#mystery box dark web

[mygnolia]

TASTE OF LIFE. l. heeseung

THE TALE GOES...heeseung is invisible to everyone, robbed of recognition as people pass through and never acknowledge him. to live as a shadow who observes is hard—heeseung sinks into corners and simply wishes for a chance to be a part of something. but when you finally come to the biggest halloween party of the year and see him, he can’t help but be attached. 

pair -› lee heeseung x fem!reader | trope -› horror, literally no fluff | warn -› major character death, violence, stalking | REN SAYS.. first installment! also this is shit guys im so sorry I NEEDED TO GET THIS OUT ASAP ugh writing this much lowk killed me </3 | 3k words | library

---

Mediocre. Normal. Ordinary.

That’s exactly how you’d describe the house that stood before you, with your bags tightly held in both hands as you ascended the few stairs to the porch. It felt like any other house, and you’d even compare it to the old one you were in. 

The previous home was different in one major way—it added years of aging onto your parents somehow, as if something had sucked the life out of their minds. It drove them crazy to stay home, and you couldn’t help but be embarrassed every time they mumbled in public about going home. 

They looked crazy. You just had to droop your head and pretend you didn’t know them. 

Your parents’ eyes lit up when they entered through the door, with wood flooring and a color scheme that reflected on their preferences. It was almost identical to your other house, so why exactly did they choose to move to a home that was no different than the last? If anything, you were just glad they were starting to feel more comfortable within the new space. It felt breathable, and something about the old place you lived in felt dirty and plagued. 

It wasn’t much of a struggle as you began to unpack the bags of clothes and boxes of items you brought with you, considering how little you cared about accents and decorations. With furniture already there, your room felt akin to your other one, but something was off. You tried to move the desk over to the window to gauge the effectiveness of the natural lighting, and when your curtains gave way to slightly clouded rays of sunlight in your room, you hummed with some satisfaction. Good enough. 

As Halloween came around, you understood how much everyone in the local town loved to celebrate. Houses on your way to school were filled with webs, lights, and jack-o-lanterns, and it made you believe that the pumpkin farm on the outskirts of town had a smart business model. On top of having an abundance of fall flavored desserts, the Yang family held the biggest party of the year, seeing as their son went to the same high school of yours. 

You had only heard whispers of the annual Yang Halloween party, rumored to be the best party of all time, was something you were looking forward to every year, even anticipating the post-celebration news to hit you from the town over. 

The day neared, and you got more and more excited to finally get to know people ever since you arrived in town. People knew of you as the new girl, but no one reached out, all too consumed in their own cliques to introduce themselves to you. 

—

“Taste,” you told the man waiting outside. “The password is ‘taste.’ “

The windows were tinted in red as moonlight streamed through one side of the building. The rest of the house was dark, with only flashing orange, purple, and green lights strung carefully to add to the mysterious ambience. Music blasted from the speakers and shelves were lined with decorations, ones that you were careful to avoid knocking over as you slid your way between crowds. There seemed to be never ending snacks, as people with tattered black cloaks always managed to keep the drinks filled and the rows neat. 

It was obvious that the family knew what they were doing when it came to throwing parties—you hadn’t seen one person without a smile on their face. The festivities like horror rooms and games were all through-out the floor, and there was always something for everyone to do. 

You fell into conversation with a few people, cutting it short as you excused yourself to the restroom. Down the same hall was a door that was left ajar, and you went to shut it before returning to the boy who you just met. 

“Hi.” 

You jumped back, eyes darting around as you searched for someone to match the sudden voice, and you heard a small curse in the same direction. Your feet were frozen as you only looked around, your hand still on the knob of the empty restroom as you hoped someone would come to break you out of your stupor.

There was nothing, you promised yourself, and the door shut with a click. Still, your gut swirled with fear as you slowly turned, anxiously rubbing the goosebumps on your skin.

“You can hear me, huh?” 

You knew the sound was coming to your left, where the flashing lights were nowhere to be found. All you had was the phone you fished out of your back pocket before you saw a flash of something pale. You immediately turned, trying to find it once more. 

You could’ve sworn there was something. 

“Hello?” You probably looked insane to any bystander, calling out to the dark when you swore you saw something nearby. 

To both your surprise and horror, someone floats through the closet door, his limbs passing through as a grin makes his way onto his features. 

You’d think the ghost in front of you was attractive, if it wasn’t for the fact that you were experiencing something supernatural for the first time. 

Bile rose in your throat as you became disoriented looking at the figure. With a yelp that caught confused stares from only a few people nearby, you scurried out of the house, bumping into bodies as the door grew closer and closer. 

Like a bubble about to burst, the house feels stuffy and humid until you open the large doors, swallowing the cold air of the night like a lifeline. Your head spins with confusion, and you can’t seem to understand what you just saw until he seeps through the wall once more. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” You yelp at the sound of his voice, taking a few steps back as you look anywhere but his sullen face. 

The sound of your heart won triumph over anything else as you kept trying to make space between you and the creature in front of you. When he begins to glide closer, you take it as your sign to grab your small clutch and begin a brisk walk back home, no matter how dark.

“My name is Heeseung. No one’s ever seen me,” he explains, easily drifting behind you. 

“Get the fuck away from me, Heeseung.” Your voice sounded shaky as the wind rushes past your ears. You felt hopeless, unable to hear his footsteps or gauge where he could be. 

He’s right next to you, speaking directly to your profile all of a sudden. “Please, no one’s recognized me since I died. Please, you have to help me.”

The change in proximity has you jumping from being frightened, and you try to cover your ears to block out his voice. 

The worst part of it all was that Heeseung could touch you. You felt the cold of his fingertips without the pressure of his mortality in his fingertips. Effortlessly drifting next to you, he worked to pry your fingers from your ears as a plea for you to hear him out.

“I don’t care. Leave me alone.” You began speeding up, seeing your house in sight and the ghost beginning to fall back in his misery. You didn’t care about it, only wanting to go home and pretend everything was a bad dream. While the ghost wasn’t ugly by any means, the supernatural facet of his identity kept you up as you feared the creature outside your window at any moment. 

What you didn’t know was that your gut feeling was right–Heeseung wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. 

—

You didn’t know what was louder–Heeseung’s voice in your ear, or the thudding of your heartbeat. 

Your scream echoed around the empty house when he appeared for the second time, your heart dropping as the lack of sleep you got from the night before made you even more on edge now. Everytime you looked down a corridor, shivers racked your body and you were unable to go anywhere without a flashlight. You swore you saw him in the corner of the room, and if not–something was horribly wrong with you. 

There he was again, staying by the edge. “Please, get away from me, I can’t give you what you want, Heeseung.” You tried to keep your voice as steady as possible, as if you weren’t shaking from fear that you’d be joined by an intruder everytime you turned the corner.

You couldn’t shower or change without wanting to tear your hair out, and there was no way to quell the anxiety after you saw him stick an arm through your home. 

There was nothing you could do. No one who you could go to about this. You were truly all alone. 

Class felt like a blur with an ache in your head and an emptiness in your stomach. It was exhausting for you to dart around the room, waiting for him to appear. 

He was waiting for something, you knew it. 

You felt on edge constantly, like you were going insane. Every small movement triggered some sort of reaction, so much so that your classmates began to notice and snicker. 

You felt like your parents–and you had no idea how to make it stop. 

—

It was the third day of your sleepless torment. Your parents often left you alone according to their new work schedules, and you were still stuck having to hide from the apparition until you left for school. He looked torn apart, too, but you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t give you space. It got so bad to the point where you heard whispers of him in every corridor. You couldn’t stand it anymore, and your bloodshot eyes and scratched arms were a sign that something had been wrong ever since Halloween. 

There was only one person you could tell about this, and you didn’t even notice how bad your fingers had been when you went to pick at the dry skin once more. 

“Jungwon,” you mumbled as you passed him. He turned around, immediately recognizing you as someone he didn’t know much about. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concern knitting his eyebrows as you asked for him to talk with you outside. 

Something was off that day. The clouds were gray, dipped with unease. The sky was bathed in dread, and Jungwon could tell something was wrong by the way you couldn’t find the sun no matter where you looked. 

“What’s wrong, ____? You’ve been looking horrible ever since Halloween.” You flinched at the word, eyes stinging with tears as you were pushed back into thinking about that night. You never should’ve worn your black dress or added some cute cat ears. You never should’ve left the house. 

“There’s something in your house, Jungwon,” you pleaded, your gaze frantically searching for any sign that Heeseung followed you. “It’s like a spirit, something happened and it won’t—“ your words came to an abrupt halt when you heard a chuckle from the boy in front of you. 

A laugh tore through as Jungwon crossed his arms and looked at you with a pitiful grin. “You’re funny. Good prank, though,” he smiles, about to turn. 

You had no idea what came over you when you went to grab his arm. Jungwon was practically a stranger to you, but one more sleepless night without a cure would’ve made you go insane if he kept following you. You needed to get rid of Heeseung. 

“No!” Your voice rang out louder than anticipated, and the sudden shout made you wince, still holding onto Jungwon’s arm. “You don’t get it, something’s following me around, he keeps talking to me and no one else can see him—“ 

The boy yanked himself out of your grip, suddenly frustrated, and you feared the worst; Yang Jungwon would tell the whole school that you were crazy. 

“Please, Jungwon—” you tried once more, “he’s real—he’s everywhere and I can’t get rid of him—it was because of your party,” at this point, your eyes were filled with tears as you begged your only hope from leaving. “You have to help me—“ 

“I don’t have to do anything for you, ____.” He sneered, growing impatient. “I don’t know who put you up to this whole prank, but you need to stay away from me.” He spun around, paying you no attention as you crumbled to a heap on the ground and sobbed hopelessly on the pavement. 

The sky was darker than ever, and it was still afternoon.

Even as you walked down the empty dirt roads to your house, you couldn’t help but hear Heeseung’s voice ring in your ears. As you started running to push the sound out and replace it with your heavy breathing, your eyes began to shut with exhaustion. Slowing to an eventual stop in front of your house, you heaved, gasping for air that felt like it was escaping your lungs any moment as you held into the porch railing

“You’re home. What took you so long?” 

Your vision was blurring slightly in the corners, and the corners of your eyes felt puffy. You were slipping out of consciousness, but you remembered that voice anywhere. “Get away from me, please.” 

Heeseung pursed his lips, feeling slightly bad for the state that you were in. “I told you, I can help you.”

When you saw his pale shoes in front of you, your body reacted instantly, scrambling back to create some distance. You hadn’t registered that a wooden splinter from the floor cut into your palm until Heeseung saw the blood seep into the planks underneath you. The porch made no sound under his quick footsteps, and it only instilled more frustration at his lack of perceptibility. His sudden approach left you frightened as you waved a hand in the air, unable to feel the wound from the state of your body. “Go away, Heeseung!” 

He frowned angrily. “Let me help.” He kneeled next to you and reached out for your wound before you yanked your hand back, stumbling as you got back up and tried to make your way to the entrance.

“Please, stop,” you cried, taking two steps towards the railing before your legs gave out. Heeseung tried to reach out for you again. But you pushed away his hand, the slap of the force making no sound. It was almost humorous how much your torture was one sided, but you had no more energy left to defend yourself.

Heeseung went to grab your wrist, worry etched in his features as your state deteriorated in front of him. You kicked his leg, hot tears staging your cheeks as you sobbed for him to leave you alone, but the more carelessly you moved, the more the large splinter dug into your hand. He begged for you to stop–to let him help you before anything bad happened, but you couldn’t understand through the sound of your own hysterics. 

A mix of going days without sleeping, paired with your lack of appetite and delirium left you defenseless no matter how much you tried. You struggled against the ghost of Heeseung’s grip as he tried to stop you from hurting yourself even further. You felt bile in your throat when he was close, and you found the opportunity to yank your arm out of his grip. You underestimated the force, however, and your hand hit the wood behind you. Momentarily distracted, you focused on the blooming pain of the impact and the slowly trailing blood. It was out of body how you couldn’t process the sensation of your fingers tracing the messy wound, and you became a slave to your exhaustion as the boy came back.

You fought against him weakly, the blood from your wound becoming a larger problem the more you used your hands to do anything. 

“You don’t get it!” He yelled, tears of his own forming from the anger of having to go against you. 

Why couldn’t you just stop? Why did you keep pushing him away? You were selfish, trying to ignore him as if you didn’t understand his predicament. You were the only one who could’ve seen him, and he was the only one who saw you in return. “Even Jungwon doesn’t believe you,” he mumbled bitterly, seeing you slowly slip in and out. “You wouldn’t even help me, ____. It’s all your fault.” He talked as if you could hear him, the life in your eyes gone by the time he wiped his tears and finally looked at you, with your wrist going limp in his hold. 

“I don’t get it.” He wept angrily, before getting up and leaving you there on the porch steps in a heap. 

Heeseung turned to glance at you again, his semblance of a heart in pain from how things had to end up. “You seemed so nice–so promising. Jungwon swore we could've been friends.”

–

You didn’t know if it was possible to kill a ghost twice. After all, your death turned you into a floating apparition of yourself, as you watched your parents mourn their attempts to shield you from their own fate. Being a ghost wasn’t so horrible, but Heeseung was right; it was lonely. 

When a voice calls your name apologetically from where you sit on your rooftop, your gaze settles on him with fury, and the moment you rush over to him and your fingers close around his wrist, you knew that you wouldn’t stop until you properly got rid of Lee Heeseung.

No matter how long it took.

--

i swear the rest of them will be better. and shorter.

zyvlxqht firstclassjaylee @riribelle @jaylajakey @minfolio @strxwbloody @r1kification @strayy-kidz @mimismenu @jwonistic @haechsworld @machambrx @ririsreverie @hollxe1 @wonnina @heeseungismymanz @cyjhhyj @eunimaybe

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jamil Viper: A Web, Tangled

Aaand here we go with the Relaxing in Room line of birthday cards :v d ehebkwjw It’s so funny that they chuck pillows to attack??? (By the way, congrats to this Jamil card overloading and crashing the JP server 😂)

For this series of birthday ficlets, I’ll focus on writing each birthday boy preparing to walk to school with the reader (since the duo partner barely appears in the vignettes). Can be read platonically or romantically, whatever you prefer~

Rise and Shine!

You lingered by the doorway, your eyes glued on Jamil.

He was preoccupied with glimpsing himself in a mirror set on a table. Before him were various accessories from a jeweled box. (Judging from the gaudiness of the massive rubies on it, it must have been a gift from Kalim.)

Loose tresses the color of dark chocolate tumbled down his back. When Jamil ran a brush through them, the sun caught and his hair tempered, turning lustrous.

You’d seen him massage his scalp with oil-slicked hands before—and again, he diid it, followed by some sort of a cream. The routine left his head moisturized smelling faintly of jasmine. Jamil never compromised when it came to hair care.

You often had to remind yourself that he was not a princess, entrancing as he was. The sway of his hair, the snap of his steps. Each movement, close to a part in a mysterious dance.

Jamil produced his magical pen. The magestone laid in it was as clear as a cloudless day, and the color of blood that had been left out for a little too long.

Now came the spectacle, the very highlight of your entire morning.

Jamil raised the pen as if he was a conductor waving his baton. A hush fell over an imaginary audience, a collective of breaths held in anticipation. This is it, this is it.

He flicked his wrist, and the magic flowed.

A trail of scarlet light emanated whenever Jamil drew his wand. The accessories laid out on his desk floated up, compelled, in a neat line. A band with a feather dangling from it, narrow golden bangles, flat beads that clinked like coins.

His dark locks lifted, dividing themselves into even sections, then into even smaller ones. They carefully twisted over and under each other, weaving into tight braids. Accessories slid on, effortlessly fitting themselves at his direction.

His intricate hairstyle assembled quickly, as if arranging the pieces of a familiar puzzle.

The red sparkles faded into a fine shimmer and then into nothing at all. As the last traces of magic settled, you bursted into applause.

“Bravo, bravo! Great show as always,” you said appreciatively.

“… That wasn’t a performance,” Jamil corrected as he set his magical pen down.

“It might as well be! It takes some serious skill to pull that off every morning.” You gestured to him. “And so fast!“

“Anyone could accomplish it with enough time and practice.” His words choice was humble, but there was a hint of a smirk in his tone.

A rare moment of triumph for him.

“Not just anyone. I think you’ve got a natural talent for this kind of thing,” you grinned broadly, “like a spider!”

Jamil’s neutral expression splintered, leaving jagged edges exposed. His left eyes twitched, pupils pinpricks.

“Excuse me? In what way do I remind you of a vile bug?”

“Hey, don’t knock spiders! You guys have similar skills. The braids, the webs. You make’m well, all nice and strong. No strands out of place.”

“That doesn’t reassure me,” he groused, a hand on his hip. “I’d prefer if you didn’t compare me to them. It feels wrong.”

Jamil shivered. Not from the cold, but with repulsion.

You gave a laugh—soft against the rising morning sun. “Really? But you’re so alike in other ways too.”

His eyes narrowed into suspicious slivers. Mildly offended, perhaps.

“Elaborate,” he commanded.

“They’re hard working and important but under-appreciated,” you pointed out. “Without spiders, there would actually be a lot more bugs around. We should be more grateful to have spiders’ webs.”

There was a pause, deliberate. Then a gentle prompt.

“… Remind you of anyone?”

Jamil scoffed. It was as loud as a thunderclap in his suddenly cavernous bedroom.

“Maybe.”

Two syllables, clipped. An acknowledgment.

“Jamil-senpai…?”

He hurriedly looked away, staring at the wall for likely longer than what was deemed appropriate. Any more, whether in length or in intensity, and he might have burned a hole in it. His face, hotter than the Scalding Sands.

Your brows shot up. “… Ah. Could it be that you’re feeling embarrassed?”

“What? No, don’t be ridiculous. Something like this couldn’t possibly ruffle me.”

You craned your body, attempting to meet his gaze. But he wrenched away, denying that to you. “Then why aren’t you looking at me when you say that?”

“I need to get ready for class,” he replied dismissively. “So close the door and wait outside while I change out of my pajamas.”

“Now you’re just changing the subject!”

“Well, we’ll both be running late if we continue to dawdle,” Jamil warned—a tactful evasive maneuver.

His hands found their way onto your arms, steering you into the hallway. You turned back, mouth opening to protest, but Jamil had already sealed himself off.

Banging and calling out to him was no good. Kicking resulted in you gripping onto your poor foot and whimpering. You were left in a sorry state, back to the door as you rested on the floor.

On the other side, Jamil was surely having a little laugh. Cheeks still burning from the praise showered upon him, basking in the afterglow of it.

You sighed.

A spider makes its web to deceive flies into getting stuck in it. Jamil-senpai can be just as tricky.

[onesidedradiostatic]

scary crack Re: alastor shrine and alastor budget

Nifty and husk making BANK selling the vacuum dust from Alastor’s room on the dark web 😭💀 there’s be freaks out there buying it like a mystery box hoping to find tail fluff (only rumoured to exist) or something. I feel freak-contaminated just typing it.

I read something once about a stalker plumber collecting the hair from showers and. I regret knowing about it every day.

(context: budget, shrine (og post), shrine (animatic))

HUSK TOO?????? you know what niffty probably dragged him into it. at this point alastor is losing his mind asking who in the hotel ISN'T making money off of him. charlie starts a lesson about exploitation.

(a large portion of the money just comes from vox not even the sinner fanbase that treats alastor as a sexyman)

[imfoive]

The Youngest Son - Chapter 8

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: mentions of cursing, death, somewhat proofread WC: 9.6k A/N: Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

CHAPTER 8 ────────────────────

There was a stark silence in the Chairman’s dark study. Glowing slightly by the dimness of the cellphone’s flashlight.

Lee Minho had gotten himself entangled in a web of secrets he didn’t know existed.

Was he important enough for his birth origins to be shrouded in mystery?

He stared at the creased paper, his name and real birthdate glaring back at him.

Yet, the youngest son didn’t get to ponder his thoughts for long. Already finding himself snatched back to a reality where he suddenly found himself to be an enigma.

The vibrations of his cell phone broke the stillness, an incoming call from Chairman Lee causing him to clench his teeth and tighten his jaw. He let the call end, watching as the screen dimmed, leaving the room illuminated only by the flash of the phone once again.

This old man, the keeper of all these twists in his life.

Minho hastily closed the files, returning them to their original order. Yet, still hesitant fingers hovered over the small boxed compartment in the back, filled with countless flash drives, each labeled differently. 

He recalled how Secretary Cha just added another one to the pile, though was unsure exactly which one.

His brain wracked in the intensity of his snooping. It was clear that the drive labeled “Joohyun—Jae” was the one from the night Lee Jae overdosed. He was sure the chairman had already figured out the truth behind Jae’s demise.

The contents might be a copy of the yacht CCTV footage, but that was highly doubtful since Minho himself had the original footage, and had never shown it to anyone, not even his grandfather.

Then it struck him.

The dash cam footage from the car. 

The one the Chairman had pretended not to know about. The evidence Minho failed to get a hold of. Minho had fallen for his feigned deception, like a fool.

   “That sneaky old man.” Minho muttered to himself, dropping everything back into place and closing the locker. 

The cabinet shut slowly with a soft click and locked with a low beep.

Sneaking out was easier than sneaking in, but Minho left with even more questions than he had when he arrived.

He ignored the Chairman’s calls, but as he settled into his car, his phone rang again.

   “We’re on our way to the restaurant from the wineries. Pick up Haneul from the hotel on your way here.” Chairman Lee instructed through the car speaker.

Minho glanced at the dashboard, noting his route to the restaurant.

   “Is Miss Son joining us as well?” He asked, well aware of his grandfather’s intentions.

   “Yes, she’s staying at The Rose Hotel.”

The grandson covered his mouth with his hand in frustration.

Great. The Rose Hotel.

   “Yes, I got it.” He muttered instead, turning his car towards the hotel.

Sky Son was as awkward as ever. 

The young woman stuttered through her greeting yet smiled shyly at Minho, who returned the smile as she buckled into the passenger seat.

   “How are you liking your stay here so far?” Minho asked, glancing at her while pulling out of the hotel driveway.

She stole a glance, taking in his profile, but quickly looked away when he met her gaze, blushing slightly.

   “It’s good. The people here are nice…” She responded, trailing off as she looked up at him again.

He nodded, smiling once more but kept his focus on the road.

   “And The Rose Hotel?” He inquired.

   “Ah! It’s great. I actually met Miss Y/N Park the night after the party at your residence. She’s a wonderful person.”

Minho’s smile faltered briefly before he recovered, his lips stretching into a different kind of smile. “Is that so?”

   “She told me you two went to school together.”

He nodded, confirming her statement.

   “You guys must be close then.” She said, her eyes hopeful.

He glanced at her briefly before pulling his car into the venue they were to dine in.   

“You could say that.” He replied, noticing her expression fall, clearly disappointed.

But he didn’t care. He was just babysitting at this point.

Minho walked to her side of the car, opening the door with practiced courtesy. Her expression brightened at his gesture, reminding him of Y/N and how her eyes would light up at simple gestures from him. But he didn’t like that look in Miss Son’s eyes.

It made him feel gross.

Handing his keys to the valet, Minho masked his unreadable expression with a forced smile as he led Sky into the private area where their grandfathers awaited.

───────────────────────

Y/N sat at the breakfast table, between her parents. Park Hyunmin, adjusted his glasses and took a sip of his coffee.

   “I didn’t know you came home.” The older man said, surprised by her presence so early in the morning.

He grinned widely, and her mother’s face lit up with a smile.

   “I can’t miss you guys?” Y/N raised a brow, reaching for her food.

   “The house just brightens up whenever she’s here, doesn’t it, honey?” Her mother asked her husband.

Park Hyunmin nodded and passed Y/N a bowl of fruit. The daughter who’s presence apparently lit up the room, couldn’t help but notice how their affection had seemed to increase since her return from New York, but she wasn’t complaining. 

   “Ah, did you hear the news about Lee Minho getting engaged to Son Hyungdon’s granddaughter?” The mother asked suddenly, recalling the fresh gossip she had heard that morning.

Y/N froze, her throat going dry, and she found herself unable to continue eating.

   “You and your gossip.” Park Hyunmin sighed, glancing briefly at Y/N.

   “We have nothing to do with Lee Minho or Son Hyungdon outside of our business. Who cares what they do?” He muttered, bringing his coffee back to his lips.

   “No, no, I was just saying. It’s not official news yet. Possibly just rumors.” Her mother said, brushing it off.

Unbeknownst that their daughter sat with her hands clenched around her fork and knife, her eyes fixed on her mother’s cooling mug of coffee set infront.

   “Minho’s office door burst open, and Y/N stormed in, her anger evident in her expression.

An anxious team member trailed behind her.

   “Miss Park, please, you can’t—”

Minho raised a hand to signal the man to step back. Who nodded and bowed before retreating and closing the door behind him.

Y/N glared at Minho, her anger unmistakable.

   “Are you fucking around with me?” She demanded.

Minho was initially startled, slowly morphing into confusion before he ultimately came to a conclusion. He realized that Y/N had likely heard some unsettling news, perhaps the whispers had reached her ears already. He approached her, trying to calm her down.

   “Listen, Y/N, whatever you heard is not true—”

   “Did you or did you not have a marriage meeting with Son Haneul?” She interrupted, eyes locking onto his with a fierce glare.

Minho hesitated, falling silent. His lack of response was enough for her. Yet, he attempted to grasp her arms, but of course the stubborn woman would not allow him to do so. She scoffed, turning away in frustration before glaring back at him.

   “It was your idea to date secretly.” She said, jabbing a finger into his chest and pushing him backward.

He allowed her push, closing his eyes momentarily as he tried to collect his thoughts, his arms falling to his sides in defeat.

   “You’re the one who said we’ll announce our relationship when the time is right. But now this is what I’m hearing?” Disbelief dripped from her words, her face flushed with anger.

His back pressed against the wall, while her figure loomed close, voice dropping to a whisper as tears brimmed in her eyes. Y/N pressed against him, one arm across his chest, pinning him in place.

   “I won’t give you a third chance. You can’t fuck me over and expect me to sit back and do nothing.” Y/N spat, her eyes darting between his, her composure almost faltering as she searched his apologetic gaze.

   “It’s not what you think.” Minho said, hoping she’d hear him out.

But her mind was clouded with the fear of being betrayed. Despite knowing deep down that Minho would never do that, the whispers of a sudden marriage between him and Son Haneul were overwhelming her.

He had made promises. In the quiet of his bedroom. As he littered kisses down her body.

While he pushed her up against the glass of her penthouse suite back in New York. Whispering into her ears.

He swore he was hers.

Murmurs about a sudden marriage between Lee Minho and Son Haneul already began spreading throughout high society. It was only a matter of days before it would make headlines, cementing their names together. And perhaps the two would suddenly find themselves standing at the altar saying their “I do’s”, something that happened quite often in their circle.

Something that had almost been her own reality if Minho hadn’t intervened. If Jae hadn’t died.

Haneul seemed like a sweet girl. From their brief, coincidental encounter, Y/N had sensed that. Sure, she was a bit naive, but that might be due to her younger age and introverted nature. Haneul was kind, calm, and thoughtful. She was the kind of girl who would listen before jumping to conclusions.

Things that Y/N clearly was not. 

Perhaps those were the qualities Minho truly desired in his partner.

   “Please don’t tell me you were just using my love.” Y/N said, her voice breaking as tears finally trickled freely.

Minho was at a loss for words, unable to think beyond her tearful eyes. He reached out to console her, but she stepped back abruptly, releasing him from her grip and composing herself.

Without giving him another moment to respond, she nudged him back against the wall and turned to leave.

   “Y/N, please…” He murmured, reaching out to grab her wrist, his voice tinged with a sudden desperation.

   “I can’t face you before you fix this.” She replied coldly, not looking back.

Her wrist slipped from his grasp, and she exited the room. Minho stood there, feeling almost defeated, running a hand through his hair as he tried to process everything that had happened just now.

Everything that had happened in the past two days. 

He had just disappointed the one person he never wanted to hurt. 

A friendly dinner.

Hah.

The dinner the other night with those old men had been nothing but an ambush. An unofficial announcement of his engagement to Son Haneul, staged in front of just the two of them and their grandfathers.

The old men laughed, clearly delighted. Miss Son had either covered her face in shock or shyness, Minho didn’t care which. His gaze had been fixed on his grandfather, whose laughter had seemed mocking almost.

After Son Hyungdon and his granddaughter had left, Minho had confronted Chairman Lee. A glare in his gaze.

   “I see you’ve decided everything among yourselves.” Minho said, leaning into the table.

The Chairman smiled. “Son Hyung-Don is ready to invest billions in us. We should repay him well, don’t you think?”

   “By selling me off?” Minho retorted.

It felt like the same cycle all over again, but this time Minho was the one up for sale.

Chairman Lee studied the challenging look in Minho’s eyes, his lips twitching into a grin that he quickly suppressed. His demeanor turned serious as he spoke.

   “I’ve given you enough time to look through those profiles of young women. You seemed too busy, so I chose one for you.”

Minho let out a silent laugh, his lips curling as he looked down at the tablecloth. But before he could respond, the old man beat him to it.

   “Are you going to act out because of Y/N Park?” The Chairman finally asked, his tone suddenly stern.

Minho’s smile vanished at the mention of the woman he loved, his eyes shot a protective glare at the old man.

He had never underestimated Chairman Lee, knowing the old man would eventually catch onto his relationship with Y/N. He was more curious about why the Chairman had waited so long to address it. But now this sudden engagement has become an unexpected obstacle.

He should’ve considered it the moment he met Sky.

   “If you already know, why are you pushing me to choose another side?” Minho demanded, unable to understand the old man’s motives.

The Chairman laughed. “I can’t let you jeopardize the relationship I spent years cultivating with Son Hyungdon. He has connections all over Europe—”

   “And Rose Enterprises is a global name, even bigger than Son Hyungdon probably.” Minho argued.

The old man fell silent for a few seconds, studying the young man’s determined face.

   “I can’t base decisions on arguments that end with ‘probably.’ Besides, what makes you think Park Hyunmin will accept you? Have you forgotten your background?”

A cold silence fell over the room as Minho stared at his grandfather. A little stunned.

He had never heard such a direct insult from Chairman Lee before. A clear jab at his illegitimacy. 

Except now all Minho could only think about was the altered birth certificate hidden in the old man’s safe.

He didn’t even know his true background himself.

No.

Who was he?

───────────────────────

The new mother didn’t know how to feel. Her baby was born prematurely, frail, and possibly not strong enough to make it through the next few days. He had been born in a monastery but was rushed to the nearest hospital, where he was kept under intensive care. The doctors claimed it didn’t look to good.

She had named him and clung to the hope that he would survive. 

He was her only link to the Chairman, her connection to the Lee family. She had fled after Chairman Lee had threatened her, planning to stay out of the public eye until the child was born and the old man could no longer deny his existence.

The Chairman had been right about her.

She was a sneaky thing that wanted to trap him.

Why else would a young woman like her allow an old man to take her to bed if not to secure her future?

The young assistant had understood from an early age that navigating the world required powerful connections and financial backing.

And it wasn’t as if she didn’t care for her newborn. She was overwhelmed with grief, unable to stop sobbing as she watched the doctors work on her child, inserting tubes and keeping him in the NICU. The sisters from the chapel had tried to comfort her, urging her to rest and conserve her energy. She had held him for a few precious hours before the doctors had taken him away.

The Chairman wasn’t prepared for this.

He was even more shaken to learn that the child had been born a month prematurely, underweight and at risk.  

He had been devising a plan to shift the blame for the child’s arrival onto his younger son, believing it would be more plausible if everyone thought the child was the result of his second son’s mistake. This way, he could contain the scandal within the family and avoid major fallout. But now, his concern had shifted to the possibility that the child might not even survive. He couldn’t afford to lose this last chance.

The young assistant was right about one thing.

Success required money, and Chairman Lee had plenty of it.

The hospital was filled with his people, top doctors and the best nurses.

He needed his son to survive.

   “Of course a young thing like you would give birth to an unhealthy child.” He spat, looking down at the disheveled former assistant. 

   “But I’m here now. Nothing can harm my blood. Not even God himself.”

Lee Minho was born prematurely, but he had to live.

And he did.

───────────────────────

After Y/N had stormed out of his office, Minho felt frantic. He had promised himself he would never let her leave like that again, yet he had failed. Blinded by the secrets of the past, he had jeopardized his present and his future.

So he made a decision, one he should have made the moment his grandfather handed him those marriage candidate profiles.

Park Hyunmin studied the young man across from him. Minho smiled politely, leaning back in his seat.

The Vice President of L Corp. had made an unannounced visit to the head of The Rose Enterprises on a normal Thursday morning. There had been no prior appointment, no apparent reason for them to be sharing morning coffee really.

Hyunmin adjusted his glasses and leaned closer to the table between them.

“If you want to discuss The Resort Project, my daughter is planning a meeting with our partners sometime this week.” Hyunmin began, crossing one leg over the other.

The older man was aware that Minho wouldn’t have come for such a trivial reason, but it was a start to a conversation Park Hyunmin couldn’t guess

   “Actually, I’m here for something else. Though it does concern your daughter” Minho replied

The mention of Y/N had made the father raise a protective brow.

   “You asked me a few years ago if I saw myself marrying your daughter.” Minho continued.

   “Yes. And I recall you denied on the spot.”

God, was he a fool. Minho berated his past self.

But still smiled thinly and nodded.

   “I’d like to tell you that I’m going to marry Y/N.” He stated, sitting up straight with a sincere expression.

Park Hyunmin fell silent for a moment before bursting into laughter.

   “You Lee’s really take marriage for a joke don’t you? Last I heard, you’re to be wed to Son Hyungdon’s girl.” Hyunmin had tried to remain composed, though he found it difficult to suppress his irritation.

   “That was a plan that didn’t involve me.” The young man across responded honestly.

   “And you think Y/N would just jump at your proposal? You two haven’t been in contact for the past two years.”

Minho blinked, looking down momentarily before meeting Hyunmin’s gaze, who immediately got the message from his silence and sheepishly stupid gaze.

   “Of course you’ve kept in touch.” Park Hyunmin muttered, sighing as he reached for his coffee, finally understanding why his daughter’s mood suddenly shifted that morning at breakfast.

   “So why this sudden decision? Were you planning to defy your family’s plans? Or did you suddenly realize you might be cut off from the inheritance?”

The younger man leaned in, intertwining his fingers in front of him, and gazed seriously at the older man.

   “The shareholders meeting to appoint the next president of L Corp. is coming up. I know for sure that I’m one of the candidates.” Minho began, his words perking the older man’s ears.

   “With the announcement of my engagement to Y/N, I’d look better in front of the shareholders. Besides, Son Hyungdon’s investment is insignificant compared to The Rose Enterprises. This will also be good media play for your side as well.”

Park Hyunmin processed the schemes Minho had cooked up, before he laughed softly, leaning back and observing the almost sinister look on Minho’s face.

He was a Lee after all.

   “A battle amongst the successors, huh? I didn’t think I’d see this day so soon. So up close as well.” He chuckled again, sipping his coffee.

They sat in silence for a few moments.

   “If Y/N is willing to accept this challenge, I won’t stop her. It’s time she considered the future of The Rose Enterprises without my influence. But if anything goes awry, just know, I don’t give second chances easily.” He warned, the amusement from earlier long gone.

Lee Minho had lots of things to take care of, lots of things to think about. From his false birth certificate to his engagement. 

But the most important, Y/N. 

He could still picture her teary expression as she left his office a few days ago.

Minho sighed deeply, sinking into the leather of his car seat. Despite numerous unanswered calls and messages, there was only silence from her end. The few days of not hearing from her felt far longer than the years she had been away. Determined yet anxious, he dialed her number again, the phone ringing persistently in the quiet car.

As expected, she didn’t answer.

Once Y/N made a decision, she rarely wavered.

But Minho was worried she’d throw him away and stick with that decision.

No, he couldn’t let that happen. Without her, he’d have no purpose to keep going.

It was ironic. Only some years ago, it was Y/N who chased after him no matter his avoidance. 

Or maybe, deep down, it was he who had been obsessed with her, allowing her to break down his walls because his desire to have her was so painful. Or maybe he was afraid to be alone, and knew Y/N would never allow him to feel so.

It was ironic, but he couldn’t even laugh.

He hoped that his conversation with her father reached her ears as quickly as his engagement news had.

And it did.

The incoming call from her flashed brightly on the dashboard, one he swiftly accepted.

   “Hello—”

   “Where are you?” Her voice was urgent, almost demanding.

   “The parking lot of Rose Enterprises.” He replied.

   “Stay there.” Y/N commanded abruptly before ending the call.

Minho listened to her, like a good boyfriend.

Not even five minutes later, he saw her figure emerge through the automatic doors leading to the indoor parking lot. Instinctively, he got out of the car, closing the door with a thud that caught her attention. Y/N strode toward him with an expression Minho couldn’t decipher.

Her steps quickened until she was practically running. Her arms reached out, and she almost leapt into his embrace. Startled, Minho instinctively caught her, stumbling back against the car door. She clung to him, exhaling sharply.

   “I didn’t think you’d ask for my hand in marriage.” She mumbled into the fabric of his jacket, gripping him tightly.

His tension melted away as he held her close, a smile spreading across his face as he hugged her back, inhaling her scent.

   “You said to fix it. So I did.” He murmured against her.

Y/N pulled back to look at him, her eyes meeting his.

   “I’m sorry for not letting you clear up misunderstandings. For bombarding you with questions that day.” She whispered, her face contorting into a guilt-ridden expression.

He smiled instead, shaking his head before leaning in to capture her lips in a soft kiss. Relaxing into her arms, he pulled back with a contented sigh. His eyes suddenly lit up, the wide grin she loved seeing, spread across his face.

   “Look in my left pocket.” He whispered, watching as her eyes momentarily reflected confusion, hands slowly rummaging through his coat, while his fingers still gripped at her arms lightly.

Her fingers fished out the velvet box, eyes automatically shooting up to meet him, widening in surprise.

   “How could I propose without a ring?” Minho chuckled softly, the kind of sound that always made Y/N’s stomach tingle.

She slowly opened the box, and the sight of the diamond sparkling in the light made her cheeks flush, unable to contain her smile. Truly rendered speechless.

   “Please Marry me, Y/N.” He said softly, his eyes full of love as he waited.

Her lips quivered with joy and excitement, truly touched by the warm gaze he held. She nodded, pulling his face toward her for a deep, passionate kiss. 

A proper heated kiss that lifted her off her feet.

Chairman Lee stared at the photographs taken by undercover reporters, showing Y/N and Minho kissing openly. The images had already made headlines, catching high society by surprise.

The old man was angry and upset that Minho, who had always heeded his advice, was now acting on his own. 

Yet, at the same time, it was fascinating, too.

The father in him felt a strange pride that his son had made such a bold decision. 

His brows narrowed at the images again.

The businessman in him, however, was less impressed. The schemes Minho had orchestrated were not just disobedient, they were disruptive to his own meticulously planned strategy.

   “Sir, Mr. Son is calling again. He seems to have heard the news.” Secretary Cha announced, breaking the Chairman’s daze.

Chairman Lee’s eyes flicked to the television screen, which displayed more news about his youngest son and the Park heiress. 

   “That bastard.” He muttered.

The emotions Minho stirred in him, even in this brief moment, were… exhilarating. 

For the first time, Chairman Lee felt genuinely challenged. He had gotten a taste of it the night Minho had glared at him after finding out about his arranged engagement.

But this was something entirely new and thrilling. For the first time, he felt like a father whose son had truly lived up to his expectations. A new sensation of seeing his son assert himself so dramatically.

Despite the underlying pride, Chairman Lee had no intention of letting Minho get away with this newfound boldness. He had to remind his son who held the reins.

   “Get Lee Minho here, now.” He coldly instructed.

Y/N stared at the glistening ring on her finger, her eyes twinkling and her lips stretched into an uncontrollable grin.

   “We had everyone fooled, right? Our relationship hit the news with a bang, and the stocks are doubling as we speak!” Y/N gushed, crossing one leg over the other, turning to Lee Jihoon who stared at her unfazed.

They were sitting at the same bar where they had last fought. Minho had to leave abruptly for a meeting with Chairman Lee, and Y/N needed someone to share her excitement with.

   “Mmmm, I don’t think anyone really cared to notice.” Jihoon said, glancing around the place.

Y/N made a face, rolling her eyes at his response, then began surveying the room herself. 

   “I was surprised when you called me here. We’re not even friends.”

Y/N looked back at him before taking a sip of her drink. 

   “I’d like to think we’re business friends.” She smirked to which Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head.

   “I’m not even interested in business.”

   “Then I guess we can be just friends.” She said, raising her glass to his new drink.

The older man considered it for a moment before clinking his glass against hers.

   “I’ll think about it.” Jihoon laughed, downing his drink as Y/N rolled her eyes once more.

While his new fiancée celebrated, Minho found himself under the intense scrutiny of his grandfather’s gaze.

Chairman Lee observed his youngest son with a mix of emotions. There was a new, almost defiant aura around Minho, as if he had finally become his own person of some sort.

A bittersweet realization for the patriarch who had always had control of every aspect of the family’s affairs.

But deep down inside, he always hoped for a day like this to come, where he had to stand against a son that he raised to be just like him. 

He was tired of cleaning after the messes his useless children made. For once, he wanted to worry about something other than a mess. 

Though this wasn’t less of a mess, it was something that could be twisted into a good thing as well. 

The Chairman was upset for various other reasons.

He had to risk his ties with Son Hyungdon, though he didn’t really care much for the headache.

He had to control the rest of the family, who were always slow when it came to doing a good job, but first to bark when they felt threatened.

No, he was truly frustrated that Minho had chosen to act independently, without consulting him. His father.

It was a challenge to his authority that he hadn’t anticipated.

   “You’ve grown a lot. I didn’t think I’d have to worry about you this soon.” Chairman Lee said, pouring tea into the empty cups in front of them.

Minho watched the steam rise from his cup, his gaze steady as he met his grandfather’s eyes.

   “I remembered your words again. The ones about not trusting any businessman, no matter how appealing their promises are. I realized the moment you brought up my background, grandfather. I’ve forgotten for a moment that you are also a businessman.” Minho said, reaching for his tea.

The atmosphere between them was charged with passive-aggressive tension. Chairman Lee studied Minho, who now seemed markedly more mature. He chuckled softly before he leaned back, crossing his legs.

   “What are your plans now? I recall telling you that a good businessman doesn’t put all his eggs in one basket.” Chairman Lee asked.

Minho raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the older man’s tone, wondering what else was this old man planning in that mind of his.

   “You’ve burned the Son bridge. How far do you think the Park bridge will get you?” Chairman Lee continued, picking up a cookie and savoring its sweetness.

   “I plan on becoming president of L Corp,.” Minho stated confidently.

The old man’s delight was evident, though he masked it behind a facade of composure. He cleared his throat, maintaining a serious demeanor.

   “What makes you think it will be that simple? You’ve forgotten about your brothers. Jungshin has the elder shareholders in his pocket, and Joohyeon has been building those overseas connections.”

      “A good businessman doesn’t reveal his plans too readily, grandfather.” Minho replied with a smile.

Chairman Lee’s expression momentarily faltered before he burst into laughter, absolutely amused by Minho’s bravado.

   “I have a slight inclination that I might expect you to side with me during the selection, won’t you?...Unless my background bothers you.” Minho said, his sly smirk, both irking and amusing the old man at the same time.

   “I’m not like you son, I don’t put all my eggs in one basket. You’ll just have to see at the next meeting.” The old man chuckled, sipping his tea again.

Placing the cup back down, he sighed. A pointed sound that stated he’s moving on from this conversation.

   “What’s done is done. Son Hyungdon will have to suck it up. The news of the engagement is actually benefiting us, especially with The Resort Project. Let’s not dwell on future problems just yet.” Chairman Lee said, clapping and offering Minho a plate of cookies.

Minho smiled but politely declined.

   “How about a round of golf?” Chairman Lee suggested with a doting smile.

   “I need to get back to my fiancée.” Minho declined again, rising from his seat.

   “Ah, very well. Don’t disappoint her now, otherwise, you might have to burn that Park bridge after all.” The old man laughed.

Minho bowed and began to leave, casting a final glance at the safe cabinet before turning. He nodded to Secretary Cha at the door as he exited.

Chairman Lee called his secretary over and leaned back, taking another sip of his tea. A low snicker escaped his lips before he erupted into another loud laugh.

   “This is much more entertaining than I anticipated. I haven’t felt this alive in ages.” He said with a grin.

Looking at his secretary, he asked. “Who am I meeting next?”

The secretary checked his watch. “Your elder son wants to discuss the sudden engagement news. Your second son, will likely want to do the same—”

   “Turn them away,” Chairman Lee cut him off coldly. 

   “They just want to complain. That’s all they ever do.” There was a bitterness in his tone.

He dusted his hands on his napkin, thinking for a moment. 

   “Get my lawyer on the phone. I believe it’s time for me to do some charity work.” He said with a chuckle.

───────────────────────

The second grandson of the Lee family was puzzled. No, he was in denial. He stared at the names of the contenders in line for the title of L Corporation’s next leading President. Many different emotions flowing through him. 

His name was not amongst them.

Lee Joohyeon was the oldest son from the second branch within the Lee family. How could he not even be considered?

How was it that the person standing against Lee Jungshin wasn’t him, but the youngest son of the family? 

Joohyeon has spent all his life fighting for second place, and now he was painfully made aware that even that spot did not belong to him.

It would have been the ideal scenario. 

The eldest of Lee Mooyoung stood against the eldest of Lee Doyoung. It seemed like a fair battle. 

But Lee Minho swooped in like a shadow, his name in bold next to Jungshin’s. Minho was making his way up the ladder, getting tied to The Rose Enterprises, something he pretended to never be interested in, now made sure his name was in everyone’s mouth. While Joohyeon sat here in Japan, exiled under the pretense of managing L Corp. subsidiaries. 

He was guilty. Once upon a time. The face of Jae lying still on the cold yacht floor still haunted him in his dreams from time to time. 

But he wasn’t guilty enough. 

He wanted to go back to where he was. Even the spot of second best was more than enough for the older brother who now seemed to equal to nothing in the ranks within the Lee family.

Minho’s name left a bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn’t just let that young boy reach any higher than he was. But his grandfather was always particularly drawn to the youngest, shielding him. And his father was delusional, under the spell that Minho had cast, like his maid mother.

He knew his uncle, and the first branch within the Lee family wouldn’t sit still either. Especially with Jungshin being one of the candidates for President. This was their only chance to control the reign of L Corp. in the coming generations.

The only person who would be on Joohyeon’s side, the only sane person the oldest of the second branch could think of was his mother. His mother didn’t have favorites amongst her children. But with Jihoon being a self-appointed outcast, and Minho’s existence itself disgusting her, she had no choice but to hold Joohyeon high on a pedestal.

Even then he was just the default. But it was better than sitting thousands of miles away from his goals. He needed to find his way back.

No. He had to go back.

───────────────────────

The sudden attention from everyone around Y/N filled her with an unexpected delight. It was as if she was finally basking in the glow of something she had always wanted. Although she wasn’t exactly an attention-seeker, the fact that everyone now knew Lee Minho was hers made her squeal with excitement. Her teenage self would have never believed that the cold and indifferent Lee Minho, who would practically leap out of a window whenever she entered a room, was now completely captivated by her.

Gone were the days of secret meetings and indoor dates. They were now free to publicly display their relationship. While her fiancé wasn’t particularly fond of pda, maintaining their status as a hot topic among elite families was crucial. He needed the attention to boost his public image. Perhaps even impress shareholders who would heavily influence the decision on who to elect as the next President of L Corp.

Minho had made a promise to Y/N. If he was going to rise, he’d rise with her. 

Lee Minho had always managed to stay under the radar, keeping a low profile and avoiding any specific attention. His sudden emergence into the public eye only added to his mysterious persona. To the news outlets, he was like a present waiting to be unwrapped, a promising businessman and the youngest of the Lee family. His growing positive image only fueled his desire to reach for the stars, forget the sky.

But he also knew he was putting everything at stake. If he fails, he would only fall, fall hard. 

So he told himself. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t let anything hinder him, no matter how difficult the obstacle in his path was. Whether that was his father, Lee Jungshin, or his grandfather himself. Minho was going to run them all over.

He toyed with the glass paperweight on his desk, spinning it absentmindedly as he pondered his next moves. He had already handled his engagement and established his position in the so-called “battle amongst the successors,” as Park Hyunmin called it. Joohyeon was no longer a threat, leaving Jungshin as his remaining challenge.

He knew the eldest grandson had something brewing, a big scheme to make Minho fall in the eyes of the shareholders and the public, Minho would have if he was him. The youngest was just waiting for the right time to play dirty. He had to thank his grandfather when it came to things like this. The unwritten handbook to the perfect businessman was all in Chairman Lee’s mind, and he made sure he embedded it into Minho as well. 

However, a lingering concern gnawed at Minho. The thin file tucked away in Chairman Lee’s safe, containing information about his mother.

No, about Yoon Sooyeon, who might or might not be his mother.

He was torn, a part of him impatient to uncover whatever the hell the old man was trying to conceal. While another part whispered to him not to pry further, he wouldn’t be able to handle the aftermath.

Minho had dug up on the former maid that was dismissed from his family a year before he was born. The moment the doubts of her being nothing more than just a stranger to him, formed in his heart, he began looking into it. But of course with his sudden engagement to Haneul, to proposing to Y/N, and now being thrust into the public eye, the young man could only do so much to keep up with everything that was happening. 

Or everything that already had happened.

His grandfather acted as though their last tense meeting had never occurred, treating the engagement between the Lees and the Parks as if he had always been in favor of it. He didn’t even mention Son Hyungdon anymore.

But that didn’t mean Son Haneul got the message. She should have. It was all over the news. The photos of Y/N and Minho kissing in a parking lot were easily accessible, and Y/N’s public social media was filled with their relationship. 

Yet, the young girl chose to ignore it, mistaking Minho’s kindness for genuine interest.

Minho sat across from her in the lobby of L Corp., observing as she fiddled with the buttons of her fur coat. Her troubled expression was evident, and he studied her with a detached calm.

   “W-why did you break our engagement?” She asked, her eyes betraying her hurt.

Minho wanted to laugh. She was young, but he hadn’t realized she was this naive.

   “Our few days of encounters don’t really count as an engagement, do they? It’s a bit ridiculous, don’t you think, Miss Son?” He said with the polite smile that had charmed her when they first met.

She blinked, unable to smile back, hurt by his use of her formal name instead of just Sky.

   “Yes, but our grandfathers—”

   “Our grandfathers aren’t here. And frankly, don’t you think we’re past the age where we let them dictate who we marry?” He leaned in slightly. 

   “You should find someone who genuinely likes you, not just someone your grandfather approves of.” He flashed her a pleasant smile, ignoring her tears, before standing up and walking away.

God did he hate pathetic people like her.

      “Bring the new secretary to my room.” Minho instructed one of his team members as he walked to his office.

A young man in a crisp suit-and-tie stepped into the vice president’s office, his demeanor calm but his lack of experience evident compared to the seasoned members of the Secretary Department. But then again, maybe Minho had judged too quickly. Maybe this was how the older executives looked at him when he entered a room.

The young secretary bowed respectfully before standing straight in front of Minho’s desk.

   “Good afternoon sir, I’m Kim Yongguk, your new personal secretary.”

Minho studied him carefully. Every influential person had a good secretary. Take Secretary Cha, for instance, who had faithfully served his grandfather for decades.

   “Secretary Kim…how old are you?” The superior inquired.

The young man adjusted his posture, clasping his hands behind his back. “I’m twenty-five, sir.”

Minho nodded, picking up the glass paper stopper he had been playing with all day.

   “Do you plan on sticking around for a long time?” 

Yongguk straightened, his earlier confidence wavering slightly. “Yes, sir. I plan on being loyal to L Corp. for as long as I’m allowed to work here.”

   “See, that’s where you’re mistaken. I don’t need you to be loyal to L Corp.” Minho shook his head, leaning back in his chair. 

   “I need you to be loyal to me. Not L Corp. You’re going to do anything I tell you to do…no matter how sketchy you find it.”

Yongguk’s eyes narrowed sharply with a slight confusion.

   “If you think you can’t do that, you can back out now.” Minho added, his tone neither harsh nor reassuring, rather even.

   “N-no sir, I will be able to follow your orders.” The young secretary responded rigidly.

Minho’s fingers stilled, setting aside the paperwork he had been holding.

   “Even if there’s a risk of you getting into trouble… or worse?”

Yongguk paused, feeling the weight of Minho’s scrutiny. 

   “I’m not pressuring you. You can choose to walk away if you prefer.”

Minho’s intention wasn’t to intimidate the young man but to ensure that anyone who worked closely with him was prepared for the risks involved. He wanted someone loyal, someone who could handle the weight of secrets and tough decisions. 

   “I’m willing to be loyal to only you sir.” Yongguk responded after a moment of silence, his tone firm.

Minho fell silent for a moment. Thinking, observing.

He then let out a chuckle, startling his young secretary.

   “You can relax. I’m not asking you to sacrifice your life for me. You won’t have to, and I won’t let that happen to one of my people.” He stated.

Yongguk’s tension eased at the sudden reassurance.

   “I’ll give you your first task right away then.”

The Vice President reached into the side drawer of his desk. There was a pile of papers tucked into a thin file, whatever information Minho could collect over the past two weeks.

   “I need you to look into Yoon Sooyeon.” 

Secretary Kim reached forward and took the file off of the desk, eyes looking intently at it.

   “She’s apparently my ‘dirty-birth mother.’” Minho smiled up at his secretary who stared at him in shock for a brief second.

   “Sir…” He whispered, overwhelmed by the gravity of the secret he figured out.

   “If you’re going to be at my side, you should know some of my secrets don’t you think?”

Minho didn’t know he was going to disclose this to a man he just met. It was something he never said out loud to anyone, not even to Y/N. But the look of doubt in this young secretary’s eyes irked him, and he needed to show him that he was willing to let Yongguk into the deepest secrets in return for his loyalty.

   “Now that I’ve shared one of my secrets, let’s hear one of yours.” He tried to ease the tension, eyes awaiting for the dumbfounded young secretary to compose himself.

   “I…I cheated my way through school.” Yongguk admitted, attempting to match the severity of his secret to Minho’s, though nothing could compare.

   “So you might not even be qualified to be my secretary?” Minho laughed, absolutely amused.

He was laughing at such a situation. Like a maniac.

Like his father.

Though Kim Yongguk had expressed doubts about his own competence, he completed the task faster than Minho had anticipated, impressing the vice president. Yongguk’s eyes twinkled with pride at the compliment, and Minho knew immediately that the young man would be just fine next to him. 

However, Minho’s amusement was short-lived. The information Secretary Kim uncovered was far from pleasant. The doubts in Minho’s mind were put to rest. The youngest son of the Lee family always had great instincts.

Yoon Sooyeon was nothing but a former maid at the Lee Residence.

A former, dead maid.

She had no connections to Minho. As he thought.

It felt like a maze of lies. The deeper he went, the more puzzled he became. Minho didn’t think that there were so many secrets behind his birth. Minho didn’t even know what to believe anymore. 

Was he not really a son of the Lee family? 

Was he just some kid that was picked up from an orphanage and put into cruel ties? 

But no one else seemed to question Minho’s presence within the family. Everyone accepted the Chairman’s narrative of him being an illegitimate child between Lee Doyoung and Yoon Sooyeon. Perhaps even a doctored DNA test had been used to solidify his connection to his father.

The only person who held answers was his grandfather, but extracting information from him wouldn’t be easy unless Minho were to offer something in return.

───────────────────────

The oldest grandson of the Lee family was livid. He felt disrespected. His name, his title, was being compared to the illegitimate Lee Minho by the media, shareholders, and clients.

By their family.

Lee Jungshin had always watched Minho with a mix of intrigue and disdain, recognizing early on that the youngest son would eventually surpass others. Unlike Joohyeon, who had underestimated Minho, Jungshin knew better. Yet, the debate over who was the more capable leader, Jungshin or Minho, was infuriating. He had always considered himself the true heir, a crown prince in the family hierarchy. The prospect of being compared to Minho was both bewildering and insulting. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh, or if he should get mad.

Jungshin had that confidence in himself that he’d win against Lee Minho. But the recent announcement of Minho and Y/N’s engagement had thrown him into turmoil. Unlike Joohyeon, Lee Jungshin had the core values of a competent businessman. 

He knew when he had to step up and take care of the thorns in his path. He knew exactly when to play dirty.

After the night of his nephew’s celebration party, Jungshin realized that the Chairman who had always sung the song about choosing the best businessman to hand over his entire estate and fortune to, might have been biased.

   “My favorite grandson.”

The words rang in the eldest grandson’s ears. He had never heard those words from the old man’s mouth.

He had never sat with him for long hours drinking coffee, tea, whiskey.

They had never played golf.

Jungshin wasn’t going to deny that he was envious of the youngest who was able to weasel under the wings of the Chairman. It was a smart move, something Jungshin should have gotten a head start on, but didn’t. 

Granted, Minho only took solace under the old man’s authority for protection from his own parents growing up. But Jungshin was still the old man’s grandson. 

His eldest grandson. 

Of course Jungshin had a plan for Lee Minho, for the title of President of L Corporation to be handed to its rightful owner, himself.

   “The presentation for the shareholder’s meeting is complete.” Jungshin looked up to Mooyoung who sat across from him, brow raising.

   “Lee Minho won’t realize what hit him.” Jungshin laughed, crossing his fingers into a clasp.

   “He’s too busy in his love bubble with that Y/N.” His father added.

The name of Y/N leaves a sour taste in Jungshin’s mouth. Though his courting for the young girl was a brief thing, he hated how she never even looked in his direction. It was the first time he had tried so hard to get someone’s attention. And he hated the fact that she was so unamused. 

But then again, who knew she was climbing into Minho’s bed at the end of the night, while pretending to hate his guts to fool everyone.

It was amusing, and perhaps a bit humiliating. Jungshin didn’t usually fall for such things, or maybe he didn’t want to admit that both Y/N and Minho had outwit him. 

The eldest grandson didn’t like being outwitted. But Minho was extremely good at doing just that.

───────────────────────

Y/N observed Minho intently, her gaze lingering on him as he worked diligently on his laptop at the kitchen counter. Taking in the sight of his focused expression, lit up by the bright screen in front of him, the sleeves of his button-up pushed back to his elbows. The unkempt sight of Minho was something only she got to see, but then again, there were other forms of Minho that only she got to see. The thought of it makes her cheeks flush, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the laser visioned man across her.

   “What kind of dirty thoughts are you thinking?” Minho’s teasing voice broke through whatever she was thinking, his fingers not missing a beat on the keyboard as he glanced up at her with a smug smile.

   “Let’s get married tomorrow.” Y/N blurted out instead, her lashes batting in front of his taken aback expression.

Minho’s initial surprise slowly melted into a low chuckle as he processed her words. His gaze softened with affection and amusement.

   “You sure?” He asked, seeking confirmation.

Without hesitation, she nodded, her hand shooting up to rest over her heart.   

   “I can marry you whenever you’re free. Morning, day, or night.” She affirmed, her grin widening.

Minho leaned in closer, a thoughtful look crossing his face. 

   “I don’t think the marriage bureau is open at night.” He teased gently with a chuckle.

She opened her mouth to say something in return, perhaps even convince him that it was something they needed to do first thing in the morning, but he beat her to it and spoke out first.

   “I think your father will kill me if we do that though. Are you okay with that?” He asked, still smiling.

Y/N paused, momentarily at a loss for words. Straightening on the high chair, she cleared her throat. 

   “I heard you met Son Haneul yesterday.” She changed the subject with a curious tilt of her head.

His smile fell as he slowly pushed the laptop aside, signaling that he was fully attentive.

   “She was acting as if you had stolen me from her.”

Y/N laughed, finding his words amusing. It was ironic. She was the one who should feel as though Minho was about to be stolen from her.

   “I bet you’re loving that you’ve got two women cast under your spell.” She said, rolling her eyes as she leaned on the counter, resting her chin in her palms.

He chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. 

   “I’ve got more than two women under my spell. But the only one who has me completely bound is right here in front of me.” He confessed softly, his eyes locking with hers in earnest.

Y/N was momentarily taken aback by his candidness her heart swelling with love for him. Unable to find words to respond to him with, she chose to laugh instead.

   “As long as you’re aware.” Her fingers reached over to the laptop, turning it to see what he had been working on. 

   “Presentation for the shareholder meeting?” She asked, glancing up at him.

Minho nodded and gestured for her to continue reading. She did so with a serious gaze, nodding along as she went through the document.

   “You know, someone let it slip to Jungshin that the man who marries me would get ten percent of shares in Rose Enterprise.” Y/N said, looking up at Minho, who furrowed his brows in surprise.

The man in front of her was clearly caught off guard by the revelation. A detail he hadn’t been aware of. But it made sense. In their world, such stakes were significant, even if they seemed trivial at first glance. Though ten percent might not sound like a lot, it was. And of course Lee Jungshin didn’t want to miss out on that. 

Made it even more obvious why he had tried so hard to chase Y/N.

Minho was silent, as if he was in deep thought.

   “You had a golden ticket the whole time, and you didn’t even know it huh?” She laughed, bringing him out of his thoughts.

Instead of laughing Minho reached over to grasp her hand in his, thumb caressing her skin.

   “Jungshin isn’t a good person. Who knows what he could do for that ten percent.”

Y/N’s smile faltered, seeing the look of concern, he didn’t find her joke funny, nor that the situation called for it. But she was aware Minho wouldn’t allow Jungshin to do anything for that ten percent.

   “That’s why I have you. My big bad protector.” She laughed again, trying to lighten the mood as her other hand clasped over his grip on her.

And of course he only nodded, smiling slightly in response before bringing the laptop back to him.

But what Park Hyunmin had said last time played in his head. 

   “But if anything goes astray, just know, I don’t give second chances easily.”

The first branch of the Lee family had something brewing against him. And they were going to give it their all. If Minho failed…

With Minho out of the way and Jungshin as President, he could easily marry into the Park family if Park Hyunmin saw it fit, and Y/N wouldn’t be able to do anything about it besides comply. 

Minho couldn’t let that happen. Minho wouldn’t let that happen. 

Y/N was his. 

Even if he fails. Even if she suddenly decided she no longer loved him.

No one could have her.

His eyes flickered up to take in the sight of Y/N treading around the dining table, busying herself while he worked.

Minho wasn’t a dancer, but he danced effortlessly to her tune. She had him completely tied.

───────────────────────

The chairman reviewed his re-written will for the third time this month. Though the beneficiary remained unchanged, various details had shifted.

   “I think this might be the final version. Tell Attorney Goh he can relax now.” The old man said with a chuckle, handing the document to Secretary Cha nonchalantly.

Secretary Cha examined the document once more, as he always did, before sealing it in the confidential envelope designated solely for the lawyer's eyes.

Secretary Cha asked, his tone neutral.

The chairman dipped his biscuit into his coffee, taking a quick bite of the soaked treat. 

   “Of course. Who else is competent enough to become Vice President at such a young age?” He said, his voice rising with pride. 

   “Only my son is capable of that.”

Secretary Cha cleared his throat, drawing the chairman’s attention back from his thoughts.

   “What about your other sons?”

The mention of his older sons soured the chairman’s mood. His smile fell, replaced with a stern expression.

   “They’re lucky if they’re even named in my inheritance distribution.” He grumbled, brushing crumbs from his fingers.

“Doyoung was never able to surpass his brother. And his sons are just like him. Mooyoung was always a conniving one, never achieving anything without sticking his nose into dirty business. And we all know Jungshin is doing exactly that as we speak.” He continued, frustration dripping from his words.

His hatred for his older sons was palpable.

   “But my youngest.” Chairman Lee’s tone softened.

   “My youngest is just like me. He’s observing. Cautious. He understands their nature and will always come out on top.” The old man’s favoritism was evident and unabashed.

Secretary Cha placed the envelope into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and stood at attention, as if he had more to convey.

The chairman glanced at his loyal secretary, curiosity piqued. “What is it?”

   “Your youngest son is looking into Yoon Sooyeon.” Secretary Cha reported.

Chairman Lee’s expression softened at the mention of the name he hadn’t heard in decades. 

   “His new secretary has uncovered something. I’m certain Vice President Lee is aware that she is not his birth mother.”

The information was less dramatic than the chairman had anticipated. Minho had only scratched the surface, yet his determination was evident. The chairman was impressed by how quickly he was pursuing this matter. The rumors about the Lee family hound was right, once he bites, he doesn’t easily let it go. 

And Minho was only going to dig deeper.

   “He wants to tackle everything at once, doesn’t he?” Chairman Lee mused.

Which he had guessed correctly. The youngest son wanted to get rid of all his problems, his curiosities one after the other. Ticking them off a check-list.

   “He’s always been too eager.” The chairman said with a serious tone, glancing at Secretary Cha once more. 

   “The truth can either make or break a man…Do you think my son will break after discovering the truth?” Chairman Lee asked, though it was more a rhetorical question. 

The intensity of his gaze made Secretary Cha shift slightly.

   “It’s about time he learns the truth, isn’t it?” 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

── ask to be tagged! - @minh0scat, @qwonyoung23, @tsunderelino, @thecutiepieme, @candyquokka

[dee-writes-anime]

heyy there i have an idea for a request, can you write something about a new hero joining the pros and she would help tokoyami because she has a similar quirk or something like that, so she would “steal” him from hawks y’know so hawks got to know her better by time and actually understood she wasn’t that bad, but she would be really introverted, much like tokoyami. thak yeew so much!!

Wings and Shadows

FEATURING Keigo 'Hawks' Takami x Reader

SUMMARY A new hero is in town, someone quiet that Keigo never noticed before, at least, until Tokoyami started hanging out with her more. (request by anon)

CONTENT WARNINGS feelings of inadequacy, slight clashing between hawks and reader, jelly hawks, that's all???

AUTHORS NOTE This is shorter than I would've liked, but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you like it too, anon! <3

The weight of the world was something you knew well. It draped over you like the heavy cloak of shadows that surrounded your form, ever-present and protective, just as your quirk intended. You were a ghost in the hero world—a new addition to the pros, but not one who sought the spotlight. Instead, you moved through the quiet spaces, the places where light dared not tread, much like your quirk, which allowed you to control the very essence of darkness.

The one person who understood you—at least to some degree—was Fumikage Tokoyami. His quirk, Dark Shadow, had a similar connection to the shadows, a kinship you couldn’t ignore. It made training with him feel natural, almost effortless, though you weren’t used to forming bonds so easily.

But it wasn’t long before you felt the eyes on you—sharp, perceptive, and distinctly uncomfortable. They belonged to one Keigo Takami, otherwise known as Hawks, who was constantly flitting around with his easy smirks and carelessly perfect demeanor. You’d always watched him from a distance, his soaring red wings a stark contrast to the darkness you carried. He was everything you were not—vibrant, charming, always in the spotlight.

And lately, he seemed... restless.

You caught his eyes on you again during training, his gaze hovering like a hawk watching prey. Tokoyami, focused and disciplined, hadn’t noticed his mentor’s presence as he shadow-boxed under your quiet instructions.

"That was well done," you murmured to Tokoyami as his Dark Shadow retracted, leaving him panting lightly.

"Your guidance helps. It feels like you understand the nuances of controlling him," Tokoyami replied, his voice always holding that edge of mystery, one you respected.

It wasn’t the first time you’d heard such praise from him, and each time, it sat heavily on your chest. You weren’t sure how to navigate the strange web you were caught in—caught between Tokoyami’s respect and Hawks' silent, burning gaze.

That evening, you moved to leave the agency after a long day, your steps quiet, when a flash of red appeared in your peripheral vision. Hawks had swooped in, landing on the rooftop just as you were preparing to fade into the night. His wings stretched wide against the sunset, vibrant and alive, while the world around him dimmed.

"You don’t talk much, huh?" Hawks asked casually, though his golden eyes were sharp, searching for something beneath your silence.

You didn’t answer right away, unsure of what to say to someone like him. Words weren’t your strength—shadows were. "I prefer to observe," you finally replied, your voice softer than his, but not weak. It carried the weight of someone who knew how to listen.

Hawks chuckled, the sound rich but edged with something else—something like frustration. "Yeah, I’ve noticed. You’ve been hanging out with my apprentice a lot lately." He tilted his head, his smile a little too perfect, a little too tight. "Feels like you’re stealing him from me."

Your eyes flickered to him, unreadable behind your calm exterior. "I’m not stealing anyone. Tokoyami is growing, and I’m helping him control something we both understand."

Hawks’ wings rustled slightly, the breeze stirring his feathers. For a moment, his cocky, laid-back attitude slipped, and you saw something else—something more vulnerable, like he wasn’t used to being left behind. "Yeah, I get that. Still feels weird. He used to come to me for everything, and now..." He trailed off, his gaze hardening as if trying to cover up the admission.

You stood there, the quiet between you thick and charged. For once, Hawks seemed unsure of himself, and you could feel the unspoken tension gnawing at the edges of the conversation. You took a breath, gathering the courage to address the rift that had silently grown between you both.

"It’s not about replacing you," you said, voice steady despite the weight of his gaze. "You’ve taught him well, but there are things I can help him with too. We share a connection to the shadows, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still your student."

Hawks was silent for a beat, his sharp eyes studying you carefully. His usual charm was gone, replaced with something more real. "Guess I underestimated you."

"I’m not surprised." You shifted, the dark aura around you whispering at the edges of your figure, almost like it was reacting to your words. "You strike me as someone who doesn’t give introverts like me much thought."

He blinked, taken aback by your straightforwardness, before breaking into a genuine laugh. "Fair point. I’m not exactly known for my deep introspection."

The two of you stood there in the fading light, the rooftop bathed in the soft hues of dusk. Hawks’ wings fluttered lightly in the breeze, while your shadows pulsed faintly at your feet, the two of you almost like opposing forces standing side by side.

"You know," Hawks said after a long moment, his tone softer, "I thought you were stealing Tokoyami from me because... well, because I wasn’t doing enough for him anymore."

You looked up at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. The flashy, carefree hero had dropped his mask, revealing someone far more human beneath.

"He doesn’t think that," you said gently. "He still looks up to you. But he’s also growing, and sometimes that means he’ll need others to help him in ways we can’t."

Hawks’ golden eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw something akin to understanding. His wings folded neatly behind him, and he sighed, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Guess I needed to hear that."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable anymore. It felt like an understanding had been reached, an unspoken truce between the bright, outgoing hero and the quiet, shadowy newcomer. Hawks wasn’t as aloof as you’d first thought, and in turn, he saw that your quiet nature wasn’t the barrier he once assumed it to be.

"You know," Hawks said, breaking the silence with a small grin, "you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be."

A soft smile tugged at your lips, the faintest hint of amusement in your voice as you replied, "Neither are you, Hawks."

For the first time, you didn’t feel like you were standing in someone’s shadow. You were standing beside him.

[isadoresmuse]

Tangled Desires

Warning: The following contains themes of obsession, possessiveness, and potentially disturbing content. Reader discretion is advised.

Reader is only referred to as “you”/ Gender Neutral.

Yandere Neighbor OC x (Gender Neutral) Reader

The summer breeze gently rustled the leaves as you carried the last of your moving boxes into your new apartment. It was a quaint little complex, tucked away in a peaceful neighborhood. You were excited about the fresh start, ready to settle into a new life.

Little did you know that your life was about to take an unexpected turn.

As you were arranging your belongings, you noticed a well-dressed man standing outside your window, peering in with intense, dark eyes. Startled, you quickly approached the window and pulled back the curtains. The man looked equally startled, his eyes widening at the sudden interaction.

"I-I apologize for startling you," he stammered, composing himself. "I'm Vincent, your neighbor from next door. I couldn't help but notice a beautiful neighbor had moved in."

His smooth voice and handsome features intrigued you, but his intense gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Nevertheless, you introduced yourself, trying to maintain a polite distance. Vincent, a successful lawyer with a reputation for winning impossible cases, was both charming and mysterious.

Days turned into weeks, and you settled into your new routine. However, Vincent's presence became increasingly persistent. He would conveniently "bump" into you in the hallway, always offering his assistance with a charming smile. At first, it was flattering, but soon you couldn't shake the feeling that he was watching your every move.

One evening, as you returned home from work, you found a note slipped under your door. It was a heartfelt message, expressing Vincent's admiration for your beauty, intelligence, and elegance. It struck you as sweet, yet there was an undertone of possessiveness.

Your unease grew as Vincent's actions became bolder. He would send you extravagant gifts, elegant dresses, and flowers that filled your apartment. You tried to politely decline his advances, but he saw it as a challenge, convinced that you were playing hard to get.

One fateful night, you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. As you looked out your window, you caught sight of Vincent standing in the shadows, eyes fixated on your apartment. Fear gripped your heart, and you decided it was time to confront him.

You stormed out of your apartment and found him waiting in the hallway, wearing a meticulously tailored suit. His eyes gleamed with a mixture of adoration and possessiveness as he watched you approach.

"Vincent, this has gone too far!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling. "I can't handle this obsession. Please leave me alone."

But instead of anger or disappointment, his expression softened. He reached out to gently caress your cheek; a twisted affection evident in his touch. "I'm sorry, my love~. I didn't mean to scare you. But I can't bear the thought of losing you. You're everything I've ever wanted."

Despite your initial fear, you found yourself drawn to Vincent's intensity. He was a complex man, flawed and possessive, but there was a vulnerability in his eyes that spoke of genuine love. You couldn't deny the strange connection you felt.

As the days passed, you discovered the depth of Vincent's devotion. He would accompany you everywhere, ensuring your safety at all times. He used his legal prowess to shield you from any trouble and eliminate anyone who threatened your happiness.

However, his methods were far from conventional. Vincent's protectiveness soon transformed into a possessive obsession, and he became a deranged lawyer, willing to go to extreme lengths to keep you by his side., using any legal (and illegal) way to keep himself near you.

You found yourself tangled in a web of desires, torn between fear and twisted love. Vincent's actions, though suffocating, were rooted in a deep longing for your affection. His obsession grew, and he became more possessive, isolating you from friends and family, determined to make you his alone.

But as time went on, you couldn't ignore the darkness that consumed him. You yearned for freedom, for a love that didn't come with chains. It was then that you realized you had to break free from Vincent's hold, no matter the cost.

With the help of a trusted friend, you concocted a plan to escape Vincent's clutches. As you made your move, a mixture of fear and determination coursed through your veins. It was a dangerous game, but you were determined to reclaim your life.

The night was dark when you slipped out of your apartment, leaving behind the life you once knew. Vincent's absence was eerie, but you couldn't let your guard down. You vanished into the night, seeking refuge in a distant town, hoping to rebuild your shattered life.

Months passed, and the wounds slowly healed. You had started over, finding solace in the peaceful surroundings of your new home, far away from your once homely apartment. The memories of Vincent's possessiveness lingered, but you refused to let his existence define you.

Then, one fateful evening, as you sat on the porch of your lovely new townhouse, enjoying the tranquility, a familiar voice reached your ears. Startled, you turned to find Vincent standing before you and your new place of residence, his eyes filled with regret and desperation.

"I've changed," he said, his voice filled with remorse. "I've come to understand the darkness that consumed me. I want to make amends, to prove that my love can be selfless."

These last few months without his obsessive watch and protective nature had left you feeling as if you were missing something. A puzzle piece of sorts. Your heart wavered, torn between the past and the present. But as you looked into Vincent's eyes, you saw a genuine desire for retribution. Perhaps, in time, you could find forgiveness and build a new beginning together.

As you pull Vincent in for a hug, he carefully tucks away your new address, which he might have gotten through less than savory means.

[macabresymphonies]

With us being led to believe that Smirke's Fourteen will no longer be sufficient categorization for entities once Magnus Protocol rolls out, I was doing some theorycrafting on what exactly the new categorization is going to be.

Now, there doesn't need to be an actual categorization at all, I'm of a very controversial opinion a lot of scares fell off after we entered the "everything everywhere has a proper categorization and roughly defined modus operandi" as a lot of the dread lied in the unknown, but while putting everything in neat little boxes decreases the scare factor it plays a lot into the core of what Magnus Pod is and that is the attempt to peer into the dark and mysterious to understand it (even when you think you do, you end up failing miserably).

We've seen already that there are some names we recognize and I suspect voices we may know, but they are not what we expect them to be, with entities it will be the same. As we enter a soft reset, I think it will play a lot into the passing idea that peeked through over the course of the series and that is monsters and entities that are largely undefinable in their motive/origin and are not so easily contained by a simple system like Smirke's Fourteen.

I suspect we are entering some weird "The Fly" scenario where transporting so many entities through dimensions resulted in them mutating and/or "crossbreeding" so to speak where they will have identifiers that would contradict the theory of Smirke's Fourteen. We've seen it already in vampires, beings that basically represent all of the Fourteen Fears combined (even though it is assumed they are of The Hunt, they exhibit to also be closely associated with The Dark, The Web, The Stranger, The Flesh, The End, The Corruption, The Lonley, hell, even The Buried if they sleep in coffins and The Vast if they fly). Once we see a lot of them I think that the most appropriate categorization will be one that simply uses multiple categories to describe such creatures.

Are they humanoid, animalistic or neither? Are they inherently agressive, passive or unpredictable? Does their anomalistic nature stem from preforming feats that could be possible, but are not recorded (abnormal), physiology beyond what we could achieve, but still abiding to stuff like laws of physics or biology (supranormal) or completly breaking any law of the known universe (paranormal).

The series supposedly takes inspiration from games like Control and content like SCP or X-Files and I think this type of "specific on case to case basis, but hard to connect together beyond a broad classification" would be appropriate to that. Would also be fun to see how they change over the course of the series, can you imagine a well established animalistic/semi-sentient creature to suddenly start pressenting clues that it's actually fully sentient AND malicious? Dreadful stuff.

Well at least it's how my ramblings go, still very exited to see how the show turns out, because I wasn't there to witness "pins and red strings" era of TMA before the final season hit and it's very much my jam.

[echoofasiren]

Call of a siren

Roman reigns x Y/n (though y/n isnt used)

Warnings: it's sad (I'm sorry!😭), I might make a sequel or part 2 depending on how this does, smut is mentioned but not in full detail.

"Don't touch that, it's cursed!" warned a handsome fisherman to a young boy poking at an object in the market.

The object was a small, intricately carved wooden box, its lid inlaid with a mosaic of shells and glittering stones. The boy's curiosity was piqued, but fear held his hand back. The fisherman's words painted a picture of dark magic and hidden dangers that seemed to resonate with the air of mystery surrounding the box.

The mermaid was more intrigued by the older fisherman, his scruffy beard damp with the morning dew and his long hair cascading down his shoulders.

Days later, the mermaid watched the same man from the murky waters of a nearby pond. She had stumbled upon this secret haven, a small pool of fresh water nestled between the salty sea and the land where the sailor she had fallen for lived. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity as she observed the mans tentative steps towards the water's edge. He was different from the other humans she had seen from afar.

The sailor, whose name she had discovered was Roman, often passed by the pond on his way home from the bustling docks. His footsteps grew familiar to her, the jingle of his keys and the rhythmic slap of his work boots against the cobblestone path. Her heart fluttered like a school of fish every time he approached, and she would swim closer to the surface, hoping for a glimpse of his handsome face.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky with fiery strokes of orange and pink, Roman sat beside the pond. He looked weary, his eyes distant and lost in thought. The mermaid, unable to resist, rose from the water, her tail shimmering in the twilight. He glanced up, and for a brief moment, their eyes met. Surprise flickered in his gaze, but instead of fear, she saw wonder.

Slowly, she approached, her tail swishing gently in the still water. Roman's hand hovered over the surface, and she reached out tentatively, her webbed fingers brushing against his rough skin. The connection was electric, a silent promise of a bond forged. She sang to him, a haunting melody that wrapped around his heart like the coils of a sea serpent. His eyes grew soft, and he leaned closer, lost in the enchantment of her voice.

The mermaid revealed herself fully, her hair a cascade of emerald waves that matched the algae beneath the pond's surface. Roman's hand trembled as he stroked her cheek, feeling the smoothness of her skin, the reality of her existence. The fisherman's warning echoed in his mind, but the love that blossomed between them was too strong to be deterred by fear of the unknown.

They met every night in secret, their whispers and laughter echoing through the night air. Roman brought her gifts from the sea: pearls, starfish, and coral that she had only seen in the depths of her ocean home. She, in turn, shared her world with him through her enchanting tales of underwater palaces and the mysteries of the deep. They grew closer, their bond deepening with each shared moonlit moment.

One night, as the stars twinkled like distant eyes watching over them, Roman gathered the courage to confess his love. He spoke of his longing to be with her always, to explore the world she knew so well. The mermaid's heart swelled with joy, and she knew she could no longer deny her own desires. But the fear of her father's wrath weighed heavy on her mind. He had forbidden her from seeing humans again, especially after he discovered her love for a sailor.

Her father, the powerful sea king, had sensed the growing bond between her and Roman. His rage was a tempest that could swallow ships whole. The mermaid knew that revealing her secret would not only endanger her but also Roman. Yet, the love that surged through her veins was too potent to be silenced.

One fateful evening, as they lay tangled in the embrace of the pond's lilies, Roman whispered, "I've found a way for us to be together forever." He pulled out the wooden box the fisherman had warned the boy about. The mermaid's eyes widened with horror as she recognized the forbidden object. "A potion," he said, his voice filled with hope. "It's said to grant the drinker legs to walk on land."

Her heart raced. The very idea of leaving her home for love was both thrilling and terrifying. But she knew the risks—the human world was fraught with peril for her kind. Yet, the thought of never seeing Roman again was unbearable. She took the box from his trembling hands, her eyes locked onto his, silently asking if he truly understood what he was offering.

The potion inside was a murky concoction that smelled faintly of brine and decay. It bubbled with a life of its own, hinting at the powerful magic it contained. The mermaid could feel its pull, a siren's call from a bottle, promising a future she had only dreamed of.

Her thoughts swirled like the waters around her, torn between her love for Roman and the duty she owed her father. But as she gazed into his eyes, she knew she could not resist. With trembling hands, she uncorked the bottle and took a sip.

The potion was bitter, like the tears of the sea, and it burned a path down her throat. Her body convulsed, and she felt a searing pain as her tail began to split and change. Her scales fell away, revealing human-like legs beneath. She screamed in agony, but Roman held her tight, whispering soothing words into her ear. The transformation was swift, and when the pain subsided, she looked down to see her new form reflected in the moonlit water.

The mermaid took her first unsteady steps on the bank, her legs feeling foreign and awkward. Roman watched her with a mix of awe and concern, his eyes never leaving hers. With his strong arms around her waist, they stumbled towards his nearby cottage, their hearts racing in sync with every step.

The cottage was a humble abode, filled with the scent of tobacco and the salty tang of the sea. The mermaid marveled at the sensation of the wooden floor beneath her bare feet, the tickle of the coarse woolen rug as Roman laid her upon it. The softness of his bed was a stark contrast to the rocky ocean floor she was accustomed to. She felt exposed and vulnerable in her new form, yet safe in his arms.

They lay there, panting, their eyes locked in a silent conversation of love and fear. The potion's effects were complete, and she was fully human, if only for a night. Roman's hand traced the line of her spine, sending shivers down her body. She had never felt such tender touches before, and she arched into him, craving more. Their kisses grew urgent, a declaration of the love that had been brewing between them for weeks.

The mermaid's skin was pale and soft, a stark contrast to her usual scaly form. Her legs, though new and unfamiliar, felt alive with every stroke of his hand. Roman whispered sweet nothings into her ear, promising her a life of adventure and happiness on land. The sound of his voice was a warm embrace, soothing the ache in her soul.

Their passion grew like the tide, rising and falling with the rhythm of the waves outside. As they explored each other's bodies, the mermaid felt a yearning she had never known. Every touch, every kiss, was a revelation, a promise of a future she had never dared to dream of. Roman was gentle, his hands sure and loving as they discovered the uncharted territories of her new human form.

The night passed in a whirlwind of sensation, the moon casting a soft glow over their entwined figures. As dawn approached, the mermaid felt a pang of dread. The potion's magic was temporary, and she knew she had to return to the sea before the sun rose. Roman held her tightly, his eyes filled with a fierce determination to find a way to make their love last.

They stumbled back to the pond, the first light of day just beginning to peek over the horizon. The mermaid's legs were growing weary, the transformation already starting to reverse. She felt the scales begin to form beneath her skin, the pain a stark reminder of the price she had paid for this night of passion. Roman kissed her, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

[mezmer]

The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even (in French : La mariée mise à nu par ses célibataires, même), most often called The Large Glass (in French : Le Grand Verre), is an artwork by Marcel Duchamp over 9 feet (2.7 m) tall and almost 6 feet (1.76m) wide. Duchamp worked on the piece from 1915 to 1923 in New York City, creating two panes of glass with materials such as lead foil, fuse wire, and dust. It combines chance procedures, plotted perspective studies, and laborious craftsmanship. Duchamp's ideas for the Glass began in 1912, and he made numerous notes and studies, as well as preliminary works for the piece. The notes reflect the creation of unique rules of physics, and myth which describes the work.

The Bride Stripped Bare by Her Bachelors, Even is also the title given to The Green Box notes (1934) as Duchamp intended the Large Glass to be accompanied by a book, in order to prevent purely visual responses to it.[1] The notes describe that his "hilarious picture" is intended to depict the erotic encounter between the "Bride", in the upper panel, and her nine "Bachelors" gathered timidly below in an abundance of mysterious mechanical apparatus in the lower panel.[2] The Large Glass was exhibited in 1926 at the Brooklyn Museum before it was broken during transport and intentionally left broken by Duchamp. He decided not to change the glass but to glue the pieces back together.

The entire composition is shattered, but it rests sandwiched between two pieces of glass, set in a metal frame with a wooden base. The top rectangle of glass is known as the Bride's Domain; the bottom piece is the Bachelors' Apparatus. It consists of many geometric shapes melding together to create large mechanical objects, which seem to almost pop out from the glass and ever-changing background.

The Bride is a mechanical, almost insectile, group of monochrome shaded geometric forms located along the left-hand side of the glass. She is connected to her halo, a cloudy form stretching across the top. Its curvilinear outline and grey shading are starkly offset by the three undulating squares of unpainted glass evenly spaced over the central part of the composition. The Bride's solid, main rectangular form branches out into slender, tentacle-like projections. These include an inverted funnel capped by a half-moon shape, a series of shapes resembling a skull with two misplaced ears, and a long, proboscis-like extension stretching down almost as far as the horizon line between her domain and that of the bachelors. Her top-located domain is almost completely monochrome, with a wash of beige comparable to the cool colours of a cloudy sky.

The Bachelors' earthbound, lower domain, referred to by Duchamp as "La Machine Célibataire" (The Bachelor Machine), is a collection of much warmer, earthier colours of brown and golden tones. The Bachelors' Domain centres on the nine "Malic Molds". These dark brown shapes have a central vertical line, some with horizontal ones across them. They resemble the empty carcasses of clothes hanging from a clothesline, much more than they do actual men. They are interconnected through a spider web of thin lines, tying them to the seven conical cylinders. The cylinders range in color, and move in stages from nearly transparent on the left side, to translucent in the middle, to almost opaque on the far right. The opaque ones have swirling dark brown and gold colors and are almost solid three-dimensional forms, whereas the translucent ones are more ghostly outlines. They are connected in a line from tip to base and form a half circle. This rainbow-like shape is impaled centrally by a pole which connects them to the "chocolate grinder" at the lower part of the glass, and to the X-shaped rods that dominate the top center of the Bachelors' Domain.

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood - 47

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 47: The Vigil of the Old Gods

AO3 - Masterlist

SMUT!

The small wooden wheels of the litter bumped and rattled over the cobblestone streets, turning each stone into a miniature mountain. Daenera had never particularly enjoyed the experience of traveling by litter. It often felt like being trapped in a wooden box, shaken and jolted with every uneven cobble, leaving her longing for the steadiness of solid ground beneath her feet. However, enduring this discomfort was made somewhat more bearable by the company of her friend and aunt, Helaena.

Seated across from each other, they braced themselves for the next jolt, their faces betraying the occasional grimace as they were tossed from one side of the litter to the other. The ride was proving to be less than gentle. 

Then, out of the blue, Helaena’s voice broke the bumpy silence with an unexpected question that caught Daenera off guard. 

“Do you love him?” Helaena asked, her gaze unwavering as they bounced along. 

Daenera’s brows knitted in confusion, and for a moment, the rhythmic rocking of the litter seemed to mirror her inner turmoil. The question hung heavily in the air, like a sword ready to descend, demanding an answer that Daenera hadn’t anticipated. 

“Who? My husband?” Her voice carried both surprise and uncertainty. She hadn’t expected such a direct question.

 “No, I don’t love him,” she confessed with a touch of resignation, her tone heavy and laden with wariness. “But I suppose that doesn’t matter much.”

As the litter continued its bumpy journey, Helaena’s voice turned soft and almost ethereal, like a whisper carried on the wind. Her words held an air of mystery and promise.

“ The stag shall fall, black, blue, and bleeding , ” she murmured, her gaze momentarily drifting away, lost in some distant thought. Then, just as swiftly, her eyes returned to meet Daenera’s, and a gentle smile graced her lips. “No, not your husband.”

Her words were cryptic, like a riddle waiting to be unraveled, and they hung in the air, leaving Daenera both intrigued and puzzled. 

Daenera peered into her friend’s eyes, searching for the hidden meaning behind her words. It wasn’t uncommon for Helaena to possess cryptic knowledge, fragments of a greater puzzle. Unfortunately, Helaena never seemed able to fully piece the puzzle together into a clear image. But this time, there was a sense that Helaena held something significant and certain. 

“I… don’t know,” Daenera replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. A heavy lump formed in her throat, making it difficult to speak. “I pray that it is not. Nothing good will ever come of it.”

Helaena’s thoughtful hum filled the space between them, the sound carrying a sense of wisdom beyond her years. “Does he make you happy?”

Daenera hesitated, her thoughts wandering to the complexities of her marriage and dalliance with Aemond. “He makes me feel… seen .”

Aemond possessed a quality that no one else had ever wielded–a unique ability to make her feel truly seen and known. He had seen her at her most scornful, bearing witness to the wretched and conniving aspects of her being that were often hidden from the world, yet he desired her all the same. It was his touch, so gentle, that had surprised her the most, especially when her hands were stained with blood, and he had assured her that the exhilaration she felt when taking a life was not a mark of monstrosity. He saw the darkest corners of her soul, and yet, his desire for her remained unwavering. 

It was a dangerous, scary thing, that she wished she could lock away never to be acknowledged. 

“He who holds the stars and she who blooms beneath them,” Helaena mused, her fingers idly picking at a string. 

Daenera felt a familiar knot tighten in her stomach as she contemplated the meaning behind those words. They brought to mind the memory of the boy with the stars in his eyes , a memory she had been trying to bury. A part of her desperately hoped that he wasn’t the one the witch referred to. It would make everything so much simpler, easier to dismiss as a passing fling, devoid of any deeper significance, something she could easily excuse and forget.

However, another, more perceptive part of her knew better. Deep down, she couldn’t deny the profound impact he had on her life, the way he had touch her in ways she hadn’t ever expected. His presence had illuminated her world, making her feel alive in a way she had never experienced before. And so, despite her hopes for simplicity, she couldn’t escape the truth that there was something more to this. The boy with the stars in his eye will capture your heart, but be weary of the danger he represents. 

Helaena nodded in confirmation, her brows knitting together, her eyes taking on a cloudy, distant look. 

“Flowers face countless tribulations, do they not?” She pondered. “The very elements that nurture them can also cause their destruction. Nature is uncompromising in its pursuit of growth, be it through rain, sunlight, or even blood spilled on the field of battle. Only fire consumes without giving back, and yet, even after a wildfire, nature finds a way to endure–to overcome. A flower persists, even when blood stains its petals.”

“Is that a prediction?” Daenera asked in a hushed tone, careful not to startle Helaena. She placed a gentle hand on her friend’s knuckles, offering a comforting caress, and perhaps an anchor in the midst of her thoughts. 

Helaena blinked as the sunlight pierced through the holes in the litter, bathing their small chamber in a warm glow. 

“I believe it’s more a warning,” she replied, her voice soft and uncertain. “I’m sorry, I don’t fully understand its meaning.”

“Don’t apologize,” Daenera murmured, her grip on Helaena’s hand tightening reassuringly. “Nature, much like people, has its way of preserving through challenges. We all grow and confront adversity; it’s the essence of life. And if we must shed a bit of blood as a sacrifice for that life, I believe it’s a small price to pay .”

“Nature contains its own violence,” Helaena whispered, her words barely more than a breath. “Stags, wolves, dragons, each their own abide. The world turns harsh as war tightens its grip, parents compelled to kill their own before they grow old. ”

Daenera sensed that their conversation had sifted from the metaphorical flower to a deeper reflection on the nature of humanity. She couldn’t help but feel intrigued and concerned. “Helaena?”

“Mm?” Helaena hummed, her head turning toward Daenera. Her gaze lingered on the rays of sun streaming through the small openings in the litter for a moment longer before eventually shifting to meet Daenera’s. 

“Is this one of your dreams?” Daenera asked. 

Helaena’s response came as if she hadn’t quite registered Daenera’s question. “I think,” she began slowly, “you feel it as well, the strings that tie everything together. You know things, perhaps even without realizing it. It’s in the blood, in your nature, more so than the others. You will come to know, to feel, and to know… And with that knowledge, you’ll pay the price.”

Daenera felt her stomach churn, a growing weight pressing upon her chest as Helaena’s words hung in the air like an ominous fog. She grappled with the enigma of it all, her mind desperately searching for something more tangible amidst the cryptic riddles.

“What price?” She asked, her voice betraying her apprehension. 

“Spools of Black, spools of Green, spools of that which lies between,” Helaena’s voice reverberated through the small chamber, a chant that seemed ancient as time itself. Daenera had been haunted by these cryptic words ever since her arrival in King’s Landing, and now they resurface with an eerie familiarity. 

Helaena’s grip on Daenera’s hand tightened, her nails pressing into the skin as if she sought to anchor herself in the swirling current of her thoughts. “Three crowns, one the chosen, one the unworthy, one the liar,” she intoned with growing urgency. Her words weave strings together in an attempt at revealing an image.

“Three crowns, one throne to sit–a price to be paid, a sacrifice to be made, a hand to be stayed,” Helaena’s voice quickened, her words tumbling from her lips like leaves caught in a whirlwind. “Three crowns, one throne. Spools of Black, spools of Green, spools of that which lies between. Spools of Blue, spools of Red, spools of that which lies ahead.”

The litter seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, and it made the hairs at the back of her neck prickle and stand. The grip on her hand eased, and Helaena blinked once, twice, and then shifted her gaze apologetically to Daenera. 

And though Daenera was brimming with questions, she swallowed them down, and brushed a hand over Helaena’s hair in a gentle gesture.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Daenera offered gently, sensing the weight of visions that had gripped Helaena. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it,” Helaena explained, frustration tainting her voice, “it’s that I cannot make any sense of it. It’s like trying to grasp the wisp of smoke–nothing is ever clear.” She shook her head as if trying to dispel the lingering confusion. “It means nothing. They’re just silly dreams.”

Daenera refused to accept Helaena’s self-deprecating assessment. Her expression remained resolute, though sympathetic. 

“They’re not silly dreams,” she countered, brushing aside the dismissive words Alicent and others had used countless times. She knew that few had ever taken Helaena’s visions seriously, and so, they had been unjustly relegated to the realm of mere foolish fantasies. 

“They may be like wisps of smoke, elusive and impossible to grasp,” Daenera began, her voice steady and determined, “but they are wisps that follow fire, and fire is something tangible, something we can see and understand.” She leaned in, pressing her forehead gently against Helaena’s. “It is not madness, it is riddles, and riddles can be deciphered.”

“Not all riddles yield to easy solutions,” Helaena quietly contended. 

Daenera nodded thoughtfully. “True, but riddles often find clarity in hindsight.”

“I don’t want this,” Helaena admitted, a melancholic air hanging around her words as if she mourned the person she might have been if not for her burden. “And I doubt you’d want it either.”

“I’m sorry you bear this burden alone,” Daenera empathized. “But I’ll always listen and believe you.”

Helaena nodded, letting out a breath as her gaze shifted through the litter’s small openings to watch the city pass by. “I find solace in the clouds.”

During the remainder of their journey to the Dragonpit, they delved into animated discussions spanning various topics, until the litter stopped moving. 

As they watched Dreamfyre emerge from the Dragonpit, bathed in the vibrant sunlight, Daenera couldn’t help but notice the radiant smile on Helaena’s face. The dragon’s azure scales shimmered like the vast ocean, and its graceful movements exuded a sense of regal vitality. When its eyes met Helaena’s, Daenera thought she detected a hint of tenderness in its deep gaze. It was truly a magnificent dragon.

“Greetings, magnificent one,” Helaena whispered to the dragon, her hand gently caressing its neck. She cast a glance back at Daenera, who nodded in silent approval. With practiced ease, Helaena ascended to the seat on Dreamfyre’s back, her melodious words flowing in High Valyrian as the dragon extended its powerful wings. In an impressive display, it soared into the heavens, its chest adorned with gleaming silver markings that resemble a necklace of precious coins. Higher and higher it climbed until it vanished into the boundless sky. 

“Shall we return to the castle, Princess?” Fenrick inquired, appearing behind her. 

“No,” She responded firmly. “As you can see, I’m dressed for the forest.”

“Very well, the forest it is,” he acknowledged.

As they ventured into the rolling hills beyond King’s Landing, Daenera chose to break the silence, knowing that her words would be swallowed by the gentle breeze, carried away where no prying ears could listen.

“I’m engaged in having an affair,” she uttered with such casualness that Fenrick seemed to nearly lose his balance on the horse. His head snapped to the side, and his grip on the reins tightened, causing the horse to whinny and shuffle restlessly, as if it sensed the discomfort of its rider, utterly bewildered by what it might have done wrong. 

“I’m sorry?” Fenrick choked out, his brow furrowing as he tried to process her words, like a horse stumbling on uneven terrain, searching for stable ground beneath its hooves. 

Daenera repeated, her voice firm and unapologetic, “I’m having an affair.” Her eyes bore into his, a mix of defiance and vulnerability weaving together on her face. “I am confiding in you because I believe you won’t betray my trust by informing my parents. But if you do, be prepared for severe consequences. I won’t be so inclined to forgive you.”

Her warning hung in the air, a palpable threat. If Fenrick dared to betray her trust once more, Daenera knew she’d have no choice but to take drastic measures. She couldn’t simply release him from his duties; he knew too much, and she didn’t want him to become a pawn in someone else’s game. As the weight of her confession sank in, Fenrick stared at her, utterly bewildered and unable to form a coherent response. His silence was thick, like the tension in the roiling hills, as if every single blade of grass held its breath, waiting for his reaction. 

“Your husband–”

“Is a brute and a drunk,” Daenera interjected with a fiery edge in her voice, “who continues to insult and humiliate me by openly supporting his mistress and their illegitimate child. He hardly possesses the moral high ground in this matter.”

She clutched the reins tighter, her anger simmering beneath her controlled exterior. Boris’s flagrant disregard for her dignity left her vulnerable in the eyes of the court. His indiscretions, though not yet fully exposed, loomed like a dark cloud, ready to unleash a storm of scandal at any moment. It was a matter of time. 

Fenrick’s voice held a cautious tone as he pressed on. “Are you planning to address his affair with him directly? Initiating your own in response doesn’t seem like a reasonable solution. He is your husband–”

“Yes, I am aware, you needn't remind me,” Daenera cut him off, annoyed by the reminder. “That is why it’s considered an affair, Fenrick. I have addressed his bastard but he wasn’t interested in discussing it or how it reflected on me.”

“Princess…”

“It is with Aemond.”

Her confession hit Fenrick like a sudden storm. The horse reacted, agitated by the tension in the air as it stamped restlessly at the ground. Fenrick struggled to calm the steed, guiding it in a circle to ease its nerves. He fell into position beside Daenera once more, the scowl on his face revealing his disapproval. 

“Aemond?”

“Yes.”

“Have you taken leave of your senses?!” Fenrick practically roared, a crimson flush spreading across his cheeks, a sneer on his lips. 

“I’m not seeking your approval, Fenrick,” Daenera retorted firmly, her tone unwavering. She sensed his judgment, like an irritating swarm of flies, but she refused to let it show. Fenrick would have unearthed the truth eventually. Confronting him now was an attempt to preempt the inevitable and, hopefully, secure his discretion and obedience. 

They were passing the edge of the Kingswood, gradually surrounded by towering trees that blocked out the midday sun in patches, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The scent of pine and damp earth hung in the air, and the distant sounds of birds added a tranquil layer to the otherwise tense atmosphere. 

Fenrick’s voice broke the forest’s hushed serenity. “But with Aemond?”

“Yes, with Aemond,” she replied, her tone steady and firm. Her spine straightened as she bore his judgment, feeling the tension build between her shoulder blades. 

Their horses moved at a slow, measured pace, the gentle creaking of leather saddles accompanying their conversation. Fenrick glanced at her, his expression a mix of concern and disbelief. 

“What if he’s the one who betrays you? He’s a Hightower, loyal to his mother and their cause.”

“Mutually assured destruction,” Daenera reiterated, her eyes scanning the woods as if seeking some hidden answer among the trees. 

Fenrick’s grip on the reins tightened, and he couldn’t conceal the frustration in his voice. “You’re far too intelligent to believe that. There’s no mutually assured destruction. You are married, he is not. You are a woman. It will be your destruction.”

Daenera’s lips thinned, and she cast a sidelong glance at Fenrick. She understood the risks–understood how it would end. 

“I am well aware of the disadvantages my sex presents,” Daenera countered, her voice tinged with irritation. “But have you ever considered that these very disadvantages allow me to be underestimated, to move in the shadows, and perhaps, that I can use it to my advantage?”

Fenrick’s expression remained conflicted, a mixture of concern and skepticism. He seemed determined to point out the fallacies in her motives. “You believe you can seduce and manipulate him for your own cause? Who’s to say he is not planning the same? Aemond is not stupid, he will be expecting your manipulation.”

It was an excuse, a flimsy attempt to justify her actions, or perhaps merely a desperate hope. Daenera knew that it was, in essence, a lie. The truth was far less strategic and much more impulsive. Her affair with Aemond had not originated as a calculated political maneuver, nor had it persisted to manipulate him into divulging compromising information–though the thought certainly comforted her. It had begun as an irrational, reckless, and entirely self-indulgent choice. Now, however, she found herself crafting a semblance of reason to cloak her actions.

Fenrick’s persistence in questioning her motives remained justified, though it did little to quell her irritation. His demand for an explanation was only fair.   “He does. I suppose it depends on who can outwit the other.” Daenera clung to the falsehood, clutching it firmly to avoid facing the alternative interpretations it might entrail.

Fenrick shook his head, still struggling to accept her rationale. “Is this your plan, then? Or is it a rebellion against Daemon and the marriage he imposed on you?”

Daenera’s gaze darted towards Fenrick, her eyes narrowing with indignation. 

“Both,” she responded, her shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug. She exhaled, slowly attempting to dispel the tension that Fenrick’s judgment had created within her. It felt akin to being reprimanded by a teacher, a parent, or a friend. “Boris, he…”

Fenrick’s expression seemed to soften a little. “He doesn’t treat you well?”

“He degrades me with his actions,” Daenera answered.

Fenrick’s countenance sagged slightly. “And yours doesn’t?”

She shot him a warning glare. “Boris has been frequenting the brothels ever since he arrived in King’s Landing and this behavior has persisted throughout our marriage. He has fathered a bastard and openly claimed the child’s mother as his mistress. He seems utterly unconcerned about how all of this tarnishes my reputation, and he insists that he’ll acknowledge the child as long as I do not provide him with a legitimate heir. He threatens me with the child’s legitimacy and carries not a trace of remorse for it. To him, I am merely an object, a vessel for bearing children, nothing more.”

Daenera’s voice carried an air of resignation as she continued. Boris becomes unking when he indulges in drink, offering me little companionship. He may be my husband, and I will fulfill my wifely duties, but I won’t endure his company more than necessary. And let’s not forget why I became his wife in the first place.”

Daenera was well aware that Fenrick had carried guilt for being the catalyst behind her marriage. Perhaps out of a sense of sentimentality, she had concealed most of her discontent within the marriage from him so that the guilt did not grow. But she wasn’t about to let him off the hook so easily. It was his act of defiance that had ultimately led her into this situation, wed to a man who posed threats, insulted her, and even struck her. 

“But why Aemond?” Fenrick asked, appearing more exasperated by the choice of Aemond than anything else. 

That is the questio n, she mused internally. Why Aemond?

It wasn’t part of some elaborate scheme to gain insight into the enemy’s plans. The repercussions of this affair far outweighed any initial value that it might have held. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself. There was a strange sort of comfort in Aemond’s presence, despite his coldness, cruelty, and resentful demeanor. She found herself drawn to him in an inexplicable way, and it was a disconcerting notion. 

As they continued their ride through the forest, the trees seemed to close in around them, their thick husks standing as silent witnesses to the unfolding conversation. The sunlight streamed through the canopy above, casting patches of warmth and light on the forest floor as they rode on.

“Would you rather it had been Aegon?” Daenera questioned, more a jape than anything else. 

“Daenera,” he began after realizing he wouldn’t receive a direct answer to his earlier question, “I must strongly caution against this path you’re taking. I don’t want to witness you suffering due to some imprudent, childish decision.”

Daenera pressed her lips together, attempting to quell the anger that was steadily mounting in her. “I’ve taken note of your advice, but please pardon me if I do not choose to heed it.”

It was Fenrick’s turn to press his lips into a thin line. “And who else is privy to this secret of yours?”

“Joyce,” Daenera answered shortly. 

“Joyce?!” Fenrick exclaimed exasperated, taken aback by the revelation. 

A grin crept across Daenera’s face, an expression of utter pettiness. “Yes, Joyce. She’s quite adept at keeping matters under wraps, isn’t she? She seems to understand the meaning of loyalty, trust and obedience.”

Fenrick clenched his teeth, a telltale sign of his suppressed words. There was little he could argue against that. It was an indiscretion that would hang over him for the foreseeable future. He seemed to understand that it had shifted something fundamental within their relationship, leaving an ever present lingering doubt: can he be trusted? It was a shadow that would persist, a whisper of uncertainty within their interactions. 

“Joyce and Finan,” Daenera clarified. 

“Finan? You told Finan before me?” His expression held a touch of offense, as if he couldn’t fathom that she’d confided in Finan before him. 

“Finan knows some, not all. But yes, he knows because he has proven to be discreet, unlike some,” Daenera said teresly. 

Fenrick bristled at her words. 

“And Aegon.”

“What do you mean Aegon knows?” Fenrick sputtered, his complexion darkening as blood rushed beneath his skin. Daenera briefly pondered the inconveniences of a possible burst blood vessel in his head would cause. She would have to leave him here or manage to tie him to the horse so she could bring him back to King’s Landing.

“He has been speculating about it since my arrival,” Daenera grumbled. 

“And was his speculation accurate?” The questions as not subtle enough to go unnoticed, nor the slight bite to the tone. 

“No.” It was not a lie entirely, but she decided to spare Fenrick the nuanced details. He would only judge her further. “Aemond has assured me that he won’t pose a problem.”

“He assured you,” Fenrick repeated skeptically. “But how can you be certain the Queen isn’t aware and biding her time for the perfect moment to expose you? You are aware of her talents for using such information against your mother.”

“The Queen and the Hand are both in the dark about this,” Daenera affirmed. 

“I apologize if I remain unconvinced, princess. It appears one of us must exercise caution,” Fenrick retorted. 

Daenera rolled her eyes, her patience thinning with each passing moment. “That’s your role, Fenrick, and I do not hold it against you.”

“Very well, then. I assume you won’t take offense when I assert that I believe this is a grave error and should be halted immediately to prevent further repercussions,” Fenrick continued, his tone snide. “You are married. If the Hightowers uncover your affair with Aemond, they will without a doubt use it against you, to ruin your prospects and to tarnish your mother.”

“I appreciate your concern. I understand my role as both a princess and wife, and I won’t disregard my duties to my husband or my family,” Daenera retorted. 

“Why take such a risk?” Fenrick challenged. “Do you believe Daemon would commend your efforts to sway the prince? Do you think he would agree to this ploy of seduction? The risk is far too great.”

“I believe Daemon would go to great lengths to secure an advantage,” Daenera responded.

“Not like this,” Fenrick began, his tone carrying a note of stern but caring authority.

“No, he’s a man,” Daenera muttered obstinately.

“Much can be said about Daemon, but one thing is undeniable: he loves you dearly and desires only the best for you and your siblings.”

She couldn’t help but have doubts about whether Daemon would ask this much of her brothers, of the twins. Perhaps he would if it came to it. 

“Was it truly the best for me to be wed to Boris Baratheon?” Daenera attempted to suppress the lump forming in her throat. “I understand the risks, Fenrick, but please don’t expect me to resign myself to this marriage. I will fulfill my duties, but allow me the occasional respite, even if it involves someone you might not condone.”

“I thought it was a ploy,” Fenrick noted, caution heavy in his tone. 

“Can’t it be both?”

“Do not fall in love with him. It won’t end well for anyone, least of all you.”

Daenera looked upon him, an assured set to her shoulders. “My loyalty lies with my family. I would forfeit everything for their sake.”

They fell into a heavy silence, words escaping them. At that very instant, Daenera yearned for the simplicity of a regular girl’s life, free from the weighty expectations that accompanied her titles of princess, wife, and pawn in a political game. She wished she could enjoy the company of a boy without the constant overthinking of consequences. To be able to act selfishly, pursuing her desires without the burden of considering the repercussions. The pretense of it all offered a peculiar sense of freedom, if only for a fleeting moment. 

But there was, in reality, no freedom for girls in this world. 

As they ventured deeper into the forest, a peaceful shroud of shadows enveloped them. The air bore the sweet scent of spring intermingled with the earthy aroma of freshly fallen rain. The ground beneath the hooves of the horse retained the moisture from the recent downpour, and glistening droplets clung to the vibrant leaves of the surrounding trees, refracting dappled sunlight. 

Their horses carried them until they reached a vast expanse of a clearing. Here, she dismounted at the outskirts of the clearing. Daenera found herself treading through the lush, dew-kissed grass towards the colossal mount of Vhagar. The dragon stood regally, its massive form casting an imposing silhouette against the serene woodland backdrop. Its scales, dark as storm clouds, reflecting the subtle play of sunlight. 

The dragon’s rider leaned casually against the dragon’s powerful frame, a striking figure of strength and unity between rider and beast. Vhagar lifted her head, regarding Daenera’s approach. 

Fenrick’s penetrating gaze remained fixed on Daenera as she approached Aemond. She could feel the disapproval prickle along her skin as his eyes bore holes into her. 

Aemond, with a sly grin, traced his fingers tenderly across Daenera’s face before capturing her lips in a heated kiss, solely meant to taunt Fenrick, who, in response, turned his back on the two. 

Daenera couldn’t help but notice Fenrick’s discomfort, and she couldn’t suppress the faint sense of sympathy for her sworn shield. She addressed Aemond, her tone a mix of playfulness and concern. “You could make it a bit easier on him, you know.”

Aemond, however, seemed unfazed by Fenrick’s irritation. He shrugged nonchalantly, his confidence shining through. Mischievousness widened his grin, the sharp corners of his mouth twisting as he brushed off Daenera’s worries, his gaze never leaving hers. “Why should I?” 

This time, Aemond was the first to climb Vhagar’s massive form, displaying the graceful fluidity of a practiced rider. Daenera, on the other hand, moved cautiously, gripping the rope with each deliberate step, her focus solely on holding on. Her fingers grasped onto the weathered and worn rope that served as a makeshift ladder. The once-sturdy fibers grown frayed with age and slick with algae.

Upon reaching the dragon’s formidable back, Aemond leaned over and extended a hand to assist Daenera with the final steps. Her fingers found his, and with his guidance, she was hoisted into the saddle, settling herself in front of him. Aemond’s practiced hands deftly secured the tether that would keep them safely in place. 

As Vhagar began to move beneath them, Daenera’s heart skipped a beat, only to race even faster moments later. She clutched the saddle with white-knuckled determination, her fingers digging into the supple leather. Aemond’s chest pressed firmly against her back, one hand resting gently on her lower stomach, his thumb idly caressing her in a reassuring manner. The sensation sent a shudder through her, mixing with the thrill of being atop the powerful dragon. 

“Sōvegon, Vhagar.” Fly, Vhagar.

The colossal dragon stretched its immense wings, a magnificent display of power and grace. They unfurled like vast, tattered banners, casting shadows that danced across the surrounding landscape. Like an old man stretching his back before lifting, the dragon flexed its wingtips experimentally before fully committing to the powerful strokes. 

The effect was awe-inspiring. 

The long grass beneath Vhagar’s colossal wings bowed and swayed in a wild frenzy, yielding to the force of nature embodied by the ancient creature. The nearby trees, their prances laden with leaves, creaked and groaned under the onslaught of air currents, protesting the sudden storm. 

The air itself seemed to come alive with each mighty beat. It rushed to fill the expansive, thin skin of the wings, creating an audible symphony of wind and power. Daenera, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, couldn’t help but feel the rush of both fear and exhilaration wash over her. 

Amidst this overwhelming display of nature’s might, Daenera clung to her perch on Vhagar’s back, her nails digging into the leather as her vice strained almost painfully with which she was holding on. She berated herself for the surge of terror that coursed through her veins, her breath coming fast and shallow. 

In contrast, Aemond seemed entirely at ease. She heard his deep, throaty chuckle, its rumbling quality traveling through his chest and into hers. It was a sound that mixed amusement and perhaps, a touch of teasing. 

“Keep your eyes open this time,” he murmured softly into her ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down her spine. His cheek brushed against hers as if in a gentle caress. 

Tears welled in her eyes, not from fear, but from the sheer force of the wind buffeting her face as they soared higher into the sky. The brisk air whipped at her cheeks, the sensation akin to a thousand tiny needles pricking her skin. Her cheeks flushed with the combination of exhilaration and the biting chill of the high-altitude, and as they ascended above the lush canopy of trees, the sprawling image of King’s Landing came into view. The city stretched out in the distance, a sprawling tapestry of red-roofed buildings and winding streets. The grandeur of the Red Keep, with its towering structures of crimson stone, stood as a majestic centerpiece. 

From this vantage point, everything below seemed to shrink into insignificance. 

Aemond directed Vhagar to rise even higher, their ascent a relentless climb towards the ethereal realm of the clouds. Daenera’s fingers, still white-knuckled from their death grip on the saddle, reluctantly released their hold. With determination, she extended one hand towards the fluffy white cloud, her delicate fingers disappearing into the cool mist. 

Aemond’s strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. His voice, soft as velvet, reached her ears despite the howling wind that threatened to drown out any sound. 

“Let go,” he coaxed, his breath warm against her ear. “I won’t let you fall.”

It took a few steadying breaths for Daenera to summon the courage to release her grip on the saddle entirely. She felt a momentary rush of dizziness, the sensation of being suspended in the sky without any solid ground beneath her nearly overwhelming. But Aemond’s steadfast presence reassured her, his hold a comforting anchor against the vast expanse below. 

Slowly, she stretched both arms outward, mimicking the wings of a dragon in majestic flight. The rush of wind through her fingertips, the caress of the sun on her face, and the exhilaration of their climb to the sky, all combined to send a surge of blood through her veins, a rush of excitement. In this moment, she was not just a princess or a wife burdened with duty; she was a creature of the skies, embracing the freedom the world below could only dream of. 

Her laughter rang out like sweet music in the wind as exhilaration coursed through her. 

“Don’t you dare let go of me,” she playfully admonished, her eyes sparkling with mirth. 

Aemond chuckled, the vibrations of his laughter felt through the firm press of his chest against her back. “If I wanted you dead, I would do it in a far less conspicuous way.”

Curiosity tugged at her the same way it did a persistent child. “Where are you stealing me off to?”

A mischievous glint danced in Aemond’s eye as he replied, “I thought you might wish to see what should be rightfully yours.”

Daenera’s brows furrowed in bewilderment, and she glanced down to discern which way they were taking. “Don’t tell me you’re taking me to Dragonstone.”

Aemond shook his head. “No.”

“If you’re taking me to Storm’s End, I will throw you off this dragon,” Daenera threatened playfully, though her voice held a tremor of promise. 

Aemond’s lips curved into a wry smile. “I’m taking you to Harrenhal.”

“Ah, so you’re just being a twat and calling me a bastard.” Daenera rolled her eyes in jest. The sting of being referred to as a bastard no longer pricked her, not in these moments, not when it was him. His words lacked the calculated cruelty that had once been aimed at her, and so, she didn’t take it to heart. 

“You once mentioned your curiosity, wanting to see it for yourself and judge whether it lives up to its infamy,” Aemond explained, his voice smooth and warm.

Daenera responded with a touch of sarcasm, “Yes, how utterly romantic of you to whisk me away to a castle where hundreds have met their untimely end, including Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin. The very castle that’s steeped in tales of curses.”

“ Romantic ,” Aemond echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm. “But I never claimed to be romantic .”

A small smile played on Daenera’s lips, though she couldn’t hide the flush in her cheeks she could, however, attribute it to the wind. “I’m not sure you could be. It is not in your nature.”

A genuine laugh rumbled through Aemond’s chest and brushed against her warm, blushing cheeks, carried away by the wind.

Harrenhal loomed ominously amidst the encompassing, ancient woods, its immense walls appearing both colossal and yet dwarfed by the five soaring towers that pierced the sky, surpassing even the tallest of all trees, taller still than perhaps the towers of the Red Keep. Time had not been kind to the castle; its stone facade, marred by the relentless onslaught of time, bore the indelible scars of soot and flame. Years of weathering had done little to cleanse the dark residue that clung to its surface, as though the very walls retained the memory of the inferno that had once raged within them. 

As they circled Harrenhal on the back of Vhagar, it was as though they were retracing the footsteps of Aegon the Conqueror himself, who had once circled the castle on Balerion the Black Dread, before putting the structure to the flame. The towers, twisted from the intensity of the flames, displayed their scars–stone that had liquified and then congealed into grotesque contortions, warped into a haunting ghost of what it once was. 

Daenera had heard countless tales about Harrenhal, read the histories of the castle and its legend, but never had she been able to fathom the sheer magnitude of this formidable stronghold. It stood as a testament to the folly of hubris, grandiose in its aspirations, and more so in its blight. 

Now, upon seeing it, she believed the stories of blood being mixed in the mortar that bound the stones together. 

A place that had borne witness to such profound suffering and loss was destined to hold a twisted existence, forever haunted by the ghosts of the dead and the echoes of memories long past. The very foundation seemed tainted, doomed from its very inception. 

Dread gripped her heart, her skin tingled with goosebumps, the hairs at the nape of her neck prickling. Was it the curse that had ensnared Ser Harwin and not the prophecy? After all, fireflies could not set fire on their own.

Daenera couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief that her feet had never touched the rotten soil of Harrenhal. There was an unsettling intuition within her that whatever malevolent force lingered within those sodden, blackened walls would demand a steep price in blood from anyone who dared to tread upon its cursed grounds. 

“Does it live up to its notoriety?” Aemond asked, his voice almost swept away from her ears. 

Daenera’s eyes remained on the ruins. She couldn’t shake the sensation that they were under an intense, unrelenting scrutiny, as if a myriad of invisible eyes were fixed upon her. Even the warm embrace of the sun’s rays failed to dispel the eerie chill that settled deep within the marrow of her bones. It was as if the very castle itself, or the curse that clung to it like a shroud, hungered.

In response to Harren the Black’s audacious hubris–an arrogance that must have defied the gods, for they had infused their wrath into the very stones, a divine retribution only gods could bestow. Aegon the Conqueror had, in turn, eternally bound the curse with the searing might of dragonfire, sealing the fate of Harren the Black and all those within. 

And now, it seemed that Harrenhal, the blackened ruin, still retained an insatiable hunger for blood. 

“I suppose it’s fortunate that I bear the name Velaryon rather than Strong, then,” she remarked, her voice laced with somber recognition of the castle’s grim history and the ever present hunger that seemed to cling to the ruin.

Aemond guided Vhagar to land on the Isle of Faces, where the weirwoods, ancient and revered, stood sentinel for the old gods. The eerie sensation of malevolent ghosts watching her dissipated, replaced instead by the feeling of being observed by the quiet presence of the old gods, their ancient wisdom etched into the very wood. Their faces, weathered yet wise, seemed to observe their descent, their eyes oozing sap like somber, crimson tears.  

Descending from Vhagar was more of a daunting task than ascending had been. Her muscles quivered with the effort, and it felt as if her feet possessed a stubborn will of their own, hesitating to find secure footing on the woven netting. Finally, as she reached the last step, her foot snagged in the net as Vhagar made a slight shift, threatening to send her sprawling. In that precarious moment, Aemond’s arm encircled her waist, steadying her and gently lowering her to the ground, averting an unfortunate fall. 

Even after the unyielding ground supported her once more, her legs persisted in their quivering dance. “I doubt I’ll ever grow accustomed to that.”

Aemond’s chuckle, accompanied by a self-satisfied grin, responded to her comment on riding a dragon. “You seem to have quite the knack for it.”

With her unsteady legs, she gingerly tread onto the small lakeside area, inhaling the crisp forest air that surrounded her. The lake sprawled before her, a deep and enigmatic expanse. What hidden secrets lay beneath its dark surface, and how many of them had been silently witnessed by the weirwood trees in their solemn vigil? An aura of sanctity hung in the air like morning mist. 

“Should we truly be here?” She questioned. 

“Are you worried that the children of the forest will rise from the earth and carry you away into the very core of the world?” Aemond replied with a playful glint to his eye. “Or is it the old gods that give you pause?”

“I do not fear the old gods or the children of the forest,” she retorted with a slight scowl. “But you cannot deny there’s something… sacred about this place, can you?”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “There’s nothing inherently sacred about carving faces into trees. I would carve a thousand faces into a thousand trees, and it would not transform them into sacred relics.”

“I’d be quite intrigued to see you try, carving faces into a thousand trees,” Daenera retorted playfully.

Aemond rolled his eye, a gesture indicating his exasperation. “The faith of the Seven is the only gods I believe in. The rest, these tales of old gods and fantastical beings, are nothing but stories fit for children.”

“People once claimed dragons were mere childrens stories,” Daenera countered. “Perhaps the world has room for more gods than just the Seven.”

Daenera understood that arguing the matters of religion and belief with him would be a futile endeavor. After all, Aemond had been raised by Alicent Hightower, a woman deeply devoted to the Faith of the Seven. 

Aemond regarded her with skepticism and something that bordered on appal. “You don’t believe in the Seven?”

Daenera bent down, her fingers finding a smooth rock. She turned it over in her hand, feeling the weight of the question. With a subtle flick of her wrist, she sent the rock skimming across the calm surface of the lake before responding. “I believe that the gods, whether they go by the names of the Seven or the old gods, wear many faces and carry many names. And I believe that there’s great power in blood.” 

“Blood?” His eye remained on her, searching her face. “You mean blood magic?”

She shook her head, causing her dark braid to swing over her shoulder. “No, not blood magic. I simply think we should honor our blood, our lineage, and our traditions.”

The realms of blood magic and fire magic remained veiled in obscurity, scarcely detailed in any of the texts she had read. Little was known about these esoteric practices, shrouding them in mystery and speculation, their secrets seemingly lost to the cataclysmic Doom. 

According to legend, the downfall of Old Valyria was attributed to the practice of blood magic. The gods, offended by the Valyrians’ sacrilegious claim of divinity, were said to have taken umbrage. In response, they delivered their divine judgment, summoning colossal infernos that razed the once great empire. All knowledge of these ancient practices seemed to have been erased in the Doom or lost to the annals of history.

Aemond grasped a rock, emulating her previous attempt to skip it across the lake’s serene surface. However, his toss fell short, resulting in a loud splash as the rock plunged into the water. 

Daenera couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his unsuccessful throw. She swiftly grabbed another stone, showcasing her skill as it danced across the water’s surface, bouncing four times before finally succumbing to the depths below. With a playful and challenging glance, she raised an eyebrow, daring Aemond.

Undeterred by his previous failure, Aemond selected yet another stone, examining it carefully before sending it sailing through the air. This time, it managed to skip once before following its predecessor into the lake’s watery embrace. 

“You’re terrible at this,” Daenera teased with a laugh. 

Aemond, ever the challenger, retorted with a smirk, “I am sorry for not matching your proficiency in the art of skipping stones. I had believed it to be a pastime more commonly enjoyed by peasants. Did your upbringing on Dragonstone provide you with ample chances to hone this skill, or is it something that comes naturally to you?” 

His jest was light-hearted, devoid of any sting, and Daenera responded with a hearty laughter, her eyes playfully rolling. “You can’t skip rocks on waves, you know.”

Unfazed by her comment, Aemond retrieved another smooth, flat stone from the lake shore. He examined it briefly, turning it over in his hand before hurling it forth with determination. The rock skipped once across the surface before plunging into the deep. 

Daenera selected a smooth, flat stone and approached Aemond with a gentle smile. She placed the rock into his palm, her hand guiding his fingers to the correct grip, demonstrating the precise technique for skipping rocks. “Like this.”

Aemond followed her lead, imitating the motion. This time, the rock danced across the water’s surface, bouncing not once, not twice, but thrice before succumbing to the lake's depths. Daenera beamed at him, a wide grin spreading across her face. 

“What a meaningless skill to have,” Aemond commented, though a smile tugged at his own lips. 

“It’s only meaningless because you couldn’t do it.”

The sun cast a brilliant shimmer upon the water’s surface, and Daenera couldn’t resist the temptation to bask in its warmth. She bent down to touch the water, finding it refreshingly cool but far from bone-chilling. With a determined air, Daenera began to loosen the laces at her side, gradually slipping out of her simple dress. She removed the shift underneath. A gentle breeze whisked through the undergown as though it were nonexistent, tickling against her skin. 

Aemond watched her curiously, his voice tinged with surprise and apprehension, “What are you doing?”

Daenera met his gaze, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she kicked off her boots and elegantly slid the long stockings from her legs. Her foot dipped into the water as she removed the underdress, tossing it carelessly onto the growing pile of discarded clothing. 

“It’s a rare occasion when we find ourselves unburdened by the court,” Daenera remarked, her voice brimming with palpable excitement. “We ought to make the most of it.”

Aemond’s eye glided over the trees adorning the opposite shore, almost as if he were in search of any unwelcome onlookers. There was a certain sharpness to his caution. “What if someone sees?”

Daenera, undeterred, stepped deeper into the cool water, her voice holding a hint of playful defiance. 

“What would they see?” She countered. “Just a girl with brown hair and blue eyes, unremarkable features shared by half the realm. You, on the other hand, with your silver hair, eye patch, and the company of the largest dragon in existence, are far less inconspicuous. Nevertheless…”

As Daenera ventured deeper into the water, she could feel Aemond’s watchful gaze tracking her every movement. Goosebumps pricked across her skin as the cold water sent a shiver through her, briefly making her breath catch. His scrutiny felt intense, reminiscent of a hawk locking onto its prey scurrying through a field, and she knew then that he would follow her. 

Her delicate fingers grazed the water’s surface as she waded further into the lake, her breath escaping her lips in a soft exhale as the water level rose, caressing her stiffened nipples. The chill, although momentarily freezing, soon transformed into a refreshing sensation. Here, amidst nature’s embrace, away from the stifling confines of court and marriage, Daenera relished a fleeting moment of respite. 

Strong arms enveloped her, drawing her tenderly against his chest. The warmth radiating from his skin seeped into her own, creating an exquisite fusion of their bodies. As she nestled into his embrace, her head gently descended, finding its resting place against the curve of his collarbone she hummed.

“You came,” Daenera purred, a self-satisfied smirk curling her lips as she relished the sensation of his body pressing against hers. 

Aemond’s lips found the delicate curve of her ear, their warm caress sending a shiver down her spine, and setting her heart aflutter. In a low, resonant draw, he responded, “How could I resist?” 

His hand boldly cupped one of her breasts, granting it a rough squeeze that made her sink her teeth into her bottom lip, suppressing the grin on her face. 

“You’re a witch,” he continued, his voice dropping to a husky, seductive tone. “You’ve bewitched me, body and mind.”

“Have I now?” Daenera purred, a seductive glint in her eyes as he planted a fervent kiss at the juncture where her neck met her shoulder. His other hand, enshrouded by the water’s embrace, ventured beneath the surface, descending into its depths. It trailed along the sensuous curve of her stomach, eventually slipping through the velvety curls of her cunt. 

With practiced finesse, his fingers expertly located the tender bundle of nerves that ignited Daenra’s desire. He began with a gentle, almost teasing touch, applying delicate pressure before tracing sensuous circles around the sensitive nub. Each movement seemed calculated to stroke the fires of her arousal. 

“It seems to me, you are the witch,” Daemera murmured, her voice raspy as she spoke. “Casting a spell on me.”

As the moments passed, his fingers became more assertive, gradually increasing the intensity of their caress. He artfully manipulated the protective hood of her clitoris, creating a sinfully delicious friction that sent waves of pleasure coursing through her. His finger continued its hypnotic dance, swirling around the sensitive nub before delivering an arousing pinch. 

Daenera’s response was immediate and passionate. SHe couldn’t contain the throaty moan that escaped her lips, her hips involuntarily surging forward to meet the electrifying pleasure coursing through her body. 

The persistent throb in her core seemed to create a rhythm of its own, a primal drumbeat echoing through her body. Each pulse of desire was intensified by the icy embrace of the water, the stark contrast between her heated arousal and the coolness of the lake enhancing her sensations to an exquisite degree. 

Aemond’s lips remained firmly pressed against the sensitive column of her neck, tracing a path of fervent kisses. Meanwhile, his skilled fingers ventured between her slick folds, their touch as light as a whisper but as electrifying as a bolt of lightning. The caressed her aching core, gliding in just enough to provoke a sharp catch of breath. 

With teasing precision, he toyed with the entrance of her aching cunt. His teeth grazed over the fragile skin of her neck, igniting a tingling thrill that coursed through her entire body, amplifying the pulsating need that consumed her. 

With a sensuous turn, Daenera twisted in his strong arms, her lips seeking his in a heated kiss. As their mouths fused, a delicate dance of tongues ensued, each breathy exhale mingling with the others in a sultry exchange. 

Her hand traveled down his chest, fingers trailing over his sinewy body to grast his hardened arousal with a confident grip. She began a slow, tantalizing ascent along its length. At the touch, Aemond let out a low hum, his hand gripping the flesh of her ass roughly. 

The water’s icy caress had ignited her nipples, stiffening them to points that brushed against his chest as she leaned into him. The stark contrast between the frigid lake and the fevered warmth of his skin sent a shudder through her. 

His large, capable hands found their place on her thighs, gripping them just below the inviting curve of her ass. He effortlessly lifted her, allowing her to wrap her legs around his hips in an intimate embrace that seemed almost preordained. The water rendered her almost weightless. Their bodies melded together seamlessly. 

Aemond’s heat, like a relentless pure, defied the chill of the surrounding water. It burned with a ferocity that only intensified in their close proximity. 

As their bodies pressed closer, Daenera felt the friction of his cock brushing teasingly against her slick, eager folds. His cock twitched with anticipation, yearning for more contact. In response, her hips moved with instinctual grace, guiding her aching core over the head of his cock. She toyed with him just enough to provoke a deep, primal growl that reverberated from the depths of his throat, a raw expression of his consuming need and lust. 

Aemond reluctantly tore his lips from hers, their breaths heavy with anticipation as he positioned his cock at the entrance of her cunt. With a possessive urgency, he allowed the head of his cock to dip into her heat, stretching her with an unapologetic demand. 

Her fingers dug into the taut flesh of his shoulders, leaving behind red lines and deep crescent marks as her head arched backward, a fervent moan escaping her parted lips. He gradually sank deeper into her, her velvety folds embracing his throbbing length as it stretched her to accommodate his size. The initial burn was tempered by the coolness of the surrounding water, creating a unique contrast that seemed to drown out the searing sensation as he slowly impaled her on his cock. 

Daenera’s hips eagerly rolled against him, an unspoken invitation for him to continue. She brought her lips back to his, a ravenous kiss that conveyed her craving for more. Aemond, unceremoniously but skillfully, thrust into her with an intensity that made her breath hitch and her senses reel. He established a deliberate rhythm, driving into her aching core with just enough force to keep her perpetually on edge, her ragged breaths escaping in pants. 

The water, a sensual accomplice, eased the motion, rendering their movements languid and sensuous. Nevertheless, Aemond seemed determined to assert his control over the pace, his powerful thrusts causing water to splash and ripple around them as Daenera met his movements with the roll of her hips. 

Aemond halted his thrusts, a decision that sent a ripple of anticipation through the water. He carefully turned within the lake, the gentle movement causing his rigid cock to remain somewhat lodged within Daenera’s throbbing core. As he inched towards the shore, her body slowly descended along his length until he was fully submerged within her heat. Rivulets of water cascaded down their entwined bodies, provoking shivers and goosebumps in response to the dual sensations of coolness and scorching passion. 

With fluid grace, Aemond guided them towards the woods, his grip on her firm as he laid her down on a soft blanket beneath the canopy of a weirwood tree. Its crimson leaves rustled gently in the light breeze, casting dappled rays of light upon her skin. A palpable sense of sacrilege coursed through her veins, the thrill of it coiling within her like a tightly wound spring, only adding to the exhilaration of being out in the open. 

As Aemond descended upon her once more, their bodies aligned perfectly beneath the ancient tree, he captured her lips in another fervent kiss. One of his hands claimed the smooth expanse of her thigh, his grip firm yet tender, while the other supported his weight, ensuring he didn’t crush her. 

The kiss began with a languid, sensual pace, his lips brushing tenderly against hers. But soon, it transformed into something altogether more demanding, a blazing inferno that coursed through her like wildfire. Aemond tore his lips from hers, his gaze dark and smoldering with unbridled desire. 

With a primal need that bordered on ferocity, Aemond undulated his hips against hers, driving into her with a commanding force that sent her body arching upward. A passionate moan reverberated skyward. Her hand shot up, seeking refuge on the gnarled root above her, her nails digging into its white bark as Aemond hoisted one of her legs over his muscular shoulder, setting a frenzied pace. 

His thrusts came in rapid succession, each one a seismic eruption of pleasure that seemed to steal her breath away. Waves of pleasure surge through her with every fervent plunge, leaving her in a state of rapture, her mind scattered and breath stolen. 

“Aemond… oh, gods,” Daenera moaned, her voice breathless as it harmonized with the rustling leaves stirred by the gentle breeze that caressed the surrounding trees. 

“Praying to the gods now, are we?” Aemond teased, his voice a low, smug drawl. Her cunt fluttered around him and his face contorted into a primal snarl, his brows furrowing with unrelenting concentration as he committed to a relentless rhythm that was propelling her towards oblivion. His cock plunged into her depths with an audible squelching sound, her slick desire coating his pulsating length and trickling down his throbbing balls as he claimed her. With a possessive force, his rough hand seized her other leg, deftly guiding it over his strong shoulder to mirror the position of the first. 

“And to which god are you praying? Hm?” Aemond questioned, this thrusts gaining depth and vigor as he held her in the new position. 

Daenera fumbled for a witty retort, but each time she reached for words, they were whisked away by the overwhelming sensations coursing through her. Her mind was awash with a dizzying blend of sensations–the rhythmic glide of his cock in and out of her, the firm grasp of his rough hand on her breast, the pleasurable ache from his possessive squeeze, his smug snarl that graced his lips, and the crimson leaves rustling above. It was as if the world had condensed into these intoxicating moments, where nothing else existed except their unquenchable desire. 

“No response, hmm? Have I rendered you speechless?” Aemond taunted with a wicked glint in his eye, punctuating his words with a firm slap to the side of her quivering ass that elicited a sultry moan from Daenera. 

“Gods, Aemond,” Daenera breathed, her nails tracing desperate patterns over the rough bark of the roots above, an attempt to tether herself to the world as her cunt fluttered and tightened around him.

 “I– fuck– I’m not the praying type, remember?” She managed to mutter between gasps, her voice laden with a heady mix of desire and amusement. “Your gods would not find us here. Only the old gods.”

“Then let the old gods bear witness,” Aemond responded in a husky tone, drawing in a sharp breath through gritted teeth as her cunt clenched around his cock in an intoxicating sensation. “As I defile you.”

Daenera found her knees suddenly pushed up around her ears, folding her body in half as Aemond continued to thrust into her with a relentless intensity that showed no mercy. His thrusts were primal, each one a forceful push towards the precipice that loomed tantalizingly close. It was as if they danced on the edge together, the waves of pleasure beckoning them below. 

He expertly angled his hips, ensuring that each rapid thrust struck that elusive spot within her, the one that made her toes curl and her breath hitch in euphoric anticipation. 

Daenera felt herself fall into the depths of pleasure, the waves crashing over her with breath stealing intensity. Her cry reverberated through the serene surroundings as her core clenched around him in exquisite release. 

Aemond, his groan caught in his throat, succumbed to the tempestuous climax that seized him. He spilled his seed inside her, filling her womb with a potent surge of warmth and making her very essence his own. His thrusts gradually became more languid, each one a lingering caress than an impassioned surge, his hips quivering as he emptied the last of his desire into her. 

Daenera’s legs slowly drifted apart, a silent invitation for Aemond to find refuge in the curve of her chest as they both labored to regain their breath.As she sprawled beneath the ancient weirwood tree, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, the leaves overhead cast shifting patterns of crimson and gold upon her flushed skin, and the gentle rustling of the branches seemed like the whisper of the old gods themselves. Her fingers idly traced the rough texture of the weirwood’s bark as she lay there, her senses still tingling from the intensity of their union. 

Her hand drifted from the wood of the weirwood tree, her nails carrying the uncomfortable remnants of bark as she tenderly placed her hand against Aemond’s back. Beneath her touch, she could feel the rapid cadence of his heartbeat, a rhythm that seemed to beat in synchrony with her own. 

With a gentle withdrawal, Aemond eased himself out of her, a quiet sigh of release escaping his lips. As he pulled his softening cock from her, he rose to his feet, the flush of exertion still adorning his chest and neck. His gaze settled on Daenera, his expression carrying a playful amusement as he looked down at her. 

“I had entertained the notion of taking you on Vhagar,” Aemond drawled, his voice still husky as he began to dress, leisurely fastening his trousers around his hips and sliding into his boots. The little muscles beneath his skin moved with a sinuous grace as he shifted. 

Daenera couldn’t help but laugh at the audacity of the idea, propping herself up on her elbows to observe him. “And how, exactly, would you have gone about that?”

Aemond responded with a casual shrug, though a smug grin played on his lips, and as he replied, the glint in his eye suggested he found the challenge appealing. “Oh, I’m certain we would have figured something out.”

“A way to plummet to our deaths, you mean,” she quipped, her imagination momentarily entertaining the thrill of such a daring endeavor. “Or perhaps freeze to death.”

In her heart, the idea was undeniably exciting, a hedonistic fantasy that ignited something daring inside of her. However, in practical terms, the notion seemed fraught with peril, and she couldn’t help but wonder about the feasibility of such a reckless escapade. 

“Is it not enough to defile me in front of the Old gods?” Daenera mused, her tone teasing. “Must you also defile me on your dragon? I’m sure Vhagar would appreciate it if you did not.”

“The old gods have yet to smite me,” he retorted, flinging his arms wide as he stepped backwards from her, as if daring the ancient gods to manifest their presence and guide a lightning bolt from the sky. “And as for Vhagar, I am sure she wouldn’t care whether I fuck you senseless on her or in front of her again.” 

The dragon did not respond, its eyes closed and breath eased as it slept. 

Yet, Daenera couldn’t help but harbor an uncertainty. Her gaze fixated on the solemn faces etched into the weirwood trees, their ancient eyes forever observing the inexorable passage of time and bearing witness to the countless histories steeped in blood. A disquiet shiver coursed through her, raising goosebumps on her skin like silent omens. 

She rose from the blanket, her movements unhurried as she padded barefoot across the soft earth towards Aemond. He stood by the lake, his gaze following the tree line on the opposite bank, lost in thoughts known only to him.

Pressing her forehead between his shoulder blades, Daenera encircled her arms around his lean waist. Her silent gesture seemed welcome as he leaned into her touch. 

If the Old gods were to take offense at their audacity, she could only hope for understanding and a merciful response to their impetuous trespass.

[strawb3rryshake]

Well, it’s about time I introduce myself!

Who am I?

- Call me Strawberry, Kamryn, or Kam! (I swear I’m not gender swap Richard Cameron😭😭)

- INFP, 9w1, Sag Sun, Leo Moon, Sag Rising

- Slytherin, Firebender, Riverclan, Seawing, Night Court/Autumn Court, etc etc

- Pinterest obsessed, Spotify obsessed, Tumblr obsessed, you know how it is

- Dark Academia, Cryptidcore, Spacecore, Goblincore

- Likes books (fantasy/academia mostly), cartoons, 80s movies, music, anime, musicals, Webtoons/web comics, astronomy, cryptids, Greek Mythology, RPGs, reality shifting, psychology… lots of things

- Reader, author, occasional artist, theatre kid, playlist maker, kandi bracelet maker

What do I post/repost?

- Dead Poets Society!!!

- Dark Academia, romanticising life, headcanons, random thoughts, silly things

- I write my own headcanons and I used to write a lot of fanfiction as well, a hobby I’d love to get back into once I find the right inspiration/motivation

- btw I tend to post a LOT sometimes because this page is my personal little hyperfixation rant space and I don’t touch grass (/hj). You have been warned.

- i also post things to the wrong blog too much so i apologise to anyone i confuse😭😭

Important information:

- DMs closed

- Ask box OPEN please ask me questions or make requests or say whatever!!

- I will not tolerate hate towards communities or minorities (AKA, no homophobia, transphobia, racism, sexism, furryphobia, therianphobia, so on and so forth)

- Do not try to talk politics with me unless I specifically bring it up first.

- This is a safe space for myself and others to share things we love, connect, debate, etc.

- I do things for the aesthetic, if I come off as pretentious it was probably me trying to sound cool and mysterious and poetic

- I tend to be very empathetic, friendly, and open, but this does not make me your therapist. In the end, we’re all just strangers on the internet.

Other Blogs:

- @perpetuallyburntout (for just about everything besides dps)

- @rul3rzr3achf4n (my toh hunter roleplay blog)

- @pumpkinspiceinmyveins (autumn/halloween-focused blog)

[paper-gold-theories]

Villainous Observation/Theory: InstaFeed and Instagrim

(Note: This theory is an add on and inspired by the theory created by gabygirl1234)

There are two versions of Instagram in Villainous - InstaFeed and Instagrim

The general public and heroes use InstaFeed, while the Villains use Instagrim.

____

In Episode 6 Miss Heed is shown to have an InstaFeed account instead of an Instagram account.

And her @ name is also @MISS_HEED_ OFFICIAL instead of @MISS_HEED, as shown in her real life actual Instagram link (https://www.instagram.com/miss_heed/)

However, MISS_HEED_OFFICAL is her Instagram Display Name

So the Instagram account we see in real life is a little bit different than what we see in the Villainous show.

————

In Villainous, Penumbra, other Villains, and The Men Without Hats, etc. are shown to be using Instagrim.

However unlike InstaFeed, Instagrim is a Black Web, the Villainous version of Dark Web/Deep Web, website which is not available to the general public and can only be accessed by Villains and in special cases like the Men Without Hats who can hack and have installed programs and software to avoid tracking and being doxxed. (see below)

This is supported by the post in CreepyCharly when a user said you can see that SunBlast is alive on Penumbra’s Instagrim account, but CreepyCharly replies that she could not access it and jokingly added that she doesn’t believe that Villains have social media.

(Also, in the comment section in the image above, a verified account with the name @MISS_HEED_OFFICIAL is seen commenting a bot like comment: “FOLLOW ME”, Miss Heed being a former Villain and student in Black Hat Institution, she probably was able to have knowledge on how to access the Black Web, and perhaps link it to her current InstaFeed account)

As regular citizens like CreepyCharly can’t access it I agree with gabygirl123 ‘s post that Instagrim is also a part of the Black Web as it follows the. Same principal as the BHO website, as mentioned below, “it is hidden in what villains call the "Black Web", a hidden network for villains, bounty hunters, and other unsavory beings.”

(source)

-01.06.19 - from: Magician

To all remaining agents: We did it. Our patience has produced fruits. Cooper and I have managed to establish a link to the Black Hat Organization's mainframe. The link will be open for the longest period possible, however, we must be careful and keep this link secret; We can't let what happened last time happen. Black Hat cannot know that we have this connection to their system. This link can normally only be accessed by villains and members of their organization, as it is hidden in what villains call the "Black Web", a hidden network for villains, bounty hunters, and other unsavory beings. For this reason, access is very dangerous and it is recommended that it not be for prolonged periods or there would be a risk that a villain, or worse, someone from the Black Hat Organization, could find and track our whereabouts more easily. Here is the link to the computer:

Once inside you can share it, but to access you will need the 14-digit password that we hide in the guide videos. Maybe Black Hat found the latest version of the page, but that gave us what we needed to find yours. We'll leave this channel open, good luck. And remember that we can still dance.

Eventually however, Charly was able to access the black web to buy a mystery box, however as mentioned below, the Black Web is a dangerous place with dangerous people, so she had to install the necessary programmes to avoid being tracked and doxxed.

(Did she buy it from Evil Zone, the Villainous version of Amazon though? 😂)

[fumifooms]

Hi! I really love your Chilchuck analysis and headcanons. Are there any songs that remind you of him/think suits his character?

😏Why yes indeed I do! I have a couple playlists for him, not one for just him quite yet, but there are still songs that are more about him than the relationship/them in every playlist bc that’s just how playlists are with me, I have this one about him & his wife, (songs aren’t ordered) this marchil one, (ony partially with a song order) this marchil angst one… (believe it or not the songs are fully ordered except the last few songs) And this one I actually haven’t shared yet but just bc of the whole ~working class ethnicity~ thing I see a lot of my culture in Chil/half-foots so have a french canadian Quebecer Chilchuck playlist but uh yeah the songs are all in french, it’s mostly folk. If I worked any faster and better I’d love to make some animatics with some of these… I still got some plans though. So far my favorite Chilchuck playlist not by me that’s underrated banger after banger and each reallt fits is one by my buddy @lyril ! It’s short and sweet, prob with more of the character focus that you’re looking for. Little Lion Man oh my god 😭😭

These playlists are for trudging through lists of songs and finding the good bits & meaning in them yourself buuut I have picked out a bunch of specific lyrics and songs I really like for him in this post before, and not unlike that, I have a couple web weavings with song lyrics for him, one on Chilchuck & wife and a marchil one, and again if you’re not interested in the relationships there are still stuff in there that fit him specifically so I still recommend skimming.

Jackrabbit by San Fermin, Dead Inside by Younger Hunger, TrusT by Half-alive, Cheap Liquor by Ericdoa, Heart-shaped Box by Nirvana... Some songs that come to mind for him rn. TrusT is one of my top songs for him I looove it and I think the music does enhance the lyrics it’s soo…

Trust is like a pond of murky water Too dark to see, mysteriously undercover I can't jump off the high dive, even though I really want to My toes are hanging off the ledge Trust is like the middle of the ocean Can't see the bottom, but I'm floating here, supported I know that it can take me even deeper if I let it But my limbs are trying to swim away It's like a tree that towers 50 feet above us Grown over time through many seasons Believing in something more than just the surface I trust that this is worth it But my toes are hanging off the ledge Hold to this significance And lean into the process Rest and know the love you hold It won't be taken back, no I have faith that the world I'm in Will be redeemed to its place again But there's a weight that I can't explain So tell me why I feel this way tell me why I feel this way (Speaking slowly when I'm out of breath) (Losing confidence between the steps) tell me why I feel this way how sweet, the taste of certainty (Wasting water in a desert bed) (Chasing wind outside the promised land) releasing hope to carry me (Know the story isn't over yet)

Anyone who knows me knows my favorite Chil & Chilwife song is Little Soldiers by The Crane Wives. And well, there’s a reason Hurry Hurry is on almost every Chil playlist. Drunk by The Living Tombstone is a staple for me too. And oughh I recommend this animatic of Well it’s better than the alternative it’s so 😭 10/10 please please watch

Ohh and one of my fav Chil fanart ever is this one if you scroll all the way down and the song that goes with it is Call Boy by Syudou. It’s the only place where you can see it rn sorry, this ask is incredibly timed actually bc just yesterday I went looking for this fanart again and saw that the artist’s twitter got deleted and there’s still the art on Pixiv but there used to be a video and that’s the one that truly fully git my heart </3 I dmed the artist asking on if the video is still up anywhere so crossing my fingers about when/if I get a reply… Here’s the lyrics for Call Boy, give it a listen it gets me keeling over to the floor. CW alcoholism and also gotta scroll through suggestive stuff bc the art link is Pixiv 🎶

[notealotgoingon]

books of february 2024

ususally i would have the movies i've watched in with these books, but i actually didn't watch any movies in february, which is wild for me.

A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas ★★★ "When you spend so long trapped in the darkness, Lucien, you find that the darkness begins to stare back."

Meet Me in the Penalty Box by Calli Melle ★★1/2 "She would eventually realize that there would never be anyone but her. She was it for me."

Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell ★★★★1/2 "They are products of history and community, of opportunity and legacy. Their success is not exceptional or mysterious. It is grounded in a web of advantages and inheritances, some deserved, some not, some earned, some just plain lucky--but all critical to making them who they are. The outlier, in the end, is not an outlier at all."

Monsters & Muscles by Ashley Bennett ★★★★ "His body swayed back and forth slightly over my response and it was then I realized he had a tail. He was wagging his tail at me."

Violet Bent Backwards over the Grass by Lana Del Rey ★★★★ "Wondering if it's/astronomical twilight/or civil twilight"

[terrence-silver]

Would terry have more trouble taking beloved who is famous/ a celebrity?

---

-"In 1983,"- Demetri holds up the old, tattered gossip periodical they've fished out of Mrs. Moskowitz's attic stash of dusty trinkets and forgotten keepsakes, reading carefully, wide eyes following every line, every word like it was lifechanging --- like they could find the Yeti or the Sasquatch hidden somewhere among the many columns, Hawk perched up beside him on the squeaky floorboard surrounded by boxes, scoffing, clearly not appreciating the great mystery they were so close to uncovering together. -"After their subsequent movie one hit wonder one the Red Carpet, the dazzling career of one of Hollywood's and LA"s aspiring sweethearts takes a sudden nosedive nobody foresaw coming."-

He acutely feels Hawk's amused eyeroll burning a hole in the back of his head.

How was this not exciting for him!?

Binary Bros, uncovering the puzzle behind a 80's mega-star slipping into obscurity?

Practicality overnight!?

Sus.

-"Reports on retiring from public life took the jet-set of Hollywood by storm."- He narrates on, the article, admittedly, being incredibly and annoyingly vague. Offering no real intel. Only suspicious amounts of formality. Followed by pictures of aggrieved fans circling the streets of LA in front of MGM studios strewn all over the glossy page. Maybe it was easier to disappear back then. No Internet. No Instagram. Nobody slipping into a celebrity's DMs. Just speculations and handwritten fanmail. Landline phones at best? He continues, practically out of breath, finding a quote. -"'Our goal is privacy and civilian integrity. Just that. We ask to be respected in our decision.' Beloved, as affectionately nicknamed by their fanbase, not wanting to give any statements had their acting manager explaining, having no further comments."-

Beloved? He supposed that was a stage name of sorts? Like Cardi B? Weird.

But that bit of dialogue by their manager ---

If that didn't stink, Demetri didn't know what did.

Not even extensive True Crime Google searches or sifting through Missing Person reports gave him more clarity than what they right right in this celebrity gossip magazine from, like...what? Thirty years ago? Forty? Man, his parents haven't even met back then. They were both still kids!

-"C'mon. It's just some ancient, unconfirmed conspiracy theory from back when the dinosaurs were still roaming the planet."- Hawk shrugs and Demetri turns the page, finding sudden epiphany. -"No, no! Listen to this, though!"- He perks up, tugging at Hawk's forearm, nearly jumping on the attic floorboard with the flashlight he was holding in his hand. Wasn't even dark. He was just doing it for the spooky vibes, to be honest. He found it! Found what he was looking for! Photographic evidence, receipts and all! -"Pictured with Corporate Business Moghul, Charity Entrepreneur and one of LA's most eligible Billionaire bachelors, Terrence Silver."- The description under an image says and how did he not find this online? Was this just conveniently fine-combed off of the web? -"The young starlet's colorful choice of date, deemed controversial by some still declared the most photogenic Red Carpet couple of '83."- There he was, Ponytail Sensei --- Sensei Targaryen --- eons younger, dark haired for contrast, looking like one of those shiny, perfect Ken dolls, hand in hand with the object of their research. They were a thing! Like, together-together. -"I knew it!"-

He holds up the tabloid, pointing at it vigorously, feeling victorious.

Gloating just a teeny, tiny bit.

It was The Valley's very own unsolved urban mystery!

-"You nerd."- Hawk laughs from where he was sitting, knees bent under him, chilling on the busted parquet that has definitely seen better days, still skeptical. Okay, alright. Demetri saw how it was. His amazing talents and privately investigative research in tandem were clearly not appreciated around here. That was his thanks then? -"Yeah, some asshole from the newspapers retiring like a million years ago and dating some Bond Villain who hasn't changed his hairstyle in decades. Spooky."- He shakes his head, wiggling around his fingers and pursing his lips for emphasis, clearly unimpressed, taunting him, making fun of the whole concept, about to get up and climb down from the attic and just about ditch him. Call quits on this whole project. -"You and your head in the clouds, I swear."-

A realization hits Demetri like a train at full speed.

-"What if he like, you know, went all Fatal Attraction?"- He grabs Hawk by the elbow, stopping him in his tracks, whispering like the walls suddenly grew ears. -"What if, there was a kidnapping involved and he scooped them up, got his Doctor Evil scheming and Scrooge McDuck connections to erase all traces of them and has been keeping them in some crazy mastermind lair all these years? You know, like a hostage? Made it seem like it was just some out of the blue retirement?"- Demetri lets it all pour out, without filter, saying exactly what he was thinking no matter how insane it sounded and it kind of did sound insane, admittedly; feeling himself fall into a frenzy of rambling regardless, all his long weeks of thinking and thinking, trying to figure the mystery out and it all so suddenly made sense. Cobra Kai's current new Sensei, no matter how surface level nice he seemed, had more than one skeleton in the closet and this was one of them. But, if that was the case, just how powerful was this guy? The frozen intensity in Hawk's eyes matches his in the darkness of the attic illuminated only by their flashlight and for a second, Demetri thinks he's believed and then --- Hawk snorts loudly. Then he chortles to top it all off, grabbing him by the shoulder, startling him. Very funny. Hilarious.

-"Yeah, wow, okay, I don't believe that. Nobody can pull that off."-

He pats him on the back, leading him downstairs.

[gt-preys]

Determined little borrower

Siren!Billy, borrower!Reader

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

An aquarium is an odd place to find a borrower, (Y/N) knows that. It was just supposed to be a quick place to rest between moving from one house to the next. But he quickly found that he liked wandering around the tanks at night, illuminated by the soft blue glow from the lights through the water. He had no problems finding scraps left over in the cafeteria and he had so much space to move and explore.

So it just made sense that the little borrower would stay there and settle down.

Not much had changed in the aquarium since they had made their home in the walls and they were content with that.

However things change one day as they watch the aquarium staff pull in a new tank, wheeling the massive glass box into the empty quarantine room. Possibly a new species of fish? Now that was exciting.

The staff aren't talking, in fact they only gesture to each other and the tank. Communicating through movements alone. How odd, they had never done that before with any other shipments. It's then that he notices the headphones they're all wearing, ear protection they had heard a staff member call it in the cupboard they were rooting around in last week.

Specialized headgear.

This is what they had needed it for? Rolling in a new tank. How odd.

For now though they ignore the humans, making their way through the vents to the cafeteria. The aquarium will be empty of staff soon and then they can head back to explore the mysterious new tank.

When they make their way back to the quarantine room (Y/N) takes the hallways instead, the place is completely empty now and he enjoys seeing the exhibits as he passes. So many colourful creatures, so graceful and completely at home in their elements. They fascinate the borrower.

It's not long before they're standing outside of the quarantine room. The door is most likely locked but (Y/N) isn't worried about that, afterall he's small enough to squeeze under the gap in the door. (Y/N) had always thought the doors were stupid, they looked as if they had been cut a little bit too small but the same doors were scattered throughout the entire facility so they just chalked it up to a weird design choice.

They can't really complain though, it makes getting around far easier for the tiny.

Unlike the exhibits which are still lit up at night, this room is almost completely dark, the light in the room is dimmed almost all the way down. The water in the tank appears almost a deep inky black. It's clear they won't be able to see the fish from where they stand down here.

Eyeing the metal ladder bolted to the tanks side they grin, always up for a new challenge. It's easy enough. They use their grappling hook to skip a couple of the steps at a time and though it's an exhausting climb they feel proud once they reach the top. Afterall he was built for this kind of thing.

Reaching the top they find a metal platform stretching out across the top of the tank just barely above the water, they've seen this kind of structure before on other tanks in the aquarium. It's a feeding platform.

They step out onto the platform, wandering over to the edge so they can peer into the murky water below. Maybe the fish will surface for breath, then they could see it? Scanning the water though they can't see anything. Was the tank empty? Were they getting the tank set up for a new fish to be put into? Maybe one of the exhibit fish was ill and this tank is for them.

Rippling water catches their eyes and they look up only for their heart to sink into their stomach. A large claw webbed hand is reaching up out of the water towards them. They yell out as it pins them to the metal grating, their struggles are useless against the powerful appendage.

Looking past the hand and towards the water they freeze watching a blonde head of hair rise up ominously from the black water, a pair of icy blue eyes pierce their wriggling form. He pulls himself further out of the water to peer down at them with a blank expression, seemingly trying to comprehend what he's seeing. Then a slow smirk makes its way onto his lips, revealing the sharp predatory teeth hidden behind them. "Well look at that, I didn't even need to lure you to me" the creature's voice is rough and deep, sounding as if he hadn't used his voice for a while.

With his hand still pinning them beneath it, he moves the index finger beside their head to lightly trail his claw down their cheek. "You came to me willingly" they watch his eyes light up with malice at the notion. "You look human..." he hums, leaning down, those bright eyes never leaving theirs "I wonder if you taste just as good" there's no doubt in their mind that he can feel their tiny heartbeat racing beneath his palm. They can only stare on in horror as his tongue slips out from between his lips and they squirm harder as he leans in closer.

Panicking and not wanting to be food, they make a life or death decision and twist to sink their teeth as deep as they can into the tan skin on the finger lingering on his cheek. The giant grunts at the sudden shock of pain through his hand, releasing the borrower for a moment to inspect his finger, but that's all the time they need.

He sprints across the platform, losing his balance slightly when the metal beneath his feet suddenly shakes, the creature hissed angrily for them to "get back here!" Making it to the safety of the ladder (Y/N) risks a look back to find the man halfway out of the water, tail slapping the inky black surface.

A siren.

They captured a fucking siren.

Humans are so dumb the borrower laments as they hurry to make their way down the ladder, hopping down the rungs as quickly as they can manage without the risk of falling.

It's only when they're back in the safety of their home, hidden deep within the walls, that they realise how lucky they are that he didn't start singing. If he had it would've been all over, they wouldn't have stood a chance.

The following week the borrower keeps careful watch from afar, staying out of the siren's sight. They don't dare try to approach the tank after the last incident. He watches from the vents as workers climb the ladder, they always have their noise canceling headphones on. It's mandatory. The workers never step foot on the platform, it's not a risk they're willing to take, they just dump a bucket of fish over the side and leave immediately after.

They give the siren no social interaction whatsoever.

(Y/N) fashions his own crude noise canceling headphones. Stealing bits from the humans gear to help construct them. He tests them out within the safety of the walls and to his suprise they work. He doesn't know why he makes them.

He shouldn't go back to the tank, that's a deathwish. He knows that, but curiosity still nags at him.

Somehow they find themself once again scaling the ladder to the feeding platform. (Y/N) stays near the ladder in case he needs to make a quick escape, crossing his fingers that the homemade ear protection he wears will keep him safe from the beast lurking beneath.

As expected the siren doesn't take long to show his face, his head rising from the water with predatory menace. He opens his mouth, presumably to sing but they can't hear him. They watch his face twist with confusion and frustration when they don't respond to his call. (Y/N) simply smiles and pulls a grape from their bag, rolling it across the grating towards the siren. Picking it up he eyes the fruit and then the borrower, perplexed. But (Y/N) just sits down to nibble on his own pre portioned chunk of grape. The siren watches him for a minute or two before popping the grape into his mouth, chewing the fruit up.

It's then that (Y/N) wonders if he's ever had anything other than fish. His reaction to the sweet fruit is subtle but they can tell he's suprised by it, maybe he even enjoyed it.

He finds himself falling into a routine. Once the aquarium has closed for the night he forages for food and takes it back home to be put away, however each time he grabs a piece of fruit along with his usual supplies. The borrower then treks up the ladder to the siren's tank, each time finding that he's already at the surface waiting for them. As if he's begun anticipating their visits.

Each time they find him with his arms crossed on the platform, his chin resting atop them with his eyes closed only for them to snap open when he senses the borrower nearby. The first few visits he had tried and failed to lure them to the water, getting angry and frustrated when they don't comply. However he seems to calm down when they toss him their little fruit offering.

So far grapes were his favourite, they grabbed him them anytime they had the opportunity. After that they'd simply smile and wave, sitting on the grating and offering him silent company. They had even gotten so brave as to walk out onto the platform, albeit staying at the very back against the wall and out of reach.

Sometimes he tries to speak to them only to get frustrated when he remembers that they're wearing head gear. He had gestured for them to remove it several times but (Y/N) isn't going to fall for such tricks.

Today the siren isn't waiting for the little borrower like he usually does. They walk to their usual spot at the back, watching the water but as usual they can't see much further than the surface in the dim room lighting. He waits there, looking for any indication that there's life in the tank but soon grows worried.

Had they moved him to a different tank? Has he been put on display already?

Curious (Y/N) makes his way to the platform's edge, peering down into the water. It's all too familiar when a webbed hand breaks the surface of the inky black depths, pinning the borrower to the platform. It was a trap, he tricked them, he had finally caught them. They wriggle wildly but it does nothing, he's only able to stare up at those familiar icy blue eyes.

The siren traces a claw up the side of their head, another familiar action. He's speaking to them but they can't hear what he's saying nor can they read his lips, (if you bite me again I swear...), the talon traces their ear and suddenly. "There we go '' they can hear, he had removed their ear protection!

(Y/N) winces, screwing his eyes shut and bracing himself. He expects a song, the hot slice of teeth through his flesh or maybe even claws but he gets none of that. When he opens his eyes he finds that the siren is simply staring at him, sharp eyes taking in every little expression and detail. This doesn't go on for long before he removes his hand and swims back a bit from the platform, giving the borrower space.

(Y/N) is confused when they're released, hurriedly scrambling backwards on the metal. Tears fall thick and fast down their cheeks. They were so sure he was going to rip into them.

He eyes them silently, watching them shake and struggle to take deeper breaths. He's unsure of what to do now that they can hear him. "Why come back?" He knows how bad their first impression of him was, so why stay?

(Y/N) is still reeling from the adrenaline rush blinking at the deep sea creature in confusion. "W-what?" He spoke to them, he isn't singing to lire them into the water. He's just staring at them with no discernible expression. "I made my intentions for you clear when we met, but you came back. Why?"

"I'm not sure" they shrug "I've never seen anything like you before, I was... curious" they admit. The siren hums, crossing his arm on the platform and placing his chin on his forearms "I've never seen a human so small..." They swallow, hands on their ears. They can still hear him, a rough voice slightly muffled by the skin of their palms. "I'm...I'm not human" they mumble "I'm a borrower."

The siren nods, eyes brightening with curiosity. "I'm a siren" he gives the information freely. "I...I know" they nod "I've seen drawings."

(Y/N) continues to visit the siren each day, leaving the ear protection off after he had requested they stop. Though they still stay far away from the water's edge. They had finally learnt the siren's name, Billy he had said it was. Billy always seemed fully engaged in their conversations and they very much enjoyed having someone to talk to.

But their fear is still very much alive.

They're visiting him again when it happens. The two are talking, carrying conversation about the borrower's week of hard work. Today's fruit offering was grapes and Billy is in a great mood, it puts (Y/N) into a relaxed state.

However the light mood is broken when the door to Billy's quarantine room is opened. There's a voice and the door pauses a quarter of the way open. Billy quickly realises that there's no way the borrower can get down the ladder or hide on the platform. But they need to disappear quick.

"Get in the water" (Y/N)'s eyes snap to the siren in suprise at his hushed suggestion. They quickly shake their head at the idea, they still don't trust him yet. Instead they eye the platform wildly, looking for a hiding place. "Just get in the water please, you can hide better in here" he pleads but his words fall on deaf ears.

Billy can only plead for so long before deciding to take the little borrower's safety into his own hands.

(Y/N) freezes in place, shocked when he finally hears the siren's song. Completely at Billy's mercy without their ear protection. His heart breaks seeing the helpless look of betrayal on their little face as they begin to walk towards him, unable to stop themself. They stumble to the edge of the feeding platform, those piercing icy blue eyes watching their every step. (Y/N) walks straight off of the gratings edge as they try to get to the song. Dropping into the water, they quickly disappear under the surface. Swimming up they find tha the song is gone and their mind is clear once more. Thank god, the feeling of total helplessness has them shuddering.

Unfortunately for them, one fear is exchanged for another and upon looking up they find Billy watching them closely. They watch him move with dread mounting in their stomach, his hands cut through the water towards them. "No! No please!" They turn in the water, beginning to frantically swim back to the platform even though they know they won't be able to make it to the lip in time.

The surface of the water rocks as Billy moves, his hands cupping beneath them in the waste, pulling their shallow pool back through the water. Looking up (Y/N) can only watch on as a row of sharp white shark teeth pass over them as they're pulled back the siren's awaiting maw.

They yell out, watching the jaws close once they're fully inside. The borrower quickly finds himself pinned to the roof of the creature's mouth as it swallows down the small mouth full of water it had caught alongside the tiny.

Once the mouth is empty however, the borrower is dropped back down and they curl in on themself, sobbing and shaking with fear.

Billy sinks below the tank's surface, watching as a human climbs up the ladder to feed him. As usual they simply dump a bucket of fish over the railings edge, surveying the calm water for a curious moment before quickly leaving.

Billy slowly floats back up to poke his head out of the water and waits to heR the door closing before pushing himself up onto the platform. He leans forwards, parting his lips and teeth to let the tiny slip off of his tongue and onto the metal platform once more.

(Y/N) scrambles backwards, unsure of why they've been released. He can't really blame them, he knows he's just ruined the tiny amount of trust they had in him.

"Y-You used your song on me!" They stammer, eyes wide and chest heaving. "I know, I'm sorry" he apologises but they continue "I thought...I thought we were I don't know-" friends. "This is all just some sick game time you!"

It made sense that the siren would draw this out for so long. It made sense he wanted to play with his food, he gets no outside enrichment or stimulation from the workers. So why wouldn't he entertain himself by befriending and breaking the little borrower who seemed all too trusting.

"It's not a game" he replies "I had to hide you. Humans are cruel, there's no telling what they'd do if they found you" he makes no move to grab them or sing when they edge towards the ladder to leave. He just stares at them with this down trodden look.

They should leave, he's had enough chances.

This 'potential' friendship was not worth their life. "Fuck" they groan walking back to where they had been sat, with a groan they sit down on the grating much to Billy's surprise. "You aren't leaving?" He tilts his head. "No, I probably should but I'm dumb and you look all sad and shit" they huff. This has Billy chuckling and he lays his chin on his arms.

"Thank you for staying" he mumbles offering them a softer look this time and they feel their cheeks warming at the look "yeah, well thanks for not eating me I guess" they shrug and Billy laughs again, getting the corner of their lip to raise slightly at the sound.

To the pairs suprise the incident has them growing even closer than before. (Y/N) doesn't attempt to brave the water again.

Not yet that is.