#greatest fear reveal

[thelivingsin]

anyway, don't be a stranger

[wingsyliveblogs]

Despite everything I just said, this is really cute. I bet Amity believes her wholeheartedly, too. 

Yup, that’s pretty much how I feel about spiders too. 

And with that, I’ve reached the first ad break point, and I’m feeling a bit sleepy, so I’ll call it here for now! We’ll pick this up again very soon. This Grom fight is a trainwreck waiting to happen, and I’m both excited and extremely apprehensive about how it’s going to go!

[freefallintothevoid]

Dick Grayson's unmatched success as a child vigilante makes a lot more sense when you remember the Court of Owls was a thing and that Dick was meant to be the next Grey Son.

There is no way that someone at Haly's Circus wasn't there keeping an eye on him while he grew up. A future weapon needs to be trained and monitored after all, and a circus, a place where weird skills are completely normal, is actually a great place to secretly train a child.

You know, just some knife tricks that translated really well into actual fighting. How to get out of restraints and pick locks while under a time limit. Death defying acrobatic stunts that coincidentally do wonders for parkouring. That sort of thing. Nothing that seems out of place for a boy growing up around circus performers to learn, but would literally any where else.

I mean, while I fully believe that most kids would want to kill the man responsible for their parents deaths, Dick was weirdly prepared to go through it. He tracked down Zucco with way more ease than any normal child should have too. He became the first child vigilante, for goodness sake. The first Robin! He only started getting formal training after he basically forced Bruce into it!

Bruce himself has no idea that this kind of competency in a child is unusual, considering he was much too blinded by the similarities between his and Dick's tragic orphanhoods.

Alfred is in a similar boat because he’s desensitized to weird children after he somehow managed to successfully raise Bruce 'The Batman' Wayne, so he doesn't clock the hyper-competency as abnormal either.

By the time the other batkids start popping up (Jason 'The Audacity' Todd, borderline-street rat with no fear) (Tim 'the greatest stalker in Gotham history' Drake, child genius, also bullied his way into becoming Robin) (Barbara 'raised by the only uncorrupt cop in gotham' Gordon) (Stephanie 'daddy issues and spite' Brown) (Duke 'Pretends he's the normal one and people believe him' Thomas) it's too late.

It would also explain how Dick got along so well with Damian out of all of them. Similar childhood with different approaches and all that. On some subconscious level, Dick recognises and resonates with the murderous ten year old assassin with strong familial ties to a secret elite assassin organization.

It isn't until after the whole Court of Owls and Grey Son reveal that suddenly Dick realises a whole lot of things about his childhood that suddenly make a lot more sense.

[dunmesh]

this panel from the world guide of falin being surrounded by other girls while laios is all alone kills me because. that's it. that's the key difference in their journeys.

as laios states himself, he left the village in order to create a home for him and falin elsewhere. a home that won't collapse due to others' hatred and fears like their old home did, a home where they are loved and accepted unconditionally. but as he soon found out, even before earning money, or having walls surrounding him and a roof above his head- what he so earnestly desired was to meet other people who will accept him for who he is as well. instead, he kept being tormented by those around him, shunned and sneered at. his loneliness quickly became all-consuming until he truly had nothing left except for the monsters in the pages of his book, but even that became a target of mockery and destroyed. that's why ever since the day he left the village, he never felt that he truly made the right choice. so he kept running away: unable to resist and unable to accpet.

and an ocean away from him there was his sister, who never managed to fully fit in herself. but unlike him, she met a person who became a home to her and learned what a true friendship was for the first time in her life. and laios clearly realizes that too when he finally sees falin and marcille together, he can tell his sister obtained the greatest treasure there is on her own- the exact thing he never managed to find anywhere himself, thus coming back empty-handed to the sister he left the village for.

but when you read this part of the manga, laios's focus is on falin's loneliness, not his own. he talks about how it hurts thinking about all those moments she had to spend alone because he wasn't there for her, so it almost sounds like he's the one who couldn't bear her suffering and therefore decided to not let her go again. but we do get a glimpse of their first meeting after that almost-decade long separation in the manga, and then we see more of that in the world guide and daydream hour- and it becomes abundantly clear that it was falin who was trying to protect and save him from this pit of loneliness and depression he was in.

so instead of just doing his best to atone for leaving her behind in the village and making sure she is never lonely again, it might also be that laios was desperately clinging to the one person in the world he felt that accepted and loved him unconditionally. those words he used to describe his motivation to stay by falin's side are the exact words she would've used as well; she couldn't bear leaving him behind in this state. in a sense, they were each other's shackles.

but then she did. she died for him and their friends, and ironically enough, it was by leaving him alone like this that he was finally able to stand on his own and put his full trust in others. to have the courage to reveal who he is and give others the opportunity to accept him after such a long time of hiding. it was a long journey, but his hiding finally came to an end when he faced the others after shedding his monster form. and i love that the person who was falin's "home" all those years away from laios, marcille, became just as meaningful to him during their time separated from falin- the first one to find him and show him that he isn't alone anymore. just as he did for her.

so at the end of the story when falin talks about all the places she would like to go, it's not just that she wants to pursue her own dreams- but that she actually feels free to do so and go anywhere she desires. and one of the main reasons for that is that her brother finally found new people he wants to be with; his own home.

[lewisvinga]

yeah, my wife | oscar piastri x fem! reader

summary; oscar randomly revealed that he was married young and it sends the grid into chaos and confusion. what he reveals after made everything more chaotic

fc; various girls on pinterest

warnings; cursing

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03 @c-losur3 @fall-bambi

note; tbh this was originally gonna be a written fic but i decided w smau lols

masterlist !

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

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liked by yourusername, landonorris, and others !

oscarpiastri: 7 years of being with you, 4 years of being married. thank you for always being by my side and giving me one of the greatest gifts, our daughter. happy anniversary, i love you.

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: osc🥹🥹🥹

yourusername: oscar jr and i love you so much🧡🧡

landonorris: OSCAR JUNIOR?????

oscarpiastri: his name actually isn’t oscar dumbass

landonorris: whyd she say oscar jr🙄

yourusername: bc i happen to carry her for 9 months only for her to look exactly like the man who participated for 5 mins 😔

oscarpiastri: she’s my mini me😁

username: TJIS IS NOT A DRILLLL

username: omg he’s A GIRL DAD????😧😧😧

username: that’s so perf for him omg

logansargeant: happy anniversary to my favorite couple!❤️

oscarpiastri: 4 years ago we partied like miami frat boys wow😮

yourusername: thank you, logan<3333 i’m bringing sugar cookies tmrw btw!!!

logansargeant: SCORE!

alex_albon: share w the rest of us🙄

logansargeant: no

charles_leclerc: A CHILD HAVING A CHILD???😀😀😀

oscarpiastri: i’m 23 actually

charles_leclerc: A CHILD BASICALLY????

username: wait omg high school sweethearts this is so cute 🥹🥹🥹

maxverstappen1: damn with a child too??

oscarpiastri: well, yes!

lewishamilton: fatherhood suits you! congrats to you both❤️

oscarpiastri: thank you, lewis!

yourusername: akkdoakxkdkxoskxosdo lewis knows who i am alsnakdk

username: y/n is so me actually

pierregasly: yk what, hiding a wife and child is such a you thing.. congratulations though!

oscarpiastri: 😺😺

username: never beating the cat allegations i fear

username: LMAO DID NONE OF TJE DRIVERS KNOW???😭😭😭

landonorris: NO. 🤬🤬🤬🤬🤬

landonorris: HE’S SO FAKE

landonorris: #cancelloscarpiastri #oscarpiastriisoverparty

logansargeant: i knew 😋

landonorris: FUCK YOU AMERICANS!!!

oscarpiastri: someone’s grumpy…..😆

yourusername: maybe he needs a nap like baby piastri 🤔🤔

landonorris: actually i am quite tired

[zehrbear]

Bones and All

pairing : Dragon!Sylus x fem!Reader

cw: smut, monsterfucking, predator-prey, blood, double P in V, being restrained with his tail, reader has tits and a vagina, sylus wants to eat you :3

Sylus is obsessed with how soft you are.

He’s enthralled by the curve of your hips, the way you yield beneath his claws that leave hollow indents behind on your flesh with every squeeze. You’re his favorite possession, his greatest indulgence to hoard.

The reminder strikes him as he watches you lounging atop the velvet settee, oblivious and serene, against a backdrop of gold and glittering that gleam in the dim light of the cave. His reptilian gaze lingers, drinking in the way your body bends and twists, the natural grace of you as you stretch when you think no one is watching. The lazy roll of your spine, the shifting of your thighs, it all leaves his claws twitching with the need to claim you. He pictures your body beneath him, all pliant and willing, as he maps each curve. He imagines mouthing at your jaw, his lips grazing down your neck to drink in the scent of you.

You’re always so sweet. So soft. So warm.

So fresh.

The thought teeters on the edge of something darker. A place where the line between desire and hunger blurs into a bloody haze as he grapples with his conflicting feelings. As he finds himself unable to discern between his mate and his feed for the night. 

Your head snaps to the side when you hear the sudden shifting of gold, the sliding of coins that lay scattered across the ground against one another, as they do when pushed by something heavy. 

“Sylus?” Your voice is higher than you intended, raw with unease. 

There’s no response. His name echoes back at you, hollow and mocking before the sound suddenly stops. You turn sharply, pulse roaring in your ears, only to meet with nothing.

It doesn’t feel right. Every instinct screams at you to run, but your legs feel like they're in quicksand; lethargic, heavy, unable to move. It feels like you’re sinking into the gold beneath you shifting right below your feet. Your breaths come shallow, rapid, each one colder than the last as you look around for the source of your panic. That is, until your gaze lands on two scarlet eyes, wide and predatory, gazing right at you from the shadows before it disappears once more. 

He’s stalking you.

Coins spill and clatter, tumbling in a slow cascade down mountainous piles on either side of the cave’s walls. You spin again, your movements frantic, and it’s as if the shadows are alive - seeping into every crevice, pooling at the edges of your vision.

You feel him circling you. You swear you can when a brush of heat grazes against your arm, making you jolt upright. Your head jerking to the side to catch a glimpse of him, but once more, you’re met with nothing but the ghost of a touch and the roaring of your blood in your ears.

“S-Sylus?” you whisper this time, a breathless sound barely audible, and in that moment you don’t know if you’re calling for him to reveal himself or begging him to stay hidden.

A growl rolls out of the dark, low and resonant, reverberating through the cave and into your very bones. And in that moment, every part of you screams prey. The frantic thrum of your pulse, the quivers of your body, the way your breath comes shallow and quick betraying the fear you can’t possibly hide.

It’s intoxicating to him.

The world blurs as something crashes into you, an overwhelming force that knocks the breath from your lungs. The gold shifts violently beneath you as you’re thrown back, coins scattering and clattering in a deafening storm. Your body hits the ground hard, sharp edges biting into your skin. You gasp, chest heaving as panic flows through your every vein. 

Before you can even process it, he’s on you.

Sylus looms above you, all dark scales and burning lust, his massive form blocking out the light with a presence that eclipses everything else. A claw makes its way to your face, tilting it upwards and baring your neck to him as the other holds you down by the shoulder, pinning you down easily. You twist and squirm trying to break free, but it’s futile as his scorpion-like tail wraps around your middle, sinuous and heavy, and locks you in place.

His chest heaves, his breath hot and heavy against your skin as he lowers his face to yours. His eyes are blown wide, the red of his irises swallowed by darkness, fixed on you with a singular, unrelenting focus. He’s panting, his jaw unhinging just enough for his fangs to glint in the dim light as the slick heat of drool drips onto your skin.

You’re so small beneath him, fragile in ways that ignite something primal within his system. His jaws part as he leans closer, the sharp points of his fangs grazing your neck, teasing the delicate skin stretched thin over the artery thrumming wildly beneath. The sound of your racing heartbeat filling his ears and stirring up a hunger so deep it makes his chest ache.

The conflict burns in him, a raging fire that twists his hunger into something far more dangerous, a carnal need to consume you. Your soul. Your flesh. Your very bones. His tail curls tighter around your middle, possessive and unyielding, locking you in place like a predator fearing his prize might escape. You’re so soft, so flush with life, and it would be so easy to take that all away. To have you fill his mouth another way. To hear your cries warp into screams and see your wide eyes filled with terror.

His hips shift, pressing his arousal against you, the ridges of his twin cocks sliding along your trembling core. The slick heat of his pre smears against your skin, marking you in ways that send a shiver through him as his claws flex again, almost breaking skin this time.

It’s like your every nerve is alight; sparks flurrying throughout your body in flashes of electricity as you feel the weight of him pressing against you. Your cunt tightens as he moves closer, as he prods against your entrance, stretching you out with just the tip of him as your walls flutter around him and you grow lightheaded with fear, or is it anticipation?

Could this heady feeling a mix of both?

“You’re afraid.” He growls low, satisfied with the way you gasp and arch beneath him as if your body is betraying you.

The sound of his voice curls in your ear, cutting through the fuzz as his teeth sink into the tender flesh of your neck. Sharp points puncture the delicate skin, wrenching a cry from your lips as ruby beads spill and trickle down your throat in a warm, sticky stream. You tremble, caught in a storm of sensation- each spark, each bite of pain, tangled with a pleasure you can’t understand. One that thickens as he shifts his weight, as his hips roll against you with deliberate pressure and the burn of him stretching you open wrenches a choked cry from your lips. He shudders at the sound, growl deepening as his hunger sharpens and it takes everything in him not to give in, to tear you apart and savour the feel of your flesh between his teeth, your blood , metallic and warm in his mouth.

Soft, so soft, and so sweet.

Will she feel this warm when she’s no longer moving? 

As he sinks into your heat, stretching deliciously around both cocks despite the fear in your eyes and the tremors wracking through your body… as he feels the slick coating your inner thighs and your clit pulsing below the tip of his tail, he realizes the truth of it. 

This hunger of his will never go away, will always linger just beneath the surface where it threatens to break and envelop him completely. But this unbearable need to make you his over and over again, is stronger.

Though it’s too much, too overwhelming - your body still clings to him, greedily taking more as though you were made for this, for him. It’s a feeling that coils around you, binding and inescapable. Like a tail wrapped around your middle, tethering you together while he feasts on you.

The pull of something neither of you can suppress.

@awwitschuu <3

[demigods-posts]

luke fumbling in recruiting percy has to be one of his greatest failures. a beautiful thing the show does regarding luke and percy's relationship is building rapport between them through shared moments like settling into camp, eating meals together, but especially through swordfighting lessons. the swordfighting scene at the beginning of episode 8 not only reveals that percy and luke already share similar beliefs about the fear-based system the gods have cultivated, but it's clear the conversation stays with percy when he fights ares and later calls out zeus on his waning skills as a father and a king. however, luke's plan fell through the moment percy learned that the winged-shoes were meant to drag him to tartarus. not only that, but the shoes nearly killed grover, a friend percy cared for deeply. if nourishing loyalty and trust was the key to ensuring a partnership with percy, then it was luke's faulty planning, arrogance, and impatience that cost him the greatest ally he could ask for.

[esotericalchemist]

𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐱 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 - 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞 ⭒❃.✮

TikTok (Matrix of Destiny) - Masterlist - YouTube (subliminals)

The position of a love blockage in the Matrix of Destiny represents the hidden patterns and energies that influence one’s ability to give and receive love. It reveals unresolved lessons, emotional barriers, and karmic influences that may hinder the formation of deep, fulfilling relationships. Each energy in this position carries a unique set of qualities, such as passion, self-awareness, or emotional depth, which must be understood and embraced to move past limitations. These energies provide insight into why certain challenges arise in relationships and how they can be transformed into opportunities for growth. By recognizing and working with the essence of this energy, individuals can unlock their capacity for authentic connection, allowing love to flow more freely and purposefully in their lives.

Calculate your Matrix of Destiny Chart here:

Matrix of Destiny calculator

( if that one does not work, use the following link: alternative calculator)

!--- LOOK AT THE NUMBER IN THE SQUARE --!

𝟑 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬

Why this energy may block love:

When the energy of The Empress is misaligned:

For Women: You may struggle to accept your feminine qualities, such as receptivity, tenderness, and creativity. This can lead to pushing away opportunities for love or feeling disconnected from your own emotional and physical needs.

For Men: You may reject nurturing and emotional sensitivity, viewing them as weaknesses. This resistance can create barriers in relationships, as partners may feel you are distant or unable to connect deeply.

Unresolved Maternal Ties: The Empress symbolizes the mother and the feminine lineage. If you have unresolved conflicts or wounds tied to your mother or female ancestors, these can show up as challenges in your romantic relationships, making it hard to trust or feel secure.

Fear of Vulnerability: The Empress invites openness and the courage to care deeply. Fear of being hurt or rejected might lead you to shut down emotionally, making it difficult to attract or sustain love.

How to work with this energy:

To realign with the positive aspects of Arcana 3, consider the following steps:

Heal Your Relationship With the Feminine: Work on resolving any tensions or unhealed wounds with your mother or maternal lineage. Acknowledge and honor the gifts they’ve passed on to you, even as you release any pain tied to these relationships.

Embrace Your Inner Creator: Whether it’s through raising children, cultivating a passion project, or simply creating beauty in your environment, channel this energy into meaningful, nurturing acts.

Find Balance Between Giving and Receiving: Allow yourself to receive love and care in return for what you give to others. This balance is key to maintaining healthy relationships and avoiding emotional exhaustion.

Celebrate Femininity: For women, focus on celebrating your feminine qualities through self-care, creativity, and connection. For men, honor and integrate the nurturing, sensitive aspects of your personality as a source of strength.

Why you should embrace this energy:

The energy of Arcana 3 is profoundly transformative and deeply rewarding when fully embraced. Here’s why it’s worth leaning into:

The Power of Creation: This energy allows you to bring life into the world—whether literally through children or metaphorically through ideas, projects, or art. It connects you to the cycle of growth and renewal, offering a sense of purpose and fulfillment.

A Source of Strength: The qualities of care and nurturing are often underestimated, but they are among the greatest sources of strength. When you align with this energy, you become a force of stability and warmth for yourself and those around you.

Healing Relationships: By embracing this energy, you heal generational wounds tied to your maternal lineage and create a foundation for healthier, more harmonious relationships.

Radiating Beauty and Love: When you embody The Empress, you naturally attract positivity and connection. Your ability to nurture and create beauty makes you magnetic and inspiring to those around you.

Arcana 3 invites you to live in alignment with the natural rhythms of life, bringing love, harmony, and beauty into the world. By embracing its lessons, you nurture not just others but also yourself, creating a life of deep connection, fulfillment, and joy.

𝟔 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

Why this energy may block love:

When the energy of Arcana 6 is out of balance, it can lead to struggles in relationships and personal growth:

Lack of Self-Love: You may find yourself seeking validation from others, feeling incomplete without external love. This can create dependency, insecurity, or difficulty attracting healthy relationships.

Indecisiveness: Arcana 6 often brings challenges with making choices, leaving you “frozen” in indecision. This can lead to missed opportunities in love or a lack of clarity about what you want in a partner.

Romantic Illusions: You may idealize partners or relationships, leading to disappointment when reality doesn’t match your expectations. This creates a cycle of unfulfilled desires.

Overdependence on Attention: The desire to be admired and loved can lead to overemphasizing external appearances or becoming overly focused on pleasing others at the expense of your own needs.

These blockages can result in a pattern of unfulfilling relationships or an inability to find lasting harmony in love.

How to work with this energy:

To align with the positive aspects of Arcana 6, focus on the following:

Cultivate Self-Love: Work on accepting and loving yourself as you are. Practice self-care and build confidence in your worth, independent of external validation.

Learn to Make Decisions: Trust your instincts when faced with choices, big or small. Commit to decisions without second-guessing yourself, knowing that every choice offers growth.

See Relationships Clearly: Strive to see your partners and relationships for what they truly are, rather than idealizing them. Appreciate the reality of love, with its imperfections and beauty.

Focus on Authenticity: Let go of the need to impress others and focus on genuine connections. Authenticity in how you present yourself and engage with others will attract the right kind of love.

Create Beauty and Harmony: Surround yourself with people, experiences, and environments that inspire love, beauty, and balance. This nurtures your inner peace and aligns you with the energy of Arcana 6.

Why you should embrace this energy:

The energy of Arcana 6 is deeply special, as it teaches the transformative power of love and the courage to make choices. Here’s why you should embrace it:

A Gateway to Fulfillment: This energy opens the door to experiencing love in its truest form—unconditional and self-sustaining. By learning to love yourself, you radiate love outward and attract meaningful relationships.

The Gift of Connection: Arcana 6 gives you the ability to form deep, heartfelt bonds with others. Your natural charm and grace draw people to you, creating a life rich with love and connection.

Empowerment Through Choice: Learning to make decisions confidently empowers you to take control of your path in love and life. Each choice you make strengthens your ability to trust yourself.

Beauty in Balance: By aligning with this energy, you create harmony not only in relationships but in all aspects of your life. This balance becomes a source of joy and inspiration for yourself and others.

Embracing the energy of Arcana 6 transforms love from something you seek externally to a force that emanates from within. By embodying this energy, you attract connections that are authentic and fulfilling, and you discover that true love begins with the choices you make for yourself.

𝟗 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐭

Why this energy may block love:

When the Hermit’s energy is unbalanced, it can lead to challenges in forming or maintaining relationships:

Emotional Distance: You may find yourself withdrawing from others, feeling more comfortable in solitude than in emotional closeness. This can make it difficult for others to connect with you.

Fear of Vulnerability: Nines often struggle to open up physically or emotionally. You may guard your inner world so tightly that even those who love you feel shut out.

Self-Imposed Isolation: A tendency to focus on your inner journey can lead to physical or emotional separation from others, causing loneliness or missed opportunities for love.

Overemphasis on Intellectual Connection: You may prioritize intellectual or spiritual bonds over physical or emotional compatibility, which could limit your ability to form balanced relationships.

How to work with this energy:

The Hermit’s energy asks you to find balance between introspection and connection. Here’s how to work with it:

Open Up Gradually: Practice allowing others into your inner world, one step at a time. Sharing your thoughts and feelings doesn’t diminish your independence—it enriches your connections.

Create Space for Others: While your self-sufficiency is a strength, allow room for others to support and care for you. Relationships thrive when there is mutual giving and receiving.

Embrace Emotional Vulnerability: Challenge yourself to share your feelings and needs, even if it feels uncomfortable. Vulnerability is a bridge to deeper intimacy.

Seek Balance Between Solitude and Togetherness: While alone time is vital for your growth, aim to balance it with meaningful interactions. True connection doesn’t detract from your journey—it enhances it.

Release Perfectionism: Understand that no partner will perfectly reflect your inner world. Embrace the beauty of differences and allow relationships to unfold naturally.

Why you should embrace this energy:

The energy of The Hermit is deeply special. It holds the wisdom of self-discovery, the strength of independence, and the depth of a soul seeking truth. Embracing this energy allows you to:

Discover Profound Truths: Your capacity for introspection and wisdom makes you uniquely able to uncover life’s deeper meanings. Sharing these insights can inspire and uplift those around you.

Build Meaningful Relationships: When you allow others into your world, you create bonds based on depth and authenticity. These relationships can offer the balance your soul seeks.

Model Self-Sufficiency: Your independence is an inspiration, showing others that love starts within. By accepting yourself as whole, you teach others to value themselves as well.

The Hermit’s lesson is not about rejecting connection—it’s about finding strength in solitude so that your relationships are built on mutual respect and understanding. When you embrace this energy, you align with your highest potential, creating a life that is both deeply meaningful and richly connected.

𝟏𝟐 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐧

Why this energy may block love:

When the energy of Arcana 12 is out of balance, it can manifest as:

Victimhood in Relationships: You may unconsciously adopt the role of a victim, attracting partners who take advantage of your empathy or even relationships with unhealthy dynamics of control and dependency.

Sacrificing Personal Needs: A tendency to put others first can leave you feeling drained and unappreciated, creating imbalance in your relationships.

Living in the Past or Future: You may struggle to stay present, dwelling on past pain or worrying about the future. This can prevent you from fully engaging in your relationships.

Emotional Instability: Intense emotional responses, such as self-pity or feelings of inadequacy, can create turbulence in your personal life and push others away.

These patterns can make it hard to build healthy, stable connections, as the energy of Arcana 12 requires balance and awareness to thrive.

How to work with this energy:

To work with the energy of Arcana 12 and create harmony in your relationships, focus on the following:

Learn to Say No: Set clear boundaries with others. This helps prevent overextending yourself and ensures your relationships are mutually supportive.

Value Yourself: Recognize your worth and the importance of your needs. Understand that true love requires both giving and receiving.

Embrace the Present Moment: Avoid dwelling on past mistakes or future worries. Focus on being fully present in your relationships and appreciating what you have.

Shift Your Perspective: Look at situations from new angles. Seeing challenges as opportunities for growth can help you release feelings of victimhood and find balance.

Balance Service with Self-Care: While helping others is a natural strength, remember to care for yourself too. Prioritize activities and relationships that nourish your soul.

Why you should embrace this energy:

The energy of Arcana 12 is unique because it holds the power of transformation through service, creativity, and perspective shifts. Here’s why it’s worth embracing:

A Path to Purpose: This energy allows you to find meaning through helping others and contributing to the greater good. Acts of service can bring immense fulfillment and deepen your connections.

A New Way of Seeing: Arcana 12 teaches you to look at life differently, unlocking insights and wisdom that others may not see. This ability can enrich your relationships and provide solutions to complex problems.

Emotional Depth and Creativity: Your sensitivity and capacity for emotion are sources of strength. When channeled positively, these qualities allow you to create beauty, inspire others, and connect on a profound level.

A Bridge Between Worlds: The Hanged Man represents the ability to balance the material and emotional worlds, teaching you to bring harmony and understanding to your relationships.

Embracing the energy of Arcana 12 means stepping into your role as a compassionate, creative force. By finding balance between sacrifice and self-care, you can build relationships that are deeply loving, supportive, and meaningful. Through this energy, you discover that true strength lies in seeing the world—and yourself—from a place of love and acceptance.

𝟏𝟓 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

Why this energy may block love:

When the energy of Arcana 15 is misaligned, it can create difficulties in relationships:

Manipulative Tendencies: You may unintentionally use your charisma and insight to control or manipulate others, creating toxic dynamics.

Attraction to the Forbidden: A craving for excitement or danger can lead to unsteady, short-lived relationships or connections with people who bring chaos into your life.

Struggles With Intimacy: Your intense passions can make it difficult to maintain a stable, balanced relationship. Others may find it hard to keep up with your wild energy or feel overwhelmed by it.

Fear of Vulnerability: The Devil’s energy thrives on control, and letting go of that control to be truly vulnerable can feel terrifying, creating barriers to genuine connection.

These patterns can lead to cycles of intense but unstable relationships, leaving you feeling unsatisfied or disconnected.

How to work with this energy:

To harness the transformative power of Arcana 15, focus on these steps:

Embrace Your Shadow Side: Acknowledge and accept your darker tendencies instead of repressing them. This self-awareness allows you to integrate these aspects of yourself in healthy ways.

Channel Passion Into Creation: Use your intensity and charisma to build, inspire, and create rather than to control or destroy. This can apply to both relationships and personal pursuits.

Balance Freedom and Commitment: While your spirit craves independence, relationships thrive on mutual trust and stability. Find ways to honor both needs.

Practice Vulnerability: Let go of the need to always be in control. Opening up to others, even at the risk of being hurt, allows for deeper, more meaningful connections.

Choose the Light Daily: Arcana 15 is about choice—between light and shadow. Consistently choosing honesty, kindness, and integrity strengthens your relationships and keeps your energy in balance.

Why you should embrace this energy:

The energy of Arcana 15 is one of the most powerful and transformative in the Destiny Code Matrix. Here’s why embracing it is essential:

Unmatched Charisma: Your ability to captivate and inspire is a rare gift. When used positively, it can draw people to you and create deep, meaningful relationships built on trust and admiration.

A Gateway to Wisdom: By understanding both the light and shadow sides of yourself and others, you gain profound insight into the complexities of human nature. This wisdom allows you to navigate life with clarity and purpose.

The Power of Passion: Your intensity is your strength. It fuels your creativity, drives your ambitions, and makes you an unforgettable force in the lives of those you touch.

Redemption and Transformation: The Devil’s energy is not about succumbing to darkness but transcending it. By facing and overcoming your trials, you become a beacon of strength and hope for others.

Embracing the energy of Arcana 15 is about learning to master your power rather than being controlled by it. By integrating light and shadow, you align with your highest potential, creating relationships and a life filled with passion, purpose, and authenticity.

𝟏𝟖 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

Why this energy may block love:

The Moon’s energy is powerful but complex, and its influence in relationships can create obstacles:

Illusions in Relationships: You may become blinded by fantasies or idealized views of your partner, making it difficult to see the truth of the relationship. This can lead to disappointment or unhealthy dynamics.

Fear and Insecurity: Deep-seated fears or anxieties can create barriers to intimacy, making it hard to fully trust or open up to a partner.

Subconscious Sabotage: Unresolved issues or hidden emotions may unconsciously influence your relationships, creating misunderstandings or conflicts.

Overdependence on Mystical Connections: You may prioritize spiritual or emotional bonds over practical compatibility, which can result in instability or unbalanced relationships.

These challenges often leave you feeling disconnected, trapped in cycles of longing, or unable to fully realize the love you seek.

How to work with this energy:

To align with the positive aspects of Arcana 18, consider these steps:

Face Your Fears: Acknowledge and confront the fears that hold you back. Journaling, therapy, or meditation can help you bring these hidden anxieties into the light.

Ground Yourself in Reality: Balance your vivid imagination and intuitive nature with practical assessments of your relationships. Seek clarity and honesty in your interactions.

Develop Emotional Awareness: Work on understanding and expressing your emotions. This helps build trust and intimacy in relationships.

Trust Your Intuition, Not Your Fears: Your intuitive abilities are a gift, but they must be distinguished from fear-based thoughts. Practice mindfulness to tune into your true inner guidance.

Embrace Your Mystical Nature: Accept and celebrate your unique connection to the unseen, but use it to enhance your relationships rather than escape reality.

Why you should embrace this energy:

The energy of Arcana 18 is both mysterious and transformative. Here’s why embracing it is vital:

Manifestation Power: You have a rare ability to bring your dreams to life. By aligning your thoughts and emotions, you can create the relationships and life you desire.

Profound Intuition: Your intuitive gifts allow you to see beneath the surface, offering insights into others and deepening your connections.

Connection to Mystery: You thrive in the realm of the unseen, bringing a sense of wonder, creativity, and depth to your relationships. This makes you a unique and inspiring partner.

Healing Through Self-Discovery: By facing your fears and embracing your inner truth, you heal not only yourself but also bring light and balance to those around you.

The Moon teaches that the line between dreams and reality is thin, and you hold the power to navigate it with grace. Embracing this energy allows you to channel your creativity, intuition, and emotional depth into building relationships that are both magical and authentic. Through balance and self-awareness, you can illuminate the path not just for yourself but also for those who share your journey.

𝟐𝟏 - 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝

Why this energy may block love:

When the energy of Arcana 21 is out of balance, it can create challenges in relationships:

Fear of Commitment or Stagnation: You may resist settling into a relationship, feeling constrained by the idea of being tied down or limited in your freedom.

Overemphasis on Possibilities: The desire to explore "what's out there" might prevent you from fully investing in the present moment with a partner.

Cultural or Philosophical Differences: Your global perspective may create difficulty relating to those with narrower worldviews, leading to misunderstandings or a sense of disconnect.

Imposing Restrictions: In some cases, you may unintentionally limit your partner with rigid beliefs or expectations, stifling the relationship.

These dynamics can lead to unfulfilled relationships, either due to fear of confinement or an inability to find someone who shares your expansive outlook.

How to work with this energy:

To align with the energy of Arcana 21 and create harmony in your relationships, focus on the following:

Embrace Both Freedom and Connection: Understand that love and partnership don’t have to limit your independence. Seek partners who value growth and adventure as much as you do.

Challenge Your Own Boundaries: Recognize when fear of the unknown is holding you back. Be willing to explore deeper emotional intimacy as another form of adventure.

Celebrate Differences: Use your openness to learn from and appreciate cultural or philosophical differences with your partner rather than allowing them to create distance.

Stay Present: While you thrive on seeking new experiences, practice grounding yourself in the present moment to nurture your relationships.

Share Your Vision: Let your partner in on your dreams and goals. This creates a sense of shared purpose and encourages mutual exploration and growth.

Why you should embrace this energy:

The energy of Arcana 21 is uniquely transformative, offering you the chance to expand your life and relationships in ways others may only dream of. Here’s why it’s special:

Unparalleled Freedom: You are naturally gifted with the ability to break free of societal norms and explore uncharted territories, making your relationships adventurous and ever-evolving.

Global Perspective: Your expansive worldview allows you to appreciate diversity, fostering rich and meaningful connections with people from all walks of life.

Boundless Potential: This energy encourages you to dream big and pursue goals that inspire not only you but also your partner, creating a shared journey of growth and discovery.

Peacemaking and Unity: Arcana 21 inspires you to build bridges and promote harmony in relationships, making you a powerful force for connection and understanding.

Transcendence Through Love: By integrating this energy, you learn that love itself is limitless, transcending borders and barriers to create profound, life-changing bonds.

Embracing Arcana 21 means recognizing that love, like life, has no boundaries. By stepping beyond your fears and preconceived limits, you unlock the power to build relationships that are not only deeply fulfilling but also expansive and transformative. This energy reminds you that the world is vast, and within it lies infinite potential for love, connection, and shared exploration.

[0nlythrowharrybeaux]

Twelve Days

After her fiance broke up their engagement Y/N has been isolating for months, but now it's the holidays and she must show up to spend it with her family. Fearful that her failure of a love life would be the main topic of discussion, she's prepared to have the worst time. That is until her brother in law, Harry, reveals an even bigger problem than her own.

Warnings: infidelity, break ups, mentions of depression and anxiety and their symptoms, mentions of alcohol and drugs, description of masturbation (male), voyeurism, implied inappropriate relationship

WC: 11.5K

Day One:

“You can do hard things.” You whispered to yourself as you drove down the street as you looked out for your parents’s car in a driveway.

You hadn’t spent the holidays with your family for the past three years. You just had a lot of things going on and lived across the country for the first year away. And then traveled the following year with your significant other and then this last year you’d spent the holidays with them and their family since you’d gotten engaged to them. 

However, earlier in the year after nearly a year engaged, your fiancé backed out of the engagement and ended things with you. It had been the greatest humiliation and heartbreak of your life! After breaking the new to your parents over the phone followed by a “so I’m gonna need some space”, you’d successfully avoided every one from your family for the last several months, until now. You were mostly nervous to see your aunt and older sister. They were the most judgmental out of everyone and you hadn’t been in a place to hear their negativity. But now you were gonna be stuck with them all for twelve days. 

Twelve days in Palm Springs and you were sure that you weren’t going to enjoy at least 70% of it with their probing and commentary on what you did wrong or should have done. Your dad was great about placating his younger sister, but not so much your own sister. She was definitely the golden child out of you both, so your parents were never all that hard on her, nor did they challenge her too much. You believed that she never meant to be malicious towards you but sometimes you did question if she just liked to feel like she was better than you. This particular situation made you feel a bit uneasy because it felt like an opportunity for her to rub your nose in it because she was happily married to one of the best guys you’d ever met and they had a perfect life together. She honestly did not to do anything more to remind you that she in fact was far better off than you were in this particular area of your life.

“Fuck me…” you muttered as you saw your mom, aunt, and sister unloading grocery bags from the car parked in the wide open garage of the house. You saw your sister point as the older women turned in your direction and smiled. You smiled as well and waved briefly before focusing on parking your car in the final space, beside your mom’s. You exhaled and then stepped out, already feeling that sinking feeling in your stomach growing with each step you took towards them. You could already hear their excited greetings to you. 

“Hey.” You chuckled as your mother enveloped you in a big hug and squeezed.

“Te extrañe, hijita.” She hummed lowly. You felt warm inside for a few seconds. It gave you sense of comfort knowing that she had missed you.

“Yo también.” You mumbled but ended the hug quickly because after what had happened to you, you truly needed a hug form your mom and it was going to make you cry. 

“Hi mija! How are you holding up?” Your aunt, Claudia, asked as she hugged you next and you semi-smiled.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“Are you sure?” She pressed as she pulled back and looked in your eyes in concern and you nodded quickly.

“Okay. You know, whatever you need-”

“Yeah, thanks.” You nodded with a smile as she moved aside to let you greet your sister.

“Hey.” You smiled as she opened her arms and you hugged. You weren’t all that affectionate with each other so feeling her squeeze you closer felt a little unfamiliar but you just let it go on until she pulled back and placed her hands on your shoulders.

“You look good.” She complimented you. “That’s good. Show that loser what he walked out on.” She said with a smirk and you just nodded.

You felt your irritation towards her prick up your body. You hated that she attributed you looking after yourself to some revenge plot towards your ex. You had always been the kind of person to keep up with your appearance. You definitely kept things on the lighter more natural side for day to day, but you always had some makeup on. You dressed well and with thought behind your look. And you did all these things because it just made you feel good about yourself, it gave you that added little confidence boost that we all need. It was something that mattered to you and you didn’t do so for the male gaze. You felt like that was a slight dig, but you knew that she hadn’t meant it as such. You were quite sensitive though, so you always checked yourself before committing to the feeling that she wanted to piss you off. 

“Can I help you guys with the groceries?” You offered.

“You need to unpack.” Your mom reminded you and you smiled.

“Right.” You said and they continued with their task while you turned to your car. You lifted the trunk open and pulled out your shoes duffle and then reached for the handle of your large rolling suitcase. You tugged hard and then felt some resistance. “Shit.” You cursed to your self when you saw that it had gotten caught on something from the top of the trunk. You had filled that baby to brim and admittedly it was resting on a decently high bed of garbage bags filled with clothes that you’d been meaning to drop off at a thrift store near your work for a couple months now. 

“Need a hand?” You heard and jumped in fear as your brother-in-law’s voice coming from behind you shocked you.

“Fuck, Harry! You scared me!” You laughed, despite your creased features. 

“I’m so sorry.” He chuckled. Your lips started turning up as you took in his toothy grin and crinkled eyes.

“It’s fine. I think it got caught on something. I’ve got so much shit in there.” You explained and he went over to you as you moved aside to let him inspect the issue. Moments later he was pulling your suitcase out of the trunk successfully.

“You’re gonna need a new one. It tore the fabric beside the zipper.” He notified you and you huffed.

“Of course it did…” 

“I saw a roll of duct tape when I was snooping through the drawers in the pool house.” He shared, “We can put a little patch of it over the torn bit so that you can give’er, her final trip before you toss her out.” He suggested unironically and you smirked.

“How do you know it’s a her?” You asked and he smiled.

“I heard you refer to her as Jenna Rink once.”

“What? When?! Like 4 years ago? Because I haven’t seen you in ages…” You laughed.

“Yeah, actually.” He said pensively, his brows creasing deep for a few seconds as he thought about it and then he smiled. "It was when we were helping you pack for Connecticut.” He recalled and you smiled.

“Wow…great memory.” You complimented and he shrugged. 

“Guess so!”

“I just have these two if you need help bringing anything else in.” You said as you closed your trunk and watched him reach into the trunk of your mom’s BMW X4. It was her current pride and joy and had been her and your dad’s 36th anniversary splurge.  

“No, it’s just three more bags.” He assure you, “Just close it for me?”

“Yeah, go on.” You assured him and reached up to close the trunk before following behind him, you could hear the commotion inside as you approached the garage door.  And when you walked in you were overpowered by the delicious scent of some sort of breakfast  sweet treat and bacon.

“Look how sweet these men are! They made us brunch!” Your sister, Julie, exclaimed as you walked in.

“Wow!” You smiled as you saw your dad checking on the French toast cooking on a griddle. 

“Y/N!” He exclaimed happily and left his task to hug you tight. He kissed your cheek and you chuckled as he told you that he missed you and was so happy to see you.

“Thanks, dad.” You hummed.

“Need help?” He asked you.

“I got it.” You assured, “Just need to know where to go.” You smiled.

“Harry, give Y/N the tour so we can set everything up!” Your sister cut in.

“Okay, just watch the bacon f’me.” He request as he set the grocery bags down. He then turned to you and grabbed the side of the suitcase handle, “I’ve got this.” He assured you.

“Thanks.” You smiled and he nodded before guiding you towards the living room.

“Let me show you what’s available.” He glanced back and you nodded. You went towards the main entrance and then turned right at the corner of the wall.

“There’s one down here. It’s the door on your left.” He said nodding towards the end of the short hallway and you slipped past him to get a look at the bedroom.

“Why didn’t it get claimed?” You asked Harry.

“Because your parents’ bathroom is on the other side of that wall.” He said and you huffed.

Your father was a notorious YouTube addict. He loved to watch videos about the news and world events but at full volume at all times, it was annoying to say the least.

“Your aunt chose the corner room.” He said and you nodded. 

“I take it you and Julie took the pool house?”

“Yep.” He said and you huffed.

“The bedroom furthest from ours is free too.”

“And why is that one free?”

“Because of the potential for noise, it’s behind the kitchen and shares a wall with the laundry room.”

“God, was it designed as a servant’s quarter?” You scoffed and he chuckled, “What are the other options?”

“Then there’s the room beside it, but it’s a jack-and-jill bathroom with the servant’s quarter room, so there’s no counter space.” He explained and you groaned. “And then the room at the very end has a queen bed and it’s own bathroom-”

“But?” You asked.

“It’s only like 10 feet from the pool house.” He said.

“Oh…” you groaned, “Just keep the sex volume to a minimum, please.” You said with a grimace and he chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Right…” He said sarcastically and you shrugged.

“Just have to put it out there.” 

“Don’t worry, you won’t have to witness any of that.” He emphasized.

“Perfect.” You hummed. He proceeded to guide you back through the kitchen where your family was urging you to hurry so that you could all eat. “I’ve got the door.” You said as you slipped past him and hurried to the end of the narrow hall. 

“Thanks.” He said as he wheeled your suitcase into the bedroom. The natural light was lovely. You looked around while you dropped your duffle bag of shoes onto the ground. 

“Oh yeah, you’ve got a tiny patio.” He said optimistically. 

“Well that’ll come in handy!” You chirped.

“Why’s that?” He asked as he left your suitcase right beside the closet door.

“I smoke a bit before I eat and before bed if I need it.” You explained, “After…everything I’ve been a bit down and it’s impacted my sleep and appetite.” You explained as you started out the small sliding glass door that would lead out to the small patio.

“Sounds like depression…” he said and you sighed.

“Yeah…I see a therapist, don’t worry.” You assured him.

“Yeah?” He asked and you turned and nodded when you saw him waiting expectantly for your answer. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’m not as bad as I was like a month ago. S’why I decided to come but now I’m just nervous about what they’re gonna tell me about it.” You admitted to him and he hummed in understanding. 

Harry had always been extremely easy to talk to. You didn’t talk regularly but would randomly send memes, recipes, OOTD’s, and little check-in’s every now and again. You’d say that you had a  good relationship with him as his sister-in-law. You got along, you had good boundaries, and most importantly, you both wanted what was best for Julie. 

“Well if it helps, your mum reminded everyone to not bring it up over dinner when we got here.”

“Lovely…” you chuckled and he smiled. “And how are you doing?” You asked as you sat on the mattress.

“Well-”

“Harry! Y/N! Hurry up, we’re hungry!” Your sister shouted from the kitchen.

“Rain check.” You said and he nodded once, “Let me wash my hands and I’ll be right out.” You said and he nodded again before heading out of the bedroom.

Thankfully, brunch was going alright. No one had brought up your failed engagement yet, Julie was just talking a lot about an important work project she’d been assigned to for the last several months. She seemed a little flustered as she spoke about the project and Harry seemed a bit annoyed with this topic of conversation. Julie’s work had caused some issues between them in the past when they were dating. She was an overachiever and tended to overcommit herself, leading to her neglecting several other areas of her life. This had likely happened again and if Harry was upset about it, then it was probably pretty bad because it took a lot for him to be upset to the point that he’d externalize it. Other than that little bit of tension, everything had gone well and you were now digging through your suitcase for the bathing suit you were certain you had packed. After giving up on trying to keep everything folded, you just dumped the contents out onto the bed and huffed when you realized that you had not actually packed the swimming suit.

“Julie, do you have a bathing suit I can borrow? I forgot to pack mine!” You called from the door to the back yard. 

“Yeah, but don’t grab my bikinis! Grab the other one.” She instructed.

“Is it ugly?” You asked.

“No, but it’s my least favorite of the two.” She said with a slightly apologetic smile from the jacuzzi.

“Okay.” You assured her.

“It should be in the top left drawer.” She called to you and you nodded, “Just go in through the main door, not the sliding doors. I think Harry’s napping!” She informed you and you gave her a thumbs up as you made your way out into the backyard and to the pool house. You quietly opened up the door and slipped inside, you heard the shower running and immediately felt a little embarrassed for intruding but then you heard something else… A gravelly grunt in a consistently rhythmic interval. You had to get out now! But then you heard him speak.

“Fuck, baby… you’re so fucking good.” You heard him mutter and then thought that maybe he’d snuck some bitch in! With rage building in your body, your swiftly but quietly made your way over to the bathroom door that was only half closed and you peeked in only to see Harry alone in the shower. He was facing the shower head so that thankfully saved you the embarrassment of seeing all of him.

You felt relief upon confirming that he was alone but then the realization set in that he was getting himself off. You knew it was wrong to stay but still allowed yourself one more moment to ogle him. Your eyes raked across the broad expanse of his shoulders and then moved on to admire his gorgeous back. He had muscle outlines in places you’d never seen on another person before and his ass was tight and perky. As your gaze traveled down, you honed in on his thick thighs and it made you bite your lower lip. You briefly thought about how it might feel to sit on his lap. And then you felt your stomach sink as you realized that you were doing something really fucked up right now. The feeling sobered up your lust-hazed mind and you blinked away the imagine of his dripping wet, naked body from your memory.

  “Fuuuck…Fuck!” he groaned and your heart stopped as your eyes flew back over to his frame. You could see his right arm moved back and forth with the pace of his pumping fist over his cock and seconds later he was gasping for air as he came undone. 

You took a few steps back, still in complete disbelief at what you had just witnessed. You could feel your walls pulsing steadily with arousal. You needed to get what you needed and get out! You dashed to the dresser and pulled open the drawer your sister instructed and saw her two weeks worth of underwear and work-out clothes in there. Just then you heard the shower shut off. Your heart started pounding hard as you started digging through the drawer frantically and you hadn’t found anything! Then the door creaked open. You pulled open the next drawer down and saw an array of tops and pants and you groaned quietly and slammed it closed in frustration.

“Jules?” You heard Harry’s voice call out and you felt your entire world start to crumble. You were trying to speak up but no words were able to come out of your mouth. You started to back away but right before you made it around the corner to the main entrance you heard Harry sigh, “Y/N, shit…”

You twirled around to see him half naked, bottom half wrapped in a towel. You were so terrified in that moment. Getting pulverized by a meteor would be the best outcome right about now.

“D-did you-”

“Yeah.” You confirmed quietly before he could finish his question. 

“Fuck…look ummm, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” He apologized, “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking…” he shook his head nervously, “It’s a fucking family holiday.” He muttered and you sighed.

“No, I get it! You thought you were alone, it’s fine. Let’s just forget it.” You reassured.

“I’m sorry.” he apologized once more and you offered a small, sympathetic smile.

“I know.”

“What are you even doing in here?” He asked.

“Julie’s letting me borrow a bathing suit but I can’t find them.” You explained.

“Oh, she put those all the way at the bottom drawer with all her cover ups.” He informed and you huffed.

“Her stupid ass told me they were in the top drawer.” You mumbled and he chuckled as you headed over and opened the drawer Harry had said and sure enough, there were the extra bathing suits. 

You reached for the bathing suit that she was obviously letting you borrow. It was obvious because it was a rust brown color and not some cute little pattern. It was a one-shouldered, cutout one piece bathing suit with a ribbed textured fabric that you knew you’d love gliding your freshly done nails over just to feel them slightly catch over each little ridge. You thought it was actually quite cute, but could see how your sister wouldn’t really like it as much as she initially thought. 

“Well I’ll uhhh, get out of here. S-sorry again for ummm…eaves dropping.” You said as you fluttered your gaze away from his nervously. Harry chuckled a bit and you glanced to him again, happy that he had taken it lightly.

“Sorry for the literal sexual harassment!” He said with a painfully embarrassed expression on his face.

“If anyone here harassed anybody, it was me! Coming into an obviously…intimate moment and sneaking a peek!” You said to him comfortingly.

“Wait. You watched?!” He asked through a disbelieving laugh, “You just finished saying it was an 'eaves drop’!” He exclaimed and you groaned in embarrassment as you gave yourself up.

“I’m sorry!” You cried in embarrassment.

“Don’t be.” He chuckled with a careless shrug and you frowned a bit, “Not like that! I mean that you shouldn’t feel sorry f-for coming into this. I shouldn’t have been…you know? Especially with the door open. Like anyone could’ve come in, you know?” 

“Sounds like we both fucked up a pretty equal amount.” You said and he nodded in agreement, “Let’s just… pretend that you were napping like everyone thinks you are and that I just grabbed what I needed and hurried out. Cool?” You asked and he nodded.

“Cool.”

“Alright, see you out there.”

“Yeah.” He said before you rushed out quickly. 

“Y/N, can you wake H up? Tell him to join us!” Your sister called out and you nodded and opened the door back up and headed inside to find Harry with his face in his hands,

“She wants you out there.” You said and he nodded.

“I heard.” He said and you could hear that he was crying.

“Hey, what’s the matter? I told you that we’re good!” You assured him with a deep frown and he exhaled and shook his head.

“It’s nothing to do with you, I promise. Just go.” He asserted.

“No, no, no… if it’s nothing to do with me, then what is it?” You pressed and he sighed.

“Look Y/N, I just need some space, okay? Please get out.” He resisted and you nodded.

“Okay. Just ummm, get out there.” You said and he nodded again before you left. 

You assured your sister that Harry was awake but you swore that it felt like an out of body experience. You could feel the steady beat of your heart at the base of your throat. You were also extremely turned on and you were concerned that the image of Harry’s solo session was practically burned into your longterm memory. The way he sounded and the things he said…they were on a loop in your brain but doing anything about it felt wrong. And as you dressed down you started to wonder if he had gone as far as carrying out any fantasies he had involving other people. Maybe he felt guilty for being caught but also for other things he had done? You didn’t want your mind to wander too far so you just took a deep breath and headed outside with everyone else. 

When Harry joined in he just stayed on one of the lounges that was built into the pool, which was unusual for him. He was typically very active and playful but he had his headphones in and a book about social policy in hand. You couldn’t see his eyes through his sunglasses but when you attempted to, he glanced away, meaning you had successfully made eye contact with him somehow. 

“Is Harry alright? He seems…off?” You said to your sister and she nodded.

“Yeah, he’s fine. He’s just a little moody over a disagreement we had about something.” She said and you hummed.

“Are you alright?” You asked next. Trying to fish out more information.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s him who has the issue.” She said with a slight scoff and you hummed. “Are you fine?” She asked and you shrugged.

“So-so.” You said and she hummed.

“I know that you’re sad about this right now but trust me, there’s nothing worse than committing your life to the wrong person.” She said and you frowned before glancing back to her.

“Are you just saying that or speaking from experience?” 

“From experience! I married a really wonderful man!” She said a bit defensively, “That’s how I know I made a great decision. There were other men that I was so infatuated with but were not able to give me what I wanted or needed. Like-”

“We don’t have to say his name.” You cut in and she nodded.

“Harry is…the ideal partner.” Julie said with a shrug. “And you know, I never told you this, but he stepped up at the 11th hour. I felt like maybe I was never going to get married because of how much I work and all but he…he understands and supports me.” She said and you nodded.

“That’s really good.” You offered a small smile and she nodded.

“Now, what is taking Claudia so long? She’s supposedly making us all some Palomas.” She said as she turned towards the main house to try and get a look inside.

“She wasn’t in the kitchen when I came out. Maybe she’s in the bathroom?” You said and she hummed. But then you started thinking about the bathroom and Harry in the bathroom having a steamy shower. Your face started to heat with a blush and you just fanned at your face for a moment. 

“It’s wild that it’s basically 80 degrees in December isn’t it?” She asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, but it’s nicer than being snowed in.” You said, “I did miss the weather the most.” You said, “I’m glad to be back.”

“Missed that more than us?” Your sister asked with a small smile.

“You know what I mean…” you mumbled and she smirked.

“We’re glad you’re back too.” She said and you smiled.

“Thanks.” You hummed.

Day Two: 

When you woke up the following morning it was because the door to the pool house closed loudly. You sighed and rubbed your eyes before grabbing your phone to look at the time. It was barely 6:30 on Sunday morning and you were a little annoyed that your sleep time had been cut short. You were surprised by how easily you had been able to fall asleep and most importantly, you had stayed asleep through the whole night. 

You laid there for a few minutes, staring at the designs of your ceiling from the light peeking through the blocks used to section off your little patio. You had committed to morning walks as part of your healing journey and intended on taking one later on but as you considered how much hotter it could get later on you decided to just wash up and go now, you were up anyway.

The neighborhood this AirBnb was in was gated and it only kept these vacation homes. You did see a few of them were rented out but most of them were desolate. When you finally started to circle back around you saw Julie walking down the corner of the street before your house. She walked down to the first house she encounter and then twirled around. When you were close enough to be within her line of sight you raised your hand to wave and she looked a bit startled at first and then put on a smile as she spoke quickly and waved with her other hand as she made her way back towards the corner of the side street. She hung up the phone as you crossed the street to reach her.

“Morning.” You greeted.

“Good morning.” She responded quickly.

“You didn’t have to hang up your call. I’m desperate to get back and have a shower. It’s already warming up.” You said.

“It’s fine…I shouldn’t have even been on the call while we’re here.” She explained.

“Work?” You asked and she hummed.

“Well, pick up where you left off.” you assured her.

“Thanks. I won’t be long.”

“Of course. See you back there.”

“Yeah, see ya’.” Julie hummed and you hurried past the next two houses until your reached your rental.

When you made it inside, much to your surprise, Harry was already in the kitchen, he seemed upset from how quiet he was as he cut up some fruits silently.

“Good morning.” You greeted him.

“Hey.” He responded as he spared you a glance before continuing with his task. “Did you run into your sister by any chance?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, she’s still on her call.”  You said cooly and he glanced up at you.

“Was she?” Harry asked and you nodded.

“You know, I get that she’s a workaholic and all but I think you need to ease up on her about that. I know it was an issue before but I mean, you know how she was with this stuff from the start. Like, I get why you’d be upset when she does work stuff while on vacation, but it’s just who she is, you know? It’d almost be expected, I’d say.” You explained.

“Guess you’re right.” He mumbled as he continued doing what he was doing.

“Exactly. So stop brooding over things you have no control over. You’re just going to spoil your own time.” You said.

“Okay… whatever.” He mumbled and you smiled and playfully punched his arm as you walked by and headed towards your room to get showered. 

***********

Harry was already in a bad mood and after what you’d mentioned to him, he was even more upset. There was something that had been weighing on his chest for the last several months. Something that he had hoped to talk to you about but with everything going on with your ex, he didn’t want to overburden you with his issues with Julie. 

It was Valentine’s Day when he got an anonymous call from a private number saying that Julie was cheating on him, it had been left as a voicemail since he did not pick up the call. But even then, the voice had like an automated filter over it, so he paid no mind to it. But then, a few weeks later he’d picked up her phone because she kept receiving tons of texts and they were from a guy, a guy that he already knew. 

Joseph was a friend of Julie’s from grad school who had landed the same internship site as her and they ended up getting hired at the same hospital in the accounting department. Apparently, they’d had a friends with benefits things going for a while before she started dating Harry. When he had asked if she had feelings for Joseph she admitted that while she liked him a bit more than she ought to, she knew that he would never commit to her, he wasn’t that kind of guy. And she assured Harry that she liked him a lot more. More enough to end things with Joe so that they could give it an honest try. It had been about five or six months of them being together when he caught her making out with Joe at a co-workers’s wedding. He ended things on the spot because he knew that there was history there. But when Julie came to him after a few days later, pleading and begging for forgiveness, the love he had developed for her broke him down and he accepted her apology. She promised that it would never ever happen again and he believed her. And to his knowledge, it hadn’t happened until he discovered that it had happened again. By the looks of it, it had been happening for nearly six months.

Of course, he confronted Julie about it and once again, she promised she’d stop but this time, he insisted they go to couples counseling to fix whatever was causing her to cheat and that she would need to allow him to look through her phone when he felt suspicious of her. Not forever, but just until he was able to trust her again. But during that time she’d also accepted a new job for a development firm, meaning no more Joe at work. So the counseling had been deprioritized by them both and whenever he’d ask to look through her phone it was never an issue and she always complied, so this made him feel even more trust towards her. And over the last few months he’d felt suspicious over a work trip she went on but found nothing and now she had been assigned to doing the budgeting and accounting for a big new project with a client from France which had her working longer or strange hours. But sometimes her stories wouldn’t add up. So last month when she told him she was working late he showed up at her office before the end of the day and sure enough, she left right on time but drove to the nearest suburb where he saw her meet up with Joe. It was happening again and he was just collecting evidence this time around. He knew that this phone call wasn’t for work, it was Joseph. 

All day Harry was brooding, waiting for the opportune moment to confront her. Eventually, he found the alone time and he was looking in her eyes asking her to please just be honest with him.

“Harry, you’re acting insane!” Julie threw her hands up in defeat as she finally exploded.

“I’m not! I know what you’ve been doing!” He shouted.

“What?! You’ve seen my phone every time you’ve asked, there hasn’t been anything.” She insisted.

“I followed you one night, after you said you were working late.” He said and he saw her   starting to tense in rage.

“What the fuck, Harry?! How could you do that to me?” She shouted.

“Because I don’t fucking trust you!” He shouted back, “I cannot trust you.” He emphasized and she shook her head. “Please, don’t try to fucking gaslight me. Just say it. Say it.” 

“Harry…”

“I need to know. If you even have a shred of love or respect for me, you need to be honest.” He begged and she sighed.

“Fine…I’ve been seeing him again.” Julie admitted and Harry nodded with a sad smile on his face. His gaze drifted past her and focused onto the wall across from him as he just let the reality sink in. 

“How long?” He asked monotonously.

“Just a few months.” She said. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck…” he sighed sadly.

**********

Your day was slowly going to shit. After you showered you picked up your phone and when you saw the memory it prompted you to view, you felt your heart sink. It was from your last Valentine’s day. That led you down memory lane and all day you were thinking about your failed relationship in some way or another. After lunch your parents and aunt went out to some market and you decided to just take a nap. You were startled awake a couple hours later because your phone started ringing. You huffed at the spammer who called and settled into the silence. That’s when you heard the shouting from the pool house. You sat up as it quieted it down for a few seconds before your sister was shouting louder than before. You still couldn’t make out what was being said but you hurried out of bed and decided to go break it up. You rushed out through your patio and hurried to the sliding doors, getting ready to knock when you heard Harry shouting angrily…

“I want to get divorced because you keep cheating on me!” There was silence and once again you found yourself overstaying your welcome to listen in. “I’m not just saying it like it’s nothing. Yes, I realize that it’s a serious step to take but this has gone on for long enough, Julie. I’m not going to continue to be committed to you when you’re not committed to me in the same way.” He said more calmly. When your sister started to cry you backed away and hurried back to your bedroom.

You were in complete shock that your sister was cheating on Harry. It seemed like the least likely scenario to ever happen to them. Especially for that to be something that your sister did! It didn’t make any sense! Even the day before, she had told you that Harry was the best decision she had ever made. However, that would explain why Harry was acting strange. If he already had suspicions and then you mentioned she was outside taking a call, you could see how his mind would go in that direction. More so when it was something that had happened before. You also felt really guilty now because you had quite literally just disappeared from everyone’s lives because of your own issues without really thinking that they might be going through their own challenges. To be fair, your sister didn’t ever like to show any vulnerability, so you’d never know that something was actually wrong unless you caught her at the perfect moment, but still. You could’ve at least asked her or even Harry! 

“We’re back!” You heard your aunt announce as soon as you’d made it back into your bedroom. Do prevent them from hurrying off to find Julie and Harry you hurried out of the room.

“How was it?” You asked your aunt and parents as they congregated in the kitchen.

“It was nice!” She smiled and then your mom and aunt proceeded to show you the little knick knacks they had picked up at the outdoor market. 

“We should get started on dinner. Can you get your sister and Harry, they were going to be in charge of dinner tonight.” Your mother informed and you nodded and made your way over to the pool house. 

Thankfully, they weren’t shouting anymore, but when you knocked and Harry opened the door you felt the tension escaping from the room in gargantuan waves. While his eyes were a little blood shot he looked relieved to see you.

“Ummm, they said you guys were in charge of dinner tonight?” You informed.

“Right…ummm, Julie’s got a bad headache so she’s gonna try and sleep it off for a bit. Do you mind helping me?” He asked you.

“Not at all.” You assured.

“Thanks. I’ll be over there in a bit.” He said and you nodded and hurried back inside.

There was almost an unspoken rule that you were not to cook for your family except on their birthdays if they asked or on a holiday. You did it for a living, you were a private chef, so you cooked for people every single day for hours and hours. But this time, you were inclined to make an exception to stand in for Julie. While everyone else got showered and ready for dinner, you and Harry were in there preparing everyone’s meal. You were melting the butter down and getting it all aromatic with the rosemary and garlic while the filets marinated in their dry rub of seasoning that Harry had mixed up earlier. He had moved on to peeling potatoes he had boiled earlier in they day as well and he seemed to be very entranced with his task. You kept stealing glances of him to ensure he was okay and were dying to ask him if he was but didn’t want to risk upsetting him for eaves dropping once again.

“What’s wrong?” He asked without looking away from the final potato he was peeling and you sighed.

“I…heard you guys fighting.” You admitted and he glanced up quickly.

“Oh…all of it?” He asked and you shrugged.

“Basically and well, the most…important bit.” You confessed and he sighed. “I’m sorry. I was profanely just going to try and deescalate the argument because it was really heated. I’m so sorry!” You apologized.

“It’s alright. I’m glad that someone else knows now. I’ve been carrying this around for months at this point.” He explained and you frowned upon hearing this.

“I’m so sorry, Harry. Are you alright?”

“I will be once your sister agrees to a divorce.” He explained lowly.

“Why won’t she?” You asked and he shrugged.

“We can talk more about this later if that’s alright with you? I just ummm…I don’t want to risk someone else coming out and hearing this.” He explained.

“Oh, of course!” You assured him and he nodded before you just got back to your respective tasks. 

Harry was very in his head and it made you feel sad for him because he genuinely looked concerned and sad. When you finished setting the rest of the vegetable to steam you excused yourself to get cleaned up for dinner. He thanked you for your help and let you know that he’d cook the steaks once everyone was at the table so that they could be cooked how each person preferred. 

Once dinner came around Julie was acting completely fine. She looked extremely put together and refreshed. Her ability to just pretend like everything was fine made you feel a bit upset at her. What more could she be hiding behind that nonchalant facade? You were trying your best not to judge her too harshly but surface level you saw no reason for why she would cheat on Harry. A small and very petty part of you was satisfied that your sister’s life was not as perfect as she made it out to be, but you still felt sad for her and for Harry.

After dinner you all decided on watching a movie because Harry and Julie were going to go “get drinks”. They probably just needed to go somewhere private to yell at each other. Even after you headed to your bedroom after the movie, you waited up to see if you’d hear them come back or if Harry would try and talk to you. But before you knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Day Three:

You suddenly woke up from your sleep and felt in real time as your slumber started escaping you immediately. You sighed because it was just your luck that after having one really good night of sleep the insomnia would kick in. You were laying in bed for a few minutes scrolling through your Calm app in order to find some sort of relaxing sounds or even just do a meditation, but then you heard some foot steps and then the slight squeak of a door down the hall before you heard it being shut very gently. After a few moments, your phone lit up with an incoming text from Harry asking if you were struggling to sleep to which you replied “Yes.” And moments later he was peeking into your room. You glanced over to him and offered a sympathetic look.

“Are you alright?” You whispered your question and he nodded as he quietly walked in.

“Just…sad, tired, angry…” he mumbled as he sat at the edge of your bed.

“We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want.” You reminded him.

“Thanks.” He hummed, “Wanna get my mind off of it.” He exhaled.

“Do you wanna watch TV or something?” You asked.

“Actually, I have a collection of memes that I wanted to share with you but wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to when you had asked for space and I’ve been saving them this whole time! I need to show you.” He said and you found yourself smiling from ear to ear. 

“I would love nothing more than for you to show me that treasure trove.” You assured him and he nearly squealed before he hurried out of the room to get his phone.

When Harry returned it was with the blanket from his new bedroom and he sat across from you, criss-cross style, and you mirrored his position as you waited eagerly for the memes. Image after image and clip after clip you were nonstop laughing and hyperventilating into a pillow. If there was one thing you appreciated about Harry the most, it was his sense of humor. You were both into very stupid humor about banal things. It often irritated your sister because you two would make jokes out of the most random things, everything had the potential to be unserious when you were around each other.

“Oh god…those were soooo good!” You laughed breathily. You were struggling to keep it quiet and Harry was very pleased with himself.

“I knew you’d appreciate them.” He smiled as he set his phone down on the bed. He suddenly noticed that you had gone quiet. So he looked over at you and saw you slightly smiling. “What is it?” He asked curiously and your gaze flickered up to his.

“Nothing, I just…I haven’t felt joy like that in a long time. It feels really great to laugh. Like really laugh. You know?” You asked and then glanced away when you realized how vulnerable you’d just been. You suddenly wanted to throw up.

“Hey…” he said as he gently squeezed your knee and you glanced up to him again, “I do know.” He affirmed sincerely before pulling his hand away. When he pulled his hand back you missed the warmth of it.

“Why don’t you leave her?” You asked him of your sister.

“I’m scared.” He said simply and you nodded in understanding.

“What happened with…?” Harry trailed off before speaking your exe’s name.

“They just came in one day saying they had doubts and were feeling unready to take the next step and that was that.” You shrugged.

“I’m sorry.” He frowned.

“I’m not…like it’s been really hard but I’d rather this than for them to feel obligated to go through with it and then we’re both miserable until someone has the guts to do something about it.” You explained and then frowned, “Sorry, I didn’t mean that as a dig to you. I think that realistically I would cling to whatever I could…it’s my fear that makes me pretend that I’m callous.” You explained.

“Wow…Therapy is working wonders for you.” he said with a grin and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut the fuck up…”

“I’m not saying it to tease you! I’m happy that you’re getting to know yourself! And to know your worth and your vulnerabilities. It’s admirable.” He said and you smiled softly. 

“Thanks.” You hummed and he nodded. “Are you in therapy?”

“No. We did counseling together for a bit, Jules and I. But it didn’t really help. She was too busy with work to do the therapeutic work.” He explained and you hummed in understanding. “I’m really glad you decided to come for this.” Harry added after a few moments of silence between you two. 

“Well, thanks. I’m not regretting it yet…” you said with a soft smile.

“A win is a win.” He chuckled and you nodded.

“Exactly.” You hummed.

“Well, I’m going to try and let you sleep. If you need anything ummm, I’m going to be staying in the next room over.”

“For the rest of the time?” You asked and he nodded.

“It’s that bad.” He explained lowly and you nodded in understanding.

“Well, I’m really sorry that everything’s going to shit right now.”

“Thank you. And thanks for holding space for me or whatever they say.” He smiled as he clambered off of your bed, “At least we don’t have to deal with this alone.” 

“Right.” You smiled.

“Get some sleep. We have plans tomorrow.” He said and you groaned and let yourself fall against your pillows. You heard Harry snigger a bit as your door closed quietly.

Day Four:

Despite Harry’s warning to get some rest and your efforts to do just that, you’d had maybe another hour, if that, after he’d gone. At 8am sharp you heard movement in the kitchen and then some knocks at your door.

“Yeah?” You called out and the door creaked open and you saw your mom peek in.

“Hi, hijita. We have plans for today, will you join us?” She asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go.” You assured her and she smiled.

“Bien. We’re leaving at 9:30.” She informed and you nodded in understand before she left. 

After lazing around for a few more minutes you took a quick body shower before getting on some light make up. You got dressed and then headed out to get something to eat with everyone. You greeted your dad and aunt as they helped your mom with breakfast. You were making small talk with them as you moved around them to prepare yourself a cup of coffee.

“Harry! Good morning!” Your aunt exclaimed energetically and you glanced back to see Harry coming in through the sliding doors.

“Morning, everyone!” He greeted with a smile. He was portraying high energy but he still looked tired.  His eyes then met yours and lingered for a moment before you got a little nervous and turned back around to finish making your coffee.

“Julie is awake, right?” Your dad asked and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, but actually, she said she’s feeling bad again and is going to stay behind and rest.” He explained.

“By herself?” Your aunt asked and Harry shrugged.

“I told her I’d stay but she insisted we all go. I think she just needs some alone time.” He explained. “But I think she’d appreciate if we check on her before we go.” He said and your mom nodded.

Sure enough, even when your mother had gone over to check on her, Julie declined going on the planned family outing and declined your mom staying to look after her since she was the one who had planned these excursions. So your aunt offered to stay with Julie because was afraid of heights and didn’t want to go on the tram and expressed that she also had no interest in the zoo, unsurprisingly, your sister accepted. So once that was settled the rest of you packed into your parents’ car. You buckled up and then glanced over to Harry who offered a half-smile to you before pulling out his phone. Moments later your phone buzzed and you saw it was a text from him.

Harry: The guy your sister is seeing came here yesterday to find her.

You glanced over to him with a frown and he smiled slightly.

Y/N: Is that why she stayed behind?

Harry: Yeah. I think she was hoping to get some alone time to see him. She didn’t know he was going to drive out. I think that’s what he was telling her when you saw her on the phone.

Y/N: Fuck. Well, lets just have fun today. I’m sure we’ll be able to get our minds off of things!

Harry: I think so too:)

The zoo had been pretty cool. Your mom had been dying to feed the giraffes so when your reservation time came up she was the first one to approach the animals. In truth, it was a very awesome experience. It was certainly something you never thought you’d do in your life, but you were so happy that you experienced it. After a stop for lunch you guys were on your way to the aerial tramway. You were looking forward to seeing the valley from up there. The drive up was beautiful and soon enough you were getting on the bus that would take you to the tram. 

“Wow…” you whispered to yourself in awe as you slowly went past the tree line and saw the crazy formations of rocks littering the mountainside. Your mom and dad were cozied up beside each other on the other side of the tram. The slow rotation of the inside floor allowed you to see all of your surroundings. But then your attention veered from the scenery as Harry’s familiar scent invaded your personal space. You glanced to your side and there he was, standing right beside you. He looked a little apprehensive.

“Sorry for the proximity. Heights make me a little nervous and I get a little vertigo if I look down. I wasn’t about to go brush up against either of your parents for comfort, you know?” He explained lowly and you giggled.

“Yeah, I get that.” 

“Thanks.” He hummed as he scooted just a bit closer. Close enough that his arm was brushing against yours. “You seem to be enjoying this.”

“I am.” You smiled.

“You don’t worry that the cable might snap or something and we all just… you know?” He asked and you turned to him with a furrowed brow.

“Jesus…that’s fucking dark…” You scoffed through a laugh and he chuckled a bit.

“It’s a real anxious thought I have!” He defended.

“I’m not judging. Believe me, I know about dark.” You said as the smile faded from your lips.

“I didn’t mean to dampen the mood.” He said when he felt your mood shift.

“It’s alright, it wasn’t you. It was my brain. It’ll pass.” You assured him with a small smile. 

You saw Harry reach for the handrail and squeeze around it and glance up to see him squeeze his eyes closed for a moment.

“You alright?” You asked and he nodded.

“Yeah, I just ummm looked down for a second there.” He explained and then opened his eyes again. “I just wanted to see the view is breathtaking.” He said as he just kept his eye line level as he glanced around. 

“It is. But I’m sure it doesn’t help that this thing is rotating.” You said and he groaned.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbled through a smile.

“Well, we’re almost to the top.” You reassured him.

“Thank fuck.” He hummed lowly. “Your mom picked a good time, we’re gonna get to see the sunset from the top.” He said.

“Do you wish my sister were here?” You asked and he shrugged.

“Yes and no.” he said, “Yes, because I’d have someone’s hand to hold on this tram. And no, because I know she’d rather be here with someone else.” He said and you frowned. It was instinctive when you reached out and placed your hand over his on the rail. You gave him a reassuring squeeze before letting go and sliding it back in front of your own body. Your grip tightened as a nervous feeling made your stomach feel like it was swirling.

“Sorry.” You said quickly as your eyes met his.

“Don’t be.” He assured you and moments later you felt the warmth of his hand right beside yours as he closed the gap on the railing between your hands. You glanced down at the sides of your hands pressed together and then up at him. His eyes were already prepared to meet your gaze and when they did, you felt that swirling in your tummy again. Those butterflies starting to stir awake. “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.” He assured and you nodded and quickly looked away.

Were you? In a way, yes, you wanted to comfort him because he too was going through a hardship. But at the same time you felt nervous about it. You couldn’t say that you didn’t find Harry attractive or charming. You were afraid that you were suddenly noticing this more than usual because of your current romantic turmoil. His immediate instinct to check in on you, to notice and care about your feelings. To be vulnerable with you and provide you the safety to be able to do the same. And then what you walked in on, on that first day at the house…that was definitely a contributing factor to why you were suddenly more aware of him as a person. As a man…

You were more than grateful when the tram ride came to an end just seconds later. You quickly got out and he followed behind you until you went up to the edge of the observation deck, that was just a little too out of his comfort zone. You put your hands on the railing and just took a slow but shaky inhale. It was significantly colder at this peak of the mountain so it kind of burned your throat to breathe that deeply but that sobered up your mind that was all fuzzy from Harry’s scent and words and existence in general. Your heard your mother approaching with your dad following behind, telling her to slow down.

“Are you okay?” She asked you as she came up beside you and you nodded and smiled.

“Yeah, I was just admiring the view. It’s incredible. Thank you for planning this.” You said to her with a smile before turning back to see the valley before you. 

The sun was setting beautifully and despite the overarching theme of tragedy in your life for the last several months, in that very moment you realized how insignificant you and your problems were in the grand scheme of things. Things could be much worse. You had what you needed; your life, your health, your family and friends. After getting a few pictures taken with your parents by Harry from a comfortable distance you were all heading inside to the restaurant  for your dinner reservation. 

You were doing what you could to avoid having to focus too much of your attention on Harry but it was difficult. He was practically spellbinding. He was charming and funny and a gesticulative story teller so it was hard to not engage with him. But every time you looked in his eyes there they were again, those pesky little butterflies, some good and other not so good. They were a reminder that despite the excitement of being with someone that you got along with after so much time alone, you weren’t ready. The proof was in the fact that you were fighting off a crush on your brother in law! How much more twisted and pathetic could a person be? You were on your second cocktail by the time the appetizer showed up and your lack of appetite throughout the day was starting to pay off. You had gotten to the point where your lips felt tingly and your worries were soon to float away. 

Making eye contact with Harry wasn’t as scary any more. Because it was just the four of you, you could get away with constantly looking at each other. You weren’t even being flirtatious about it, you were just admiring him. You admired how good he was at masking everything. All of the hurt he was in. All of the anger and disappointment that you knew were weighing over him like a ton of bricks. 

Your phone chiming loudly from your purse broke you out of your spell of admiration. And then it went off again. And again. And again. And again. Your family and the patrons at the neighboring tables all honed in on you as you frantically reached for your purse while giving apologetic glances to the strangers. 

“Sorry.” You muttered to your family with a smile. You had a strict “no phones allowed” rule when eating out together. You had every intention of just putting it on silent and just checking the texts later, you were just really enjoying yourself! But when you saw your ex’s name on the screen, the rose tinted haze that you’d been seeing things with for the past fifteen minutes instantly vanished. Your stomach did a nasty flip that had you wishing you’d slowed down. You needed to open your phone to see what they said, not being able to see it had your anxiety through the roof. Then your phone pinged again with a sixth message and you just stood up and hurried out to the viewing deck. 

*** Harry’s POV ***

Harry could not stop thinking about you. Admittedly, the thoughts had started when he saw your profile on a dating app. Not on his phone, on a friend’s phone, he recognized her from his and Julie’s wedding party and had asked if it really was her. He looked through it and was smiling by the end of it. If he ever ran into your ex he would kick their ass for leaving you hanging like that. He had truly hoped that you would come for Christmas and was so happy that you had in fact shown up.

You were gorgeous, you’d always been. And maybe it was because of his emotional distance from Julie over the last several months that he just decided to lean into the attraction he felt towards you. Admittedly, it was stupid of him to have a wank without fully closing the bathroom door but he couldn’t help but be a little thrilled that you had crashed it. To him it felt like this little secret you shared now had you on a new level of comfort and trust. 

Today, when you touched his hand on the tram he felt that long forgotten zap of excitement electrifying him. Julie wanted nothing to do with him, she was in love with another man for their entire relationship, so he didn’t feel too bad of indulging in a little betrayal himself. He could see that you viewed him in another way too but you were fighting it. He saw how it scared you and quite frankly, it scared him too. But feeling the things and actually doing something about were two very different things. In this situation there was a double safety. His flirting was safe because he wouldn’t do more than that and your acceptance of his minor flirtations was also safe because he knew that you wouldn’t act on it. Once you were a little more loose from your drinks your fear eluded you and he was very much enjoying that and then your phone interrupted everything. It had been nearly ten minutes since you’d left with your phone and he and your parents were feeling a little worried. The food would come any minute and 

“I think it’s time I go check on her. Make sure she’s okay.” Harry said. Your dad nodded and he rushed out onto the viewing deck. He looked around and then heard your voice from somewhere. He glanced up and saw that there was another level. He hurried up and then heard you speaking angrily into your phone before hanging up. You were standing right up against the railing, it was freezing outside so there wasn’t anyone up there. He quietly made his way over but the closer he got to the railing the harder his heart would pound. He hesitated but the sound of you sobbing gave him the courage to walk the rest of the distance to you. 

*** Y/N’s POV ***

“How fucking dare you!? You can’t just call me and tell me that after everything I endured! You don’t deserve me.” You seethed as hot tears ran down your face. You were practically trembling from how angry you felt. “Fuck you, Ash! Never, ever fucking call me again! Bye!” You shouted before hanging up and blocking the number. Your chest was heaving from how hard you were breathing. And when the adrenaline wore off you felt so fucking heavy and just started to sob quietly. You were feeling like you’d made a huge mistake and were just about to unblock the number when you heard your name.

“Y/N?” Harry called and you gasped as you whipped around quickly. Your fright dispersed when you saw his familiar frame approaching.

“It was Ash.” You explained as he stopped before you.“Just drunk and trying to get me back after all this time…The fucking gall to ask if we can start over!” you exclaimed angrily through your tears. Your head was shaking in disbelief.

“Jesus.” He sighed and you sniffled and nodded. 

“Right? Like what the fuck?!” You scoffed and then exhaled sharply. He saw you shivering and pulled off his jacket to drape over you. “You don’t have to. It’s freezing up here.” You assured him.

“I’m alright.” He reassured you. “C’mere.” He instructed and he opened his arms for you. You easily stepped forward into his space to allow him to hug you, “Fuck that loser. Doesn’t deserve you.” He comforted you.

“I know.” You said quietly as you allowed your head to lay against his chest.

“Good.” He said supportively as he slowly rubbed over your back. When he looked up he realized that he was on the ledge of of the viewing deck and the view was completely breathtaking. It was even more magical now that the sun was nearly gone. The lights from the cities in the valley were shimmering enticingly in the distance. “Look how beautiful that is.” He said to you and you moved your head to look ahead of you and hummed. “Makes me wish I could fly.” He said lowly and you smiled.

“It really does…” you agreed. “I’m surprised you came up to the edge.” You added teasingly. He smiled and squeezed you just a bit.

“I needed to make sure you were okay.” He explained softly and you slowly pulled away.

“Thank you.” You expressed as you glanced up at him.

“Of course.” He smiled at you.

“It’s just… hard to talk about all of this with my family because they start to interject and give their opinions on what could’ve been done better and ugh…sometimes people are just shitty, you know? Regardless of what you do, nothing will change that!” You huffed in exasperation. Just thinking about the typical responses they would give you had you feeling a little heated. “Anyway…” you mumbled with a slightly flustered smile from your little outburst, but Harry was just smirking at you. It made your heart start pounding harder as you held the eye contact between you two for a few seconds. “We should get back inside.” 

“Yeah, the food was just about to come.” He informed and you nodded and followed him back into the building.

The food and the company were both excellent. You were more than grateful that your parents didn’t try and question you about anything. You were huddled up against your parents for the tram ride down because it was freezing cold, though you really wanted to be huddled up against Harry. You knew that he’d allow it and that made you feel really pleased with yourself. The whole way back to the Airbnb you two were texting nonstop, exchanging glances every now and again, to the point where the tension was building. You weren’t even talking about anything inappropriate, it was just the energy of the quick closeness that had grown between you two. Upon arriving at the house Harry went and “checked on Julie”, which really was to shower and get ready for bed before heading to the main house to sleep. You expected to hear them argue or something but there was complete silence. 

You plopped onto the center of the bed and pulled out your phone to waste time on Instagram and saw that your sister had recently posted a story. When you clicked on it you saw three cocktails clinking, your aunt was tagged and you rolled your eyes in annoyance. Seconds later Harry texted you to tell you that she was gone and you told him to check instagram and didn’t hear back for a while until there were soft knocks on your door. By then you were cuddled up in bed, propped up on the pillows, and watching Home Alone on the TV. 

“Come in!” You spoke towards the door and when it creaked open you saw it was Harry.

“Would you mind some company?” He asked and you smiled.

“Absolutely not.” You assured and he hurried in, closing the door behind him before sliding into the empty side of the bed. As he was getting comfy he yelped when his foot accidentally touched yours.

“Jesus! So fucking cold!” He chuckled.

“Feel my hands.” You said as you reached over blindly because he was under the covers after all. Your hand found his and he gasped.

“Like a fucking corpse…” you chuckled and glanced at him briefly before turning back to the TV.  But soon your attention was drawn back to Harry as brought your hand up to his mouth and gently blew his warmth breath over your open palm and then clasping it between his hands. “Giving you some warmth.” He explained, “Is that okay?” He asked and you nodded silently. 

There it was again, that tension, building up some more. And like air in a balloon, it could only hold so much before it had to burst. His eyes glanced down to your mouth and you did the same to his. If he went for it right in this moment, you’d let him kiss you. Easily. You were covered in goosebumps from the anticipation. And then your eyes met again and you saw the conflict in them. That also made you hesitate and slowly, the burning in you started to fizzle. 

“Sorry. Ummm…”

“Don’t be. You’re right to doubt! This could be so fucking messy. It’s stupid to even…like, no! We’re fucking stupid for this, Harry.” You chuckled through your disbelief at what you were about to do.

“I know…but that doesn’t take away the desire to.” He said and you sighed.

“I know! But we need to fucking…find it because I don’t want to lose you.” You explained with a hint of desperation in your tone and an earnest look in your eyes. Harry didn’t want to lose you either, so he just nodded and turned his focus to the TV. Your hand was still in his, being kept warm as he’d said. And you did feel warm with him. So fucking warm…

“Thanks.” You whispered to him and he turned and smiled before focusing back on the TV.

Part Two...

[wileycap]

Beings Suffering From Extreme Sleep Deprivation Should Not Attempt Turning To The Dark Side

There he was. Anakin Skywalker, the prize jewel of the Sith... even if he did not know it yet. Sitting in the office of his friend, the Supreme Chancellor.

All the pieces were now in place, and the only thing left to do was to reveal his identity to Skywalker and let him break down. The satisfaction that permeated the form of Sheev Palpatine was so great that he nearly forgot that his parents had named him Sheev.

But not for long. Distaste prickled up his spine. Still, they were entering the glorious morning of a Sith Empire that would never see night. Or, rather more accurately, the night would be neverending. And the metaphors would be better - he would hire (and by hire, he meant enslave) the greatest poets to compose endless lamentations for the suffering he was about to unleash.

Skywalker sat in the chair, looking listless. The nightmares Palpatine had sent had done their job well - it seemed like he had hardly slept. His thoughts were sluggish, his resistance gone, and his terror absolute. Terror for his "secret" wife, who he feared would die in childbirth.

And while the "visions" were far from genuine, oh, Palpatine intended to make sure that Padmé Amidala would.

With the death of his wife, Palpatine's control over Anakin Skywalker would be perfect. And, in ten or twenty years, thirty even, the boy would become his new vessel. After all, the plans of the Sith were measured in the millenia, and Sheev Palpatine had no intention of planting trees in whose shade younger generations might sit. No. He intended to sit there himself, chasing off the whippersnappers so they might get sunburnt. (He really needed to consult a poet.)

But the creation of his Empire was a far more immediate goal, and a very worthy stepping stone indeed. And since all it would take was a push, he had better get to administering said push.

"Dear boy, I don't think I've ever seen you look quite this... disturbed," he intoned, perfectly miming the tones of a concerned grandfather. "Not - and I am terribly sorry to bring this up, but I can't help but be concerned - not even... not even when your mother died."

There. Skywalker was an easy instrument to play. A veil of concern, a dash of "you can tell me anything." A hint of his past trauma, which so neatly (almost as if by design) connected to his current fear. Even calling attention to Skywalker's sorry state served to remind him that the structures he could depend on were now shaky and unsure, ravaged by war.

Palpatine briefly entertained himself by wondering what the boy might think of the sheer amount of planning that had been put into his fall.

"Mom?" Skywalker asked, voice groggy and wide eyes betraying his shock.

And said nothing more, just gaped at Palpatine, as if he were about to pull Shmi Skywalker out from under his robes. Idiot boy.

"I'm terribly sorry for shocking you, Anakin," Palpatine said, suffusing the room with his phony concern. "I know it must be horrible to think about, especially in these... present circumstances."

Well, he'd thrown subtlety out the viewport, but that would certainly get the job done.

Skywalker did not respond. He was blearily gazing into middle distance. And Palpatine was running out of time - Skywalker needed to fall now, before Kenobi could return from Utapau and somehow pull him back from the brink, again.

So, subtlety? Subtlety would die the same death it always died in Skywalker's presence: a sudden one.

"Actually, I've called you here on an important matter," he said, injecting some urgency into his tone - no longer a grandfather, but a concerned statesman. "I now have every reason to believe that Senator Amidala and the Delegation of Two Thousand are planning a coup."

"Huh?" Skywalker said, attempting to sit up. "Padmé's planning..."

And then his train of thought appeared to slip away again, and he resumed his vacant staring.

"Yes." Palpatine gritted out. "Padmé Amidala, your wife, is planning a coup."

"Oh. Yeah, she's good at politics," Anakin mumbled, offering Palpatine a tired smile. "I'm sure she'll do a good job."

"A coup against me." When nothing more than a "hmm" was forthcoming, Palpatine continued. "And it appears she has allied with the Jedi Council."

Skywalker suddenly stood up, ramrod straight. Finally, Palpatine thought.

"What?"

"I'm sorry you have to find out this way-"

"No, no, this is great! She's finally hanging out with my work friends! Now she'll know what it feels like!" Skywalker shook his head. "Like, it's only fair, right? I've sat through a ton of formal dinners and stuff. And Bail is okay, I guess, and Mon, and Fang Zhar is kinda funny, but... they're so boring. Treaty this, agreement that, 'what do you think, Master Jedi?'"

Skywalker started pacing. "Yeah, but who's laughing now, Padmé? I hope she tries to take them out for lunch. Then she'll get to see twelve Jedi Masters meditating to discern which restaurant the Force is pulling them towards."

He turned to Palpatine, as if to explain. "And that takes hours. You wanted lunch? Sorry, it's dinnertime and also tomorrow, and the spot they picked, which, by the way, is always the one Yoda wants,-" and, to the Sith Lord's horror, he launched into an imitation, "'mmm, great darkness I sense within the Jundland Buffet, perhaps to Stewcruiser, we should instead go', but when we finally decide to go to Stewcruiser, it's closed on Taungsday, and the whole thing starts all over again!"

And at that, Skywalker sat down with a huff.

"Indeed," Palpatine said, no longer able to keep the coldness out of his voice. "The inefficiencies of the Jedi are... vexing."

"Tell me about it," Skywalker mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

"But rather more pressingly, they are planning a coup." Palpatine said, rather icily.

"Yeah, right," the boy said, looking a bit shamefaced. "Sorry."

"It is no matter," Palpatine replied, still eyeing the Jedi. Skywalker made no move. "What do you think about the coup?"

"Oh, yeah, uh. Like I said, I'm sure she'll do a great job. Sorry, I don't really... pay attention to politics."

Palpatine opened his mouth. And then closed it again. "A coup is a bad thing, Anakin."

"Uh-huh," Skywalker said, clearly paying no attention, and that was just about the limit of Palpatine's patience. He hadn't set the entire galaxy ablaze to be uh-huhed by the boy.

It was time to go for the throat.

"Anakin, I'm going to kill your wife." He said, enunciating every word as clearly as he could. He needed to provoke the boy into fear and anger, which would feed his guilt and shame, which would lead him to the Dark Si-

"Oh, okay. Good luck."

"What?!" He hissed. "I just threatened to kill your wife!"

"Yeah, but..." Skywalker scratched at the back of his neck. "I mean, she's been in like, twenty battles. She can handle herself."

"She is eight months pregnant!"

Skywalker actually shrugged. "The med droid said she can keep doing her usual activities for as long as she feels able. And no offence, but you're kind of... old."

"Old? I am the Lord of the Sith, young fool! I possess powers your feeble mind can't even comprehend!"

Something had gone blank in Skywalker's eyes, but Palpatine was far too angry to notice. "I orchestrated this entire war! All of this is my doing! I planned for your mother to die, I corrupted the Tuskens myself, I was behind Kenobi faking his death, beh-"

And that's about as far as he got, because a sky blue blade had just passed between the spot his head occupied and the spot that was occupied by his body, and had kindly suggested to the two that it was time to part ways.

"Chancellor, Sith Lords are a specialty at the Jundland Buffet," Anakin muttered, turning off his saber. He tried to hook it back on his belt, but apparently somebody had taken his usual hook, and the handle fell to the ground. Sighing, he called it up with the Force and shoved it into his boot for safekeeping, when a thought struck him. "No, that's not right. How did Obi-Wan say it..."

And then he commed Obi-Wan, because that seemed like the thing to do. After a long wait, a small, blue Obi-Wan appeared, looking harried. Before Anakin could compliment him on his new size and color, Obi-Wan was already talking way too fast, something about killing Grievous.

"Hey, Obi-Wan, uh. I killed the Sith, but I-"

"What?" Obi-Wan's voice had a lot of static in it. He should really get that checked out. "Sorry, Anakin, did you say you killed the Sith Lord?"

"Yeah, anyways, back when we were fighting Dooku, you said something about Sith Lords and a specialty, and, uh, is it a specialty dish somewhere? And can we go there next time the Council has lunch? I'm getting really sick of Stewcruiser."

"Anakin. When was the last time you slept?"

"Oh, uh, two weeks ago or something."

There was a heavy, staticy sigh from the other end of the comlink. "Alright, Anakin. Turn the comlink around and show me the Sith, and then I'll guide you through cleaning up the pieces of the duelling droid you dismantled this time, and - oh Force, is that the Chancellor?!"

"Uh-huh," Anakin nodded, forgetting that he wasn't in view of the receiver.

"Don't uh-huh me, Anakin! Did you kill the Supreme Chancellor?"

"Yeah, he was the Sith?" There weren't any more words coming through the comlink, so Anakin figured it was safe to continue. "He said that he orchestrated the whole war and he was the Sith. Also, for some reason, he moved out here to the desert, and that's weird, because I don't think it's gonna agree with his complexion."

There was more silence from the comlink. Anakin remembered to turn it so he was again visible to Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan appeared to be frozen.

"Are you... disappointed?" Anakin asked, after a while.

"No more than the usual amount," Obi-Wan sighed. "Go take a nap."

"Oh, good," Anakin smiled. And then frowned. "Wait, what do you mean, 'the usual amount?'"

[a-spes]

| DEVIOUS LIES — Part three (8.929 words).

| Summary — Anon Request — When your friend asked you out for a drink, you didn't think much about it. Yet, maybe you should've, because that night ruined your life. It may have been two years since the events, but you still can't stop think about what you've lost. Your job, your friends, your lover, and even your mind was left in that motel room.

“I am a hero,” you whispered in your breath, “and that’s what heroes do,” you added, repeating the sentence once more. You were trying to find a little bravery in this mantra, the one you needed to push your limits a little further.  Yet, all you find in these words is deep despair, because a part of you knows that they are not true — and you are not a hero. Not anymore. You tried to believe Fury’s lies. You wanted to believe them, and deceive yourself because it gave you a bit of hope, a reason to carry on, but the illusion couldn’t last for eternity. What’s a hero when they are hated by the whole world? A villain.

| Tags & warnings — Avenger!Natasha Romanoff x Avenger!Reader, Wanda Maximoff x Reader (platonic), Other Avengers x R. Angst with comfort, mental health issues, suicidal ideations, self depreciation, mentions of SA&SH, manipulation, severe injuries, no happy ending.

| Author's notes — This is the last part of the "Devious Lies" serie, and I really hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

Many people would say that you are not a hero, not anymore. You have lost this title years ago, the day you revealed your true face to the world by cheating on Natasha —; how could they trust someone with their lives when that person can’t even remain loyal to their girlfriend? A hero is not a human, it is a perfect being that exists for the sole purpose of saving the world, and making children dream. You exist only to give hope to the population, but there is none once they discover that you are just like any of them, someone full of flaws, and failures, just a mess —; just human. 

Who knows the horrible things you might have done in the past, or the numerous lies you could have said to twist the reality? Not them, because they know nothing of the truth behind your departure, but they were still convinced that you were a monster who had been lying to them all this time, and it was too late to undo their hatred. A few days had been enough for rumours to spread, suddenly everyone had a story to share that proves how wicked you were. These stories have slowly replaced those of your greatest achievements, the many times you saved the world now forgotten in favor of all the little things you did wrong.

And you know these stories by heart because you have read about them in newspapers, heard them on television and in cafés. Wherever you go, these rumors follow you, they stick to your skin like an obsessive ex that won’t let you go, even after several years. The people never forget, nor they forgive.

Yet, none of them had the courage to hate you to your face. No, it was always behind your back, a bunch of glances they thought were discreet and whispers as soon as you turned around. You might not be their hero anymore, but you haven’t lost your abilities, and they are aware that you could easily kill any of them in less than a minute. But, instead of letting the anger consumes you, you pretended to not see the fear in their eyes, mixed with hatred. Except that, the longer this situation lasted, the more difficult it became for you to ignore their hostility. You would lie if you said it didn’t bother you to see these emotions replace the admiration that used to sparkle in their eyes.

If you are being honest, you have thought about it, about killing some of them. These thoughts come to your mind more times that you care to admit —; it would be so easy to snap their necks so you will never hear their hateful whispers again.

What do you have to lose anyway?

Nothing you haven’t already. At worst, they will send you in prison, but to your exhausted mind the idea sounded more tempting than repellent. Sometimes, you think about it as a sweet dream, and it brings you some peace —; if you were in prison, you would be blessed with ignorance. If you were in prison, they would have a real reason to use these slurs. If you were in prison, you would eventually be where you deserve to be. But, no matter how many times you thought about it, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it and so, instead, you shut yourself away in your crappy apartment, where you could no longer harm anyone.

—   —   — 

“But you are still a hero,” the man told you. It was months ago, almost a year, and it was the first time you had seen Fury since the events that led you to take a break. 

A break that was coming to an end, and that you were desperately trying to prolong. Unfortunately, the man is as stubborn as you are, and he is determined to convince you to return to the field. He needs you, and that is obvious, even though those words haven’t crossed his lips. You can feel his desperation. 

You disagree with him. 

You are not a hero, and he definitely doesn’t need you. There are dozens of agents more talented than you are, dozens of promising, and less controversial, souls who deserve a chance. He should better abandon you now, and let you rot in your apartment, because he will be disappointed sooner or later. But you didn’t tell him that. Instead, you stayed quiet, because the words were stuck in your throat.

“Don’t tell me that you are that kind of agent?” he asked, to fill the silence. The tone of his voice had changed slightly. There was something petty about it, something that is crawling under your skin —; it is the disappointment that his words carry. Yet, you have no idea what he is talking about —; “that kind of agent”? The worlds held no meaning to you, but you could still feel that they didn’t bode well, and that you didn’t want to be that kind of agent. You can see his eyebrows rise in anticipation of an answer you can’t give him.

“What kind?” you asked back, without any conviction, just because you know that is what he expects. You accompany these words with a sigh.

You are not in the mood for this kind of game. You only want one thing, and it is to go back to your apartment, to slip back into the comfort of your sheets and stay there for days to come. In fact, you may never leave them ever again. That is the only place where you can ignore the world, where all your worries disappear along with the rest. The only place where you do not need to be human, or pretend to be strong, where you can be a mess, and no one would be here to judge.

You were really not comfortable at the idea of coming here, to Fury’s office, at the S.H.I.E.L.D. 's headquarters, and being there makes the feeling even worse. He promised you that no one would know, but how could he be sure? The mere thought that one of them could see you there makes you nervous, and prevents you from concentrating.

What if it happens?

What if, despite Fury’s promises, you run into one of them?

You have no idea what you might tell them if it happens. Is it better to beg for their forgiveness, or would it be too much? You bet they wouldn’t even listen to you, anyway —; they haven’t in the past, why would it be different a year later?

Maybe they won’t even acknowledge you, and you should probably do the same —; but wouldn’t it be worse? You are not sure that you could handle this possibility, that you could walk by the people that once were your family as if they were complete strangers.

Maybe it is better if they decide to scream —; that is what a part of you is craving for, no matter how twisted it can be. Because, if they scream, if they still hate you, it means that they care, right? No one would take some of their time and energy to yell at someone they don’t care about, right? Because it wouldn’t make sense.

“The kind that does it for fame,” he replied, and you could feel the weight of his gaze. It was so intense that it made you want to disappear. You hate it, the way he looks at you, as if he knows all the secrets of your soul, and so you are fidgeting in your seat, unable to stay still because of your nerves.  

“No, I am not,” you sighed the words that you knew the man was expecting you to say, falling right into his trap. You are conscious of it, but you are too exhausted to fight, and it is way much easier to give the man what he wants.

Yet, your voice is full of uncertainty —; does it make you a bad person to want to stop helping people? At least, that is what he seems to be suggesting, and maybe he is not wrong. Maybe the only reason you want to stop is because you are selfish —; anyone with your skills wouldn’t hesitate to save the world. But not you, not anymore. Why? When did you become one of the bad guys, one of those who don’t care about others?

You want to tell him — to yell at him — that it is not about lost celebrity, that it was about being hated by almost every soul living on earth, but the words get stuck in your throat —; what’s the difference, after all? Are you really gonna let people die because they do not like you, is that the kind of person you became? No, it is not, and it will never be.

“Does that mean I can count on you?” he asked, and you answered with a murmured yes, because that is what he wants to hear, and because you only want this conversation to end. From the very moment you sat on this chair, you have been eyeing the exit, and you are more than willing to give the man what he wants in exchange for the right to leave.

—   —   —

“I am a hero,” you whispered in your breath, “and that’s what heroes do,” you added, repeating the sentence once more. You were trying to find a little bravery in this mantra, the one you needed to push your limits a little further. 

Yet, all you find in these words is deep despair, because a part of you knows that they are not true — and you are not a hero. Not anymore. You tried to believe Fury’s lies. You wanted to believe them, and deceive yourself because it gave you a bit of hope, a reason to carry on, but the illusion couldn’t last for eternity.

What’s a hero when they are hated by the whole world? A villain. It has been several years since you lost the title of hero. It is not about your great successes anymore, it is about all the mistakes you have ever made, the ones that make you detestable in the public’s eyes. Now, you are just an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D., and a controversial one at that. You are the rotten apple that the direction doesn’t really know what to do with. They might desperately need you — or, more accurately, your skills — but they do not want the world to discover that they didn’t fire you despite what they had announced to ease the minds.

Nevertheless, you had agreed to pretend, and to play Fury’s little games, because you didn’t know what else to do. You have been a little lost since you left the team, and the missions you were regularly sent on were a good distraction, but it has been months now, and you do not have the energy to pretend anymore.

Once this mission is over, the first thing you are going to do is to tell the man that it is over, you are quitting — yeah, you are going to leave the agency, and start a new life. The idea sounds appealing, and warms you heart with an emotion you thought you had forgotten; a will to live. You have waited long enough. You are not sure what you are going to do yet, but you know that it will be better — anything would be better than your current life. It will be a second chance, and a real one this time. Maybe you will change your name, and your face, and so you could be anyone you want to be — someone that no one hates. 

But, for now, the only thing you want is some rest. Slowly, your limbs become numb and, soon enough, you are not able to walk anymore, the ground disappears beneath your feet and you collapse into the snow, your legs unable to support the weight of your body. 

Maybe that is your second chance, you thought. Maybe the afterlife will be gentle.

It is so tempting to just close your eyes, to let the cold soothe your pain, and take all your worries away. You don’t know how long you have been walking, wandering around, waiting for help that may never come — probably for days. Days that seemed like an eternity. You were trapped in a landscape that you would surely have found magnificent, had the circumstances of your presence here been different.

The snow falling from the sky covers everything, and not an ounce of greenery escapes it. Yet, the sight wasn’t comforting — it was threatening, and scary. It was so cold that you couldn’t feel your fingertips. Everything was white, and all looked the same, turning the forest into a maze with no way out. The trees rose up, mocking and oppressive, as if they were only waiting for the moment you would give up.

Be patient. It will be soon, you thought, as your body hit the ground in silence.

You hardly notice you’ve fallen. You don’t even have the strength to try and get up, but maybe you don’t want to. The snow forms a gentle embrace, and you feel it begin to cover you in white too. Soon, you are going to disappear, and you’ll become a part of the landscape — How is it going to take, for nature to hide your body, to make it seem like you have never been here? A few hours? And how long would it take for them to find you? Probably more time. Who is “them”, anyway? You are not sure someone is coming from you, and despite your hopes, it is more likely that they won’t come. Did you forget that you have no one? If people do not care enough to show up at your funerals, do you really think that they would go to the trouble of looking for you in the middle of nowhere? What an idiot you are, you should know, by now, that there is no hope.

No one is coming. 

Even though the idea might sound sad, it brings a small smile to your face, as well as a weird sense of comfort — The peace you’ve been looking for is eventually within your reach. Soon, the world is going to forget your name, and your story. Maybe they won’t even know that you died here, alone in the woods, where no one can find your body.

You have tried to warn them about the situation. A last desperate plea for help to be sent, but you never found out if they got your message because your broken radio had died before they could confirm. Despite being an experienced agent, you have been caught out of guard by the situation — Should you wait for them here, or should you try to find a way back home on your own? The decision was made for you when the enemies started looking for you, there was no way you could escape them by staying in their base. Outside, you could hide more easily, and maybe even find a way out of here.

Yet, the days went by, and all you have done is get lost in the forest, a labyrinth made deadly by the snow and very low temperatures. There is no room for life in this place, and the fact that you survived for a few days is a miracle in itself.

You were perfectly aware of the risks when you accepted the mission. There are always high risks in this profession, and you were prepared to take them all, even the most irrational ones because nothing scared you — That’s your strength, you’ve never shied away from a mission. You knew that it wouldn’t go on forever, and that the risks you were taking would eventually lead to your demise — But who cares? Not you, nor Fury. Maybe it was exactly what you were both looking for-; the man wanted a soldier, and you wanted a way to die with dignity, which is exactly what he offered you.

And so, you accepted every mission he presented to you, worked on every file that was put on your desk without thinking twice about it. There was always a good reason to accept, many lives to save, and countless threats to the world, and for that, you were willing to take the risks that nobody else wanted to take. That’s what heroes do, right? They put their lives in line, for the sake of the population. 

So far, you have done surprisingly well, successfully returning from each of your missions. Yet, you knew it was only a matter of time before you ran out of luck. Maybe your current situation is solely your fault, for thinking that you could keep pushing your limits indefinitely — For forgetting that you are not a hero, only human. The blood between your fingers is there to remind you of that. It is red, as the one of all the people who live on this planet, and you can pretend all you like that you are a hero, but you’ll never be able to escape your condition, that of being human.

Yet, there is something oddly comforting in watching your blood staining the snow. Something that cradles you until your eyes close, something that helps you accept your destiny. These bloodstains are the silent promise that peace will soon arrive, the peace you have waited patiently for for years.

—   —   —

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” the woman screamed, her voice echoing throughout the room. No one dared looking at her, everyone avoiding her gaze. The team had just returned from yet another search mission, one of their last hopes of finding you, only to inform her that they had lost track of you — Again. 

The woman knows that she should not have listened to Clint when he told her that she’d better stay in the Quinjet and rest, something she has clearly been lacking in recent days. He even promised her that he would do his best. They all promised, but it was just lies. 

Natasha has waited for them for hours, obviously unable to rest because she was so consumed with anxiety. She had walked the whole length of the Quinjet more times than she can count, waiting for their return. When they came back empty-handed, she was furious. Not only they didn’t find you, but above all they had lost the only hint of your presence that they had managed to find since the search began, almost a week ago.

If she had been with them, things would have been different. She would have found you, she is sure of it — because she would have refused to come back before that happened.

Everything now seemed hopeless, and everyone was aware of this. That probably explains why they are abiding her gaze, not to escape her anger, but because they do not want to witness the pain they could read in her eyes. The spy had always been good at hiding her emotions, and no one had ever been able to read her — even after you left, two years ago, she remained composed — but her mask had started to crack in the last few days, and everyone could now see her worries. 

Natasha was the one who insisted for the Avengers to come for you, and although she insists that this decision is only motivated by her duty, everyone knows there is more to it than that — Feelings that the years had not erased, strong ones that she had buried, but which were resurfacing since she learned that you were in danger. You are her weakness, you are the only one that can make her lose her temper that easily, it is as if she was suddenly a child again — One with emotions too big for his understanding. It is like two years ago, when she saw the pictures and felt her heart being shattered.

“It is okay, I am sure that we are going to find her,” a voice raised, and it was Fury’s. The man was the only one to be brave enough to do such a thing, the only one who didn’t fear the redhead, even though he was the one who should be most wary. The man is standing on the opposite side of the room, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, his arms crossed — They could have been talking about their next meal, and he would have had the same fucking attitude, she thought. “She is strong, and smart. I am sure she will find a way to survive, do not underestimate her, Romanoff,” he calmly added, but his disastrous attempt to calm the atmosphere has the opposite effect — All she wanted to do was to violently rip the expression on his face, she couldn’t stand the overconfidence she could read on it, and the calmness that didn’t fit with the seriousness of the situation. 

“You know nothing,” she replied through gritted teeth, the only way she had found to not scream at him, “you are just trying to make yourself feel better about what’s happening because it is your fault. One of your agents is going to die, and it is all your fault!” she yelled the last sentence, unable to keep her voice low as she felt the rage building inside her. The man didn’t even care, he sees you as an asset, not as a human.

“She is an agent, Romanoff, and one of the best. It is her job to take risks, and she knew them before accepting the mission. This regrettable accident is no one’s fault,” he said, unimpressed by the redhead’s outburst.

“Oh, please!” she exclaimed with a bitter laugh, “this mission wasn’t risky, it was suicidal, and you are perfectly aware of that. No one in their right mind would have accepted it, but she was vulnerable, and you knew it, and took advantage of her state to get what you wanted!” she had moved closer, until she was almost spitting in his face, until the accusing finger she was pointing at him almost touched his chest. She knows the man and his tricks, she knows that he always finds a way to get what he wants. “I hope it was worth it because, if we don’t find her alive, I’ll make sure to bury you next to her grave,” she spitted, not even trying to hide her threat — No, not a threat. It was more than that, it was a promise. 

Those are the last words she said before leaving the Quinjet.

They have been looking for you for days, and everyone is painfully aware that the chances of finding you are diminishing with every passing minute. Yet, the woman is not ready to stop, not until she has hugged you one last time, dead or alive. Looking for you was no easy task, and every clue they have found eventually led to a dead end — You are too skilled for your own good, she thought, and it was almost frustrating. If it wasn’t for your skills, and your ability to disappear without leaving a trace, they would have found you days ago. If it wasn’t for your skills, Fury would have never sent you on this mission alone, and he definitely wouldn’t have waited for so long before sending a rescue team.

The woman had to beg him, to scream, for him to accept to give in some pieces of information about how you were doing. He said that you were fine. He said that you were fine, but it was just a lie. He looked at her, promising that nothing would happen to you, but he only said that to get her out of his office. As she later learned, the man had no idea of how you were doing because it was a no-contact mission, and if you gave them news, it would only be to share bad ones.

She heard the message you sent, a plea for help playing on a loop in her mind. Despite the poor quality of the transmission, and the cut words that prevented them from understanding your situation clearly, she could feel your fear, one that made her blood run cold — The woman has never heard you being so scared before.

Fury has waited two days before sharing the message with her. He said that he was positive you would find a way out on your own, and it would be too risky to send a team there when they had no idea how the situation was, but she hadn’t listened to him. All the woman could see was how he almost ruined every chance to rescue you for some ego problems, and foolish confidence — Everyone knows that after two days the chances of finding a missing person alive are slim. 

She hates him for that. She hates him for allowing you to die.

Or maybe it is herself that she hates, for letting you down years ago, when you needed her the most — If she hadn't, none of that would have happened, you wouldn’t have taken such risks in the hope of achieving some kind of redemption.

“What do you want?” she asked curtly to the person that was following her. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was — Steve. In recent years, the man had developed the bad habit of following her wherever she went, convinced that she needed him.

“You forgot that,” he said, and she looked over her shoulder at the jacket in his hands. A wry smile appeared on her lips at the sight of the garment.

“Because I don’t need it,” she sighed, her tone as cold as the forest because of how exasperated she was by the way the man was trying to play hero. Maybe he was one for the rest of the world, but the woman definitely didn’t need to be saved, and especially not by a man that is convinced he knows everything better than everyone else.

“And, how exactly, do you expect to be able to help her if you are freezing to death?” He asked, trying to coax her into taking the jacket — But only someone who doesn’t know her well could imagine having any chance of convincing the woman.

“Did you forget where I am from, Roger?” She asked back, stopping in her tracks to face him, the sudden act surprising the man who almost ran into her, “If you are cold, then you can go back to the jet. No one asked you to follow me. So now, shut up or leave me alone,” she warned him before resuming her journey, the man at her heels. Natasha wasn’t walking in the forest for pleasure, and she couldn’t afford any distraction.

The woman has to concentrate to make sure she doesn’t miss any traces of your presence. These are rare, almost imperceptible, and easily hidden by the snow. She needs to be sure that she won’t miss anything, and that is something she can’t do if the centenarian doesn’t stop rambling in her ears.

Fortunately, the message seems to have got through because not a word was spoken for the next hours, and the two Avengers just walked in silence. Only the snow crunching under their feet broke the heavy silence. It had been hours, and the landscape didn’t seem to change, giving the impression that they were walking in place, or that they were going in circles. No matter where her eyes landed, all she could see were snow-covered trees, but that was until she spotted it. It was almost invisible, but there was no way she was going to miss the only thing that wasn’t white in the landscape — A red stop. A spot of blood, probably caused by a few drops, but that was leading to a trail staining the forest’s perfect white coat.

“Wait! Where are you going?” the man exclaimed when he noticed that his partner had run off, but he got no answer. His eyes weren’t as sharp as hers, and so he didn’t notice the stains straight away.

When he finally catches up with the woman, he was so taken aback by the scene that he was unable to move, or speak. It was so unexpected that he felt like he was daydreaming, and wondered if it wasn’t the cold that was causing him to hallucinate.

There, a few meters away from him, the redhead was kneeling in the snow. She was close to a body whose identity was in no doubt — You. Suddenly, all he can see is the rigidity of your body, the bluish tint of your lips, the snow that is covering your face, but above all the scarlet puddle that is staining the snow, so big that no one could miss it.

“Give me the jacket,” she asked him, her tone firm despite the obvious tremor in her voice. Her eyes never leave you, even for a moment, perhaps because she was afraid that you would disappear, and that she would lose you, again. “Steve. The jacket,” she asked again, but more urgently this time, “give me the fucking jacket, and go get the others!” she repeated, and the shout seems to shake the man out of his torpor because he eventually hands her the jacket before running off, in the direction of the jet. 

Natasha didn’t look back, but she heard his footsteps in the snow as he walked away. Now alone, she gently lifts your body, wrapping you in the jacket, and even pulling the hood down your face to protect you from the snow and wind. She can’t help but let her hands linger on your visage, her thumb gently tracing your features, then brushing past your now blue lips to eventually follow the wound on your cheek.

For a few seconds, she allows herself to get lost in the familiarity of your face, but the blood that is left on her thumb after she ran it over your cheek brings her back to reality — You are dying. Maybe you already are, dead. Yet, there is not much she can do before the arrival of the rest of the team, except praying to all the gods whose names she knows, even though she has never believed in them — Please, if you exist, it is the moment to do something good, she thought, and the woman was so deep in her thoughts, trying to keep the last shred of sanity she had, because the last thing you need is for her to lose her temper, that she missed it at first, those words that came out of your mouth.

“What?” she asked, a little abruptly, as her eyes fell on your face. Your expression hadn’t changed, your eyes were still closed, and so were your lips, giving the impression that she had imagined the whisper. “Did you say something?” She nevertheless asked, and several seconds passed in silence. She felt the hope that had made her heart beat being replaced by despair, until she notices the trembling of your lips as they try to come to life. At first, no sound escapes, only a whimper that breaks her heart. “Shh, it is okay, take your time, baby. You can do it,” she quietly encouraged you as she noticed your struggles. 

Her hands cup your face, and the warmth of the contact, accompanied by the circles her thumbs are tracing on your cheeks, is comforting. It helps you to ignore the pain for a moment. The gesture even gave you the strength to talk.

“You..,” you started, but this simple word requires so much effort that you need to catch your breath before continuing. “ ..came..,” you eventually added, the second word coming out as a broken whisper, and the woman has to be close if she wants to understand what you are saying.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, “yes, I did. W- We are all here, baby,” she softly replied, her voice trembling slightly because of emotion, just like her hands as she continued cradling your face. 

They are here? All of them? You thought, and the realization brings tears to your eyes. The woman can also feel tears welling up in her eyes, and you can see them. Yet, she should not cry. She has no right to cry when you need her to be strong and calm your fears. The woman knows it and yet, she can’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks. For so long, she had hoped to see you again, prayed for a second chance even though she knew she didn’t deserve it, but she hadn’t imagined that life could be cruel enough to offer her what she most wanted under the worst circumstances — Once again, she was about to lose the most important person in her life.

“Is.. that.. end.. ?” You painfully asked the woman. 

You have once heard a belief saying that the Angel in charge of helping a soul to travel to the other side always takes the appearance of the person the deceased loved the most during their life. You wouldn’t have expected anyone but the redhead to be yours. You may have tried to hate her for years, but the truth is that you have been unable to stop loving the woman.

“Because..,” you continued, but were stopped by a violent coughing fit. “Am.. ready.. now..,” you eventually managed to say. You want nothing more than to touch her face one last time, but your body refuses to listen to your desire and, as you try to move your hand, all you manage to do is to wiggle your fingertips — But it is okay, you thought. You are content enough with being able to see her one last time, and knowing that her comforting touch is the last thing you would feel before Death wraps its arms around your body, taking you somewhere where pain does not exist. 

“The.. end?” The woman repeated after you, a bit confused at your words, and you can tell because of how her eyebrows are knitted together. “Oh no, honey, it is not,” she whispered, trying to bring you a bit of comfort. “You are going to be fine, I promise,” she said, repeating those words a few times, unsure if they are really meant for you.

“I.. know.., I.. believe.. you..,” you whispered back.

“Then stay with me, baby, okay? Keep your eyes open for me, please. Just a few more minutes, and then everything will be fine, I promise. Do you think you can do that for me?” She started rambling when she noticed that you were struggling to keep your eyes open. Yet, it doesn’t seem to work as she watches you slowly slip into unconsciousness. “Tell me, love, where does it hurt? Could you do that for me?” She attempted, hoping that the question would be enough to ground you, to keep you here, with her, until the others arrive.

“Everywhere..,” you whispered, and it was the last thing you said. You were in so much pain that your whole body was numb, and you could barely feel something, unable to tell the difference between your arms and legs.

You are not sure what happened next, or how long it was before the rest of the team arrived, because despite Natasha’s attempts to encourage you to stay awake, you ended up losing consciousness. The last thing you were aware of was the sound of a vehicle, along with a few words that were yelled, and even if you couldn’t understand what they were saying, you were able to grasp the urgency in their tones. The last thing you remember was being lifted. That is when you knew you could do, before the arms that were carrying you were comforting, they were the promise that everything would be fine now.

After all, she promised. Didn’t she?

—   —   —

It was all a lie, when she promised that things would be okay now.

Since the very moment you have opened your eyes, after a few days spent in a coma, the world has been nothing but pain. She had promised you a world where suffering doesn’t exist, but had given you the exact opposite, every day being worse than the one that preceded it. Your wounds won’t heal, and despite the weeks that had passed, you were unable to walk properly, or anything without help. Every step you make, every breath you take, are the reminders of what was taken from you.

You had wished for Death. You had waited for the moment you could leave this world almost impatiently, but when the time eventually came, you were brutally ripped from Its arms. When the woman wrapped her arms around you, wrapping you in a comforting embrace, whispering the promise that everything would be fine now, you naively believed her. It is not before it was too late that you realized your mistake. You have thought that the woman you saw was your angel, but it has only been Natasha, a human, with her flaws and mysteries.

Why did she even decide to come?

The question has not left your mind since you opened your eyes. It raises a feeling of confusion, and anger, because there is no explanation you could think of that would make a bit of sense.

You have not talked since they brought you there, at the compound. It is a place that you’ve never thought you would ever see again, but mostly a place you never wanted to return to. At first, they thought that you just needed a bit of time to adapt, but the days soon became weeks, and you remained locked in your silence despite their many attempts to encourage you to say a few words. The only sounds they have heard coming from you are the whimpers of pain that sometimes fall past your lips.

Natasha has tried to speak to you, but you would always ignore her questions and ramblings. Yet, it has never stopped her from trying. Even though she is not sure that you can hear her, even though whenever she enters your room, she finds you looking out of the window, staring blankly. The woman had stopped closing the shutters a while ago, so you would always have something to look at, but you probably didn’t even notice the difference. It seems that your mind is somewhere else, somewhere she can’t reach.

You are far from here, from this room you hate with your whole heart but that you can’t leave despite your desires. A room that is not yours, and certainly not home despite what they may say, and you would rather be anywhere else, even if it means locking yourself in your thoughts. 

It is something they would have known if they had asked you, but apparently they didn’t think to ask for your opinion when deciding your future. The Avengers Tower is quiet, and comfortable. Somewhere you are familiar with, and where you would be able to get the care you need — The perfect place. The only place. You have no family, no friends, that could have agreed to take care of you until you are back on your feet. The Avengers may not be your family anymore, but they are the only ones who have agreed to bear this responsibility — Or most likely they felt like they had to. You probably want to be here as much as they want you to be there, and you know that they are silently praying that you will go away soon. You are the constant reminder of what they want to forget.

And so, you have slowly found comfort in your own mind. The only place where they can’t bother you, where suffering and time does not exist. Except that, as the days go by, it gets harder to ignore the woman. She is the only one who has never given up, always trying to talk to you when she comes to your room, even though you have never replied once. Whenever she comes to bring your meal, or your medicine, or help you to change, she would stay a bit longer, rambling about anything that comes to her mind — And you hate it. You don’t care about her last mission, nor do you care about the last movie she has seen. 

When she is here, time seems to flow slowly, minutes becoming a painful eternity. You wish the woman would understand your silence as the sign that you don’t want to talk, but it is apparently not a sufficient clue because she has never stopped talking.

The last thing you want is to get out of your caparace, because you don’t want to see what is outside, but it becomes almost impossible to ignore the world when the woman keeps invading your bubble. Her voice, her soft touches,.. they held a new promise — Everything will be fine, she continues saying, but now you know it is not true. You have fallen for her lies one time, and promised to yourself that you wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. These touches didn’t bring you any comfort, only frustration which then turned into anger. You have felt it boiling inside you for days now — Until you couldn’t bear it any more.

“Why?” You whispered. The woman was helping you to put on clean pyjamas, and you think she was rambling about her day when you cut her off with your question.

You are not sure why you have decided to talk that day. You are not even sure that it was your decision, the broken whisper falling past your lips before you could realize what was happening. You wish you could take back your word, but it was too late. The woman was as surprised as you were, judging by the expression on her face. Her lips are moving, but it is her turn to be at a loss of words.

Somehow, the hesitation you could read on her face made yours disappear instantaneously. Suddenly, you didn’t want to stay silent anymore. You wanted to be heard, to get the anger out of your body because you couldn’t bear the weight of it anymore.

“Why?!” You repeated, but this time you yelled the question. At least, it was the intention, but after so much time without talking, the word was nothing like a scream, only a strangled cry. Yet, despite your voice being weak, you realized that you didn’t want to stay quiet anymore — Not now, when you just got it back. Not when there are so many things you want to say, to scream in their faces.

“Why what?” She softly asked, stopping what she was doing for a second. Her hands were resting on your knees as she was talking. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, and had to lower your head a little to meet her eyes. Yet, she doesn’t dare to hold your gaze for more than a few seconds.

You scoff when she looks away, doing the same thing as you can feel tears coming in your eyes. She must not see them. “Playing games, are we?” You said back. Your tone is venomous, your words rude, and meant to hurt the woman, even though she took care of you the past few weeks.

It may sound unfair to treat the woman after all she has done for you — After she saved your life. Yet, she is still the one who dumped you years ago, the one who broke your heart, ruined your life, and made promises she couldn’t keep. The truth is that, if you can’t handle her presence, it is because you know that you don’t want her to be really gone — You shouldn’t, but you want more of it, more of her and her reassuring presence. Her sudden gentleness, after she pushed you away so violently, is building your hopes back up. A feeling that is painful when you know that they would never become a reality.

“Listen,.. I-,” she sighed, but before she could find the right words to answer your questions, you cut her, again. You already had enough, wanting this conversation to end, and now.

“If you can’t give me an honest answer, then I don’t want to listen to you,” you abruptly said, warning the woman that she should carefully choose her next words.

The woman may want to say something, but when she opens her lips, no sound comes out — Because she has no idea what to say. The truth is that Natasha is as confused as you are, the same unanswered questions occupying her mind. She doesn’t know why she went after you, and the lack of response keeps her awake at night. 

The woman simply knew that she needed to be there, that her place was by your side, and no word was strong enough to describe how worried she had been about you all this time, a feeling that has lingered inside her since you left. She pretended not to care, tried to bury these feelings as she had been raised to do, but it never really left.

You had poisoned her soul, her heart.

But you know. You already know the answers to your questions, you only asked because you wanted to hear them from her mouth. You want her to admit that her actions were only guided by her guilt, not by the love she pretends to bear for you, because that is the only way you would be able to get rid of the painful hope that, maybe, things could go back to the way they used to be.

But obviously she wouldn’t say that. 

The great Natasha Romanoff would never admit that she is selfish, and imperfect. 

That she is far from the hero everyone thinks she is.

“Get. out,” you eventually asked the woman. She has hesitated, and missed her chance to say something. “GET OUT,” you yelled when you noticed she was about to protest, “LEAVE ME ALONE,” you added, pushing the woman who was kneeling in front of you with all your strength. When she didn’t budge, it only added to your distress.

For once, she listened to you, and left the room. The door closed behind her with a soft thud, and just like that you found yourself plunged into the silence you’ve been longing for — Yet, it didn’t feel as comforting as you expected it to be.

Somehow, since that day, you have only felt worse. Since you have found your voice again, you only used it to express your anger, yelling at anyone trying to get into your room. It has been several days now, that your cries have been echoing in the tower, making it clear that you wanted to be left alone. If the past few weeks you have been bearing Natasha’s presence, it wasn’t the case anymore, and now the woman couldn’t even do something as simple as knocking at your door without you screaming. You do not want to see, hear, or feel her — Even the mere thought of the redhead was too much.

All of them had tried to step in your room, convinced they would be the one able to calm you down, but everything they achieved was to worsen the situation. Eventually, they stopped coming, giving you the loneliness you thought you wanted — Then why are not feeling better, now that you have what you asked for? 

You are torn apart by contradictory feelings and needs, unable to quite understand what is going on in your mind — It is obvious that you don’t want to see Natasha. And yet, everytime someone other than the woman opened this door, you felt disappointment filling your heart. Maybe that is why you yelled, why you were so angry. 

When they eventually stopped knocking at your door, you caught yourself hoping for them to come back. Your days are now an endless succession of hopes, built up at every sound of footsteps in the corridor, and disappointments, when you eventually hear them going away. She has proven you right, you thought. She has proven to you that she doesn’t care, and you have used up all your tears crying over this idea, days and nights. 

You wish you hadn’t said those things, that you hadn’t screamed at the woman, because you were now missing her presence. Her gentleness may have been annoying, but it has been so long since the last time someone has been this gentle with you, that now it was gone, you were craving to get it back. She gave you a second chance, and you have thrown it away for what? Nothing.

It took a few days before you eventually decided to leave your room. It was not by choice, obviously, and you only agreed to leave the comfort of your bed because of the hunger that was slowly gnawing at your insides. The last meal you got was the same day as the last time you saw Natasha, and you knew you couldn’t go much longer without eating. At first, you told yourself you would endure the pain, that you deserved it for what you did to the woman, but it didn’t make it more bearable, and you eventually gave in.

The plan you made in your mind was easy — Waiting for the night to come, make sure that no one is awake, and then quickly getting down to the kitchen. Only a few minutes, only time to grab some snacks before making it back to the comfort of your room. Yet, you should have known that things never go as they are meant to.

The journey to the kitchen was everything but easy. You have probably been a bit too optimistic about your ability to walk when you thought about your plan. The pain in your leg was so intense that you were only able to take a few steps before collapsing, and had to almost drag yourself down there. Every step felt like running miles, leaving you short of breath. And yet, despite all your efforts, despite your strong will, you were eventually forced to give up when your legs have once again shifted under your weight, leaving you on the ground, unable to get up despite your attempts. 

When even crawling felt too demanding, you were left with no choices but to wait for someone to rescue you. Suddenly, you were submerged by an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness, and shame, that only worsened when you heard footsteps. You didn’t say anything, and only closed your eyes, hiding your tears behind your eyelids. You were softly praying that whoever is here would ignore your limp figure, scattered on the living-room’s floor, and do whatever they came here for as if you weren’t here. 

“Oh sweetie, no.. I won’t do that,” a feminine voice softly said, and you immediately recognize it as Wanda’s. It holds a gentleness that is unique. 

Your suspicions are confirmed a moment later, when the woman kneels beside you. For a second, you thought about pushing her away, especially when her hand brushes your hair out of your face. The witch is aware of that, but she also knows that, deep down,  behind the walls that you’ve built to protect yourself, you were craving for her attention. That’s why the woman didn’t remove her hand right away, a sad smile stretching her lips when she realized how you were leaning into her touch.

“Are you hungry?” She eventually asked, and you opened your eyes, a bit surprised by the sudden question. You blink, twice, unable to give the woman a verbal answer — But she doesn’t need one. She is perfectly aware of why you came downstairs, and she doesn’t need to use her mind-reading abilities to know that, already aware of how you have been refusing to eat anything for the past few days. “Good,” she whispered, careful with her words. She couldn’t risk you shutting down, again. “Because I was cooking, but did way too much for one person,” she explained, smiling.

It is a lie, and you both are aware of that. 

It is past midnight, and the woman was probably just looking for some water. She definitely wasn’t cooking, and is probably not even hungry, but she knows that this innocent lie would help you to feel less guilty. The woman knows how stubborn you can be, and how you would probably have refused if she had proposed to cook you a meal, scared of wasting her time. Yet, she couldn’t let you go back to your room with only a snack. You need energy, if you want to get back on your feet as soon as possible.

“Come here,” she said when you hesitantly nodded, “let me help you,” she added, and you didn’t protest when the woman wrapped her arms around you — Her embrace was soft, and comforting. 

“I got you,” she whispered in your mind, “everything will be fine now,” and, this time, the words felt true. It has been a long time since you felt as safe as you did in the Witch’s arms, the woman being the only one who has never treated you differently, or hated you for what happened years ago. She was the hope that things could work out. 

THE END. —

| MOODBOARD — ✧ — MASTERLIST — ✧ — TO SAY SOMETHING

| Part one. Part two. Part three. the scars in our hearts (bonus part).

| Taglist — @cd-4848, @chocolatestrawberrykryptonite, @gemz5, @jusnough, @liasxeatt, @m0nsterqzzz, @marvelwomenarehot0, @mrsrushman, @riyaexee, @takeyaki, @taliiiaasteria.

[badscienceman]

I saw someone ask what "I hope this hurts" means beyond the obvious, and I started to respond only for it to turn into an essay... Because I don't feel like dumping something so long in some unsuspecting person's notifs, I'm just going to post it here instead.

I started writing this after playing the game, but ended up watching a playthrough because I couldn't remember exactly where "I hope this hurts" was repeated. I think I caught the only few times it was mentioned, but I wouldn't be surprised if I missed something, so feel free to correct me on that or anything else I might have gotten wrong.

Spoilers for the full game and CWs for everything you would expect from discussing Mouthwashing apply.

Edited 10/16/2024 for clarity and some minor issues with formatting. I added sections in hopes of making it more readable, as well as a few more screenshots that I hope will support my points better. *Indicates where I made potentially significant additions to my original analysis.

Part One: Jimmy

Jimmy is someone who has a delicate ego. This means that he's very concerned with how he's perceived by those around him. We see this in how he responds to Curly and the news of the company's closure, which he takes it as a personal attack in spite of it very clearly having nothing to do with him on a personal level.

For people like Jimmy, a threat to one's image (whether it's a matter of their perception of themselves or, maybe worse, the perception others have of them) brings intense emotional pain. Even though it's clear that Curly meant no personal offense, and likely saw more good in Jimmy than was actually there, Jimmy sees this as a great threat to his own image, and thus identity.

To be clear, it's not just that Jimmy thinks Curly is looking down on him. It's also that Jimmy needs his role in the company to maintain his image, and he needs to eventually become captain. This is his ultimate goal because the respect and control that someone like Curly has, in Jimmy's mind, is tied to the title he possesses. And Jimmy wants that. He wants respect, he wants to be listened to, he wants power over others. (This is also why Swansea's final speech is so important, in relation to the belief that if one just reaches this next goal, they might feel a little more human, a little more in control, a little more fulfilled, but as Swansea shows us, that's just not the case. And it's true for Jimmy, too. Jimmy isn't magically fulfilled by obtaining the title of captain.)

But in the beginning, Jimmy has yet to realize that just getting the role of captain won't magically make him a man who is respected, or even a man who is truly in control. He sees no opportunities for himself on earth. The only option is to stay in this company and become a little lord of his own ship... and suddenly that's ripped out from under him. He will never reach the goal he's been chasing for all of this time.

Anya telling him about her pregnancy is the final push he needs to go over the edge.

Part Two: Captain

Returning to the initial reveal that the company is shutting down for a second, I think it's important to keep in mind a few things:

1. The importance of the title of captain in Jimmy's mind.

2. How this extends to his perception of Curly, him being the current captain.

3. Jimmy's self-centeredness preventing him from understanding the feelings and perceptions of those around him.

When Curly says what he does, Jimmy immediately jumps to the conclusion that Curly sees himself as above everyone else (and most importantly, as above Jimmy), to the point of considering them "dirt." I don't think Jimmy is just projecting his greatest fear (being seen as lesser) onto Curly. I think he's projecting his own perceptions.

He's placed all of this importance on the title of captain, and thus Curly. The captain is above Jimmy. Jimmy is beneath him, is lesser. And we know how Jimmy treats those he sees as lesser (first Anya, and then the rest of the crew once he's captain, *manipulating Daisuke into putting his life at risk because Daisuke, who is just an intern after all, just isn't important to Jimmy being an example).

I think this is a fair reading because Jimmy does something similar with Swansea when he insists that Swansea is keeping the last cryostasis pod for himself. I understand some might say that this is just Jimmy's attempt to manipulate Daisuke and Jimmy doesn't actually believe it, which is a fair interpretation, but I sincerely think he believes what he's saying in this instance. And I think that because Jimmy sees selfishness as common sense. It's what he would do were he in Swansea's position, and what makes him giving the pod to Curly significant.

Part Three: Anya

So, Jimmy is already hurt and panicking. He sees his chance at power and thus fulfillment slipping away. And then Anya tells him that she's pregnant.

Anya, who he has shown time and time again that he thinks little of.

Anya, who he clearly sees as beneath him.

Any mention of the pregnancy, no matter how gently it was worded, would immediately feel like a threat to him on multiple levels. And not only that, but a threat from someone lesser than him. His image, his status, his control, his power—it's already slipping from his fingertips. *It's happening right then, in that moment. It's not just a potential future where he's held accountable in a real way (maybe if Anya involved authorities, or if Jimmy was legally responsible for supporting a child once they returned to earth). It's happening now, because his image is crumbling.

For this reason, I believe I hope this hurts to be directed at anyone and everyone that he sees as "threatening" him.

Anya and Curly have made him hurt. He wants to make them hurt.

He doesn't care about Daisuke and Swansea. If anything, he's so caught up in himself and this contorted vision of reality, I wouldn't be shocked if he convinced himself in the moment that they, too, were looking down on him for some reason. (See again, "I know what everyone is thinking. The way they look at me." Obviously this is said in the midst of his spiral, after the crash, but I wouldn't doubt the paranoia was there before that moment.)

He wants to make them hurt as they've hurt him. He may also want to make himself hurt in order to vent out his emotional pain. If not, death may simply be the easiest way to escape pain and the threat the future holds in his mind.

*Part Four: Without the Guilt

In addition to all of this, I think crashing the ship (making them hurt) is his vision of what Curly has done or is doing to him. This is how he "leave(s) the dirt behind."

To understand this, I'm going to include the birthday conversation and the conversation between Jimmy and Curly about crashing the ship.

Jimmy: ... So I guess you got what you wanted. Without the guilt. Curly: Jim... If I had known... Jimmy: I can go back to my, how'd you put it? "Struggle of a life?" Jimmy: Anya never got into medical school because she's... well, let's be real. Jimmy: And how many employment years Swansea got left in him? Jimmy: Daisuke will be fine, mommy and daddy have him covered. So there's that at least. Jimmy: But you. Headed for bigger and better, right? Curly: I'm just... I'm just working on my life being a place I don't have to fucking escape! That's what I was trying to tell you, nothing mor- Jimmy: We're the ones you're trying to escape! Leave the dirt behind now that your boots are clean! Curly: That's not what I meant. Jimmy: It is what you meant. Jimmy: You just couldn't frame it to yourself in a way that kept you as the hero. Jimmy: Abandon the crew but remain the model captain.

To me, this is one of the most important and revealing sections of the game. Jimmy is not only projecting onto Curly, he's telling us exactly what he's going to go on to do (or attempt to do) when he becomes captain.

In addition to this, we see his manipulation on full display as he twists Curly's words and won't allow him even a moment to truly speak beyond a few lines he manages to get in between Jimmy's ranting.

That's not to mention we see the beginning of yet another pattern in Jimmy's behavior: getting a person to admit their weakness, then using it against them and/or using it to hurt them (he does this with Daisuke, for example, when he hears Daisuke's fears/desire for approval and proceeds to use it to get Daisuke in the vent). Here, Curly speaks about feeling trapped. Jimmy will soon trap him in a crashed ship just as much as he traps him in his own body, which Jimmy will proceed to drug. But I'll return to that.

Curly: Jim. I can fix this. Jimmy: What do you think will happen when we get back? Hm? Curly: We can figure all of this out. You and me. Take care of it. Kills ninety nine percent. Jimmy: All I ever hear is how great of a leader you are. God, it's so annoying. Jimmy: But, now... What do you think will happen now when we get back? Curly: We'll fix this together. Jimmy: Everything you and I worked for in our lives. Accomplishments, changes. Jimmy: None of it will matter. Curly: You've gotten through difficult situations before. This time won't be any different. Work through it, one day at a time. Jimmy: It's not just me, is it? Jimmy: You were supposed to be the one who had everything under control. You said so yourself. Jimmy: The ship, this crew, everything that happened here... Jimmy: This was your responsibility, Captain. Jimmy: That is what you'll be hearing the rest of your life. Take responsibility. Jimmy: Or this can all be remembered as a tragedy. Jimmy: Despite what must have been the best efforts of its acclaimed captain. Jimmy: The Tulpar crew was never found. Jimmy: No one survived to tell the tale. Take responsibility. Jimmy: You're standing at the top. Jimmy: Feet in cement. Jimmy: I get it now. Right? Curly: ... Curly: ... Right.

This is an important moment, because aside from the scene in which Jimmy is approaching Curly while he's on fire, it's the only other time that I can recall the game separating from their perspectives to allow us to see them both, standing together.

We see a flash of Take care of it. Kills ninety nine percent. Jimmy begins to pull away. Another flash. He continues to draw back. Another. He turns towards the cockpit.

Jimmy sees through Curly. He sees Curly's worst where Curly sees only Jimmy's best, and he's more that willing to use that against Curly.

He sees a man who is not going to do what's hard. He sees a man who is going to try to "fix it" only in the most superficial sense. A man who confuses the appearance of cohesion and peace with the reality of it. Someone who sees the rocking of the boat as a manifestation of taking action against a wrong rather than the wrong itself.

In the end, it seems they're both ruled by appearances. And Jimmy will soon rip appearances in every sense from Curly's fingertips. He will make him hurt. He will get his revenge. He'll turn Curly into the villain, taking away his title, his respect, and his very face.

For daring to look down on him, Jimmy will turn Curly into dust.

But I think these words—I hope it hurts—come back to haunt him.

Part Five: The Eye as a Mirror

Like I said, I went back to try to find each time the phrase is used. There's the beginning, of course, but then there's the pregnancy sequence, for lack of a better name.

When the Polle monstrosity emerges from the giant uterus (?), we see these words:

In this sequence, we see a lot of different images and concepts connected: Anya's pregnancy and thus her sexual assault by Jimmy are tied to Polle and the company. The emergence of the Polle monster from the giant uterus (and the idea of the removal of the pregnancy) is tied to the mouthwash, as it's an act of "cleansing." This is all then tied to the phrase I hope this hurts.

Unless I missed something, these are the only two moments when the phrase is used: When Jimmy crashes the ship, and when he's experiencing this hallucination.

All clean! Really gets rid of that bad taste in your mouth, huh? Through wreckage! Through silence! Wash it away! All day fire fresh!

"Clean" is important immediately. "Leave the dirt behind you now that your boots are clean," Jimmy says. Because in this accusation is Jimmy's actual intentions himself. He wants to rise above others and clean himself from their filth. Now, he wants to clean himself of his sins.

I think "Really gets rid of that bad taste in your mouth" is mocking him. A direct challenge to the thought that he could ever truly be "cleaned," at least in the ways he's so desperately trying to go about it. *Not to mention how this connects to the mouthwash, as it might get that 99%, but there's always going to be 1% left.

"Through wreckage" obviously refers to the wrecking of the ship, but also of their lives. All by Jimmy. Though I wouldn't doubt in his mind it connects to the wreckage of consequences (ie. Anya's pregnancy resulting from Jimmy's actions).

"Through silence" I feel connects back to Jimmy's attempts to keep everything quiet, both literally and figuratively.

"Wash it away" also has a mocking edge, as if stressing the foolishness of Jimmy's attempts to treat these very serious events as if it's all just "dirt" he can wipe off.

Finally, we see "All day fire fresh!" This line stresses the connection to the mouthwash, of course. It also calls to mind the concept of cleansing by fire. Important considering Curly.

And after each, I hope it hurts. Jimmy's statement of pure, childish rage. His desperate desire to make others hurt as he hurts. To lash out, to get revenge. To have control until the very end.

This is also why Polle haunts him. Because he, as a man desperate for control, will always be under the thumb of the company even with that title of captain. That hurts him. And maybe the closest thing to ever recognizing the evil he's done to Anya is envisioning it as similar to the company's control, but even that feels like a mockery because he's so horrifically incapable of seeing her as a human being that she's been reduced to her womb. That's what he's really afraid of, in the end, and the fear feels like something else is in control. It makes the organ feel giant, larger than him, capable of hurting him.

When I was watching the playthrough, I thought that there was going to be four or five "I hope it hurts." I thought it would represent each person Jimmy hurts, or all of them, because he hurts himself too. When the sixth came, I thought so much for that theory. But then, I thought about it and there's the fetus. That makes six.

So, I hope this hurts means "I want to hurt you the way I've been hurt. The way you've hurt me." It's Jimmy saying that if his life has been wrecked, he'll wreck yours. It's Jimmy saying he'll shut you up. It's Jimmy saying he'll burn everything down if it means he can maintain control, or even just the illusion of it.

Part Six: Pain

But I think there's another side to this. Like some of the other lines I said feel are mocking him, I think I hope this hurts turns against Jimmy, especially here. And more than that, pain (and by extension, pain medication) plays a massive role in the game, after all. So I hope this hurts feels as if it haunts every moment where it's involved.

Jimmy says this the first time he gives Curly his pills. Pain is how we know we're still living.

The pills are clearly connected to death from the start. If "pain is how we know we're still living" then pain is connected to life and freedom from it is connected to death. That's saying nothing of Anya's use of the pills to kill herself. I think this connects back to the crash, as well. If life is pain, death is an escape from it.

I think it's also significant that the act of swallowing the pain pills is in and of itself painful.

The pills that are meant to take the pain away become a method of torturing Curly. It's a way to make him hurt, and to exert control over him. Even something that should take away his suffering is just an extension of it.

At one point, Jimmy says "Once these are out, we'll have nothing to keep him quiet." In this sense, the pain pills are meant to suppress, not to heal (Through silence!). They're supposed to shut Curly up and keep him from expressing his anguish in the only way he has left (the noises that disturb Jimmy's sleep).

Others have compared this, or Curly's state, to how Anya has been forced to bottle up her own suffering. Jimmy is keeping them both quiet, or at least attempting to. The ultimate form of keeping them quiet would be to, of course, kill them all.

The pills can also be seen as an attempt to hide or conceal the hurt that has been caused rather than to actually heal. In this way, they're like the mouthwash: something that's not really helping, just covering up an issue (and thus making it worse). And the mouthwash represents Jimmy's attempts to "fix" things. He doesn't actually want to make things right, because that would mean taking accountability. He wants to protect his own ego by "fixing" things in a mimicry of Curly "fixing" things in which he wants to create a sense of "rightness" without actually adressing what (or who) has been wronged. Jimmy can't stand to look at himself, because he would see that he really is constructed of his worst moments, or at least, that's what I suspect he would see.

Conclusion

Considering all of this, I hope this hurts can then become a mantra about living in spite of everything. I hope this hurts means "I hope I'm alive in the end. I hope we're all alive in the end." It could mean "I hope I'm allowed to hurt, because I am hurt, and the harm that's been done to me must be seen rather than suppressed and hidden." It could mean "You can't keep me quiet. You can't ignore or hide what you've done to me."

Maybe most of all, I think it means I hope you reap what you sow. When it's turned back on Jimmy, when it's almost mocking or haunting him, it becomes in part about his emotional weakness. About his inability to look at himself and his reality without experiencing the pain of humiliation. I don't think he ever experiences half of the pain he's inflicted on those around him. Still, he has to deal with the fact that his attempt to hurt others instead of facing himself has caused him more pain rather than taken it away as he'd hoped.

And I think that's why he suddenly decides to make Curly a "hero" instead of a "villain." There's a tipping point where he's pushed into a corner. The pain is too much. He hasn't confronted his own actions in any real way, but he's done enough that he can't stand to save himself anymore. It hurts too badly to live with what he's done. It sends him into another stage of fantasy/delusion. The only thing left to do is what he intended to from the start: kill himself to escape and damn Curly to a slow death. Because to go on living in spite of the pain would be the right thing to do, in a sense. To live in the hell of his own creation. To face what he's done. But instead, he'll entrust those heroics to Curly.

This feels barely coherent in the end, so I might come back in a few days and say wow what the fuck was I talking about? But hopefully there's something here that captures some truth. Again, please feel free to correct me if I'm misremembering anything or if I missed something.

[hellfire-rose]

Naturally, all the current timeline boys are frantic when Solomon reveals to them that you've disappeared into thier past (and the most unstable time in devildom history) but imagine how terrifying it must be for Satan specifically.

His memory of this time period may be hazy but he certainly remembers enough of how he was, needing to be literally chained down by his brothers due to how wild and destructive his tendencies were. If full grown demons had a difficult time handling him, the idea of you, a fragile human, being around him at his most volatile fills him with sickening dread. His greatest fear is losing you to the rage of his own past.

[muxshwriting]

a world of dreams

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

summary: Feyd’s wife was always branded as a dreamer, content to spend a day in her books. but her husband would always entertain her dreams, especially when they save her life /or/ basically the request || warnings: violence, haters gonna hate, death, blood || word count: 1658 || masterlist

REQUEST: I’ve always wondered how Feyd Rautha would handle having a wife like Helaena who speaks in riddles and flinches at loud noises and violence. Maybe an Atreides daughter they’re supposed to create the Kwisatz Haderach with? In a Universe where Jessica stayed loyal to the bene Gesserit. I’d love to know how someone like Feyd would react to her telling him he’s scared the way Helaena does to Aegon in hotd. Maybe he’d have very little patience for her but I could also see him bonding with someone like that. Also I think that someone with Helaena’s ability to retreat inside her own mind would be able to survive on Giedi Prime.

Your fate had been set in stone since your very conception, meant to mend the relationship between two houses that had been at war for centuries and bring forward the greatest mind the universe had ever seen. Jessica had trained you in the Bene Gesserit way since you were young, always believing that your bloodline would be famed for generations after.

But you didn’t want to be famed or revered or feared. You wanted nothing more than to be loved, completely loved. When you learned of your betrothed, there was a sadness that overtook you, an accepting that your husband may never truly love you. He was famed for his cruelty, his majesty in the arena and his fighting prowess. He was not known for his ventless and his love, no Harkonnen ever had been.

The first time you met eyes with your future husband, there was a silent understanding that passed between you two. He was a young boy, barely older than you and yet he looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Perhaps there could be a connection between you two, despite your afflictions.

Your father called it dreaming, ignoring whatever technical explanation your mother held. There were things you saw that no sane man could explain and yet they were always true. They came to you in the silent moments of the day, when you read or sketched. You had loved it growing up, seeing glimpses of things yet to come but as you grew, they only ever turned darker.

The diplomatic visit to Geidi Prime was short and yet long enough for you to spend a few hours alone with Feyd. There was an itching under your skin from being on the planet, a discomfort that lingered as you pushed down any dreams that threatened to reveal themselves.

You sat across from Feyd, your hands twisting in your lap.

“What do you like to do?” His voice was soft, always soft when he was with you but the sterness returned the moment someone else entered the room.

You wondered if someone had shared your condition with him. “I read. I draw.” Around him, you didn't feel the necessity to boast of your suitable talents your parents had raised you on. The itching had ceased, even if it was just for a moment. “You?”

“I fight- I'm good at fighting.” He corrected himself. For a moment it seemed like he was done talking, but then he met your gaze and continued. “I don't have much to time to do things I like.”

“Perhaps when we are wed, you will have time to explore things you enjoy.” You meant nothing by it, only that you hoped your husband could find a hobby not controlled or pushed onto him by his Uncle.

Feyd smiled in response and you got the distinct feeling that everything would be alright if you married him. But you could not marry him without guilt unless you told him yourself what you were.

“I dream.” You say, unsure of how to tell him.

Feyd was slightly amused, “You dream? I’m sure many do.”

“No.” You quickly reply. “I see things, visions almost. They are never truly clear, only glimpses of the future.”

“Ah.”

“I didn’t want you to marry me if you didn’t know. I only hope you understand and do not judge me for something beyond my control.”

Feyd’s expression softened as he took stock of the panicked breaking out of your being. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

The hopefulness in your eyes glistened as you stood, offering Feyd a small bow before leaving the room and returning to your mother and father.

When your day of union arrived, it was a rather happy occasion. Your family smiled as you stayed by Feyd’s side, your hand twisted with his. There was a soft and genuine look of almost-love everytime he looked at you. All that look needed was time to evolve into true love that would pull him under without hesitation. Feyd would let himself be taken by everything you are and he would even beg for it. Your mother and father could see the affection you already shared and knew nothing would come between you.

The Baron, on the other hand, had indifference covering his face all day. This was not a joyous occasion, but a simple ceremony that had to be done in order to end the conflict he wanted to continue. However, this union would bring him more power than war would, and he would just have to accept that.

Feyd reached for two glasses and passed one to you, raising his in a toast. “To the rest of our lives?”

“To the rest of our lives.” You agreed, clinking your glass with his and taking a drink.

Once you had placed your glass back down, Feyd leant forward to capture your lips, letting his heart float like only you could make him. Your marriage was nothing more than picturesque. There was finally peace felt throughout the universe and yet there were some who were still not happy.

The Emperor, despite suggesting the match to weaken the houses and cause friction, watched as they came together in love and only grew stronger. The Atreides were a threat to his reign long before, but with the Harkonnens now as allies, there was nothing that could stop them if they desired his throne.

The final straw came when news of an heir flowed throughout the Imperium. The Atreides and Harkonnens would soon have an heir that would bind them with blood, for eternity.

Your husband had been even more protective of you since the beginning of your pregnancy, barely wanting to leave you alone. The dreams had shown you your daughter, a beautiful girl that was the mix of both you and Feyd. But there was one persistent dream that shook you to your core.

“Feyd?”

“Yes my love?” The nickname had never stopped, ever since the wedding.

“I'm afriad.”

Feyd's face flashed with confusion for a moment as his eyes darted around the room. “What are you afraid of my love? Our families are united, no one would dare stand against Harkonnens and Atreides united. The babe is well, she is growing stronger by the day.”

“There are snakes crawling through the city.” Your voice is a whisper, trembling with every word. You weren’t really aware of what your words meant, only repeating what your mind brought forward.

Feyd smiled at his wife’s words. “There are no snakes on Geidi Prime, my love. They cannot survive here.” He takes a seat next to you, pulling you closer to him as if to protect you.

“They will worm their way to our palace.”

“Then I will double our guard and order lockdown at the slightest threat.” He said it with such conviction that you were almost convinced.

“But-“

“What have I said?” Feyd asked you. “I would never let anything hurt you or our children. There is nothing that can get into our palace unless I will it.”

You let the dream sit in the back of your mind, pushing it away from thought but not forgetting. And it did you well not to forget when you couldn’t sleep one night and a echoing crash startled you. No one else awoke and you took the risk to glance outside your room, where your guards stood to attention.

“Is everything alright Na-Baroness?”

You forced a smile. “All is fine. Just… stay alert.” With nothing else to say, you turn and return to your bed.

Feyd was not disturbed but you found yourself reaching under his pillow to touch the knife he always kept there. It was a reassuring reminder that if your dream came true tonight, there was something Feyd could do. You lay, the blank ceiling taunting you and your ears hearing every footstep and breath people made.

It was only as you had begun drifting back to sleep that a muffled shout came from the hallway and your heart stuttered. You reached over, shaking Feyd awake as he quickly looked around before settling his eyes on your own frantic ones.

“What’s going on?”

Your breath trembled once more. “The snakes are here.”

At your words, Feyd reached for the knife and practically jumped out of bed, directing you to the corner of the room furthest from the door, furthest from harm. The thump of a body was heard and Feyd tightened his grip, activating his shield.

Two men, Imperial soldiers burst through the door and you caught sight of the bodies of two others as well as your guards. Terror gripped you, a hatred of blood instilled in you since you were a young girl. Your hand flew to your mouth as you shrunk into the corner even more, wishing the floor would swallow you up.

Feyd leapt forward, his body practised in fighting people at a moments notice. His knife carved flesh, splattering blood over the room. A small scream escaped your lips as the bodies crashed to the floor and your husband stood in the centre of your room, blood dripping from the knife still in his hand.

He turned to face you, throwing the knife across the room and rushing towards you. You practically threw yourself into his arms and he squeezed you close to his chest and rested his head on yours.

“You’re okay.” He said, letting you feel his steady heartbeat against your rapid one. “The snakes are gone.”

“The snakes-?”

“They’re gone. We’re okay.” He pulled away just enough to take your hand and pull it down to your stomach. “She’s okay, you’re okay. We are all okay. No one can hurt you.”

You let your panic settle and relax into his arms. Everyone’s alive. You can manage whatever comes next, you can let the snakes try but they will never be able to bite you.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER SEVEN

07 : INVESTIGATIONS

CHPT. SUM. : you investigate the mysterious room you first woke up in while james, sirius and peter investigate where remus disappeared to. 

LENGTH : 9.5k

TAGS : reggie baby is too precious ; the making of the marauders ; remus needs a hug ; remus' first transformation ; madam pomfrey is there for him ; madam pomfrey is mother ; reader is also mothering ; no orion because he's being served justice ; kreacher is in on it ; detail on reader's bcakground revealed ; walburga's plotting clues

CONTENT WARNING : dead animal ; impications of animal cruelty/abuse ; cancer diagnosis ; life-altering surgery mentions

← PREV. 06 : POTIONEER | SERIES M.LIST

Hogwarts | 5th September 1971

From very young, Remus has grown a habit of being well-prepared for things, primarily out of necessity and fear. Fear of himself and the necessity to keep others safe from the monster that he was. His parents were adamant in doing everything they could to vanquish the prejudice surrounding lycanthropes and even more determined to erase his views of himself because of his lycanthropy. He is their only son, the light of their world and the most precious being to exist in their lives. Remus will always be grateful for their efforts and unwavering love for him but the situation is bleak. It’s hard to escape the nasty whispers and unsavoury gossip that go around about his kind — not that he wanted to be a werewolf in the first place… 

He’s lucky enough to be accepted into the greatest wizarding school in Britain by Albus Dumbledore. Despite knowing of his condition, Remus was allowed to attend Hogwarts on the condition that he be carefully monitored and cared for by the school’s established matron, Madam Pomfrey. The conditions were explicitly stated in a separate letter his parents received atop his letter of acceptance to the prestigious wizarding school. That day was a dream come true, Remus almost felt feverish holding the letter in his hand and reading about all the things he needed for the start of his tuition at Hogwarts. He couldn’t believe his ears when his parents assured his insecurities by stating they received a letter written by Albus Dumbledore himself in the caring for his ‘unique constitution’. The letter clearly stated that Remus was free to use an abandoned shack for his transformations, it was far enough from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade to ensure the safety of students and villagers of the respective areas. Madam Pomfrey was to escort Remus to the shack before every transformation and would be the first to fetch him after, ensuring that he was well taken care of throughout his academic career. 

Remus worried that he might break through a window or door but Dumbledore’s clairvoyant nature accounted for that in his letter. It was explained how the shack no longer had any working doors or windows for exit or entry and that the only entrance was via a secret passageway under the whomping willow. That willow was planted to disguise the entrance of the shack and, due to its violent nature, would attack anyone that drew near and disrupt its many branches. The procedure for calming down the tree would be explained by Madam Pomfrey when Remus arrived and would be approaching his first full moon. Everything was taken care of and Remus, in his relief, was free to feel the excitement of every other student invited to attend Hogwarts.  

Tonight would be Remus’ first transformation. A Sunday. The timing was poor, it meant that Remus would be missing his first few lessons of the day if the night proved to be especially terrible. Nevertheless, he’ll try his best to push through, the idea of doing catch-up work wasn’t a welcomed one, especially when so early on in the school term. The entire day, he had been especially antsy and quick to temper, unintentionally putting his close group of friends on edge. Every outburst was followed by a quiet but sincere apology and, although Sirius, James and Peter were put off by his strange behaviour, they couldn’t help but worry for their close friend. Their friendship was fairly new but there was already a brotherhood there that was undeniable and hard to suppress. The fact that they shared a dorm room only reinforced the bond between them. 

Their concern was obvious and Remus was happy to indulge in it, it fostered a familiar feeling similar to the one brought on by his parents whenever the effects of his condition became particularly unpleasant. And, although it was comforting, Remus made sure to keep his distance. The entire day, Remus was tormented by his conflicting emotions. He was worried about his friends finding out about his condition, worried that his mood swings and irritable nature made the monster that he was obvious. His usually polite mannerisms took on a more brutish design, his movements were rougher, his jaw always ticking about, wanting to gnaw on something, his joints sensitive and tender, building up throughout the day. The unfamiliar environment pinched his nerves and made him highly sensitive, he was scared about any potential mishaps that could happen, many of which, many could occur as it would be his first transformation. He hated days like this but they were his most important days too; he had to be extra careful.

Although James, Sirius and Peter were perfectly justified to snap at Remus for being so ‘unlike himself’ —as Peter put it, a little too lightly Remus would argue— their levels of concern far outshined their frustration over his behaviour. He only hopes that after this is all over, they will be able to forgive him for the personality shift and things can go back to normal without too many questions being asked of him. 

Earlier that day, Madam Pomfrey made sure to visit him, pulling him away from the group for a private talk although she kept their hushed conversation within view of many other students.

“How are you feeling so far? Is everything okay?”

“Just normal stuff, I’m fine,” Remus assured but his tense shoulders spoke the truth, exposing his internal worries and growing discomfort. He looks around, only to avoid the curious eyes of other students, especially his dorm mates and close friends. He wonders why their ‘private’ conversation was being done in the eyes of so many other people, when she first approached him for a quick but discreet talk, he expected her to take him someplace private too but that wasn’t the case.

“Honesty takes you a long way, Remus,” she eyes him sternly but there’s a softness to her gaze as well. 

“…I don’t feel good. I never feel good,” he bites his lip in an attempt to keep his shaky voice steady and looks to the ground to disguise his watery eyes. His hands clenched into fists at his side, partially disguised by his large woolly jumper — an expression of anger at the unfairness of his state but Pomfrey’s caring hand against his shoulder settled his rage almost immediately. 

“I’m very sorry, dear,” they share a brief but understanding look, “I wish you could do more for you but here,” she hands him a small note before promising to meet him for his transformation later that night and leaving with an elegant swish of her matron dress.

It was a purposeful performance, Remus quickly gathered after her leaving, something to show others, especially his close friends, that something medically related was wrong but should remain only between them. It was clever. He carefully tucks away the sick note she had given for him to use as the perfect excuse should Filch catch him in the hall out of bed.

Remus holds that same note like a lifeline while dressed in his pyjamas and piquing the curiosity of his dorm mates. He makes the excuse of feeling ill and insists that he go to the hospital wing alone. He stresses the word when his friends shuffle to the edge of their beds. James and Sirius were strong protestors, blocking his way when he tried to swiftly slip away. Their disagreements delayed his journey, pushing him close to snapping harshly but thanks to Peter’s shy input and hesitant smile, James finally conceded and held Sirius back with him. Finally, Remus could go with a small smile of thanks as James continued to hold Sirius back. Remus continued to hear his friend’s protests even through the door he softly closed shut behind him and began his search for the school matron.

Meeting Madam Pomfrey for the first time was nerve-wracking. Remus had made a point of seeking her out on their first-day tour of Hogwarts. He was nervous and remembered feeling so small under her gaze when he had first introduced himself, all while his friends and classmates remained preoccupied with a brief tour of the hospital wing around him. She knew what he truly was and dreaded the feeling of facing her criticism and repulsion. But he had no reason to be afraid nor so self-deprecating before her; when he looked up from his shoes, he was met with a kind and reassuring smile. There was understanding behind her gentle gaze and a silent promise to take good care of him through the warmth of her hand as she softly petted his head. He hears her soft whisper of assurance: you’re in good hands, dear. That was all he needed, all he needed to trust her. She didn’t judge him, there wasn’t a single drop of animosity or loathing in her eyes and gentle touch. He will remember that day, her acceptance, forever; he believed only his parents had the capacity to care for a monster like him but she refuted that without a single word.

“I am here to make sure you’re well taken care of, Remus,” Pomfrey comments softly as she leads him through an inconspicuous passage, bypassing most of Hogwarts’ stone halls and towering staircases. Regardless, the passage still stretched on forever before Pomfrey was finally leading Remus out onto a hill that housed the isolated cabin. As stated in the letter, it had no windows or doors, all traces of such entrances were boarded up and Remus felt the unsavoury feeling consume the depths of his stomach when comparing the shack to a private jail cell. 

“I apologise for its sorry state, Remus” Pomfrey sighs in disappointment, her frown remaining despite his words of assurance. She carefully approaches a knot at the base of the gnarled tree before leading him down another tunnel, one with walls of dirt rather than stone, “I wanted to, at least make it more accommodating for you but to keep suspicions at bay and activity around the shack should be kept to a minimum, Dumbledore insisted that it remains unsightly,”

“It’s okay, really,” Remus musters a small smile and assures her again, unaware of how he makes her heart clench painfully. Such a young boy doesn’t deserve to experience this type of prejudice or mistreatment. She’d much rather patch up miscellaneous injuries from innocent falls and moments of misjudged hazards than treat a sweet, innocent child for such horrific injuries, caused by an affliction he did not want — something hatefully thrust upon him due to bitterness and vengeful desires. Pomfrey was informed of Remus’ situation well before the Hogwarts acceptance letters were sent out and, filled with heartache and sympathy, resolved to care for Remus as if he were her own son. The letter of gratitude she had received from the Lupin parents only fuelled her unwavering will. It was also soon established that she would send letters to them after every full moon reporting on the state of Remus’ conditions, to keep them informed and assured of his wellbeing. They were good people and they had a lovely son. It was horrible what had become of their family due to ignorance and the thirst for vengeance. Lyall Lupin will regret that fateful day until his last breath. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t blame himself for his son’s mistreatment and lycanthropy. 

Stepping into the dust-filled shack, Remus takes a moment to look around, shivering at the low temperature of the room before moving to the centre and facing Pomfrey. The matron moves to the fireplace and lights it ablaze with a swift wave of her wand before facing him with a kind smile. However, Remus, seeing the lack of chains casts a worried glance at her.

“Are you sure I won’t be able to hurt anyone in here?” Remus asks before Pomfrey can say much else. And, again, the matron is astounded at the child’s strong character. Despite his condition and the prejudice he faces for it, he worries for others more than himself.  

“Professor Dumbledore made sure of that, I promise,” Pomfrey goes up to Remus and kneels before him to get at eye level, “You have nothing to worry for. You are safe,” uncertainty remained in Remus’ gentle, brown eyes and it didn’t leave until Pomfry assured him of everyone’s safety as well, “everyone else will also remain safe,” That was all Remus needed to feel at ease and timidly wave her off as she leaves through the tunnel. Outside the willow comes to life again, swaying against the push of the wind and sensitive to the presence of unwanted strangers. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Screams rang out through the night, horrific and painful, that was what had woken Sirius up. Shaken by the disturbing sound, Sirius clambers out of bed to look out of the dorm room window. Like some sort of haunted picture, the full moon hangs suspended in the night sky, laying claim to its dominance over the vast expanse of space, outshining the stars and ousting all clouds that still linger. It glowed like the many poltergeists that roam Hogwarts’ halls but the moon’s presence was incomparably menacing. 

“What is that screaming?” Sirius utters, his grey eyes searching the landscape through his window for some form of explanation. 

“I don’t know but Remus still hasn’t returned,” James speaks up from the shadows, nearly making Sirius jump out of his skin. 

“W-wait, Remus isn’t back yet?” Peter asks, also slipping out of bed and the three make their way over to their friend’s absent bunk. “Where could he be?”

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out,” James grins and holds up a cloak. 

“How is that gonna help us find out where Rem—” Sirius begins, rubbing his eyes from sleep but stutters to a stop when James’ figure disappears beneath the fabric. The eldest Black brother shares a look of surprise with Peter before turning a grin back to James who was now a floating head. 

“I like your thinking, James old chap!” Sirius jests and slips beneath the invisibility cloak with him. 

“Will we all be able to fit inside?” Peter’s eyes swim with a healthy level of uncertainty, only to be pulled under the cloak despite his protests. 

“We’ll fit, just keep in time with my pace and be very very quiet,” James warns and the two nod affirmatively, Sirius being much more enthusiastic compared to Peter’s hesitance. 

“I hope we find, Remus soon,” Sirius comments under his breath, pressed against James’ right as Peter staggers along at James’ left. 

“I know… with all that screaming outside, I hope he isn’t in any trouble.” The three make their way to the hospital wing but falter at a hallway junction. Which way was the hospital wing again? 

“I-I think we should go right,” Peter helpfully stutters after some thought. 

“I thought it was left?” Sirius scratches at his head as James gnaws on his inner cheek. 

The three collectively decide to go right for the time being and if it’s wrong, they simply turn back and go the other way. Sirius didn’t anticipate having such an adventure through the halls in the middle of the night and, although it was underpinned by their concern for Remus’ whereabouts, he couldn’t help but feel exhilarated by the escapade. It was thrilling to challenge the rules and go against them. Sirius was well aware of this already but it’s remarkably more exhilarating when sharing the experience with other people, people that the young Black had formed a close brotherhood with. It was a bond he was quickly growing attached to. Of course, no one could ever replace Regulus as his real brother but Sirius enjoys not being the older brother for once. He enjoys having friends of the same age and not being weighed down by responsibilities or a pressing urge to protect them. They all stood on level ground, shoulder to shoulder and fuelled with equal trust for the other. Sirius quickly realised that, if he were to get in trouble for their misbehaviour, he wouldn’t mind too much. 

“Damn it, I think it was left after all,” James curses and steers all three of them back the way they came. 

“S-sorry you guys,” Peter squeaks and Sirius can just about feel the heat of embarrassment from his friend’s face against his shoulder. 

“Mistakes happen, no worries, Pete,” James doesn’t seem bothered at all, Sirius and Peter can practically hear him grinning through his words. 

“Yeah but, next time, we should go where I say first,” Sirius cheekily comments, getting a light shove from Peter and chuckles lightly. 

Their search continues but ends early when they’re caught red handed by Filch. The halls had gotten too dark and doing ‘lumos’ beneath the invisibility cloak was useless so James had to tuck away their only cover to continue forward, only for Filch to round the corner and smirk wickedly at them. It was good night of mischief while it lasted, they just wish they managed to find Remus before getting caught. Their friend remains the prominent concern in their minds. 

Filch had taken them straight to Professor McGonagall who now eyes them narrowly. “Why exactly were you three out of bed past curfew?” Filch remains in the far corner of the room, observing the scene and relishing in his deliverance of misery.

“We wanted to know what the screaming was about,” James fibs smoothly, not wanting to out Remus. Sirius nods along beside him after catching onto his friend’s intentions.

“But weren’t we—”

“Just heading back,” Sirius finishes and turns to Peter with wide eyes, pinning him to the spot, “we really didn’t stay out too long, Professor, can’t you let this slide?” Sirius smiles pleadingly but their transfiguration professor is unaffected and swiftly assigns all of them detention. “Filch will take you back to your dorms and you will stay there, understood?” 

“Yes, professor,” they say in unison. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Hogwarts | 6th September 1971

It’s the next day and Remus still hasn’t returned. It was not lunch and the trio were beginning to really worry for their friend. 

“We need to find Remus. We should skip History of Magic, it isn’t all that important anyway,” James’ words make Sirius wince ever so slightly, remembering your wisdom of the past providing the perfect lessons for a better future — it was an important subject to learn and Sirius had agreed with you.  

“B-but what if we get in trouble?” 

“Remus is more important than history, Pete,”

“I-I guess—“

“Wait! Look who it is, lads?!” Sirius points and begins to cheer at the sight of Remus hobbling over to their table with a crooked smile. The trio rise from their seats and immediately rush to his side, eying his awkward ambulation but don’t breathe a word. 

“What happened to you? Where have you been?” James asks as Peter nods along, still pointedly looking at his hobbling. 

“I was feeling sick remember?” Remus shrugs.

“Is that why you’re walking funny?”

“Y-yeah,” they finally sit back down at the table. 

“Does it hurt a lot?” Peter begins to shake at the thought of hurting himself the way Remus seems to have done. 

“Not really. Madam Pomfrey says it’ll go away through the day,” assured and satisfied with his answer they help him pile up his plate before continuing to eat. 

“What have you been doing all morning?” Sirius asks through a mouthful of food. 

“Making sure I don’t get behind on work and doing them in the hospital wing,” their jaws drop at his level of studiousness, “yeah, I asked Madam Pomfrey to get the assigned work from classes so I can do them without getting behind,” 

“You’re the academic of the group then,” James comments and grins deviously, “hey, can I copy off you in class?”

“Shove off, James,” Remus smiles when James laughs good-naturedly. It was then that the group thought it fun to retell their adventure the night before, all of them grinning when Remus goes bug-eyed at the discovery of James’ invisibility cloak.

“I’m sorry you all got detention,” Remus feels more than guilty. He didn’t realise they would go so far for him and, although it was flattering to know that they would, he felt horrible that it ended in them getting detention. The brunette was surprised, however, when the group easily shrugged it off. 

“We’ll be doing it again soon, anyway,” James smirks, shocking everyone but Sirius is soon grinning beside him. Remus laughs in disbelief but feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders — he managed to land himself a really good group of friends here; it’s more than he feels deserves. Peter seems to be the only one nervous about getting in trouble again.

12 Grimmauld Place | 12th September 1971 

Today, Orion wasn’t present at the dinner table; his stomach had been too weak to hold much food. Not long after a meal, he’s having to make yet another painful, arduous, karmic trip to the toilet. You, unfortunately, had to reveal the truth to Regulus after having lunch without a trace of his father in sight. You didn’t give much detail about Orion’s condition, just that he was having stomach problems and would be occupying the toilet closest to his home office and to avoid that area at all costs. Your baby flushed a soft pink and immediately moved the topic forward, making you giggle. He’s such an upright gentleman, trying to keep the subject off unsavoury matters, especially over the dinner table. Conversation flows naturally and there are brief pauses where you both focus on your plates, providing the perfect opportunity for your mind to wander. 

You can’t find that blasted first room anywhere. You’ve searched the entire house and… nothing. The troubling situation has you scratching your head; how can a room no longer exist? This is a magical world full of witches and wizards so you gather that magic may be responsible for the missing room. It’s probably similar to the Room of Requirement. Now, it was the question of why. Why does a dark, pureblood family need a magic room that can disappear? With a humourless chuckle, you realise you’ve answered your own question. The Blacks are a pureblood elitist family that dabbles in the dark arts, of course, they would have a secret room that can disappear. That’s probably the only room they allow themselves to practice the dark arts in. But why did you wake up in that room specifically? 

Lost in thought, you barely register the way Regulus repeatedly calls to you. He’s seated directly to your right at the table so your distracted attention makes him furrow his brows. When you finally snap to attention and look at him with an apologetic smile, his darling features are crumpled into an expression of worry. His concern was sweet and your heart warms at being blessed with such a caring son. He’s truly an angel compared to his biological parents; it’s the world’s greatest mystery why Regulus Black was born to such a reprehensible pair of parents. 

“Is everything alright, mother?” 

“Right as rain, dear,” he looks spectacle but doesn’t press further, happy to flash you a smile before returning to his dinner. “…I do have a question, however, do you mind helping me with something, please, sweetheart?” perhaps knowing where to look would be better. Both Sirius and Regulus were witnesses to your appearance just before you fainted that day, he’s sure to know the location. Regulus eagerly nods his head, still chewing on his mouthful and not wanting to be rude, “Do you remember the first night I had that horrible fainting spell?” 

“Yes, Mother?” he looks guilty remembering the moment he left with Sirius to the library, where they planned on getting through some boring, last-minute homework for their private tutors. They were upset at your dismissive words, claiming you didn’t have sons. It made Sirius snap rudely before stomping away as Regulus scurried behind him, not wanting to face more of his mother’s hurtful disdain. It isn’t until the morning after that they realise you were suffering enough to faint. Sirius stubbornly refuses to admit to his shameful behaviour but Regulus is drowning in guilt. He hopes you don’t look badly on him for that time, Sirius too. The relationship between you was much better now, brighter and warmer, it hurts too much to think of the past and it would be best to only look forward from here.

“Do you remember where I was at that time? I can’t quite remember,” you laugh softly, trying to make the situation appear unimportant, only curious. Regulus answers quietly, too quietly as he stares down at his plate, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, dear,”

“…you were down the hall from the library…”  

“I see,” you nod thoughtfully, mentally committing to that area’s investigation, “thank you, darling,” dinner goes on as usual but there’s a tension in the air you can’t quite shake despite the changing topics of conversation. Regulus was also much quieter. “What’s wrong, love?” you ask softly, setting your cutlery down and focusing all your attention on your downhearted youngest. 

“I’m sorry about leaving you there, I-I didn’t know you were hurting, Mother,” he apologises, not expecting you to reach over and lovingly comb your fingers through his hair. 

“It’s not your fault, little love,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head, “and I don’t blame you for what happened to me,” you angle your head down to smile warmly at him, trying to convey your assurance as much as possible, “besides, I’m all better now. I only have a few fainting spells here and there,” his smile is small as he nods and you both refocus your attention to dinner, the atmosphere gradually losing the earlier tension and becoming light again. Regulus remembers how cold and claustrophobic the house felt at that time, he didn’t feel comfortable thinking back to it; back then, it was a place that was hard to breathe in. He only had Sirius protecting him… 

The house is much warmer now that he has you and Sirius. He much prefers the way things are currently. The past should stay in the past. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Later that night, you ask Kreacher for more information. The topic clearly made Regulus uncomfortable and you didn’t want him to do anything he wasn’t comfortable with, which is why you didn’t ask any further questions, especially at the dinner table where the atmosphere should be lighter. Hopefully, you can fully dismiss all tensions from dinner when you tuck him into bed later on. 

Seated at your desk, you suppress the groans of discomfort that were being conducted through the walls from Orion’s private office — you can’t believe he still hasn’t asked Kreacher for a healing potion. But you suppose it’s fitting that his ego is making him suffer more at this point. You savour the sounds of his pain for only a few moments more before calling for Kreacher yourself. 

“Mistress has called for Kreacher?” the hunched house elf immediately asks after appearing before you with a pop. He remains ever-aged and wrinkled but his unruffled demeanour and, somewhat, contented expression certainly make him appear brighter. 

“Yes, I was wondering if the house had any secret rooms, perhaps down the hall from the library,” Kreacher gives you a sceptical look, one that was doused with suspicions you immediately set about diffusing, “it seems my fainting spells are getting to me and tampering with my memories,” At this, Kreacher’s expression morphs into worry and he begins to clutch tightly at his ragged clothes while falling into rambles upon rambles of heightening anxiety for your health. It was a rather endearing sight, knowing someone cares so deeply for your well-being, but you think the poor elf might just self-induce a heart attack if you let him continue like this, “It’s okay though Kreacher, I’m okay. Please just tell me about that secret room?”

Kreacher takes a moment to catch his breath and flush away his anxiety before answering, “Ladies of the noble and most ancient house of Black were the only ones, Mistress, they be the only ones allowed into the parlour,”

“Parlour?”

“The private parlour, Mistress, yes,” Kreacher nods, subconsciously flattening the wrinkles of his clothes with his hands, standing a little straighter and subtly puffing out his chest, “the powerful, esteemed ladies like to talk in priiiivateeee,” he drags out the word in a low tone, which spikes your interest and reaffirms your speculation on the room being used for dark purposes. 

“Is the doorway down the hall from the library, Kreacher?” he nods weakly, his curious eyes taking in your theorising face. “And you say that only the ladies of house Black have access to it?” Kreacher nods once more and you fear that, perhaps the house may be denying you access as you’re not a true lady of house Black. This is going to be a problem…

“The parlour can only open to the Mistress,” Kreacher affirms but you remain hopeless at it ever opening for you, “and only at a special time, yes — only then,”

“A special time?” you question, dismissing your earlier hopelessness when Kreacher shakes his head, trying to search for the right words. 

“The clock face must look a certain way,” so a specific time…

“What time does it open, Kreacher?” 

Not knowing the answer, Kreacher seeks refuge behind the sofa of your office’s seating area, “Only Mistresses of Black know, Masters of Black do not! Strangers do not! Kreacher does not! Only Mistresses!” not wanting him to work himself up, you quickly placate his high emotions. 

“Thank you, Kreacher,” the house elf freezes in place and looks at you hesitantly but with rounded, hopeful eyes. Though, he almost seems to frown deeper at the sight of your warm smile, “You were very helpful, thank you,” he nods slowly, looking at his feet and silently accepting your gratitude. “You may rest for the evening now. Goodnight Kreacher,” Kreacher nods meekly and hesitates for a moment before disappearing with the same popping sound he had appeared in.

With a sigh of defeat, you collapse into your chair and ruminate over the frustratingly incomplete answers Kreacher had given. In the place of answers grew more questions. It’s getting late already but you don’t think you’ll be able to sleep with all the questions to keep you awake. But then you find your eyes transfixed on the desk calendar Walburga had been maintaining before you arrived. You find it hard to look away from the monthly timetable and eventually begin to reach for it. 

Subconsciously, you flick back through the months, needing something to do in order to rest your overactive thoughts. Landing on August, you fondly trace August 1st with your finger. The day you had first arrived and given the blessings that were your two sons. Warm affection blooms in your chest at the thought of your darling boys and the privilege of being their mother. You almost miss the pearlescent ink marking the day ‘Ritual (P - 5 pm)’. The almost transparent words make you freeze up and all thoughts pertaining to the private room, return. They reach out to you from the page in their pearlescent, bold and shaking letters, screaming at you to pay them the utmost attention and to disregard the regular black-ink notations occupying other days. Shakily—you just realised it was your hand that was shaking the calendar—you flip back to July. Almost every day is marked with ‘P - 5 pm’.  

What was that disgusting bitch doing?!  

‘YOU WORTHLESS, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING MUGGLE!’ Walburga shrieks in her offence, triggering yet another skull-fracturing migraine, ‘YOU ARE NOT PERMITTED TO GO SEARCHING FOR THE PARLOUR! SOMEONE LIKE YOU IS NOT ALLOWED! I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE YOU WERE ABLE TO SEE THE INK! NOBODY SEES THE INK BUT ME!’

‘Must be some special-ass ink…’ was the last thing you remember thinking before falling into darkness.  

12 Grimmauld Place | 13th September 1971 

The following day, you awake in your bed and groan at the ceiling’s offending sight. You dread to look at your nightstand, already knowing there’s no escape from the magenta healing potion you would need to take. A slight tilt of your head reveals the phial in your periphery and you resolve to avoid directly looking at the disgusting concoction in hopes of delaying your need to drink it. 

As you continue to lay in bed, the weight at your side becomes more and more obvious through the foggy haze obscuring the most conscious parts of your mind. When you finally look down to see the source, your face blooms into a warm smile and you have to keep yourself from cooing aloud. Cuddled up into your side was Regulus. He lay atop the blankets with another blanket to keep him warm. Kreacher must have done that for him after taking you to your room. In a whisper, you call out to the house elf whilst manoeuvring yourself to sit against the headboard. Under the glow of motherly affection, you allow your fingers to gently comb through Regulus’ soft curls. Kreacher was at your side almost instantly and didn’t waste a second to urge the phial of healing potion into your hands. 

Shaking your head, you smile at the loyal elf and lean down to whisper your thanks before regretfully taking the potion from his grasp, “Thank you for making sure Regulus was taken care of, Kreacher,” the house elf doesn’t meet your eyes and simply nods at his young master. 

“Young master Regulus told me he wasn’t to be sleepin’ in his room with the Mistress being ill. K-Kreacher worries too loud when the Mistress faints…” he shook his head, droopy ears flopping, as he emphasised Regulus’ decision to stay by your side after causing a ruckus. 

“He’s such a stubborn child…” you voice with much fondness, eyes glittering as you look at Regulus’ peacefully sleeping form, “What a lucky mother, I am,” 

“Mistress must drink her healing potion, now,” Kreacher urges in a slightly shaking voice. You hesitate, “for Kreacher? Please?” at that, you finally drink the potion you hate so much, muttering a vow to never drink something so disgusting again. It was odd to the house elf that you wouldn’t drink the potion for yourself but rather for his sake. He found that if he said those words and followed them with the magic word ‘please’, you would be willing to do even that much. The word ‘please’ wasn’t a spell to make someone do one’s bidding like the ‘Imperius Curse’ but Kreacher finds that the effects of ‘please’ are much more pleasant. He was taught this alongside the two young masters after your great fainting spell and change in demeanour. Kreacher learns a lot of new things from his Mistress every day and he finds that he enjoys it a lot. Unlike his Master Orion…

“Has my husband asked for his healing potion yet, Kreacher?” he shakes his head ‘no’, not really knowing what expression to make. On one end he detests seeing the suffering of his master as it means he’s being a bad house elf by not taking care of him well enough and that was ever house elf’s entire life’s purpose. On the other hand, Kreacher finds that he doesn’t care much for his Master’s suffering, at least, when compared to the Mistress and the two young masters, even Master Sirius. Kreacher finds it easier to be called upon by them rather than the patriarch. 

Smiling to yourself, you reiterate a very important point, “When my husband finally does ask, make sure he says ‘please’ before complying, Kreacher. Make him aware of this and that I specifically told you to do as such. My husband needs to learn some manners,” the playful wink you send Kreacher before chuckling to yourself, confirms the house elf’s suspicions but he resolves to do nothing about it. He simply follows the orders of his Mistress, that is how he stays a good house elf after all. “Kreacher, can you fetch my calendar, from my desk please?” like now, Kreacher was away and back with your desk calendar with two snaps of his fingers. He watches you with rounded eyes as you flip to July and show him the blank spaces. “What do you see?”

“It is the month of July, Mistress,” Kreacher answers with some hesitance. It was a simple answer to a simple question. 

“Nothing else?” you arch a brow, “No writing?”

“K-Kreacher’s eyes see nothing but blank days, Mistress,” Kreacher anticipates being hit for the first time in months when you reach out your hand and he shuts his eyes tightly in anticipation, shrinking into himself. But you don’t hit him. Instead, he feels a soft caress atop his head and his ears wiggle in delight. This was a nice feeling, “That’ll do, Kreacher. Thank you,” of course, his mistress wouldn’t hit him, he’s a good house elf! At your side, Regulus begins to stir and you quickly ask the house elf for a small favour, “Can you please make us some breakfast in bed, Kreacher? One for Regulus and one for me. Make it a yummy treat for my son, pancakes with cut up fruit and a glass of milk. I’ll have a Full English…” you pondered to yourself for a moment before asking that he make the portions big, “so we can share with each other,” Kreacher nods and vanishes to make the best breakfast he can, following your instructions for him to the letter and remembering the way you prepared breakfasts without magic. 

Regulus slowly wakes to the comforting, familiar feeling of you gently stroking his head and combing your fingers through his hair. Peeking up at you, he smiles in relief at your kind eyes and warm expression. Even though he fell asleep from worry, waking up to his beautiful, kind mother like this made it all worthwhile. With a relieved whisper of ‘mother…’, he launches himself into your embrace and hugs you close, arms locked around your neck. The way your arms locked around his body gave him a feeling of completeness he didn’t want to let go of.

“I was worried you wouldn’t ever wake up, Mother! You haven’t had this bad of a fainting spell since that first time!”

“Never,” you whisper comfortingly into his ear, “I would never leave you like that, I love you too much,” your words have Regulus beaming brightly. 

“I love you too, Mother! I was so worried last night. You didn’t come to tuck me in so I snuck out of bed to check on you but Kreacher told me you no longer slept with Father and redirected me to your new room…” he bit his lip, not wanting to recount the paralysing panic he felt at the sight of your motionless form in bed. He had never seen a person look so still and it frightened him that that person was you. 

“I’m sorry I worried you so much,” Regulus nuzzles his small face into your neck for comfort and his muffled voice can only be heard because he was so close to your ear. 

“It’s okay… you’re all better now, right? That’s what matters most,”

“You’re right,” smiling softly, thoroughly warmhearted by his sweet words, you press a kiss to the side of his head, “Thank you for taking care of me while I wasn’t feeling well,” again, he muffles his response into your neck, unwilling to break away from your embrace. 

“You’re welcome,”

“I have Kreacher preparing breakfast for us so we can stay in bed this morning,” at that, he lifts his face from your shoulder to smile brightly at you. 

“Really?”

“Really really,” you nuzzle his nose with your own, you’re going to savour the privileges of being a mother before either of your two boys become rebellious, loud and angsty teenagers, “We have as long as it takes for him to make breakfast to snuggle in bed,”

As you cuddle in bed together, Regulus softly asks to be told a good story, not only to pass the time but to distract him from his worrying thoughts. He doesn’t like the potential implications of you experiencing a similarly concerning fainting spell to the first one you had suffered that fateful night. He doesn’t want you to be sick all the time. He only has one mother and you’re perfect now, he doesn’t want you leaving when he just got you…

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Breakfast in bed is a treat and you were happy to share it with your darling youngest. He had such good manners, even when having breakfast in bed. As requested, Kreacher prepared pancakes and cut fruit for Regulus and a Full English for you. 

“Wow! Thank you Kraecher,” Regulus smiles at the house elf who shyly returns the kind expression, “The portions are really big too,”

“So we can have a bit of each other’s if we fancy,” you wink and Regulus giggles with a nod, immediately handing over a pancake from his plate.  

The two of you spent an hour eating breakfast in bed, talking about nonsense. It was a moment you would treasure forever, you would remember the way Regulus’ eyes light up from the fluffiness of the pancakes and the way his smile never left his lips from the happiness he was experiencing while lost in the moment. 

Once breakfast was over, the two of you walked to the kitchen and decided to tidy up, happy to extend your time spent together. You would wash up while Regulus would dry and you would help each other put the dishes and cutlery away. Kreacher almost has a heart attack at the sight of you but his concern only made you both giggle. 

“Mistress is doing Kreacher’s job! Not allowed! Not allowed!” the poor house elf chants, tugging at his ears, staring at the scene with disbelieving, watery eyes, “Youngest master is not allowed to!”

“Don’t be so dramatic Kreacher,” you flash him a kind smile as Regulus giggles beside you and looks over his shoulder to smile kindly at Kreacher as well, “we want to do this as a ‘thank you’,” Kreacher is visibly unable to comprehend your words — he still has a long way to go when it comes to things like this. 

“It’s to thank you for making such a yummy breakfast for us,” Regulus adds with a small nod of kind acknowledgement. For a moment, Kreacher appears to silently accept the gesture but just as you and Regulus share a smile, Kreacher rushes forward with the same flurry of panic. He doesn’t accept the gesture at all.

“No! No no no! Not allowed!” But Kreacher is unable to get past you or Regulus and goes to slam his head against the wall nearby only to be stopped by you. Patiently, you press his face into the folds of your skirt and that is where your poor house elf stays, muffling his soft whimpers and clinging onto your dress for comfort as you softly whisper for him to calm himself, assuring that he’s still a good elf and worthy of serving House Black. Regulus smiles appreciatively up at you and finishes off drying the plates so you can both put them away. 

“Will Father be joining us for dinner tonight? I’ve hardly seen him as of late, surely he’s feeling better now,” Regulus comments after Kreacher finally leaves, assured by the small task you had given him to dust the Library.  

“Oh…” you avoid his eyes to keep him from seeing the devious smirk tugging at the edges of your lips, “he’s still feeling a little under the weather, my darling,” Regulus observes you curiously, his interest piqued at the fact that you don’t meet his eyes and there’s a sneaky smile hidden behind your fingers. “His stomachache is persistent so he’s been sequestering himself in his room and his diet remains to only be soup and bread — something light but nutritious so he can sustain himself,” Kneeling before Regulus, you meet his curious eyes warmly, “please don’t worry, darling, your father is going to be okay…”

Regulus nods, accepting your explanation. “I hope father gets better soon,” Even though his father was horrible to him, Regulus is still so incredibly kind and his words make your heart swell with pride. 

Cooing at his angelic image, you bring him into your arms and kiss his forehead, “How can a child be so precious? You’re so very kind Regulus, your father doesn’t deserve it after what he’s done to you,” 

Pink in the cheeks, Regulus shrugs nonchalantly, “It’s okay…everyone deserves kindness, right Mother?” his words were from one of the last lessons you had given the brothers before Sirius had to leave for his first year and now, although Orion is the least deserving person, you’re still so proud of your baby for remembering your wisdom. 

Regulus kept you company in your office as you waited for the grandfather clock to strike five in the afternoon. His lesson with Peony had already finished and he had just gotten done with consolidating his learning in the library. You had some letters to reply to as the Matriarch of the noble and most ancient house of Black while Regulus was eagerly writing his letter for Sirius. He was excited to use the colour-changing ink you had bought them during Sirius’ first-year shopping spree.

Replying to so many letters was getting tiring and your wrist was beginning to ache. You shouldn’t have procrastinated on responding. Hopefully, there was a spell you could do on the quill to make this easier, perhaps make it write as you spoke, the same way Rita Skeeter did. 

The frequency of your sighs increased through the labour of writing but all you needed to do was look up and see the diligence of your youngest son writing his letter to feel re-energised again. Smiling to yourself, you savour his innocent image a moment longer before opening the next letter in the pile. The penmanship was rather rough and scratchy, leaning towards print rather than cursive, it was a breath of fresh air from the swirling, loopy handwriting of all the other letters you’ve had to read and reply to. 

Opening the letter, you begin to read dismissively but your eagerness spikes when your wandering eyes glimpse the signed name at the bottom: Alphard Black. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Regulus reads his letter again and nods in satisfaction. This was his third draft of it but he felt his efforts to be worthwhile. Letters were a special occasion and something that made a person feel immediately special when they read a letter that’s addressed specifically to them so he wanted to put in a good effort for Sirius. He just hopes it reaches him in good time. 

“Mother,” Regulus stands with his letter in hand, ready for postage, “my letter is finished, may I deliver it to Sirius now, please?”

You smile warmly and nod, slipping Alphard’s letter into the main drawer of your desk. With a small wave of your hand, you gesture him over to you, “Would you like to give it a wax seal?”

Regulus’ eyes sparkled with excitement, “I’m allowed?”

“Of course, little love, come here,” you pull him into your lap and gesture to the apparatus around you to create a wax seal. “First, pick out the coloured wax you want for your seal,” Regulus picks metallic silver wax, a perfect choice for the black envelope he was sending it in, a signature of the Black Family. “Now you put it in this little spoon and melt it over the candle,” with an eager nod, Regulus holds the spoon over the candlelight and the two of you wait for it to melt together. 

“I think it’s melted now, Mother,” 

“Let me see…” he shows you, swirling around the liquid wax to demonstrate its fluidity and grins at your approving nod, “good good. Get the seal ready,” he diligently takes the Black Family seal in his other hand, “now, when you stamp the wax, don’t wiggle it around or else the design will get muddled,” Regulus gives an affirming nod and waits for your instruction to pour the wax before stamping it. He doesn’t wiggle it as you’ve advised. After a few moments, you whisper that it was finally okay for him to take away the stamp and he gasps in delight at the beautiful seal that was left behind. 

“Thank you, Mother!”

“Would you like to post it or ask Kreacher to post it for you?” 

“I’d like to post it please,” his request pulls you away from your desk, just in time as it was nearing 5 pm already. You patiently lead him to the family owl and watch with a smile as he hands over his letter and waves off the owl with a cheer. “Sirius is going to love the letter, darling,”

“I hope he sends one back soon!”

“I don’t doubt that he will,”

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You’ve stationed yourself down the hall from the library. The same location where you had first fainted after falling into the world according the Regulus who was practising the piano in the reception room downstairs. Hearing his piano melodies travelling through the walls and floating up the stairs made you awe at how talented he is. The repeated melodies comforted your racing heart and eased the ache in your head as you waited in anticipation for the afternoon to finally reach five o’clock. There was nothing to go off of when you set about searching for this magically disappearing room. Kreacher described it as a private parlour where only the mistresses and ladies of the Black family could congregate to discuss confidential particulars. 

Only for the women…

It was a comforting thought, somewhat, that there was a sisterhood amongst the family. It makes you wonder how long the tradition has been taking place. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely for ill-intentioned meetings for dark magic. The optimistic part of you imagines the women of the Black family aching for a private room away from the men in their lives just to share a cup of tea and relax. Maybe meetings were held in contented silence, relishing in the calm and savouring the safety of the cliquish room. 

tick…tock…tick…tock…CLANG!

The grandfather clock gives a discordant chime down the hall at the lower floor and your heart spikes once again. You spin on your heel and face the dark, elegantly embellished wallpaper of the house. For a moment your brows furrow in confusion and disappointment when nothing happens, even when the grandfather clock finishes its chime and begins ticking normally again. 

Tick…tock…tick…tock…

You’re about to turn away in disappointment when a black door begins to appear on the wall before you. It rises from the floor as if answering a call to reveal itself by the grandfather clock’s afternoon chimes. The black wood it’s composed of shines like a black pearl as its glass components are decorated with iron embellishments that swirl over it in a symmetrical pattern. They keep the interior entirely secret. Once fully revealed, you awe at the grand entrance; it’s arched at the top and rather than a singular door, its double doors that open at the centre, pulled apart by swirling, gold doorknobs that appear recently polished. Only the best for the ladies and mistresses of the Black family, the noble and most ancient house. 

You don’t have the time to tame your thundering heart and grab at the gold handles before the door can disappear again. At the simple touch of your hand, a faint click meets your ears. It’s very reminiscent of a key turning in a lock and allows you to pull the double doors apart. As it was when you first arrived in this world, the room is pitch black and you have to squint in the darkness, blinking as your eyes adjust to the shadow-veiled environment. Thankfully, the light from the hallway manages to seem through from behind you as your silhouette stretches across the room’s expanse. You’re about to take a step forward when a pungent smell meets your nose and you sharply draw back with a hand over your mouth and nose. Eyes wide and finally adjusted to the darkness, you take in the various elements of the room as your panic gradually rises inside you, your mind racing.  

There appears to be a seating area for the prim conversations you had once imagined but the furniture was pushed away from its place at the centre of the room and the accompanying coffee table appears to have been thrown about, kept on its side on the far side of the room. In the corner, there’s a lady Chippendale English-style writing desk with its chair thrown down. Its desk space is cluttered, piled high with books with one at the centre, its aged pages ripped out and flung across the room. Brass artisan wall lights fitted with candles remain unlit on either side of a smashed mirror, victim to a fallen, heavy book below it, surrounded by its shattered remains. Black-out curtains that drape to the floor block out a window on the far end of the room, shielding the world from the parlour’s internal happenings. Two glass jars occupy the centre of the room, identically filled with unknown elements that cast the same dark silhouette within it. They’re stained with a mysterious liquid you were too scared to investigate further but the sight wasn’t as frightening as the avian-esque carcass rotting into the carpet at the centre of the room. The sight makes you choke and cough, realising the source of the sickening scent in the musty air. There’s an array of feathers that surround the skeletal remains and not too far from it is a knocked-over bird cage. It looks generic and indistinguishable from the one Sirius’ owl came it. 

Your racing mind flashes back to the interaction you shared with the shopkeeper at the Owlery for Sirius’ first-year Hogwarts shopping.   

“What happened to the last owl you purchased?” the shopkeeper asks suddenly, finally finished with preparing all the items and eying you warily. You feel Sirius and Regulus’ eyes on you from his question as well and hurry to make an excuse. This situation has grown very uncomfortable.

“Last owl?”

“Yes, the screech owl, from last week,”

Was this… was this the fate of that same owl?…

Unable to tolerate looking into the room further, you slam the double doors shut and collapse backwards into the railing beside the stairs. Your shaky hands grip the rails and try your best to keep your stomach still — you’re not going to be throwing up on the hallway carpet. 

“YOU FILTHY, CHEATING MUDBOOLD!!!” Walburga screeches loud enough for you to feel the ache at the forefront of your brain and the tender spots of your ears. Not this bitch again… “HOW DID YOU GET THE PARLOUR DOORS TO REVEAL ITSELF AND OPEN?! IT ONLY OPENS TO ME!”

“Not anymore…” you snipe weakly, as an overwhelming migraine floods through your head. She must be really angry at you. “K-Kreacher,” you call weakly but are too occupied with clutching your head, trying to suppress the pain, to hear the faint pop of your loyal hope elf appearing at your side. He’s panicked and doesn’t know what to do with himself as he calls to you frantically. Quickly, he realises you’re unable to even hear him, spiking his panic all over again.

“YOU ARE NOT A TRUE MISTRESS OF THE BLACK FAMILY! YOU ARE NOT A BLACK FAMILY LADY! DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TOUCHING THAT BLASTED RITUAL OR THOSE CONFOUNDED BOOKS!”

There’s a knocking at your temples that gets harder and harder to ignore atop Walburga’s grating, pic-squealing caterwauls. It rises in volume above your hammering heartbeat and feels like an intruder trying to smash their way into your door. It’s invasive and makes you cry aloud from the tormenting pain — it’s almost as harrowing as your first arrival here. Memories of your past life flash before your eyes like an old-fashioned image projector, torturing you with snapshots of your most heart-aching moments: your ovarian cancer diagnosis, the surgery, your depressive state, and your husband leaving. But then it captures you beating the odds and rising from the ashes, you made something from the remains of your old life’s trajectory, successfully creating an economic empire and practising philanthropy for many other women who had to face the same devastating diagnosis as you. It all ends with an image of a heavy truck barrelling straight towards you and then you’re consumed by darkness.

navi. | series masterlist | next. 08 : ... →

A/N: back to the below 10k chapters haha! i'm thinking of going back to proofread and edit this chapter again in the future since i don't feel like I've properly done it this time because of some personal things going on. nevertheless, i hope you darlings enjoyed this chapter! thank you always for all the love and support, this series has been able to grow so much thanks to you darlings x

[jomamaofficial]

The Chronicles of A Hero's Daughter pt.2 (Father!All Might and Daughter!Reader Angst Oneshot)

A/N: SO, THIS WAS ASKED IN MY ASK BOX. BUT I STUPIDLY REPLIED TO IT SO I DON'T KNOW WHICH ANON ASKED FOR IT SO I'M JUST GOING TO TAG EVERYONE WHO LIEKD THAT POST HERE AND HOPE IT'S THE BRILLIANT ANON WHO WANTED ME TO WRITE A PART 2. @dark-magic-phoenix @crystal-freak24 @observaureium @justtovi3w62. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Graphic descriptions of blood (coughing blood), graphic imagery of crushing a heart (doesn't happen, just explained) CW: difficult father-daughter dynamics. Taglist: @thatcatladywrites @smikys-stuff @kimberlyfletcher @dawnwriterimagines Masterlist Word Count: 1951. Summary: One argument led to another– the foundation of your family was built upon suffering and sacrifice. Secrets were unveiled, revealing the true intentions of your father, the lingering wounds of the past stinging harder than any cut has ever. With tension reaching a breaking point, what happens when you confront your father, searching for the harsh truth, even if it leads to a devastating decision– you will never be the same again. He will never be the same again. 

——————————————————————————————————

Toshinori’s chest rose and fell. 

“You don’t mean that…” 

A pang struck through your heart as your father’s laboured breaths increased, tailing off in steady wheezes that only grew louder. 

“Dad…” you whispered, closing your eyes. “Dad, I didn’t m-”

Your voice cracked, succumbing to the hot tears which burned against your cheeks. Emotions flooded your head, as though they had been waiting to escape from the dam of truth that you had to silence to protect the peace in your family. The pressure had built up and that dam had finally broken in the most irreparable way possible. 

Shame hammered your mind, delivering blunt throbs as you watched your dad clutching his frail chest in agony. 

Guilt drilled poison into your veins as your father struggled to stand up– his sickly body unable to bear this pressure. His airways had been restricted, thus his once strong and proud chest had nothing to show but a vacant cavity, struggling to hold itself up. 

This living room had always been small– enough space just for the two of you. Dad and his little hero. It had always been you two, but today, this room was longer and narrower, as though mocking your sanity which had become a battlefield. 

Would you protect your father and carry on living in this dollhouse family, of which the  foundations were built off of your suffering.

Or would you protect yourself and destroy your relationship with the only family that you ever had.

The struggle had refused to forsake– silence had become your greatest enemy. It had left you alone with your screaming thoughts of doubt that deafened your conviction, leaving you straggled, naked, and vulnerable in the vast depths of your fears because what if. 

What if Midoriya truly was better than you? 

What if you truly were not worth it?

What if you had lost your rights to call yourself his daughter. 

Forever. 

You had lost everything to the ravenous beast which ruined everything you touched, and it wanted more. It wanted more, so it began making more noise, howling over the whispers of the wind, it howled over the ticking of the clock. It howled until nothing could be heard. 

Silence. 

Silence. 

Silence.

It had become silent. 

As though you were the only person in the room. 

A sudden thud drew your attention to the floor. 

Toshinori collapsed on the ground, and his eyes had gone blank, jaw slack. His ribs stuck out from under his skin, showing through his thin white t-shirt as his brassy cough filled his mouth with blood.

He urgently covered his mouth with his hands, forcing it shut but to no avail. It had already slipped past his hold, travelling down his neck, staining his shirt. A constant offender.

Your father began developing bloody coughs over three years ago. Yet every time you saw his chest heave and bleed, surges of nausea would creep up your veins, forcing you to leave. 

“Dad!” 

This was too much blood. It wasn’t meant to be like this… The doctor said a few drops or so, maybe a teaspoon, but that was ‘highly unlikely’. You watched as his white shirt became saturated, dizziness threatening to blur your vision.  

But you could not see him like this. You didn’t think twice before rushing to help him– but you were stopped. 

Toshinori raised his shaking hand immediately. You were halted, frozen in disbelief. 

He put his hand back on the floor, taking a few breaths before pushing himself, warranting another step forward from you, another cry, but he just stopped you again. You could only watch as your father relied on his bony wrists to push himself up. 

You could hear his shallow gasps for air, and his repressed coughs– and all you could do was watch your father’s face contort in fatigue and ache. Toshinori had finally gotten up, but that look had not left his face as he pushed past you. You watched the limp in his leg as he hobbled towards the couch, slowly lowering himself onto the cushioned couch. His head slumped onto the head rest, limbs unfurling in exhaustion. 

You were suspended in your head, unable to move past the questions which rung bright sirens. 

You shouldn’t have raised your voice at your own father– the doctor had told you. He’s injured, he’s getting older. He can’t process such shocks like this anymore.

What was wrong with you? 

But it couldn’t have been just your fault… right? But then he pushed you– maybe he didn’t just notice– but what if he did it on pur-

“Y/N”, your father had called for your name, but his eyes did not meet yours. 

Instead, they looked past you. 

Toshinori Yagi adopted Toshinori Y/N when she was five years old. 

A decade after the first quirk was discovered, many adoption agencies in Musutafu began sorting children based off of a ‘ranking system’. 

Official documents stated that this case was first brought up in the Supreme Court due to an incident that had occurred in an orphanage near Musutafu, 26 years ago. It was a heartbreaking case of manslaughter that had taken place when six year old Chihiro Onodera– Quirk: Lava, accidentally murdered eight year old Honoka Sugo– Quirk: Bubbles, during lunch time as they were play-fighting. 

It did not take much convincing as this case had reached international news, thus the court immediately passed a bill on the separation of quirks preliminary based off of their strength and danger levels, which were to be evaluated on a scale of 1 to 5. 

Nevertheless, this bill had struck a controversial match, becoming the largest contemporary topic that was disputed over in the past years. 

Demonstrations, protests and violent public outrage reached its peak when leaked intel revealed that a lot of children began to go missing from Adoption Agencies under the radar– they no longer had papers, as if their identities had been erased off of the face of this Earth. 

Nanami Tomoda, Sae Ojima, Makoto Kanezaki– these were some of the household names that had garnered petrifying national and international headlines: 

Heartbreaking Tragedy Strikes Japan: Devastating Attack Leaves Communities Reeling 

Japan in Shock: Deadly Assault Rocks Nation's Sense of Security 

Aftermath of Brutal Assault Leaves Nation Grieving Chaos and Carnage

Not much was known about these young adults. 

Apart from two things. 

First. 

They were not independent contractors. All of them could be traced back to some of the very few established, powerful, underground organisations. 

And second.

They were all orphans, rated 5, who had been declared missing for ten or more years.

Toshinori Yagi adopted Toshinori Y/N when she was rated 5. 

Toshinori Y/N lost her quirk at age ten. 

You are rated 0. 

Zero.

Toshinori took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I have raised you since you were five years old.” He still did not meet your eyes. “I raised you in hopes that you would become a strong, and powerful young lady.” 

He drew a breath in– it was laced in disappointment. 

“But why does it feel, as though it has had no influence on you?”

Toshinori shifted both of his arms onto the couch rests, sitting tall. 

“One does not become a hero by winning every fight. Not everything is about a hero’s physical strength. A hero is made when they understand that retaliation only makes them the real villain.” 

Your father’s voice had deepened, and so did the dreadful pit in your stomach that sunk your resolve. 

“A true hero understands that strength lies in the ability to rise above the pain. Because those who focus on what has been lost”, he continued, lips twitching, as a faint, uncontrollable tremor laced his words in indisputable venomous contempt, “are either insane, or desperate for attention they know they will never get.”

Small muscles in your face began to twitch despite the heaviness that had been pulsed through your body, holding it in place, as you just stood there. Your eyes, once red and exposed, had no inhabitant, no focus. 

A ghost town. 

“A true hero is grateful. And recognises every bit of effort someone else put in order to get them to where they are now.” 

His gaunt eyes found yours, casting an unfamiliar chill in your body. They were sunken in, casting his gaze in dark shadows– an abyss impenetrable by light. 

“You got your quirk stolen, Y/N. But you cannot get that back anymore. But it’s been years, I expect at least some gratitude considering I did you a favour by adopting you.” 

He had left a clot that blocked your heart.

“Because no one else would have wanted you.”

It is always the one closest to you that hurts you the most. 

The man you called your father had waited until the last second to take the satisfaction of crushing your heart, flesh against flesh. 

Humans evolved to gain resistance and immunity against everything that threatens their survival.

Therefore, living with this man only meant that you had to gain immunity against pain and humiliation, because that was the only thing that could guarantee your survival. 

So when you shook off the heaviness in your lid and focused onto your father’s face, you could only lift the corners of your lip.  

“If you didn’t want me. Someone else would have adopted me instead. Like you did. No papers, no nothing– I’d slip under the radar, at least I’d still have my quirk, and end up on those headlines.”

“How dare you?” he uttered, face contorted in malice.

“I was five. That’s why you adopted me. Don’t deny it” 

Toshinori stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. His shoulders, broad and hubris, had become small and meek. You watched him contemplate: his eyes, vindictive and daring, were cast down, hiding amongst the Tatami flooring. 

“My child…” he began, his voice softer. “After your quirk had been stolen, I could not risk making you the target again. That’s the reason I don’t come to your events. It’s because you’ll become the target everyone goes for because they know you’re my daughter”.

“They’ll know?” your lips had pressed into a thin line. “Like how Midoriya knew I was your daughter? Like how the media knows?” 

In the stifling air, your dry laughter bounced off of the discomfort. 

“Don’t act like you aren’t ashamed of me.” 

Your face had settled into a stone. 

“It’s not about me being a target. It’s about protecting your image.”

“My daughter-”

“You have lost the right to call me your daughter. If I was such a disappointment after my quirk was ripped away from me, why did you keep me? You could have sent me back. Why did you keep me, dad, why did you keep me!”

Those closest to you, leave irreparable wounds. 

But there was a reason they were close to you. A reason that subsided in love, care, and hope. 

Your crushed heart was surviving on its last breath, waiting to hear something that could revive it. 

Toshinori lifted his head again, his eyes flickering behind you. 

It locked onto an object that somehow gained more attention than you ever had in your entire life. You risked a look over your shoulder, only to see the picture of your father and Midoriya, smiling–almost mockingly– back at you. 

You knew what the answer was going to be. 

“I’m beginning to question the same thing.”

A flat-line. 

“Well if that’s how you really feel, I have no obligation to stay here anymore.”

You drew your breath in, words suspended at the tip of your tongue. 

“I wish you and your student the best of luck, All Might.”