#tangled web of fate

[adventuresofalgy]

Algy was feeling a wee bit overwhelmed by the vast, panoramic views from the highest point of the headland which he had recently been surveying – not to mention the "solemn Past" of turbulent and brutal Scottish human history he had been reflecting upon – so he decided to rest quietly on Sunday and look down, instead of up and round about, in order to enjoy the quiet comfort and relaxation which the contemplation of "little things" always brings to a fluffy bird.

And Algy hopes that you too will enjoy a very happy Sunday, and be able to find the time to relax and appreciate the peaceful solace and pleasure to be derived from "the little things" and "the magic world of shine and shade" ❤️

It's good the great green earth to roam, Where sights of awe the soul inspire; But oh, it's best, the coming home, The crackle of one's own hearth-fire! You've hob-nobbed with the solemn Past; You've seen the pageantry of kings; Yet oh, how sweet to gain at last The peace and rest of Little Things! Perhaps you're counted with the Great; You strain and strive with mighty men; Your hand is on the helm of State; Colossus-like you stride . . . and then There comes a pause, a shining hour, A dog that leaps, a hand that clings: O Titan, turn from pomp and power; Give all your heart to Little Things. Go couch you childwise in the grass, Believing it's some jungle strange, Where mighty monsters peer and pass, Where beetles roam and spiders range. 'Mid gloom and gleam of leaf and blade, What dragons rasp their painted wings! O magic world of shine and shade! O beauty land of Little Things! I sometimes wonder, after all, Amid this tangled web of fate, If what is great may not be small, And what is small may not be great. So wondering I go my way, Yet in my heart contentment sings . . . O may I ever see, I pray, God's grace and love in Little Things.

[Algy is quoting the first four verses of the poem The Joy of Little Things by the late 19th/early 20th century Scottish author Robert W. Service.]

[mylittlepond]

// Chemtrails Over The Country Club by Lana Del Rey //

[tangleddd]

Everyone knows... Louise Gilbert and Damon Salvatore in Tangled Diaries

[smoozie]

I feel like we don't talk about the Boat Boys and Desert Duo dynamic from Double Life enough

[fuzzbuns]

Im probably gonna draw something about this anyway so ill get into it more later but when ever i draw a shitpost about the mirror world (specifically about 2 quails) i feel like it gives off the impression that i trust the premise of the mirror world but i dont at all. Like ive read the picture perfect arc.. why on earth would i ever trust moa-

[onigiram]

TAGS. i didn't like the other ones asjbfjbsdjgb

[jackattack20writes]

Also I need to ramble about how I'm finally getting to the breakdown of barriers and Izuku and Itsuka making googly eyes at each other while Momo’s sitting in the corner waiting for her turn. But then the fact I know about the upcoming agnst I'm giving them (that I actually wrote a chunk of already to make sure I don't forget) makes all of it even sweeter. And I'm just loving writing it so much

[twistedtangledfate]

Part one of Three Sisters by Cheryl Corey as featured in Gods and Monsters Mythological Poems illustrated by Chris Riddell.

[lostinatrainofthoughts]

i need help. how do you recover and heal if you were used as a rebound but you did not know until later? he was the only guy among all the other guys that i did not show my emotional avoidant self. i chose to be vulnerable. so how come its biting me back in the ass? i cant breathe. i feel like a stone resides on my heart its suffocating.

[tangledthreadcomic]

Waking up in a new world seems to be the newest fad for webcomics. And while most would jump at the opportunity to experience such, Logan isn't even aware that the trope exists. So when he wakes up in a new body, he's left baffled. He's been given a new chance at life as a young lord of a powerful territory. There's just one issue: after going through one life already, Logan had decided to accept death with welcome arms, and this new life is turning into a huge hassle for this already tired soul.

[tenth-sentence]

The night the "accident" was scheduled, Niobe took the body and slid a thread to the spiderweb nearest the country house where the senator was having a private party with his workers, volunteers, and friends.

"Incarnations of Immortality: With a Tangled Skein" - Piers Anthony

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Jungkook Fic Recommendations Part 2

Here - have a kookie <3

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 1

One Shots

ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (s) (ft. mingyu) @hannieehaee ⊹₊⋆ being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

never go to sleep angry (a f) by @just4koo ⊹₊⋆ one of the most important rules of your relationship was to never go to sleep angry. when the rule was ignored, it led to an argument and a huge misunderstanding.

Standing Next To You (s a f) by @back2bluesidex ⊹₊⋆ Your and Jungkook's relationship is all about dark rooms, shadows, rendezvous and secrecy. It pains you to even think that you can't claim him as yours in front of the world. But Jungkook is always there to set your fears free because he loves you even more than you love him.

How to Get Rid of Your Virginity (s f) by @strvngeweather ⊹₊⋆ You've always been the good girl who followed the rules but you're ready to shed that image and lose your virginity to the college's resident bad boy: Jungkook.

Butterfly (a s) by @ctrlhope ⊹₊⋆ he’s been watching you. waiting, stalking his prey. waiting for you to tangle your pretty little wings into his web. chasing you. hunting you. making you play his games until you realise the truth that lies behind your eyes.

Stardust (f s) by @euphoricfilter ⊹₊⋆ If Jungkook would have known an unintentional orgasm would have led to this, then he would have begged you to work out with him sooner.

PRINCESS TREATMENT (f) by @2hightocare ⊹₊⋆ Jungkook simply does everything to make you happy

daybreak (a f s) by @bbangtans ⊹₊⋆ One of your favorite things to do when you were in your early 20s was stay up late where reflective conversations eventually blurred into nonsense as the sun rose alongside someone you thought you would spend the rest of your days with… Now you’re stuck in New York City for one night due to a delayed flight with that very person standing there in his leather jacket and guitar case in hand across from you at the airport gate. See, fate is a funny thing and Jeon Jungkook could always find the humor in anything.

Is you is or is you ain't (my baby) (a s) by @ki-yomii ⊹₊⋆ after being stood up one too many times, you realize you're in love with jungkook. and that just won't do.

begging for mercy (s) by @jeonsalibi ⊹₊⋆ you hated everything. you hated his face, his hands, his everything. in particular, you hated the effect he had on you.

admiring from afar (f s) by @jeonsalibi ⊹₊⋆ you owed a friend a favour, a favour which entailed a blind date. but the catch, it was only blind on your side.

and my man, thank you to my man (s) by @aaagustd

[tangleddd]

 Damon/Louise + Recurring Themes and Symbolism → The Necklace Louise’s necklace: even though Stefan was the one to give Louise her necklace to protect her again Damon (the power of compulsion, specifically), it became more of a symbol of Damon and Louise’s relationship. Louise told Damon her necklace makes her feel safe and he has always returned it to her when she thinks it's lost.

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry gets jealous because you spend time with Richard

The risk of jealousy - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

Dearest anonymous, I hope you can forgive him and his denial of jealousy.

The sharp claw of jealousy finally scratches the untouchable Henry.

I’ve always been incredibly particular about whom I associate with. The people around me need to be worthy. Now, I am well aware that my choice of words may make me sound arrogant, so allow me to explain: I want them to have shared interests, to be able to hold late-night debates on esoteric topics, while giving me a sense of belonging and consequently not tiring me out socially. I do not ask for much, really. Alas, one cannot always get what one desires.

The little group of which I’m currently a part of is… pleasant. The twins regularly host dinners which are, of course, the birthplace of many fights and arguments regarding the most trivial subjects that usually end up with Henry winning. Francis unhesitatingly puts his aunt’s house at our disposal whenever desiderium naturae strikes us and amusingly complains about some disease or other the whole way there. I even consider some of Bunny’s jokes witty on the rare occasions when he stops being insufferable. Unfortunately, they all give me a shallow sense of belonging that only manages to make itself felt in transit moments. However, Henry is different. With him, I feel content reading in silence after a long day, waking up in the same bed, legs intertwined under the soft cotton sheets he insists on buying with Apolon tugging at our lazy eyelids or simply challenging one another’s knowledge on whatever topic interests us at a given moment. A continuous childlike rendez-vous.

I do not know why I have been so platonically attracted to Richard of late. When he first joined our Greek class, he did not strike me as someone who would manage to integrate his lowly self into our complexly layered group, or even more, someone who would enjoy my presence. He was and still is flawed and ordinary. However, this normality flowing through every habit, every movement, or expression is a strange refresh in an intangible web of meticulously tangled appearances and facades. Richard is not some ancient scholar buried in paradoxical ideals, Gods-praising rituals, and glorious beliefs, but a modern human. He is aware of the current world, unisolated, present, an active participant. Not only does he attend parties but he also drinks, kisses, and loves strangers. Though an exaggeration to the unknowing eye, he seems to me quite the Epicurean in a cult of Stoics (excluding Bunny).

Despite my writings above which one might foolishly mistake as praise on my part, I must now dive into Richard’s own tendency to fictitiousness. He throws, here and there, long, lavish fabrications (with the aid of which he becomes unconsciously arrogant) and slight inexactitudes he considers too small to pass unnoticed by the attentive ear. And according to my fate and against my trusted intuition, I found myself unable to stop listening whenever he started talking about his (fake) childhood in California filled with swimming pools and orange groves and dissolute, charming show-biz parents, teenage years with a new girlfriend every night, the newest dramas (if they truly do exist and are not yet other fictions) circling Hampden.

There is a quirk. I notice it now, when we’re all standing in the day room of Francis’, or rather his aunt’s, manor. Charles is playing the piano filling the room with gifts for ears, showing off as he always does, while Bunny comments on one rhythm or another, challenging him, fueling him further. Everything is normal, except for one detail that does not escape me. Henry grows more agitated with every single one of Richard’s grant histoires. Albeit, the so-called agitations are rather minuscule, but I pride myself in being able to distinguish them. A small frown, creasing his pale forehead just the right amount for it to disappear just as quickly and nonchalantly as it came, a constant rub of his hand against his limped leg, and a novel proneness to small physical gestures: touching knees, pressing shoulders, his hand on the small of my back or idly playing with my fingers. I settle on questioning him later since I know he will not show any truths of his mind in such large company. 

We share a room, since we stopped bothering to hide our relationship long ago from the others. Henry’s already in bed, his nose buried in a book, dressed in his pyjamas, his initials embroidered upon the left side of his chest; H.M.W. If I had been told years ago that I was to be sharing a bed or be in a relationship with the person I suffered the least, the one that I had to compete with in Julian’s classes, the one that knew how to push my buttons I would have died of agony. But now I’m content. I know of the infatuation rendering me blind. My life has become a continuous torture, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to live without him. Just like Zeus who vows to fulfil his promise with a single sacred nod of his head, so am I unable to change the basis of my passion. He is in all my plans. In all the joys the future holds. In the dead of night, in Julian’s lessons, in the summer by the lake, instead of my mind’s eye being fully focused on one specific task, it always switches without fail to him.

I lower myself onto the bed next to him. “You seemed troubled earlier, in the day room.” I ask casually an indirect question.

“You’ve been spending an awful time with Richard.” He responds swiftly, tonelessly, simply pointing out a fact. 

I consider my answer for a moment. “I suppose so.” I hum, just as my head hits the pillow. “Don’t you find him intriguing? He watches the news on television.”

“Intriguing?” He blurts out, closing his book and putting it on the bedside table. Clearly, I have his attention. He turns on his side to fully face me, his hair falling over his forehead and slightly over his glasses. “His intriguing part eludes me. You are wasting your time with him, listening to his rambles.” He says clearly irritated, not bothering to keep up his stoic facade. “I assure you, you would be much better spending your time wisely.”

I frown. This is unusual of him. “He is in our class, is he not? I cannot avoid him.”

“Of course not, that’s not what I am suggesting.” His eyebrows remain furrowed. “What I do mean is that he does not bring you any benefit.” He continues in a monotone. “Why must you listen to him with the same attention and interest as you listen to me?”

Ah, I see. Henry is jealous.

“Is this jealousy?” I ask attempting desperately to restrain the slight smile forming on my face. 

“You are mistaken.” He ‘corrects’ me sharply, raising his eyebrows.  “I am merely stating that I see no point in your interactions with Richard when you could gain much more from being in my presence.”

I raise a sceptical eyebrow. He acts as if I wouldn’t mourn his death in the same way Achilles mourned Patroclus’, with rage and violence.

Words are imperfect communication devices, so I pull him down by the back of his neck and press my lips against his in a pleasant normality. I feel him slightly relax against me, his hand resting on my neck.

“Henry,” I mumble as we part, forcefully stretching our souls apart. I remove his glasses and place them down next to us and his forehead naturally falls against mine “you know better than to have such doubts.”

“I do.” He mumbles back, not bothering to deny his feelings anymore. “However, it proves to be quite difficult to not have them when-” He stops considering his words. “When you plague me so. There is no day or night in which your existence takes mercy on me and does not destroy the little rationality I have left.” He lowers himself down on the bed next to me. “You inexplicably and absurdly manage to be and eradicate my sanity.” He sighs. “And it certainly does not help when you look at Richard with the same eyes you look at me.” Henry mutters.

My hand finds his and I chuckle. “I’d argue I look at him with entirely different eyes.” At my comment, Henry raises an amused eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ll stop seeing shadows where there are none.”

That is all he needs to defeat his insomnia in my arms once again and to fall prey to sleep’s vicious grasp his body indistinguishable from mine under the sheets, sharing one breath.

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Losing Control

Summary: Anakin needs to let off some steam, he has found a willing partner.

Warnings: Yeah this is pretty shameless smut. R18.

Word count: 1,350

Missions did not always go well, and Anakin Skywalker hated it. 

He didn’t like to lose, never had. He didn’t like the disappointment - the losses, the debates, the paperwork, there were all worth it if the battle was won. But when they lost? He could barely contain himself. That’s where you came in.

A younger Jedi, assigned to his corps a few months ago, your relationship began after only your second mission together. 

On that fateful mission, the odds were stacked against the Republic forces from the beginning. Anakin's frustration was palpable as the mission unraveled, the enemy proving more cunning and ruthless than anticipated. The aftermath was a grim scene of wounded soldiers, damaged equipment, and a bitter taste of defeat.

As the surviving members of the mission trudged back to base, the weight of failure hung heavy in the air. Anakin, visibly seething, marched ahead with clenched fists. It was then that you approached him, respectful but determined.

"Master Skywalker," you began, choosing your words carefully, "we did everything we could. The enemy caught us off guard. We'll learn from this and be better prepared next time.”

Anakin shot you a stern look, his blue eyes flashing with frustration. "We can't afford mistakes like this, especially when lives are on the line. We need to be better, faster, stronger.” His agitation had become visible, he was practically vibrating with anger. This un-jedi-like behaviour would surely earn him a reprimand. Concerned, you dragged him with you down a hallway, trying to find him a space to calm himself, to straighten out his attitude. But he had only took the opportunity to kiss you, to push you against the wall, to drag you into a cupboard and pound into you until all this annoyance had been spent.

Since then it was like a ritual after every failures. He sought you out, you helped control him stabilise his moods. You were where he could focus his frustrations on, and you enjoyed it so much. 

Anakin was not a man to be messed with. He was a general, he was smart and strong and brave, and terrifying. Attributes which made him both the perfect soldier and the perfect lover. 

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, your relationship with Anakin Skywalker evolved into a dangerous dance of desire and secrecy. The allure of forbidden love was intoxicating, fuelling the flames of passion that burned between you. Behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, you revelled in each other's touch, your bodies entwined in a tangled web of carnal need.

But with every stolen moment, a seed of doubt began to take root within you. The weight of secrecy hung heavy on your shoulders, burdening your conscience. You knew the consequences of such an illicit affair, the potential for scandal and disgrace that could bring ruin upon you both.

Yet, in those stolen moments, it was easy to forget about the world outside. Anakin's touch ignited a fire within you that could not be extinguished. His commanding presence combined with tender vulnerability made him irresistible. It felt as if the universe conspired for your bodies to collide, to find solace in each other.

So here you were yet again. Anakin dusty and sleep deprived, returning from battle unharmed physically, but the toll on his soul was heavy. You could see it in his eyes. And in the numbers which emerged from the ships, so many fewer than those who had left on them. 

His eyes met yours from across the hangar and you knew he needed you. Back in your chambers he had you shoved against the door, hot mouth biting harshly down your neck, onto your chest. 

“Force, I needed you. I need this.” 

Your breath caught in your throat as Anakin's lips trailed down your body. The familiar rush of desire flooded through you, eclipsing any sense of guilt or rational thought. In this moment, there was only the two of you, bound by an undeniable magnetic pull.

His hands roamed hungrily over your curves, igniting every nerve ending in their wake. Your skin burned under his touch, a testament to the intensity of the fire between you. As he claimed you with every fevered kiss and possessive stroke, the world outside ceased to exist.

“I want you right here, now.” He was on his knees then, mouth level with your burning core as he shoved your robes up to your hips. He was harsh and fast with his movements, desperate. 

The air in the chamber was thick with the scent of passion and the sound of your ragged breaths filled the room. Anakin's eyes, dark with desire, locked with yours as he continued to worship your body. The raw hunger in his gaze set your nerves ablaze, electrifying every inch of your being.

You clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh, as waves of pleasure coursed through you. The world around you blurred into a hazy euphoria, leaving only Anakin and the overwhelming sensations that consumed you.

“Oh Force, Anakin…”

“I could do this all day.” He said, stopping briefly and kissing up to your lower stomach before going back down again. Revelling in the feeling of your hands tangling in his hair.

Minutes passed in second and soon you were spilling into his face as he lapped you up. Hands moving up and down your legs to keep you steady, then just as you caught your breathe, he moved under your thighs and picked you up. 

Once his face was levelled with your once again he took your mouth in a hungry, desperate movement. Your slickness had left a tart flavour on his tongue as he consumed you, distracting you so much that you didn’t notice that he had lain you down on the bed. 

By time you realised, coming in and out of consciousness, he was already above you once again, and had already disposed of both of your robes. His heavy form pressed you down into the bed, strong arms reaching up and down your body, finally resting at the point where your two cores met. 

He nudged into you slowly, always giving you time to adjust to his size. He watched your face, his chin resting near your collar bone as he gazed at your open, gasping mouth, neck lent back into the pillows. He grinned an Anakin Skywalker grin, full of pride, and power, and anticipation, he revelled in your moans as he bottomed out inside of you. 

You were practically shaking, he cooed into your neck, kissing softly and moving slowly. The touch of his lips sent shivers down your spine, every sensation heightened as he moved.

Thrusts came in faster, an enthusiastic and increasingly wild rhythm that drove you wild, your nails digging into his skin as you urged him on. He plunged into you deeper, harder, your cries echoing in the chamber as his name tumbled from your lips."Anakin," you gasped, your back arching off the bed as you clung to him, his name a plea, a prayer, a desperate call to the force.

Soon he was groaning softly, his eyes fluttering shut as he reached his own peak. You could feel his body trembling as he poured himself into you. His climax was hot and intense, filling you completely, it was almost too much.

He collapsed onto you, his breath ragged and heavy, your skin sticking to his as your bodies mingled together. Your heart raced, your mind spinning, your body still impaled by his hard length. You could feel him still leaking out of you, so much of him must be staining your sheets but you couldn’t care. Not when it was him.

You looked down at him, the crease of frustration and fatigue which had dominated his forehead for weeks now, was faded. His breathing slow. You shut your eyes and smiled, you were the only one who could do this to him. The older General relied on you, on this time with you. And you were more than willing to oblige.

[chuluoyi]

UNHOLY MATRIMONY — 09

✩°｡ ⋆ all done

- fushiguro megumi x oc/reader - oc/reader's character name is hara sena, pronouns still refer to “you” and i won’t mention it often—just for the sake of aesthetic rather than repeatedly writing "y/n"

in another life, in which fate is still screwing his life over, Fushiguro Megumi finds himself in an arranged marriage―with you.

genre/warnings: arranged marriage au, full-blown angst, descriptions of misogynistic behavior, depression

notes: this was a bit hard to write, i ran out of vocabularies *sigh*

listen to: pretender - official hige dandism. this track hits hard after everything :(

series masterlist | next. a death wish

You felt cold. It was hard to breathe. Your heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst from your chest and your ears rang in a deafening crescendo.

Naoya was still laughing his head off. "I must admit, I'm utterly amazed. For a whore, you're remarkably cunning, I give you that."

Megumi spat out, hissing, "What are you talking about? What has she got to do with―"

"Oh but she has everything to do with this! She made deals, bribes, and manipulates the entire voting scheme―for you, or so I've heard!"

Megumi turned towards you. The overwhelming shock hit you like a tidal wave. You wanted to faint.

"Not even you know what she's capable of, it seems," Naoya taunted. "This is why we pick dumb women as wives, so that they can be kept in line."

"Sena," Megumi started, ignoring the manic twat and looking at you in abject disbelief. "What is he saying—" he appeared to make an effort to steady himself but failed, his chest heaving erratically. "—no. Is it true? What he said?"

"Me-Megumi..." you stammered, your body shaking. You felt lightheaded, and you weren't sure if you could offer him a coherent explanation at all. "I-it's not—that's not—!"

At that moment, Megumi could only feel dread. Everything he had known seemed to be nullified by the sight of you trembling before Naoya's blatant accusations.

You had bribed the elders to cast a vote for him instead? How? And why? Then, he caught sight of Gojo in the periphery of his vision, wearing a grim expression, and suddenly, everything fell into place.

Being called back to the Zen'in clan, your marriage, Naoya, why you pushed for him to become the clan head, and Gojo—all of it suddenly converged into a tangled web of understanding that made him freeze in place.

If that was the truth, then—

No, something still doesn't add up.

"But why? Why do you go this far?" he asked then, looking at you right in the eye. "What is your gain through—"

Naoya's cackles then filled his eardrums, and at that moment he realized that the bastard was the entire reason.

"You didn't want to marry him," he uttered in a low tone, slowly understanding. His heart hammered in his chest, each possible reasoning made him even more scared to find the ultimate truth. "It started from that, and Gojo-sensei—"

There was always a reason behind Gojo's actions. Even when he made it seem like he was acting on a whim, there was always a justifiable motive. Including adopting him. Megumi had suspected it even though he never said it out loud—he was still the best bargaining chip to the Zen'in after all. They had desired him, and the only reason they couldn't acquire him was Gojo's influence.

Which meant, from the very beginning, his return was also orchestrated through Gojo himself. In the right place and time, he could use him to exert control over Zen'in altogether. Megumi was too blinded with the prospect of releasing Tsumiki from her curse, and he took advantage of that.

"The two of you..." he trailed off. His heart pounded so hard that it was painful to even breathe, and he shuddered. This was too much.

His wife and his savior.

You and Gojo had wanted to put him up as Zen'in puppet clan head because you two had goals that only through him was achievable.

"Megumi!" Your frantic voice made him look up to you. "Please listen to me—"

He might have understood Gojo's ambitions. But you? How could you still go through with the plan to make him a clan head, even after knowing how he never wanted it in the first place?

Even though he has fallen in love with you? And you have fallen in love with him in return?

"I can't believe you," was the first thing that came out of his mouth. The sting of betrayal burned his chest, setting it aflame and engulfing him whole. "You are using me. All this time."

Tears pooled in your eyes, and he looked away. He couldn't bear to look at you at this moment.

There was no use to entertain the whole load of crappy Zen'in shitheads here any longer. This place was suffocating, so were your and Gojo's existences. He couldn't be here a second longer.

Megumi took resolute strides to depart from this wretched place.

"Megumi!" You were right behind him, calling out his name. He quickened his pace, refusing to look back.

"Please!" you begged. "I can explain! Please hear me out!"

He halted abruptly, nearly causing you to collide into him. Swiftly, he turned around to confront you, his expression strangely composed yet intimidating. It was the first time you had witnessed him this furious.

"Then explain," he coldly said.

"I—!" You went rigid, but you willed yourself to be calm. This moment was finally upon you. You owed him this, at the very least.

The intensity of his gaze, filled with a palpable sense of resentment and suspicion, made you feel nauseated. Even at this moment, your head throbbed, and you struggled to remain upright.

"I made a binding vow with Gojo," you began, and your heart shattered as you saw him shut his eyes and clench his fists. Witnessing him in such agony pained you deeply. "I turned to him after my father said I'd be married off to Naoya. I had no other choice, my father bound me to another vow to marry a Zen'in. You were still one by blood. I did it to free my mother—and for a chance of a better marriage."

Hearing it directly from you only fueled his rage. Megumi scowled. "It must have been fun to toy with someone's life and feelings. I didn't even have to be dragged into this, and yet you manipulated me into it."

"No, it wasn't!" you vehemently fired back. "I felt really, really guilty. But at the same time, I dreaded the day of you knowing. It’s unfair to you, I-I know."

"If you know that, you should have told me from the very beginning." Megumi's tone was harsh, unforgiving. "That way we could've settled it with a divorce and end it at that."

You whimpered as you struggled to hold back your sobs. This time, your own heart was the one shredded in pieces.

"I—" you choked on your own words, feeling your eyes welling up with oncoming tears. "I'm sorry. I-I'm really sorry, Megumi. I didn't mean to deceive you... Really..."

"If you were in my position, how would you feel?" he challenged, his anger still simmering. "Knowing that maybe, all of this—" he gestured into the empty space for emphasis, "—is built on deception. Realizing that the woman you love and the person you look up to were conspiring solely for their own benefit, never considering your feelings, and instead manipulating you like a pawn. How would you feel?"

His words struck a chord, and you cried harder, unable to give him a response.

"At least tell me this." Megumi fixed his gaze on you, and you noticed that he, too, had the beginnings of tears in his eyes. "From the beginning to the end, is that how you always see me? A means to your goals? Do you even love me at all?"

"I love you!" Amidst your clogging tears and the searing pain in your chest, that was one thing you could say with absolute certainty. "I love you. I love you, Megumi. After my mother died, I—really don't have anything left to live. I lost everything. You... when you said that you were going to stay with me then… I was so happy. It was the happiest I've ever been in my life."

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, voice quivering. "If t-there's nothing you can believe anymore... then, please, just believe this: I love you, Fushiguro Megumi."

"That's... just too convenient," he whispered, his voice tinged with a touch of brokenness as well. You wept at his answer. "After all this, how can I?"

He pondered all the moments you had shared together, and his chest tightened with the weight of the betrayal. Despite your straightforward confession, he found it hard to fully accept it at face value.

In his eyes, everything you said, did, or even looked like from that point onwards seemed like nothing but lies. You were suddenly the worst person to him.

"The fact remains that you used my feelings for your own gains." His words stabbed through your heart like a dagger. "If you really love me—why did you push your luck by getting me to be installed as the clan head? You know damn well I don't want that shit in the first place."

"That's—!"

“How did you even do that? What did you promise Zen’in Ogi and the rest of them so that you could make me—win this fucking thing?”

You suddenly felt shame all over. “They already dislike Naoya. I just—I just took advantage of that…”

“Right, that’s what you do best,” Megumi bitterly spat, and you flinched. “What will they gain if I come out as the victor? There’s more to that.”

“T-They… can drive Naoya away, and you… they simply want you because of your Ten Shadows Technique.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “You’re selling me off to them. That’s precisely what you are doing.”

“Me-Megumi…” The torrent of tears made you shiver. Now everything was out in the open, and even you couldn’t help but cringe at it. You were a cruel human being. “But trust me, I—”

“Did you plan all of this?” His eyes scorched yours, and you felt like this was the moment of truth. “Or was this Gojo’s doing and you were just going along with him?”

“I… he—it was one of the conditions of our binding vow—”

“Answer me. Yes or no.” Megumi attempted to steady himself, feeling his own composure wavering. The gravity of the situation rested on your response. If it wasn’t you, he might still find it in him to forgive you, he might still—

Your intensified weeping revealed the truth before any words could convey, however.

“Me… It’s all m-me...”

This was his last straw.

Your cries still hung in the air. “But Megumi! Please believe me when I said—”

"It's no use," he interjected, his gaze pierced and tore through you. "You don't have to say anything more. I can't find it in me to believe anything you say at this point."

"M-Megumi..." His frigid tone sliced through your tears, rendering you speechless and unable to articulate your thoughts. "P-Please..."

He abruptly spun on his heels and started to walk away. Panic surged within you, and a lump formed in your throat. Desperately, you reached out and grasped his arm tightly.

Megumi forcefully wrenched your hand off him, casting you a stern glare, fiery intensity that conveyed his resolute anger.

"Don't," he rasped. "It's done. We are done. I don't want to see you ever again."

With those words, he left you in utter devastation, in the middle of the gardens of Zen'in estate—the very same place he led you to during your wedding day.

Sobs wracked your whole body as you watched his retreating back. You had known that this day would come. You had known that your time with him was limited, with how you kept this terrible secret and played him like a fool. You know that, deep down, you know it—

Yet it hurts. So much. It really hurts. It felt like someone carved your chest open and brought your heart out for everyone to see. Every second was a scorching ache that made you want to chase after him desperately, but your broken heart tethered on your conscience, willing you back as you knew what was the best for him.

At the end of the day, it’s your fault. As you sunk to the numbness that overtook you, you began to realize that.

Three days later, everything still felt totally fresh out of a nightmare.

Megumi had left the apartment. He only went back once after the second hearing to grab a few things and that was it. Even when he was this furious, he didn’t drive you out of his place and instead, he was the one who left.

These days felt like a living hell. You barely ate, slept and did what any normal people did to survive. This time, you faced your sorrows alone, and you were drowning fast. The headache, queasiness, and sense of worthlessness that overwhelmed you lately didn’t help, if anything, it worsened your grief.

This time, you really hoped the earth would just swallow you whole, so that you would be freed from this pain.

You remembered how you desperately tried to explain yourself before him. You lamented to yourself bitterly—what could have you said anyway? Trust me, I love you. This is all for you? Such words wouldn’t make any difference. The fact remained that you played him like a fool, steering the destiny of his life with your own hands.

Nevertheless, you still had a life to live. And Naoya was still there, with the looming threat of his duel. You had to prevent that from happening somehow. Knowing Megumi, he would most likely ditch him, but seeing the current situation, Naoya wouldn’t let him go easily.

That was it. The final act you could do for him. You had enough of this and it was debt you were due of. You would release Megumi from the Zen’in clutches, and if you were lucky enough, you would bring Naoya down with you.

next : a death wish

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