame, emphasizing the powerful muscles that rippled beneath his skin with each movement.

And then, there was his face. Without the intimidating mask that had become synonymous with his identity, Katakuri seemed almost vulnerable, his features exposed to the harsh light of the room. His expression was unreadable, a mask of neutrality that belied the turmoil that lay beneath the surface.

But it was the intricate tattoo that adorned his left shoulder that drew your attention. A complex design of swirling patterns and symbols, it seemed to tell a story of its own, each line and curve a testament to Katakuri's strength and resilience. The tattoo, a mark of his heritage and lineage, spoke of a past shrouded in mystery and tradition.

As your gaze lingered on him, you realized that he had caught you staring. A flicker of self-consciousness crossed his features before he rose gracefully to his feet, moving with a fluidity that belied his size. Without a word, he retrieved a box of tissues from a nearby dresser, placing them gently in front of you with a silent understanding.

"I... I'm nervous too,"

He admitted, his voice a low rumble that filled the room.

"This marriage... it wasn't fair of my mother to impose it upon us like this."

There was a hint of frustration in his tone, a rare display of vulnerability that caught you off guard.

"But for now, we must act as a normal couple. It's the only way to avoid suspicion."

You nodded, taking the tissues with trembling hands as you tried to wipe away the tears that stained your cheeks. The gesture was small but significant, a silent acknowledgment of the fragile truce that existed between you. As you dabbed at your cheeks, you couldn't help but notice the smudged makeup that marred your reflection in the tissue.

Seeing your distress, Katakuri's expression softened, a rare display of empathy in the midst of chaos. "You should shower and change out of your wedding dress," he suggested gently, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil of your emotions. "I'll... I'll wait outside."

"I thought we couldn't leave until... you know," you murmur, glancing towards the bed where memories of the night's events lingered like ghosts.

Katakuri groans, his frustration evident as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I forgot," he admits, before letting out a resigned sigh. His gaze returns to you, softer now, tinged with a hint of apology.

"I will wait inside the closet then. Knock three times when you are finished."

But as he starts to rise, you find yourself unable to let him leave just yet. "Wait!" you call out, your voice trembling slightly.

He pauses, turning back to you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. As you rise to your feet, legs shaking with the weight of the evening's events, you move closer to him, heart pounding in your chest.

"P-please help me with the buttons in the back," you request, your voice barely above a whisper. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the air between you crackles with unspoken tension.

He holds your gaze, the intensity of his stare making your heart race even faster. With a nod, he steps forward, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your wedding dress. The fabric falls away with a soft rustle, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in its wake.

You shiver at the sudden rush of cool air against your skin, his strength evident in the ease with which he undoes each button. When he's finished, you look up at him, meeting his gaze once more.

"I promise I will not touch you," he reassures you, his voice gentle yet firm. With that, he steps back, putting distance between you once more, before retreating into the walk-in closet.

Alone once more, you take a deep breath, the weight of the evening pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. But in the quiet of the room, you find a moment of solace, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

With the now slumping dress held against your form, you rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a shaky hand. Locking the door provides a momentary sense of security, and you slide down onto the cool tiles, back pressed against the door.

As you sit there, the events of the evening replay in your mind like a broken record. The way Katakuri had grabbed your wrist, the fear that had gripped you, and the unexpected restraint he had shown when you stabbed him... it all whirls around in your head, leaving you feeling dizzy and confused.

You consider asking him about it, about why he didn't retaliate or even mention the wound. But the thought dies on your lips as you glance down at your now discarded dress, realizing that it's probably not the best time to bring it up.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand, turning on the shower and letting the warm water cascade over your body. It's a welcome respite from the chaos of the evening, and you take your time, letting the steam wash away the physical and emotional residue of the night.

As the water cascades down, you can't help but think about how to contact Luffy or the rest of the crew. Pudding seems like the safest option, given her past interactions with your friends. But the logistics of reaching out to her are daunting, especially with Katakuri lurking just outside the door.

Eventually, you finish your shower, wrapping yourself in a large fluffy towel. Glancing at your reflection in the fogged-up mirror, you're struck by how tired and sad you look. With a sigh, you reach for a face towel, intending to run it under cold water to reduce the puffiness around your eyes.

But as you do, you realize just how large the towel is, a stark reminder of the size and strength of your new husband. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you push it aside, focusing instead on getting dry and applying lotion to your body.

Once you're sufficiently covered, you peek out from under the bathroom door, listening for any signs of life in the room beyond. When you hear nothing, you slip back into the room's shadows, quietly making your way to the dresser drawers in search of clothing.

You avoid the underwear set Big Mom had insisted you wear beneath the wedding dress, opting instead to dig through the drawers until you found something. Among the array of garments, you manage to find a black bra and underwear set that fits you perfectly.

A note from Pudding accompanies the lingerie, explaining that it's the best she could do under the circumstances. You hug the note to your chest, grateful for Pudding's help, before slipping into the undergarments.

Next, you find a slip that Pudding had also left for you. Pulling it over your head, you revel in the softness of the fabric against your skin. It's a simple yet elegant piece, with delicate lace adorning the edges. As you adjust the straps, you notice how the slip drapes over your figure, accentuating your curves in a flattering way.

'Would he even like something like this? Oh my God no, I can't believe I just thought of that!'  

You feel your ears begin to heat up again until you turn away from the mirror. Looking down, you're struck by the contrast between the darkness of the lingerie and the sexiness of the red slip. It's a visual representation of the conflicting emotions swirling inside you.

'This won't do.'

Still feeling vulnerable, you return to the dresser drawers, your fingers trailing over the various fabrics as you search for something to provide additional comfort. Finally, you come across a large white shirt tucked away in the back of the drawer. Pulling it on over the slip, you're enveloped in its soft embrace, the oversized fit offering a sense of security you desperately need. With each button fastened, you feel a little more grounded, a little more ready to get through the night.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you catch a small whiff of something. The scent of donuts and fire lingers on the fabric, a faint reminder of Katakuri's presence in the room. You pause, the shirt draped over your shoulders, and bring the collar up to your nose, inhaling deeply. The familiar aroma envelops you, warm and comforting, like a gentle embrace in the midst of chaos. It's a reminder that despite the circumstances, you're not entirely alone.

Closing your eyes, you allow yourself a moment of quiet reflection, focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you breathe in the calming scent. For a fleeting instant, the weight of the world lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility. It's a small respite from the turmoil of the night, but one you cling to nonetheless.

With a steadying breath, you lower the collar of the shirt and let your hand fall to your side. The fabric drapes loosely around your frame, offering both physical comfort and a semblance of emotional refuge. You're still trembling, still uncertain of what lies ahead, but at this moment, wrapped in the scent of cologne and the soft embrace of the oversized shirt, you find yourself before the closet door.

"Hey, you can come out now."

There's no movement from the door. You feel confused before remembering what he had said and raising your hand to gently knock three times. Your knuckles rap lightly against the closet door, the sound echoing in the silent room. For a moment, there's no response, only the hushed murmur of your own breathing. Then, from within the closet, you hear a soft shuffle of movement, followed by the creak of hinges as the door swings open.

Katakuri steps out, his presence filling the room once more. His shirtless form is a stark contrast to the imposing figure you've come to know, his black sweatpants hanging loosely on his frame. Without his mask, his face is revealed, and you can't help but notice deep scares that adorn his face, the sharp fangs that poke out of his lips.

He meets your gaze, his expression unreadable, before his eyes flicker down to the floor, a slight flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "Sorry," he murmurs, his voice low and hesitant. "I didn't mean to make you wait."

You shake your head, a small frown tugging at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reassure him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm ready now."

With a nod, Katakuri steps aside, allowing you to pass him and make your way back into the bedroom. The scent of mochi lingers in the air, a comforting reminder of his presence beside you. As you settle back onto the bed, the oversized shirt enveloping you in its warmth, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected kindness of your new husband.

"Thank you," you murmur softly, offering a grateful nod as you settle back onto the dresser, the oversized shirt providing a comforting shield against the lingering tension in the room. But as you find yourself propped on the wood surface, a lingering ache in your wrist prompts a question you can't ignore.

"Katakuri," you begin tentatively, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of curiosity and concern, "about your wrist... I'm sorry if I hurt you earlier."

His brows furrow slightly at your words, a hint of surprise crossing his features before he sighs, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's alright," he assures you gently, his tone carrying a sense of understanding. "I knew you'd be asking about that next. And I'm sorry for tugging you so harshly and for any other discomfort, I may have caused you. When I entered and didn't see you, I assumed they were going to send you in after me shortly."

You take in his apology, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his understanding. It's a response you hadn't expected, one that speaks volumes about his character. In the dim light of the room, you can see the sincerity in his eyes, a quiet reassurance in his presence.

"Thank you," you reply softly, offering him a small nod. "I appreciate your understanding."

He meets your gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between you before he nods, a small gesture of reassurance. But before the silence settles between you, another question tugs at your thoughts, one that you can't ignore any longer.

"Katakuri," you begin, your voice hesitant as you broach the topic, "about your stab wound... How did you...?"

His expression softens as he meets your gaze, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I figured you'd asking about that next," he admits with a faint chuckle, his tone laced with amusement. "My Devil Fruit powers allow me to manipulate mochi, shaping it into various forms and even extending my limbs. When you stabbed my wrist, it was made of mochi, so it didn't hurt as much as you might think."

You listen intently as he explains, feeling a sense of awe at the revelation of his abilities. It's a reminder of the world you've been thrust into, one filled with wonders and dangers alike. But in that moment, as you sit together in the quiet of the room, you find a sense of comfort in the genuine conversation between you.

As the conversation unfolds, your curiosity drifts to the scars that adorn Katakuri's mouth, the faint lines drawing your attention.

"Katakuri," you inquire softly, your voice filled with genuine interest, "what happened to your mouth? Those scars... they look like they've seen their fair share of battles."

His expression shifts slightly at your question, a hint of hesitation crossing his features before he offers a faint smile. "Ah, these scars," he begins, his voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and vulnerability. "They're... a remainder of a childhood mishap, you could say."

You sense his reluctance to delve deeper into the topic, a subtle tension underlying his words. "I got them when I was young," he continues, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

"An accident involving... donuts."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, a hint of amusement creeping into your expression despite the seriousness of the moment. "Donuts?" you repeat, unable to suppress a small chuckle.

Katakuri nods, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he looks . "Yes, donuts," he confirms, his tone slightly sheepish. "I... stretched my mouth open too wide while eating them, and... well, the rest is history."

You can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him, realizing the vulnerability he must feel about the scars. "I'm sorry," you offer softly, your voice filled with genuine empathy. "It must have been difficult for you."

He meets your gaze with a grateful nod, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. "Thank you," he murmurs, his tone sincere.

"It's... not something I talk about often."

You nod in understanding, sensing the weight of his words as you sit together in the quiet of the room. At that moment, you find yourself grateful for the opportunity to learn more about the man behind the mask, scars, and all.

As the conversation winds down, Katakuri glances at the clock on the wall, noting the lateness of the hour. "It's getting late," he remarks, his voice gentle but firm. "You should get some sleep."

At his words, a wave of panic washes over you, the prospect of sleeping in the same bed with him filling you with dread. Katakuri notices the sudden change in your demeanor, his brows furrowing in concern. "Is something wrong?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours.

You hesitate, unsure of how to voice your fear. But before you can respond, he speaks again, his tone reassuring. "I could sleep in the closet," he offers, his voice calm but resolute. "You can have the bed to yourself."

Relief floods through you at his words, gratitude mingling with the lingering fear in your heart. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a nod, Katakuri moves to the bed, but you find yourself unable to follow. The fear still grips you, holding you back from taking that step. Sensing your hesitation, Katakuri pauses, his gaze softening as he turns back to you.

"What's wrong?" he inquires gently, his eyes filled with understanding.

You take a deep breath, summoning the courage to voice your feelings. "I'm... afraid," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I don't think I can..."

Katakuri considers your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, with a decisive nod, he moves to the bed, swiftly stripping it of all its coverings. "We'll make a makeshift bed on the floor," he decides, his voice calm but determined.

You watch in silence as he gathers extra pillows and blankets from the closet, his movements efficient yet gentle. When he returns, he offers you a choice of designs for the blanket, a small gesture of kindness that touches your heart.

With a grateful nod, you select a donut design, your fingers trembling slightly as you take the blanket from him. Together, you create a makeshift bed on the floor, arranging the pillows and blankets until they form a comfortable nest.

Katakuri finishes arranging the makeshift bed with a satisfied smile, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Alright, this should do it. I used to do the same for my siblings when they were younger," he remarks, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Turning to you, he waits for your response.

As he mentions returning to the closet, you remember his earlier promise not to touch you, a gesture of respect and consideration that doesn't go unnoticed. You meet his gaze, silently contemplating his offer.

After a moment of thought, you shake your head slightly. "I wouldn't mind if you slept on the opposite end of the pillow fort," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

A small smile graces Katakuri's lips at your suggestion. "Alright," he replies, his tone warm and accepting. With a nod, he settles down on the opposite end of the makeshift bed, giving you a comfortable distance.

The room falls into a hushed darkness as Katakuri dims the lights, casting soft shadows across the walls. You watch him settle onto his side of the makeshift bed, his movements deliberate and controlled. With a quiet sigh, you follow suit, curling up on your side, facing away from him.

As you lie there in the stillness of the room, you try to quiet your mind, to let the events of the day fade into the background. But try as you might, sleep eludes you. Your thoughts drift back to the chaotic events that led you here, to this unfamiliar room in a mansion far from home.

You remember the fear and desperation, the overwhelming sense of helplessness as you found yourself trapped in a nightmare not of your making. The tears come unbidden, silently slipping down your cheeks as you relive the terror of facing a future filled with uncertainty.

Each sob threatens to unravel the fragile calm you've managed to hold onto, leaving you feeling raw and exposed. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, but they keep coming, a relentless torrent of emotion that refuses to be contained.

The weight of the day's events bears down on you, pressing against your chest like a heavy burden. Your breath becomes shallow and uneven, your heart pounding in your ears as you struggle to find a moment's respite from the turmoil raging within.

You turn onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, feeling utterly alone in the darkness. The quiet of the room is suffocating, the absence of noise amplifying the cacophony of thoughts swirling in your mind.

You try to focus on your breathing, to find some semblance of calm amidst the storm raging within you. But each inhale feels strained, each exhale a release of pent-up tension that only seems to fuel your restlessness.

You toss and turn, shifting from one position to another, but no matter how hard you try, sleep remains elusive. The hours drag on, stretching into eternity, and still, you lie there, trapped in the prison of your own thoughts.

And as the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the room, you realize with a sinking heart that sleep will not come this night.

You feel a presence, and you turn over to find Katakuri looking at you with concern etched across his features. His eyes are soft, a stark contrast to the imposing figure you've come to know. In that moment, you realize he's not just a fearsome pirate, but also a man burdened with his own worries and doubts.

He sees the tears glistening on your cheeks and without a word, he rises from the makeshift bed and retrieves more tissues, sliding them over to you with a quiet understanding. You meet his gaze, studying the lines of tension in his brow, the slight furrow of his brow that speaks volumes of his concern.

It occurs to you then, that he's not unaffected by the events of the night. Beneath his stoic exterior lies a vulnerability you hadn't noticed before, a vulnerability mirrored in your own trembling hands and tear-streaked face.

"Katakuri," you whisper, his name a lifeline in the darkness. He stands at attention, his posture rigid with anticipation. You pause, unsure of what to say, but knowing that you need to say something, anything to bridge the gap between you.

You feel your heart reach out to him, a silent acknowledgment of the shared struggle you both face. He meets your gaze, his eyes searching yours for reassurance, for solace. And in that moment, you see him not as an enemy, but as someone who, like you, is grappling with the weight of their own emotions.

"I... I just want to thank you," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "For... for being here. For... for helping me."

His expression softens, a flicker of understanding passing between you.

"You are most welcome."

You glance once more at the bed, then decisively grab the donut blanket and climb on top of it. Katakuri watches you, a mixture of confusion and concern evident in his expression as you make your move.

Scooting back into the bed, you pat the space where you were just sitting, silently inviting him to join you. He stares at the spot for a long moment, his brow furrowed with contemplation, before finally taking a seat beside you.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you turn to him, your voice soft but determined. "If you would accept," you begin, meeting his gaze head-on, "I will give you permission to sleep next to me and touch me, but only for comfort and if you consent to do so. I do not wish to consummate our marriage."

There's a vulnerability in your words, a raw honesty that lays bare your fears and desires. Katakuri's expression softens as he processes your words, his eyes searching yours for a moment before a myriad of emotions flickers across his face.

Finally, he nods, a solemn acceptance of your terms. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I accept your conditions."

Relief floods through you, mingling with the lingering apprehension. Tentatively, you reach out to him, your voice trembling slightly as you continue, "But I do need a hug and would like one from you."

His gaze softens further, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. In that moment, as you rest against his chest, you feel a sense of connection and understanding.

As Katakuri's arms wrap around you, you can feel the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart beneath his chest. His warmth seeps into you, a soothing balm against the cold dread that's settled in your bones. His muscles are tense at first, a reflection of his own uncertainty, but as you gently pat his shoulder, he begins to relax, the rigidity in his frame easing with each tender touch.

"May I pet your hair?" he asks softly, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room.

You nod against his chest, your consent a whisper in the stillness. His fingers thread through your hair with a careful touch, the sensation both comforting and intimate.

The knots in your chest and the tangled web of thoughts in your mind start to melt away as his gentle ministrations continue. His scent—a unique blend of mochi, donuts, and a hint of campfire smoke—envelops you, grounding you in the present moment and gradually clearing the fog of your anxieties.

You nuzzle into him softly, feeling a newfound sense of safety in his embrace. An idea forms in your mind, a way to comfort him in return.

"May I touch your cheek?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

There's a moment of silence, a pause that stretches on until he finally answers quietly, "Yes."

Slowly, you raise your hand to his cheek, your fingers trembling slightly. As you let your fingers trace over his scar, you can feel the texture of the healed skin, and the vulnerability he rarely shows. His eyes close briefly, and you sense the tension in him easing further, your touch a silent offering of understanding and acceptance.

Katakuri leans into your touch, the warmth of your palm against his scarred cheek seeming to provide him with a sense of comfort and solace. His eyes flutter closed, and you can feel the last remnants of tension drain from his body. The rhythmic motion of his fingers in your hair slows, his breath becoming deeper and more even.

Before you know it, he's fallen asleep, his head resting gently against your hand. The sight of him, so vulnerable and at peace, tugs at your heartstrings. The steady rise and fall of his chest, and the softness of his expression, make you realize how exhausting this day has been for both of you.

You let your hand linger on his cheek for a moment longer, taking in the tranquility of the scene. His steady heartbeat beneath your touch, the warmth of his body, and the faint scent of mochi and campfire smoke create a cocoon of calm around you. For the first time since this ordeal began, you feel a glimmer of hope.

As you nuzzle into him, you close your eyes, letting the security of his presence lull you into a gentle sleep. Wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace, the world outside fades away, leaving only the quiet promise of a new beginning in its wake.

You're both in this together, navigating the uncertainties of your situation as a team.

_____________________________________________________________

That was part 1 folks, lemme know how you liked it!

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. Everything I have posted here is there in chronological order. I also have other hot One piece characters posted in the masterlist! Give them a read if you please!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want. I am also currently taking requests.

I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[lynlovesspn]

for a really long time i thought that ‘found family’ meant that you literally lost your family but found them later in life and was wondering why the trope was so popular

[peasant-player]

Elrond with dramborleg

"His hair was dark as the shadows of twilight, and upon it was set a circlet of silver; his eyes were grey as a clear evening, and in them was a light like the light of stars."

This drawing was for @armenelols and @polutrope post about elrond using a family heirloom "dramborleg".

Oh boy I had so much fun.

My main thought while painting this was " what would be different about elrond?"

And the answer is alot but a the same time nothing.

Elrond is in a way a sad character he kind of lost everything and the only constance in his life is the heralded past of his ancestors/family and friends.

He almost can't remember his parents but he can read about them even maglor is ,despite being a kindslayer, described as strong imposing and a mighty warrior.

His own brother,who chooses mortality,is a revered king!

This elrond that I depicted here is not the lord of Riverdale. Not married yet.

This is a elrond who will stand between evil and his folk.

Just like his ancestors did.

He is holding a legacy of strong unrelenting men who did change the tides of war who done the impossible no one else did before them!.

This is also elrond who found out that his brothers legacy Numenor is at the bottom of the sea - because of sauron.

This is a elrond who becomes a lord for many different kind of elves because he is a different kind of elve.

[lazyjellyfishcreation]

My thoughts on witcher!jaskier

So, so. I have been looking at a lot of witcher!jaskier shit lately, and eventhough bear!jaskier strikes a cord in my heart, to me, jask will always be a cat. So, with Jaskier being a cat, he would know Aiden, that would be logical. My question: what would their relationship be? my headcanon, Jaskier is Aidens teacher! Hear me out. Julek (jaskier's first actual name) was a promising young witcher of about 50 years old when it happend. He doesn't go to the caravan often because he doesn't like his siblings all that much, but he occasionally does to gamble and drink without having to worry about prejudice. He gambles his fun money away and gets drunk as a skunk in the process. He then remembers just how much he doesn't like being at the caravan and in his drunken mind decides to leave the caravan then and there to continue on the path. On his way out he stumbles into the wrong cart and finds Aiden. Aiden came out wrong. When he went trough the grasses (i hc that eventhough the cats do take in witchers from other schools that came out wrong, they also made their own, and aiden was one of the later.) Usually, a cat comming out with weird mutations isn't a problem, that's the cats school's specialty. But Aiden was a step too far. Aiden was deaf after the grasses. And the mages wanted to know why, so they strapped him to a table, to dissect him later. that's where Julek finds him. at 12 years old, scared, feverish from the grasses, alone, unable to hear, and not knowing what is going got happen to him. Julek, drunk as he is, decides that this is the perfect opportunity to make a shit decision and just. Takes. The kid. Julek just steals this child, and when he sobers up he realizes that that was a shit desicion but can't go back now, not when the kid looks up at him with scared sad eyes and go god he is gonna get so attached to this kid. So, Julek raises Aiden to the best of his abilties. He feeds him, trains him, teaches him the speech of hands (sighn language). Aiden is a smart boy, and phenomenal with trowing knives, he truly has impeccable aim. He's large too. Whatever took his hearing made him grow fast as fuck. Eventually, just when Aiden is getting used to not hearing, after a year or so, fate is cruel to him once again and takes his silent safety. Getting his hearing back is excutiating. Everything is loud, and sounds are so sharp now and it is overwhelming and aiden just want's it to be quit again but it is never quiet and and and. He's not having a good time. It takes him well over a month for him to adjusted to sounds. But now his hearing is better then any witcher's. It's overwhelming and it hurts but at least he can hear the monsters coming now.

All the while they are getting chased. Rememeber: Julek took a kit that wasn't his, not only that, Aiden was supposed to be a sience experiment and the cat mages want him back. so, 3 years after aiden getting stolen they make the desicion to go back to the caravan and claim aiden as julek's kit, to keep them from being hunted.

only problem: only grandmasters can assighn a witcher a kit to go on the path with, and the current grandmaster won't do it, because the mages want to keep him. so, Julek does the sane thing and chalenges the granmaster. If he wins and kills the grandmaster, then he becomes the grandmaster and can claim Aiden. if not, well... he wont be around to witness what they would do to his kit (son) nobody expects this 50 something year old witcher to beat the grandmaster with a century of experience under his belt. Julek is good, but he's (relatively) young. They are all wrong. Julek wins. Aiden is his. He claims his kid, steps down from the grandmaster position and fucks right off. I have so much more for this au but it's late so i might write that later if you want.

[nostellae]

NEW HAVEN AU ICONS!!

Decided to make two 'icons' for the AU. I'm leaning more toward the first because I like the heart. The purple arm is not Doey, except a different character with a similar arm to Doey. The reason I added them was because they 'created' New Haven after Safe Haven was 💥 Im currently working on the designs for a few characters Dr. Sylas Dawn (pre-incident + Post Incident) Warren Lowell (ew) Coraline Everstone

[ghost-bxrd]

Prompt:

Bruce is Jason’s biological father.

He finds out about it during the autopsy after Ethiopia.

[zeyris-daydreams]

Jade Dragon’s Iron-Clad Camellias 

Dan Feng x Reader

"World remembers them as lovers—yet history dares deny."

Once, a sovereign sought to defy fate itself, to preserve what should have been fleeting. For that sin, he was cast from grace, his name stripped from glory, yet his past rewritten into something softer—something sweeter.

Now, centuries later, their story is whispered in ballads and immortalized in legend. But the one who truly remembers? They walk among those who cherish a lie, bound by a history that was never theirs to tell.

Hey guys! This fic has been planned and now is finally reaching its execution phase. As for the chapters, they’ll be linked in this “fic master post”, I’ll probably link it as I go.

Reader takes the role of Yingxing, but it’s not like how you’d think. Then again, I do not want to ruin the surprise, and so I leave you with that.

Long term warnings;(discrimination against mortals, possessive Dan Feng, enabling Jing Yuan, reader is sort of an asshole but for all the good reasons)

On my profile this will be tagged

#df-camellia                 [ao3]

[Chapter 1]

[mentha-vacciniumrainbow]

Carmine family shenanigans!

Zestial loves playing with Carmilla’s hair, and the girls love playing with his hat and spider pin. Carmilla loves having fun with her family... it's a win win situation for everybody 🖤🕷🌹❤

A simple drawing, I hope you will enjoy!

Inspired by a post sent by @infinityundone on the Zestmilla discord server.