#the boys are doing the dance of despair!

[affluent-havoc]

Execution

Despair Disease

Side note, got reminded of this song from these prompts. Also, this song is THE only reason I know how to spell "despair". No joke. Gosh. I feel old and I'm not even an OG T-T.

[peachsayshi]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ blessings ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

↬ summary: nanami kento tries to be the perfect husband and father but when a tough night fighting curses ends badly it results in nanami snapping at his daughter. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: nanami x female reader; hurt/comfort; nanami has a daughter; domestic drama; being a jujutsu sorcerer is hard; momotarō is a famous Japanese folk tale :c ↬･ wc: 3,383

↬ notes: hi, everyone! I'm currently not really active at the moment so please don't feel disheartened if I haven't been responding to your messages or tagged posts. I'm taking a small break and only coming online for a bit to catch up on some messages, read fics or queue posts. I'll be back to properly posting and interacting soon but in the meantime I wanted to share that I finished up this draft over the weekend. I was actually debating if I should post this but then just decided to go for it! sending all my love xx

nanami’s head is heavy, completely clouded with despair, and it tints his brown eyes a shade of murky gray. the walls of his beautiful home feel narrow, almost claustrophobic, which explains why he’s struggling to catch his breath right now. stepping into the hallway, he instinctively peeks into the dining area to find you and his daughter eating dinner together. she’s sitting on the chair, her legs far too short to even touch the ground, holding a half eaten onigiri between her small hands. you are by her side, sneakily tidying up after her as you brush away the stray beads of rice trickling onto the table. 

a little glow blooms in nanami’s heart at the sight of you both but there is a vicious creature residing in the pit of his stomach that veils the bright light away. 

he quietly takes off his jacket, his bruised fingers loosening the tie around his neck. he clears his throat before announcing with exhaustion to you both that he’s finally home. 

your eyes meet his, the muscles on your face falling immediately. he can practically feel the blood rushing through your veins as worry washes over you. the reaction makes his chest uncomfortably tight, but he knows that he can’t hide his expressions around you like he used to. 

you both move together so fluidly now, like a single body of water that ebbs and flows to its own natural current. 

he escaped the night’s fight with a few cuts and a couple of bad bruises, but there is currently a student on shoko’s table who barely made it through. the young man arrived at jujutsu tech only a couple of weeks ago, but his naive and charismatic qualities turned into fatal flaws in the world of sorcery.

he bit off more than he could chew by trying to take on a special grade curse.  

shoko promised nanami that she would heal the boy, but admitted there was only so much she can do in regards to the aftermath of his injuries. the sorcerer couldn’t bare to leave him behind, but gojo refused that he stay and insisted that he return back home to his pretty wife and adorable daughter immediately. 

“I’ll handle things from here,” is what his superior said, while nanami’s guilt climbed up his throat. 

that student was his responsibility... 

...and he failed him entirely. 

“papa’s home!” his daughter chirps. the pitch of her voice ringing in nanami’s ears to pull him back to the present and far away from the scene where life and death were dancing together in a tango.  “papa, look, look...mama and I made onigiri!” 

her feet bounces up and down, and there’s a touch of a pink against her cheeks when her mouth stretches into a beaming grin. the innocence in her eyes makes nanami falter and he can feel himself falling deeper into the abyss. for a minute he resents himself for selfishly bringing such a beautiful thing into this world, only to gamble with the fact that she may potentially be in his shoes one day. 

he begs for that outcome to never happen, beseeches whatever higher power above him that exists to spare her from this life. she should never have to go through this, never have to experience these heartbreaks that only wither a person down. 

“I can see that,” nanami replies in a low voice before shifting his attention to his feet. 

right now, he can’t stomach an ounce of her purity, and it radiates around her like a halo. she's so unbothered by his presence, so completely unaware of the sudden change in the atmosphere around her... 

“we made tuna, salmon, and veggies...” she babbles on. 

“how nice...” nanami curtly interrupts, before anxiously running his fingers through the strands of his messy blonde hair. 

“which one do you want, papa?” she questions eagerly, pointing her sticky hands at the plate to show off the selection of triangles. 

“sweets,” you interject just as nanami turns on his heel to walk in the other direction, “how about we finish up eating our dinner, and we can save some for your daddy tomorrow...”

“nooo!” she whines far too loudly, which forces nanami to stop dead in his tracks. he glances over his shoulder to see her puffing out her bottom lip with disappointment, “you said...you said we make it so we eat together!” 

she’s only six. 

she can’t perceive that her father is struggling to hold himself together. deep down inside nanami knows that, but it isn’t enough to keep his cool. he doesn’t know why his daughter’s insistence causes him to pinch the front of his brows with annoyance or why he shoots a frustrated look in her direction. 

he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly picturing shoko calling the student’s parents to deliver the news that the man who was supposed to protect their child was unsuccessful in his duty. 

he doesn’t know why he feels at fault for everything that happened, even though the circumstances of the events were completely out of his control.  

he doesn’t know why he’s imagining himself on the receiving end of a very similar call, or why he can’t stop picturing his precious daughter on that table instead…

all of this pummels into him, and the monster emerges out from it’s cave.  

“be quiet and stop making such a fuss.” 

his voice comes out sharper than expected, and the expulsion of his frustration allows him to see the crystal clear picture before him. 

the room is dead silent. 

your face is in full shock at the hissing tone of your sweet husband snapping at his darling baby girl who he only ever speaks to with a gentle voice. 

what truly unravels nanami is the look that his daughter is giving him - her angelic features are sullen, but her eyes remain wide with surprise. her bottom lip is slack, and the only sound he can hear is her uneasy breathing. her eyes, the most beautiful gems in existence, twinkle as tears begin to form and she tries to quickly blink them away before turning her attention back to her plate.  

nanami doesn’t know he managed to stop time itself but the three of you remain frozen in place. 

he regrets his words immediately. 

he wants nothing more than to pull his precious girl close into his chest and smother her with apologies. the part of him with sense tells him to follow through and make things right with her, but instead he begrudgingly continues to wallow in his own self pity as he walks over to his room. 

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

the house is unusually quiet now, the music of domestic joy morphing into hushed murmurs and whispers outside your room door. you settle your crestfallen daughter into her bedroom before moving to check on your husband next. 

fresh out of the shower, nanami is seated on the edge of the bed with his exhausted eyes pressed firmly into the palms of his hands. he exhales a heavy breath, his dirty work clothes still piled just outside the bathroom, and your heart nearly collapses seeing him in such a state of disarray.

you kneel before him, two hands sliding across the soft material of his sweats as you brush them along his thighs before carefully bringing them up to circle around his wrists. 

“kento?” 

he allows you to pull his palms away but your throat constricts when a band forms tightly around your neck. you swallow the lump with an upturn of your brows as you are greeted with red, exhausted eyes. you cup that handsome face in your hands, your thumbs sweetly motioning back and forth across his cheeks as you try to soothe the tension away. 

after all this time together, it hurts you to see that he still tries to hide his tears. nanami constantly holds himself to the highest standard, always ensuring that he can solidify himself as the rock for you and your daughter to depend on through thick and thin. it’s so rare for you to see him crack, to watch him crumble under the overbearing weight of the things that he is burdened to carry. 

“you had a rough night,” you point out in a low, sympathetic voice and he simply just nods his head in acknowledgement. 

his eyes flutter close again when you lean forward to press a tender, reassuring kiss on his brow. “you want a talk about it?” 

the way his voice shakes makes you shiver, but you tentatively listen as he relays the events of the night before finally concluding that satoru called him only a few minutes ago to reassure him that the student in question is alright. 

“he lost an eye, but at least he’s alive...” he concludes somberly, the warble in his final statement prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a protective hug. 

nanami receives it with gratitude, strong arms circling around your waist as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder and breathes in.

your scent is a reminder of his permanent sanctuary.

a safety, a reassurance of home.

you stroke his blonde locks between your fingers until he exhales, "i'm so sorry," he breathes, "I...I didn't mean to snap like that..."

a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you unravel yourself to cup his jaw into your palms once again. "I appreciate the apology, but I don't think I should be on the receiving end of it..." you hint sweetly.

nanami closes his eyes guiltily. "I'm a horrible father."

you click your tongue with disappointment, your face falling as your disapproval pinches between the space of your brows.

"you're just human," you remind him defensively, "you're a wonderful father, the best man that our daughter can look up to"

"did you see the look on her face?" he replies, his voice unnaturally small. the tender expression he gives you is filled with regret, and it's enough to make your heart ache all over again.

"kento," you contend, "don't do this to yourself. we're both going to have days where we mess up, but that doesn't mean that the problem can't be fixed."

you thread his hair between your fingers, like your brushing through rays sunlight. "she's waiting for me to read her a bedtime story," you explain, "but I'm sure she would rather be with you instead..."

"I doubt that," your husband replies as he reaches for your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.

"we will always love you, kento," you answer back, "unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

he didn't even know how desperately he needed to hear that, for your certainty to remedy away all his sorrows, until they actually left your lips.

your husband's throat tightens, tears pricking his eyes once more but he hides them away when he leans in to seek out a kiss from the woman whose heart he deeply adores.

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

nanami leans his shoulder against the frame of his daughter's room. his heart patters lightly, making him realize that he might actually be nervous. it's strange, he thinks, that he would feel hesitant to approach his own child considering that he was her guardian but nanami had never allowed his professional life to fracture into his personal one like this before.

she's seated on the floor next to a pile of books and her stuffed rabbit secured tightly underneath her arm. there's a warmth in his chest when when he makes note of the soft toy, because he purchased that himself the day she was born and the pair have been inseparable ever since.

he clears his throat, bringing his scuffed knuckles to gently knock on the door.

"my love?" he calls out to her.

his daughter perks up, her breathing changing slightly as it rises and falls with a hint of apprehension. she glances over her shoulder to see him.

"where's mama?" she asks, her question shattering the man into a million pieces at her subtle dismissal.

"taking a shower," he answers cooly, "but I'm here to get you ready for bed..."

her lovely eyes refuse to lock into his own, and she simply tucks her lip between her bottom teeth to avoid giving nanami a reply.

she looks so much like him when he was a child. he remembered when his parents used to scold him too, and how he would also hide away in his room. the only difference is that nanami's parents were far more traditional - a time where elders were never submissive to young hearts.

"may I come in?" he requests politely, ensuring that his daughter knew she had a choice if she wanted to speak to him.

her nostrils flare slightly while she considers him, but to his relief she nods her head eagerly.

nanami steps into her room, always feeling largely out of place amongst her things. "did you find a story for bed?" he asks.

she again quietly nods her head and picks up her favorite book; a compilation of japanese folktales with beautiful illustrations. you both have been reading one for her each night ever since she got it it as a present from her grandparents.

he crouches on his knees to meet her at eye level. "you've really been enjoying this one, haven't you?" he carries on, hoping to coax more words out of her.

“yeah,” she replies in the same mousy voice of uncertainty. she shifts her attention away when she stands on her feet, clutching onto the stuffed bunny tightly while her other hand swings the book by her side.

“and what tale are we reading tonight?”

she shrugs her shoulders with indifference, a hint of pink blushing her cheek. “I dunno. I…I can just until mama is ready…”

nanami visibly slumps. her rejection an entirely new painful experience that he's never endured before. he scratches the back of his head anxiously, finding himself at a loss for words. the seconds pass, an awkward bubble surrounding both father and daughter. it’s only broken when nanami exhales a sigh, and reaches his hands towards her waist to draw her into his frame.

“darling,” he addresses tenderly, “can you look at me?”

“no, you were mean…” she blurts out, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

nanami’s heart sinks.

that’s the first time he’s ever heard those words from her lips.

“I know,” he murmurs shamefully.

her mouth forms into a tiny button of a pout but she meets his eyes for the first time as he acknowledges his behavior.

nanami arches forward to kiss her forehead, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. I’m so sorry if I upset or scared you”

she fidgets with the book in her hand. “did you not want onigiri?” she asks, her innocence tugging the corners of her father’s lips into a small grin.

“it wasn’t the onigiri, my love,” he reassures, “daddy just…had a bad day at work…”

“why was it bad?”

nanami sighs once again.

she still doesn’t know that he’s a sorcerer. you’ve both reduced his position to her by simply explaining that nanami “helps and protects people".

thankfully your daughter doesn’t pry too hard to ask any further questions.

“someone I know got hurt. so, daddy was a little shaken up when he came home…”

"shaken up?"

"scared, my love"

his daughter shakes her head in disbelief, “nu-uh, you never get scared, papa” she rebuts.

nanami huffs out a laugh, flashing her a full grin now as he brings his fingers to his chin to to ponder her sweet statement. he quirks his brow and cheekily replies, "we can't all be brave like you," in an attempt to lighten the mood.

his daughter narrows her eyes towards his hand, her mind instantly distracted with other things already. "you got hurt too papa!" she gasps, dropping the bunny by her side to point at his knuckles.

nanami glances at his fingers covered in red marks.

"wait!" she exclaims as she places the book by his side. "I have something!"

she spins on her heel and rushes towards one of her drawers. meanwhile, nanami just takes her in with his love soaked eyes, watching as she rummages through her stuff with determination until she scurries back his way.

"got it!" she squeaks with a smile, and to his surprise she jumps right into his arms with such nonchalance it nearly make him crumble on the spot.

your voice echoes in the back of his mind: "we will always love you, kento. unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

"mama bought it for me," she explains, regaining her father's attention once more.

nanami rests his cheek on her shoulder, and inhales her powdery scent as he keeps one arm warmly secured around her waist. he watches her peel off the plaster of the band aid, lbefore grabbing his hand and placing it unevenly over his knuckles.

"now a kiss!" she adds, as she brings his hand to her mouth and exaggerates a loud "mwah" sound for emphasis. "mama says the kiss is what makes it all better"

nanami instantly feels significantly better from this remedy of love. he extends his digits out, and looks at the hot pink "hello kitty" band aid that now rests comfortably on his knuckles.

"thank you, my darling," he coos and peppers her cheek with a few kisses before turning her to face him once again. "you made me feel a lot better"

she flashes him an equally large smile in return, showing off her missing teeth.

"I did?"

nanami chuckles as he scoops her up in his arms to give her a well deserved bear hug. she laughs as he stands on his two feet, and sheds away any lingering thoughts of apprehension that may have stuck.

"you always do," he reassures, his soul vibrating back to life when he feels her return his embrace. “you think you can forgive me for how I spoke earlier?”

“yeah,” she confirms and squeezes him just a little tighter. "I love you lots, papa"

"oh, my angel," he hums, "you have no idea just how much I love you too..."

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

after winding down from your evening pampering session, you decide to pass by your daughter's room to check on your little family. you peer through the cracked door to find nanami spread out on your daughter’s bed, with your daughter curled into side and her head resting on his chest.

“did I come from a peach too like momotarō?” you hear her ask, but your heart flutters at the sight of your husband’s pearly whites.

you’ll never get over how much you love seeing him smile with such genuine emotion.

“no,” you hear nanami reply calmly, his finger lightly holding the page open. “you remember your mother explaining how you used to live in her stomach first?”

“oh yeah,” your daughter replies with a hint of disappointment over the fact that she was not birthed from a piece of fruit as mentioned in one of her favorite folk tales.

“shall I carry on?”

“uh-huh,” she answers and she readjusts her position to get even more comfortable. "I think if we look hard enough we might find momotarō..."

"you think so?" your husband wonders with honest curiosity.

"I know so, papa!"

"how many peaches do you think we need to check?"

"hmmm," she mumbles, "maybe a million?"

"a million?" your husband dramatically replies, "that's a lot of peaches don't you think,"

"I mean, it's less than a billion..." she responds quite matter of factly.

you catch his gaze from between the door that’s ajar. his expression fully relaxes, and you smile knowingly in his direction at the sight of father and daughter making up.

“papa?” his daughter questions upon his sudden silence, but your husband keeps his focus on you as he hums in acknowledgement before replying, "you're not wrong, but it'll still be quite a challenge to cut through a million peaches..."

"we might need some help," your daughter adds on.

you blow him a secret kiss as to not interrupt further, and quietly close the door before heading back to your bedroom.

[fairyofshampgyu]

☆ Lost !

genre: smut, fairy au

pairing: sub fairy ! gyu x gn ! dom human ! reader

synopsis: in essence, eating out the mischievous and immensely pretty fairy beomgyu as a bargain when you find yourself lost in the forest.

warnings: boy pussy gyu !!! sub! gyu, dom! reader, beomgyu’s kinda a brat, degrading, squirting, overstim, eating out, fingering, hair pulling, pussy slapping, dacryphilia

word count: 1.5k

You wandered aimlessly through the forest at wits end. You’d been here for hours trying to find your way back out but the forest was much like an ever changing maze. As soon as you thought you’d found a way out, the trees and plants would shift and morph into completely different pathways, rendering you hopeless and frustrated.

It was only getting darker as well, much to your distress. And you didn’t want to stick around to know what the place would be like at night. You knew of the stories.

Just when despair threatened to overwhelm you, you stumbled upon a small clearing bathed in soft light, the ground carpeted with lush moss, and delicate flowers blooming in vibrant hues, mushrooms clustered around the perimeter.

In the centre, sat a figure amidst a bed of wildflowers, weaving intricate crowns with his hands—a fairy. He was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen. Flower crown sitting on his long, silky, soft hair cascaded across his ethereally sculpted face. Face and body all glittery and shimmery and his cheeks were so naturally pink and blushed like the pink tulips that sat around him. You were quite in awe honestly.

His gaze lingers on you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, eyes sparkling with mischief and an impish grin playing upon his lips as he regarded you with some sort of knowing gaze, still continuing to make his flower crowns.

“Lost, are we?” He raises a brow, seemingly finding your predicament humorous.

“Yes.” You stand tall, trying to appear more confident to the fairy. You also didn’t think it was funny at all. When he doesn’t say anything but chuckle in response and directs his attention to his flower crowns again, you speak up, irritated with his behaviour. “You’re a fairy aren’t you? You’d know the way out?”

“…Yes” He looks up at you again, still smiling annoyingly.

“So…Show me then?.”

“Hmm…” He faux ponders, finger to his lips and grinning, “I don’t think i will.”

Your eyebrows furrow, patience wearing thin. “Why not?”

“Because it’s funny seeing humans so helpless.” The fairy’s laughter fills the air as he shakes his head, eyes dancing with amusement.

You just stand in disbelief. The sun had already set now! Fear and desperation already starting to kick in that you find yourself begging and pleading the fairy instead of blowing up in pure anger at him. “Just show me the way. Please! I’d do anything.”

His ears perk at that. “Kiss me.”

“What?!”

“If you kiss me good enough, I’ll help you.” He lays back, propped on his elbows, lips curled in a grin and trying to stifle his laugh. You really want to slap it off his face.

You scoff incredulously.

“What? Don’t want to kiss me?” Brow raised as if testing you. Like he didn’t think you actually would. It pissed you off even more. You’d heard fairies loved to make stupid deals for absolutely no reason with humans and other creatures. This must be one.

He still stares up at you, completely delighted, waiting. You roll your eyes, reluctantly approaching him on the ground of moss, grabbing a fistful of his shirt rather roughly and tugging him closer to you. He seems to like it though, getting excited.

Looking down at his lips, you can’t even deny how enticing they looked. Pretty and plump and round and glossy. You’d heard of the fairies being pretty seducing. You can’t say you’re not completely entranced by the pretty boy right now.

You’ll just put him in his place.

So you smash your lips with his, making out with him fervently, both your mouths moving and smacking against each other and the pretty boy is so into it, already getting worked up by how aggressively you kiss him and with no regard. You bite at his bottom lip and he gasps, you continuing to suck harshly and bite at them.

It practically feels like you’re melting kissing the fairy boy, you don’t what it is but his lips were so soft and…everything.

You begin the attack on his pretty neck instead, trailing rough kisses down and leaving purple and pink marks in return, hand entangling in the strands of his long hair, tugging and pulling that makes him whine into your mouth even louder, pulling on his hair roughly and leaving hickeys on his sensitive neck. You don’t even know how long it goes on for.

Suddenly, your pulling away and it makes him pout and huff, eyes dazed but frows burrowing and trying to pull you back into him but you hold onto his dainty wrists and stop him, shoving him down on the ground again.

Instead, you move down on the grass and grip his pretty little thighs concerningly tight, spreading his legs, met with his panties that don’t do much to cover anything what with the wet patch on them now. You chuckle and he tries to close his legs in embarrassment but you open them wider, lightly tracing your fingers on his clothed pussy that makes him positively squirm and squeal. So sensitive…

You continue to tease him, lightly brushing and thumbing over his panties until he’s fully drenched and whimpering over the light contact. He can’t take it anymore.

“Take them off… actually touch mee” Beomgyu whines brattily, groaning and panting.

“Beg for it. Then I’ll see.”

It shuts him up instantly, pouting and furrowing his brows again, as if contemplating whether it was worth it, “Don’t want to.”

“Brat.” You stop all contact and he’s quick to blurt his pleads out instantly in distress. It’s entertaining seeing the fairy like this now.

Roughly tugging his cute panties to the side, you stop in your tracks momentarily. It’s the prettiest pussy you’ve ever seen in your life, puffy and pink and glistening, so wet already, practically dripping onto the ground it’s insane. It’s making you so insane.

You don’t waste any time, licking a long stripe of his pussy from his clit to his hole and it has him taking a sharp intake of breath, you can feel his thighs shake in your grip just from that and his eyes close shut, positively squealing and squirmy.

You bury your face in him after that, scent so sweet and you begin to practically make out with his pussy, flicking your tongue over his clit then wrapping your entire lips around them, sucking harshly and he’s shivering immensely, prettiest choked up moans coming out of him, head reeling back and mouth agape.

Still sucking on his pretty clit, you bring two of your other fingers to his hole, not giving him a second of reprieve, and shoving them inside his warm and tight pussy, fingering him at the same speed you suck on him, hammering them into him, his head lolled back and his eyes almost cross eyed, dumbly drooling.

It’s not long before you can feel him clamp down on your fingers so tight, and he’s cumming, legs and thighs shaking like a leaf, seeing starts he doesn’t even know what to do, prettiest most mellifluous sounds eliciting from his lips.

It was a sight to see, whole body completely flushed, hair all tousled and messed up and damp from the sweat, eyebrows creased and eyes closing open and shut, eyelashes fluttering sexily kissing the tops of his red cheeks, plump lips parted and jaw slack. He looked so slutty.

But you don’t break away, instead you grip on the sides of his hips probabaly bruising them and pulling him onto your face even further, tongue flat on his clit as he merely mewls and cries, way too sensitive. It hurts but it also feels too good, he shakes his head nonetheless, squeezing his eyes shut and whimpering.

“T-too muchhh” The fairy sniffles, trying so hard to shut his trembling legs.

“Slut. Stay still.” You forcefully keep his legs open, gripping even tighter onto the flesh of his thighs. You reach your hand up and lightly slap his abused cunt, he yelps almost instantly.

“Say it. Tell me how much of a slut you are.”

He can’t get the words out, can’t even think to get the words out of his mouth as you continuously slap his now even more swollen, absolutely pink puffy pussy.

“hah-! fffuu, m’ just a slut!” He cries and wails. “Just your slut.” There’s tears streaming down his face now, sobbing, doe eyed and glassy, so so, so, so pretty.

He trembles and shakes even more if it were possible, legs thrashing and thighs clenching when you feel his juices gush out and squirting, screaming and squirming, not expecting to squirt, eyes rolling straight to the back of his head.

You lap up all his juices and press a final little kiss to his pussy before you completely stop.

The pretty fairy boy goes limp, laying in the bed of flowers, panting and gasping heavily, so embarrassed from squirting, he attempts to hide face in his hands, face so incredibly pink and flushed. But you’re taking his hand away so you can cup his hot cheeks and coo at him, kissing at his forehead instead.

When he’s finally recovered, his mouth curls into a playful grin gazing at you as you both lay next to each other in the flowers, his eyes sparkling with mischief again.

“Good enough for you?” You sarcastically ask him, knowing how absolutely disheveled he looked right now, the sweat only making his glittery face and body even more shiny and ethereal.

He chuckles, still breathless and nods. “Too good even, I might not want to let you go. Kinda want to keep you forever…”

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and irriating when fics have such little reblogs ☹️. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it make writers want to actually write :)

A/n: this is super messy and makes no sense I’m sorry 🤞 just wanted to experiment with boypussy gyu though I know it’s not many’s cup of tea !

[yuutaok]

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Spring Leaves, But I Never Will

Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

In the eerie mountain forest, you seek to find what is missing. Lost and disoriented, you encounter a mysterious boy with eyes like the dead, his presence is captivating. With a gentle hand, he beckons you, and you follow.

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Word Count: ~4.4K

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Content Warnings: 18+ MDNI (Minors Do Not Interact), P in V, AFAB! Reader, prone bone, unprotected sex, creampies, posessiveness, supernatural/paranormal stuff happens, open-ended ending, Reader is lost in a forest and meets Yuuta, Yuuta is a freak

⊹ ‧₊˚✿ Author's note: Hiii I am back with a vengeance. Belated birthday fic for Yuuta ♡ Life exploded me so I never got the chance to finish until now. Also, I would like to thank Sen (@/ banjjakz) for inspiring some of the horror aspects of this <3 They have such a lovely way of writing such mysterious horror that I deeply wanted to try my hand at, so please go read their Yuuta fics bc they are sooooo delicious ok I'll stop swooning now byeeeeee

Lost amidst the dense, foreboding forests of the mountains, you trudged forward, the fading sunlight casting long shadows across the winding trail. Your heart felt heavy with the weight of recent events, the memory of your painful breakup still fresh in your mind. It had only been a couple of days, of course your heart would still hurt and your hands would still shake. And still, the need to escape, to clear your head and find solace amidst the solitude of nature, had driven you to embark on this day-hike alone.

The townsfolk often whispered about this mountain as a haunt for the heartbroken.

And so, here you were.

The hike was pleasant. You took the time to leisurely look at every interesting formed rock or beautiful sprouting flower that you had stumbled upon. Spring had just begun and it felt nice to be in the calm serenity of nature. You took care to not stray too far from the beaten path but still found your way crunching through the trees to look at specimens that caught your eye. It was a great way to get your mind off of things, to forget about life for just a moment.

But now, as the sky darkened and the woods grew eerily silent around you, regret gnawed at the edges of your resolve. Perhaps venturing into the wilderness alone had been a mistake, a reckless act born of heartache. Panic tightened its grip on your chest as you realized that dusk was fast approaching, and you had yet to find your way back to civilization.

With each step you took through the dense undergrowth of the forest, the sense of urgency weighed heavy on your shoulders. Nervously, you glanced at the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower and lower, casting long shadows that danced ominously through the trees. Hope flickered like a dying flame within you, faltering as the daylight waned faster than anticipated.

Your mind wandered to the rumors that had long circulated about the mountain, tales of heartbroken souls seeking solace among the towering trees, only to vanish without a trace.

It was said that the forest held secrets whispered confessions etched into the bark of the old oak trees, and love letters left behind by those who had come seeking solace from their pain. But these were not ordinary declarations of affection; they were haunting, twisted reflections of despair, each word filled with grief, obsession, and heartbreak. You have heard people say that love is the worst curse of all.

Some claimed to have heard mournful voices echoing through the woods, the ghostly whispers of lovers calling out into the darkness, their cries fading into gusts of wind and rustling leaves. Others spoke of strange symbols carved into the earth, cryptic messages left behind by those who had succumbed to the forest's embrace.

You still had decided to come, despite the unsubstantiated rumors that were whispered by the old grannies in the surrounding town. You’d be damned if you suffocated under the weight of your heartache. But as you delved deeper and deeper into the forest, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched— honestly, maybe the old ladies knew something you didn’t.

Panic clawed at the edges of your mind, threatening to consume you whole. Desperate, you called out into the silent woods, your voice echoing into the vast expanse of darkness that surrounded you, “Hello…? Is anybody out there? Can anyone hear me?”

But the only response was the feeling of eyes on the back of your head and the haunting whisper of the wind through the branches, carrying with it a sense of desolation that chilled you to the bone.

With each passing moment, the forest seemed to close in around you, its shadows stretching like grasping fingers eager to ensnare their prey. You were never quite fond of the dark.

Heart pounding, you broke into a run, stumbling through the underbrush in a frantic search for anything familiar. Each rustle of leaves and snap of twigs beneath your feet sent a jolt of fear coursing through your veins, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you raced against the encroaching darkness.

And then, just as panic threatened to consume you whole, you burst through a thicket of bushes, only to collide with an unexpected figure standing in your path. The air left your lungs as you fell flat on your ass.

You looked up at what, or who, you had just crashed head-on into.

It was a boy, his dark eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity as he regarded you with an enigmatic smile, despite you just pummeling into him with your full force. The shock of the encounter left you speechless, frozen in place as the realization dawned that you were not alone in the woods after all.

You made eye contact with the stranger, and a chill swept through the air, sending a shiver down your spine. His dark hair fell in tousled waves, framing his pale face in an unsettling contrast. His tired eyes bore into you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. A curtain of bangs parted across his forehead, framing his features in a shadowy veil. His lips twisted into a smile and held a hint of something that lurked just beneath the surface.

There was an undeniable aura of unease that surrounded the boy, a sense of foreboding that lingered in the air like a haunting melody. As he extended a hand towards you, offering salvation in the darkness, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something deeply unsettling about him.

"Are you lost?" he asked, his voice low and soothing. "It's dangerous to be out here alone at night. I can lead you to safety."

You looked up at the stranger incredulously, as if you would be dumb enough to follow a stranger you met out in the woods!

Sending your apprehension, the raven-haired boy smiles kindly, “I promise, I don’t bite. Please, it’s getting late and I don’t think I could live with myself if I left you out here by yourself.”

Weighing out your options, you realized that maybe this was your best choice. It’s either that or freezing out in the woods, or better yet being eaten by some wild animal that you hardly can find yourself against.

You looked around, dazed. With darkness closing in around you and no other options in sight, you accepted his offer.

“Alright,” you sighed. “But please don’t try anything, I’ve been told I have a killer right hook.”

He looks at you, obviously amused, “Of course, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

And begrudgingly you had to admit, despite everything in your body screaming for you to keep running, you felt completely and utterly relieved to see him.

As you followed the raven-haired boy deeper into the woods, the sense of unease only intensified, wrapping around you like a suffocating cloak. "Where are we going?" you finally asked, your voice trembling slightly with apprehension.

His dark eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion as he turned to face you, his expression guarded yet strangely calm. "To my cabin," he replied, his voice low and steady. "It's not far from here. You'll be safe there for the night. You can rest for as long as you need to."

Though his words offered reassurance, there was a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. You had heard stories of people disappearing in these woods, never to be seen again, and the thought sent a chill down your spine.

There was something about the dark-haired man that unsettled you, something that whispered of hidden dangers lurking beneath his calm exterior. And even so, something about him drew you in, made you feel so immediately safe with him.

"Who are you?" you pressed, your voice wavering with a mix of fear and curiosity. "And why were you out here alone?"

Yuuta hesitated for a moment as if weighing his words carefully. "My name is Yuuta Okkotsu," he said finally, his gaze meeting yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. "I live in the woods, away from civilization. As for why I was out here...let's just say I have my reasons."

His cryptic response only fueled your apprehension, but as the darkness closed in around you and the sound of rustling leaves filled the air, you realized that you had little choice but to trust him, at least for now. With a nod of reluctant acceptance, you followed Yuuta deeper into the woods, praying that you had not just made a grave mistake.

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

His cabin appeared suddenly, a rustic structure nestled amidst the towering trees, its windows glowing with the warm light of a fire within.

"I don't usually invite strangers into my home," Yuuta admitted, his gaze lingering on you with a mix of curiosity and something you couldn’t quite place your finger on. "But I can't leave you out here alone. You're welcome to stay until morning." Though grateful for his offer of shelter, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over you like a shroud.

There was something about Yuuta's demeanor, a subtle intensity in his gaze, that sent shivers down your spine.

You stepped into Yuuta's cabin, grateful for the warmth and shelter it offered. The cozy interior enveloped you in a comforting embrace, dispelling some of the tension that had gripped you since your encounter in the woods. It was humorous actually, how warm the cabin felt in comparison to the uneasiness its owner gave you.

“Home sweet home,” Yuuta said as he took your coat and nodded his head for you to follow him.

Yuuta wasted no time in playing the role of a gracious host, offering you a change of clothes and access to his shower. His bathroom was neat, he didn’t have much, just the basics, but it was still appreciated nonetheless.

As the hot water washed away the dirt and grime of the forest, you felt a sense of relaxation seeping into your bones, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves.

Emerging from the shower feeling refreshed and revitalized. You found Yuuta busy in the kitchen, a delicious aroma of spices and savory delights wafting through the air.

As you peered over his shoulder, you caught a glimpse of the bubbling pot on the stove, filled with rich, fragrant curry. The sight stirred memories of comforting meals shared with loved ones, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia. "That smells amazing," you murmured, your mouth watering at the thought of indulging in the hearty dish.

Yuuta glanced up from his cooking, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's just a simple curry," he said modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice. "But I find that simple comforts are often the most satisfying."

You offered to help, eager to contribute to the meal in some way, but Yuuta shook his head gently. "No need to trouble yourself," he insisted, his gaze softening as he gestured for you to take a seat at the table. "Relax and settle down. I'll take care of everything."

Though you hesitated for a moment, the warmth of Yuuta's demeanor and the promise of a delicious meal were too enticing to resist. With a grateful smile, you sank into a chair, content to watch as Yuuta worked his culinary magic, the comforting rhythm of his movements lulling you into a sense of peace and contentment.

As you settled into Yuuta's cabin, you couldn't help but take in your surroundings with a sense of curiosity. The interior was simple yet cozy, with polished wooden floors that creaked softly underfoot and walls adorned with faded photographs and intricate tapestries.

The cabin had a rustic charm to it, its bare furnishings lending an air of simplicity to the space. Yet, despite its minimalistic design, everything seemed meticulously arranged, each item in its rightful place. There was a sense of order and precision that spoke to Yuuta's meticulous nature, a trait that you found oddly comforting.

On the shelves lining the walls, you noticed an eclectic array of books, their well-worn spines bearing the marks of countless readings. From classic literature to obscure texts on folklore and mysticism, the collection spoke of a curious mind.

Nearby, a shelf displayed a collection of handmade erasers, their vibrant colors and whimsical shapes. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of these charming little creatures. There was a sense of warmth and homeliness to Yuuta's cabin that made you feel strangely at ease. It was as if the space itself radiated a sense of comfort and belonging, welcoming you with open arms into its cozy embrace.

Before you knew it, the food was done and Yuuta served you a steaming plate.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said, nervous.

“It’s my pleasure,” Yuuta replied.

With the two of you sitting down to eat, you found yourself opening up to Yuuta in a way you hadn't expected. You told him about your recent breakup, the pain and heartache that had driven you to seek solace in the wilderness.

Yuuta listened attentively, his dark eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that surprised you. "It's dangerous to be out in the woods alone," he said softly, his voice tinged with a note of concern. "Who knows what evils could be lurking in the darkness? I'm glad I found you when I did." A chill ran down your spine.

Though he had shown you nothing but kindness, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling of anxiety that crept up around Yuuta's presence. He was good company, however, and you worked hard to ignore the way your hands clammed up and each hair on your skin stood up when he leaned in closer to speak with you. You chalked it up to your nerves.

The two of you continued to converse, him asking you more about your life and you asking about his. As Yuuta shared snippets of his past, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you couldn't quite explain. There was a sort of charm to him, an undeniable allure. Despite the lingering doubts that were dancing in the back of your mind, you couldn't deny the attraction you had towards him. You felt like a moth catching fire as it approached an open flame.

With a sigh, Yuuta leaned back against the cushions, his gaze drifting to the dancing flames of his fireplace as if lost in thought. "You know," he begins, his voice a low, melodic murmur that sends shivers down your spine, "I wasn't always a hermit living in the woods." His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken sorrow.

"What happened?" you ventured softly, your voice barely more than a whisper, to not disturb the mood.

Yuuta's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of sadness lurking in the depths of his dark eyes. "I used to live in the city, surrounded by noise and chaos," he admitted, his words tinged with bitterness. "But... I lost someone very dear to me." His voice trailed off, grief etched into the lines of his face.

"She was my childhood sweetheart," he continued, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking the words aloud pains him. "We were inseparable, bound together by pure, untainted, love.”

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of the wind outside. "She was taken from me," Yuuta murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "And I... I couldn't bear to stay in that world any longer."

As he spoke, you sensed the weight of his sorrow pressing down on him, a burden too heavy for one mere person to bear alone. "I tried to move on, to forget her and the pain of losing her," Yuuta admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But no matter how hard I tried, I could never escape the memories of our time together."

“So I left," he confessed, "I left everything behind and retreated into the solitude of the forest, hoping to find something to fill the hole in my heart.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sorrow, and you could not help but feel a surge of empathy for the man before you. At that moment, you realize that Yuuta and you are not so different after all, both haunted by heartbreak, seeking solace in the expanse of trees. In his eyes, you saw a reflection of your desires, a longing for connection and understanding.

But even as your heart yearned to unravel the secrets hidden within Yuuta’s dark and mangled heart, a sense of unease lingered at the edges of your consciousness. There was still something unsettling about the way the shadows seemed to dance around him, as if alive with an energy of their own. Something you couldn’t quite put your finger on…

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

As the night stretched on, the air thick with a palpable tension, you felt a strange sense of drowsiness wash over you. Your eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion as you let out a quiet yawn.

With a soft smile, Yuuta reached out to you. His was touch gentle, yet firm, possessive even. You felt yourself lean into his touch as if he weaved an invisible spell around you.

"You look tired," he murmured, his voice a soothing melody that seemed to echo with the whispers of the forest itself. "Come with me, let me take care of you."

His words washed over you like a warm embrace, dispelling the last glimmers of doubt and fear as you allow yourself to be guided by his steady hand. With a silent nod, you allowed Yuuta to lead you to the bedroom, the warmth of his presence enveloping you like a protective shield as you sank into the soft embrace of the bed.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting shadows across the walls like dancing spirits. He leaned over you, his body flush against yours, his hand steady and reassuring against your skin.

As you lay there, the haze of drowsiness clouding your senses, you felt Yuuta begin to pull away. You grasped at the hem of his shirt, silently begging him not to go.

His features were veiled by the shroud of night, his smile, though unseen, seemed to materialize in the darkness. With a gentle pull, you drew him down to lay beside you.

"Do you want me to stay?" Yuuta's voice, a soft murmur, caressed your ear as his head nestled against your shoulder.

"Yes," you found yourself pleading, the words slipping from your lips in a whispered plea. "Don't leave."

Yuuta's lips brushed gently against your neck, his touch tender yet possessive. "I won’t,” he murmured, “I won’t ever leave,” his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,”

In your sleepy state, you found yourself melting into his touch. Yuuta's kisses trailed a path of fire along your skin. Each kiss was a feather-light caress that seeped into each layer of your skin, burning you from the inside out.

Slowly, he moved up your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake as he explored every inch of your skin with adoration.

As Yuuta's lips found their way to your jaw, you felt yourself melting into his embrace, lost in the dizzying whirlwind that you now understood as Yuuta Okkotsu.

His movements were calm and deliberate, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explored every curve and contour of your body with dedicated devotion. Each touch left you yearning for more. You would die if it meant you could feel this loved forever.

Soon enough, Yuuta’s lips found yours, his kisses both tender and possessive, his passion evident in the way he claimed your lips.

As his lips danced with yours, you found yourself with the thought of never being apart from him. It filled you with a sense of completion. You could feel the depth of his devotion. Could he feel yours?

As if to answer your question, Yuuta’s touch became more urgent, his hands roaming over your body with a ravenous hunger. You felt happy that you could be consumed so ardently, that you found yourself secretly hoping that you at least tasted good.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you realized Yuuta was removing your borrowed clothes bit by bit. He made sure you were left in your panties.

His strong hands moved to caress your bare skin, his fingers leaving imprints on your body. Yuuta’s nails and grip dug into your skin as he kissed you. His hands moved to explore every curve and contour of your body with a reverence that bordered on worship. You wondered if he was trying to memorize every inch of you.

You leaned up to deepen the kiss, which only furthered Yuuta’s excitement. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his touch seeming eager, desperate, or perhaps so incredibly lonely, even.

Yuuta’s wet kisses left you dizzy, your senses were overwhelmed by him. Noticing the strain between his legs, you reached your hands down to unbutton his pants & paw at his boxers. Yuuta obliged by tossing them off to the side with your lost articles of clothing.

You moved to guide his hips to meet yours. With him between your legs, you moved to grind against him. You both gasped as his hard member pressed against your soaked panties.

You look up to see his reaction but notice something in Yuuta’s eyes become dark. His grip on your hips became tighter as his nails dug crescents into your soft skin.

Yuuta took this moment to grind himself deeper into you, his cock sliding between the lips of your pussy soaked panties. You let out a wanton moan, grinding back against him, desperate for any form of friction or release. You felt his cock rub against your swollen clit, moving back and forth in a way that left you crying out for more.

As Yuuta continued to tease you, he paused for a moment, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice, "Do you want this?”

You shivered, a chill running down your spine.

With a hitched breath, you nodded.

“Will you be mine?" He asked, his eyes peering deep and dark into your own. You felt like he could see right into you like he was clawing his way into your soul to make a home in it.

You were okay with that.

You nodded again, “Yes, I’ll always be yours.”

With a glassy darkness in his eyes, he flipped you over onto your stomach, his movements rough and commanding as he positioned himself behind you. He tsk’ed as he ripped your ruined panties off, throwing off into the darkness of the room.

Well, you didn’t need those, anyway.

You could feel the heat of his breath against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll make it so you can’t ever think to leave,” sending shivers down your spine.

Yuuta trailed hot kisses along your skin as he positioned himself above you. With a low moan, he pressed himself against you, the throbbing hardness of his member seeking entrance to your dripping heat.

And then, with a thrust, he entered you. Yuuta’s hands gripped your ass as he slowly sunk his hard length into your wet core. You sucked in a breath, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as he filled your pussy completely. He was big. So much bigger than you anticipated.

‘We fit together perfectly’, you thought to yourself.

His pace was slow, with him getting used to the tightness of your cunt. You looked up at him with adoration as he leaned over your shoulder to give you a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. A trail of saliva left between your lips when you parted.

Yuuta’s spent no extra moment finding his stride, his movements becoming rough and unyielding as he fucks you with such devoted reverence. You’re helpless. All you could do was beg for more as you gulped in the air.

It’s obscene, the way he makes you moan. You’re powerless to fight against the way he makes your heart skip and your stomach churn. You feel on fire like he’s burning you to a crisp of ash and dust only to resurrect you again if only to just keep fucking you.

Yuuta’s movements become more urgent and the tension between you reaches its peak. With each thrust, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy, your senses overwhelmed by Yuuta.

Suddenly, you feel a surge of pleasure coursing through your veins, your body convulsing with the intensity of your release. With a cry, you shatter into a million pieces, the only thing able to leave your mouth is the chant of, “Yuuta-- Ah, Yuuta, Yuuta.”

“I’m here,” he replies, voice strained feeling your pussy tighten around his cock, “I’m right here.” Feeling the wetness and tightness of your cum triggers Yuuta’s climax, and with a stifled moan, he follows suit, pouring his hot cum into you.

Yuuta pulls you into his arms, his leaky cock still hard inside of you. Your dark-haired lover kisses your temple and leaves sweet whispers across the sweat of your skin. He holds you close, entwining you into him as your eyelids get heavy and you feel sleep take over your spent body.

You feel loved.

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

In your dreams, you find yourself lost in a labyrinth of shadows, the air thick with the scent of decay. Whispers echo through the darkness, taunting you with half-formed promises and cryptic warnings.

You stumble through the endless maze, searching for an escape, but the shadows seem to shift and twist, leading you further into the depths of your despair.

And then, just when you think you can bear it no longer, you see him. Yuuta stands before you, his dark eyes looking into yours as he reaches out to you with a hand shrouded in darkness.

He whispers something, you don’t understand. But you still reach out, taking his hand into yours.

You awaken with a start, the echoes of your nightmare still lingering in the recesses of your mind.

Heart pounding, you sit up in bed, the room bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Yuuta is gone, but his warmth remains.

A sense of foreboding settles over you like a shroud.

[yunirgo]

someone’s someone - steve harrington x reader

summary: steve wishes his heart belonged to someone who will truly and devotedly love him, and so do you.

tags: sfw, reader is gender neutral; it’s implied they’re a virgin and inexperienced, allusions of steve not wanting to live anymore, bit of angst but mostly fluff. sorry for any mistakes or incoherence, english isn’t my first language!

wc: 728

Steve still remembers his first heartbreak as if it was yesterday. He can perfectly remember how his chest felt so tight and how much his heart ached to the point he swore he’d die. He gets sick to his stomach just thinking back at the hours he spent laying on his bed wondering what he did wrong in his life to not receive love from the people he held closest to his heart, wondering if it would be better to stop being the loving boy he was and just turn into a new person who didn’t believe in love because it's not real. 

The feelings of hopelessness and unworthiness, the desire of not seeing the light of day anymore… He wouldn’t wish it upon his worst enemy, or the cruelest person in the world; not even his parents. 

And though the months go by and he feels he’s healed from the heartbreak, there is still a tiny crack in his heart that gives way to despair and misery.  

Then, the unexpected happens: he meets you. 

You, the sweetest and kindest soul he has ever met. You, the classic hopeless romantic who has never even held hands romantically with anyone in their life. You, who thinks will never experience love because everyone your age is either sleeping around or eloping and having kids. You, who just like him, wonders what’s wrong with yourself that no one seems you worthy of love. 

He falls suddenly hard for you, of course, he does. He spends every second he can with you just to hear you laugh at his lame jokes, hold doors open for you, and share secret touches with you when all of his friends are around. He especially loves it when you absentmindedly take his hand on yours and play with his fingers while talking to him or any of his friends, and when you look up at him with that glimmer in your eyes you seem to have only when you’re with him.

It gets to a point where Steve has no other choice but to open his heart up to you, and you do the same with yours. You share your deepest darkest secrets and concerns and build this special and intimate friendship with him, wishing deep down it was more than that.  

“I feel unlovable sometimes,” you told him while stargazing.

 He’d called you over to his house for purely selfish reasons, because he couldn’t stand being apart from you even if you’d had an 8 hour shift together at Family Video earlier that day. 

His heart skipped a beat when you turned your face to look at him, a small, sad smile grazing your face. 

“I just want to be someone’s someone, you know? I want to be someone’s everything,” a deep sigh escaped your lips. “I wonder if I’m meant for someone. What do you think?,” you asked. The boy just stared at you.

 How could he comfort you when he knew that feeling all too well and without giving himself away? 

“I think…” he finally spoke after a few seconds, his hand searching for yours. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed them gently before speaking again. “I think we’re all meant for someone. I know one day we’ll meet someone we can’t live without.”

“I hope so.”

“I hope so too,”  You knew he was trying to make both of you feel better, but the gentle whisper of his voice made your heart ache uncontrollably. 

Steve Harrington was the person you wanted to own your heart. He’s the one you wanted to dance under the rain, go on silly dates, and share secrets and gossip like two old ladies with. He’s the one you wanted to have all your firsts with. But most importantly, you wanted to mend his broken heart and remind him how deserving of love he is for the rest of his life. 

So, you decided right there and then that you would show him how much you wanted him to be your someone in exchange for you being his someone.

Funny enough, Steve was just thinking the same thing. 

And four years later, after both your plans were taken into action, the two of you can say with certainty they were successful as you vow your lives to each other with your shared loved ones as witnesses.

-

an: thank you for reading!! i hope you guys like this bcs it was very scary to post😭 i will say i might have started a mini series inspired by the “all bout luv” album by monsta x around january this year because it’s one of my favorites ever so you can imagine how long these ideas have been brewing in my mind for💀 so idk, lmk if you’d like to read a bit more of what goes inside my head lolol. anyway :p that’s all, thank you sm again for reading<3

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

I feel so dumb for never having realized this before but I was thinking about the bookend in AGoT between the Others, the dragons, and two heroes: Waymar Royce and Daenerys Targaryen.

While squaring off against the Others, Waymar Royce asks for a dance.

Ser Waymar met him bravely. “Dance with me then.” He lifted his sword high over his head, defiant. His hands trembled from the weight of it, or perhaps from the cold. Yet in that moment, Will thought, he was a boy no longer, but a man of the Night’s Watch.

It’s notable that this scene is eerily silent save for the bits of dialogue. And when Waymar’s dance finally begins, there’s a notable lack of music.

The pale sword came shivering through the air. Ser Waymar met it with steel. When the blades met, there was no ring of metal on metal; only a high, thin sound at the edge of hearing, like an animal screaming in pain. Royce checked a second blow, and a third, then fell back a step. Another flurry of blows, and he fell back again.

I’ve always asserted that Ser Waymar is a failed last hero if we judge his success based off Old Nan’s blueprint.

So as cold and death filled the earth, the last hero determined to seek out the children, in the hopes that their ancient magics could win back what the armies of men had lost. He set out into the dead lands with a sword, a horse, a dog, and a dozen companions. For years he searched, until he despaired of ever finding the children of the forest in their secret cities. One by one his friends died, and his horse, and finally even his dog, and his sword froze so hard the blade snapped when he tried to use it. And the Others smelled the hot blood in him, and came silent on his trail, stalking him with packs of pale white spiders big as hounds—”

Both Ser Waymar and the last hero lost their companions and both had their swords shatter to the cold. Yet Waymar failed to complete one important step: find the children of the forest. The children are also known as “the singers”. So it’s notable that Ser Waymar attempts to dance without any music(ians) to accompany him. And because he does so, his dance ends in failure.

But then we have Daenerys Targaryen in the Dothraki Sea.

As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

Dany performs a miracle in bringing dragons to life, the first person to do so in centuries. And these dragons sing a song that proclaims her, an exiled young princess and a widow, Azor Ahai reborn - the champion of fire, and warrior of light.

This bookend between the first and last chapters is so poignant. It’s not just that fire has returned to combat Ice. It’s that Dany brought back the music necessary to complete this dance. We start the book with a failed hero and end it with the rise of a true one; also interesting that Waymar’s end comes while he’s down on his knees whereas Dany rises to her feet reborn.

This makes Dany’s identity as the promised prince(ss) all the more impressive.

“He has a song,” the man replied. “He is the prince that was promised, and his is the song of ice and fire.” He looked up when he said it and his eyes met Dany’s, and it seemed as if he saw her standing there beyond the door.

Waymar failed because he didn’t have a song to accompany him. Yet Dany has a song to dance to. A song of fire.

I think this raises some interesting questions regarding the nature of this great conflict. There not only has to be a song to dance to, but it seems that there is a key distinction between the singer and the dancer. Rhaegar Targaryen failed to fulfill the prophecy because he was the singer and not the dancer. His role was to provide the hero’s musical accompaniment. In a way, it’s almost like he as the bard is the herald. And the herald is rarely, if ever, the main character. So notice how Rhaegar heralds the hero, the king, while looking at Dany.

But! - there’s different kinds of songs. Dany has one, made by her dragons. But it’s not be the only one. The children of the forest are heavily associated with the last hero and while Waymar Royce is dead, there lives another: Bran Stark.

Bran found the children, the singers, and is a step closer to completing the last hero’s journey.

Now Bran is an interesting case.

“Go,” Bran whispered to his own horse. He touched her neck lightly, and the small chestnut filly started forward. Bran had named her Dancer. She was two years old, and Joseth said she was smarter than any horse had a right to be.

He has a dancing horse but at some point has to leave her behind. So does that mean that he has to learn to do the dancing in his own way?

And I find it interesting that Bran has a female dancer horse because this creates a neat parallel with Dany, a dancer who may also be the stallion that mounts the world; if it’s not her, then it has to be her mount, Drogon. This is important if we consider that the last hero, Azor Ahai/the promised prince, the Stallion That Mounts the World, etc. are all different yet complimentary manifestations of one heroic legend.

But the issue of songs doesn’t end there because there still exists one Jon Snow, another version of the last hero and promised prince. Jon isn’t a bard but he has been positioned as being adjacent to dancers. I won’t harp on about Jon’s parallels with Waymar Royce because they’ve been done to death. But it seems that Jon, like Bran and Dany, will succeed where Ser Waymar failed.

Because not only does Jon have music to herald him:

That night he dreamt of wildlings howling from the woods, advancing to the moan of warhorns and the roll of drums. Boom DOOM boom DOOM boom DOOM came the sound, a thousand hearts with a single beat.

But he is also positioned as a last man standing among many dead heroes:

“Stand fast,” Jon Snow called. “Throw them back.” He stood atop the Wall, alone. “Flame,” he cried, “feed them flame,” but there was no one to pay heed. They are all gone. They have abandoned me.

And he has a sword that will not shatter against the cold:

“Snow,” an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist.

It’s noteworthy that Jon is the son of a singer, Rhaegar Targaryen. The very singer who sang the song of ice and fire; and notice how Jon is clad in both. Plus he has been mentored by another, Mance Rayder, whom he eventually succeeds.

At a quick glance, it’s very interesting to me that Jon is constantly listening to songs beyond the Wall. There’s the song of the blue winter rose (which in a way heralds his own birth), the song of Joramun and the Horn of Winter, and many others.

It’s also noteworthy just how often giants are mentioned as the subject of songs in Jon’s POV chapters. I bring this up because of the Last of the Giants:

Ooooooh, I am the last of the giants, my people are gone from the earth. The last of the great mountain giants, who ruled all the world at my birth.

I think there is a parallel here between the dragons, the giants, and the children of the forest. These are all dying species, yet they linger on for the song of ice and fire still needs to be brought to completion.

And let’s consider where our heroes fit in all this. Dany commands the dragons, Bran learns from the children, while Jon begins to befriend the giants. All these creatures make musical accompaniments for our heroes to dance to.

Lastly, I’m inclined to think of the Stark girls though I’m not entirely sure where they would fit in all of this. Arya, at some point, trains to be a dancer:

On the way back to his chambers, he came upon his daughter Arya on the winding steps of the Tower of the Hand, windmilling her arms as she struggled to balance on one leg. The rough stone had scuffed her bare feet. Ned stopped and looked at her. “Arya, what are you doing?” “Syrio says a water dancer can stand on one toe for hours.” Her hands flailed at the air to steady herself. Ned had to smile. “Which toe?” he teased. “Any toe,” Arya said, exasperated with the question. She hopped from her right leg to her left, swaying dangerously before she regained her balance. “Must you do your standing here?” he asked. “It’s a long hard fall down these steps.” “Syrio says a water dancer never falls.” She lowered her leg to stand on two feet. “Father, will Bran come and live with us now?”

Now Arya is no singer, but her wolf is.

In another place, his little sister lifted her head to sing to the moon, and a hundred small grey cousins broke off their hunt to sing with her.

On the other hand, Sansa is no dancer but she is known for her ability to sing. And boy does she sing beautifully.

Her throat was dry and tight with fear, and every song she had ever known had fled from her mind. Please don't kill me, she wanted to scream, please don't. She could feel him twisting the point, pushing it into her throat, and she almost closed her eyes again, but then she remembered. It was not the song of Florian and Jonquil, but it was a song. Her voice sounded small and thin and tremulous in her ears. Gentle Mother, font of mercy, Save our sons from war, we pray,

In fact, a lot of Sansa’s songs are prayers for those who dance to the music of swords. Her songs are soothing, calming. And see this during Stannis’ assault on Kings Landing when she is able to calm Sandor and the noble women through the power of song. Hers is not a song to dance to, it’s a different kind though I’m not entirely sure what it entails. I do want to say, though, that Sansa is often paralleled with creates that take flight; various birds and bats. So she is a singer, much like the dragons.

I may have neglected other characters here, but I just thought it was intriguing that our main heroes (Jon, Bran, Dany, maybe Arya) are all positioned as dancers for the song of ice and fire.

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter Fourteen

Fool's Fare: Chapter Fourteen

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Content Warning: Secrets revealed, Cursing, Despair, Trickery, Magic, Loss, Schrodinger's major character death (Are they dead though? It's open ended.), Bittersweet endings. I think that's it, but please let me know if I missed something!

Word Count: ~4.1k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The glowing embers of Tom’s pipe cast sharp shadows that made his already stern looking face harder. Your breath caught in your throat as shock clutched at your ribs, a pressure building in your chest.

“Tom?” You repeated, taking a hesitant step forward. “What are you doing here?”

The old man gave you a wry smile, lowering the pipe from his lips as he blew out a long puff of smoke. The tendrils curled around one another, racing towards the sky in a dance that gave you pause. How often had you watched this same man growing up? This man before you who had been like a second father, bringing you gifts from his travels and setting you on his knee as he and your father discussed things you could hardly grasp. This man who had taken care of you and Bradley when your father had died at sea, making sure the two of you never went without even when the both of you had found work to support yourselves.

“Guppy,” he murmured, blue eyes filled with sorrow. “You’re looking well.”

“Cut the shit, Tom,” snapped Bradley. You turned to look at him, reeling back from the fury in your older brother’s eyes. His jaw clenched tight as his nostrils flared, hands curled into fists as his face flushed with anger.

“Bradley,” Tom sighed, inhaling more of the tobacco.

“I don’t get it.”

You turned to look at Jake, the blond man standing there with his brow knit and eyes darting around looking for answers.

“The old man from the tavern?” He asked, looking at you for confirmation, green eyes lost as he tried to process what was happening. “I don’t understand. Where’s Davy?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Growled Bradley, sneering at the older man. “Tom is Davy. He’s been Davy Jones this entire time, and he’s never said a damn thing.”

“Would you have believed me if I had?” Tom challenged, no real heat to his tone as he stared down the younger man.

“I might have,” Bradley shot back, venom dripping from his tone. “If you had tried to warn me from signing up for this crew, I might have listened.”

“You’re a bad liar, Bradley,” Tom snorted. “Always have been. You’d have called me an old fool had I told you who I really was without proof.”

“Then why didn’t you prove it? Why did you just let me sign up? None of this had to happen!” Screamed Bradley, voice echoing off the rocky walls of the cliffs, making you flinch.

“I couldn’t very well reveal myself in front of a room full of people, boy,” Tom glared, jaw ticking as he fought to keep his temper at bay. “Not when it wouldn’t have made a difference. You had already made your decision.”

Bradley didn’t say anything, lips pressed tightly together as he continued to glare at the older man.

“Am I wrong?” Tom prodded, staring the other down. A moment of silence passed between them before Bradley hung his head.

“No,” he murmured, squeezing his eyes and fists closed. “You’re not.”

Another beat of silence passed. The waves crashed against the shoreline as gulls cried out overhead.

“You’re too much like Pete in that sense, I s’pose,” Tom grumbled with a shake of his head. Your heart clenched at the sound of your father’s name. It was true, Bradley was much like your father. So much so that sometimes you forgot the two of you weren’t related by blood.

“That stubbornness is what got him killed in the end,” he continued, turning towards the waves with a grimace.

“You don’t look like the Davy Jones I know,” Jake challenged, a hardness to his stare that equaled the disdain found in Tom’s.

“Not often someone sees what I really look like these days,” Tom sniffed, spitting out onto the sand. “Takes practiced magic to keep up appearances, and I can’t exactly go around scarin’ folks left and right when I’m on land.”

“Magic? What do you know about that?” You asked, taking a step forward. You needed to know why the magic you had encountered on your travels affected you differently from the others.

Tom turned back to look at you. “I know more than you think.”

“My whole life,” you started, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, “I’ve known that I was different. I knew things that others shouldn’t. I knew when Papa-”

You stopped, exhaling shakily as you remembered the day you clung to your father, begging him to stay on shore. You remembered the day his heart stopped beating.

“When we encountered Thetis,” you continued after a moment, and Tom stiffened at the name. “I knew something was wrong about that isle before anything had ever happened. She sensed something different about me too. The sea serpent stopped its attack when it saw me. Like it knew that we were one in the same.”

You took another step forward, eyes pleading with the man before you.

“So help me to understand, Tom,” you begged. “What am I?”

Silence stretched out along the beach as Tom studied you.

“You’re a promise,” he answered with a heavy sigh. “Long ago, when your mother and father were young and fool’s in love, they wanted a baby. But, your mother struggled to conceive. Your father called out to me to make a deal. We had been friends for a while by that point, so he knew the price he was paying. He asked for a child for his wife and a son for himself. In exchange, he offered up himself. A soul for a soul. I managed to warp the magic so that they got you, Guppy. A daughter instead of a son. That way he could live out his days with the family he wanted, and no price would need to be payed because the deal hadn’t been fulfilled.”

He closed his eyes with a shake of his head.

“Magic is a tricky thing, though,” he continued, eyes flickering towards where Bradley stood. “It will always find a way to get what its owed.”

“What does that mean?” You prodded.

Tom sucked on his teeth, measuring his words. “Means that Pete was given the son he was promised, and the magic was free to take the soul it was promised.”

You turned back to look at Bradley, sucking in a sharp breath at the look on your brother’s face. Brown eyes stared at the old man, tears streaming down his face as his jaw went slack in disbelief.

“It’s my fault?” He asked, voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him above the waves. Tom shook his head vehemently.

“No,” he growled, a hard look in his eyes. “It’s not. Pete took you in of his own free will. Declared you his son knowing damn well what that meant for him.”

Bradley pressed his lips firmly together, eyes darting towards the ground as he hung his head. Your heart broke at the sight. Your father loved Bradley, you knew that, and you knew that somewhere inside, Bradley knew that too. You took a step back towards him, hand extended to reach for him, but something inside you told you to stop. Your hand fell back to your side, uncertainty coursing through your veins as you tried to figure out what to do. What could you do?

“Are we going to stand around here all day,” groused Tom, eyes flickering between your trio, “or do you have my payment?”

You shot a glare at Tom as Jake sucked in a breath, body growing rigid before his hands reached into his coat, digging around for the necklace. The sight of it still took your breath away, the clear crystal that seemed to shine with its own light on the darkening shore. You were so mesmerized that you almost didn’t catch Jake’s eyes flicker to you, a press of his lips as he seemed to consider something.

Your own brow furrowed. What was he waiting for? Your eyes glanced towards where the sun was rapidly descending below the horizon, and you looked back at him.

“Jake?” You whispered, snapping him from his daze. He shook his head before crossing the divide towards Tom. He stared the older man down, shoulders squared as silent communication passed between the two. You shifted on your feet uneasily, eyes flickering towards Bradley. His face was unreadable as he watched the other two men, seemingly resigned to whatever was about to happen.

Jake’s shoulders rose and fell as he let out one last breath, holding his hand out towards Tom. The chain swayed in the evening breeze, the gem shining brighter than ever now that it was so close to its original master. Tom arched a brow as he studied it, his hand slowly rising to take it from Jake. Jake let his arm fall back to his side, taking a half a step back.

“There it is,” he nodded, gesturing towards the gem that now sat in the palm of Tom’s hand. “The greatest treasure in the world.”

Tom’s eyes flickered up to consider the man before him, lips pressed firmly together as he seemed to chew over his thoughts. He raised the gem up to eye level, head tilted slightly as his gaze shifted back out towards the sea. He grunted, tossing the gem up before catching it in his hand.

“Thanks,” he sniffed, raising the gem towards Jake before pocketing it in his coat. “Been looking for this beauty for a while. Thought Thetis had gotten her mitts on it, and I can’t have that. Need it for something before I even entertain the idea of giving it back.”

“Is it over?” Jake asked, eyes shining with hope. “Is the curse broken?”

Tom’s attention turned once more to the horizon, and you followed his gaze to watch the last bit of the sun disappear below the horizon.

“No.”

Your heart stopped. You whirled around to face Tom, eyes round with horror as the older man met Jake’s eyes. Jake looked about as shocked as you felt, and you watched as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, searching for the words that wouldn’t come to him.

“No?” He finally managed, his voice sounding so foreign and far away. He blinked at the old captain before rage twisted his features into something almost animalistic.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He shouted, a vein in his neck bulging as he clenched his fists. “I brought you the greatest treasure! Handed it over to you without so much as a fight! Break the damn curse, old man!”

Tom stared at him, unmoved by his outburst. He shook his head.

“After all this time, you still haven’t figured it out,” he muttered. “I almost feel sorry for you.”

Jake lurched back as if he had been physically struck, eyes wide before anger seeped back in and he let out a scream that chilled you to the bone. You had never heard someone sound so broken before. His hands clutched at his hair as he hunched over, breaths coming out in shallow gasps as his eyes searched frantically for answers. His head shot up, hands shooting out to grip at Tom’s coat, shaking him.

“Undo it, you bastard,” he growled, spittle flying from his mouth as he stared menacingly into the eyes of Davy Jones himself. “Undo it!”

“Jake,” you called out, and his head whipped around to face you. For a moment, you were almost frightened of him, but then you saw the face of the young boy who seven years prior had been punished for something that wasn’t even his fault. Tears streaming down his face, his anger crumpled around him, his hands releasing Tom as a sob ripped through him. He stumbled towards you, tripping over himself to land in the sand. You moved forward at the same time, meeting him halfway to catch him and lower him gently. Your arms wrapped around him tightly, cradling him as he clung to you. The tips of your fingers ran through his hair as you tried to soothe him, your own tears an afterthought.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped, pressing himself closer to you. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you told him, shaking your head. “You did everything you could, Jake, and I love you for it.”

He looked up at you, green eyes shining as you brushed the hair out of his face.

“You love me?” He asked. You realized then what you had said, and you smiled.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I do. With all my heart.”

A ghost of a smile curled on his lips as he leaned his forehead against yours. It didn’t last long before his face crumpled once more.

“I’m such an idiot,” he growled, shaking his head. “Never told the girl that I loved her, and she beat me to it. Now…”

He trailed off, but the words were plain as day. Now the two of you would be separated, torn apart and unable to find happiness with each other.

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

The two of you looked up to see Tom still watching, a grimace sat firmly on his face.

“Looks like you did find the greatest treasure after all,” he grumbled. Your eyes met Jake’s, and the two of you scrambled to your feet as Jake’s face glimmered with hope.

“I found it?” He asked, another smile curling at his lips. “Does this mean the curse is lifted?”

Tom shook his head. “No.”

You looked up at him, catching the brief flicker of regret in his eyes before they hardened once more.

“What do you mean?” Jake demanded, keeping a hand on you as he stepped forward. “You just said I found it!”

“You didn’t present it to me before the deadline,” Tom shot back, gesturing towards where the sun had disappeared only minutes before. “You were too late.”

“Why are you doing this?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. Something shone in his eyes, but it was snuffed out just as quickly as it had appeared.

“You weren’t supposed to get wrapped up in all this,” Tom told you. Rage raced through your veins as you bared your teeth at him.

“But I did!” You shouted at him. “And now I’m losing everything because you won’t change the magic!”

“I can’t,” he snapped back.

You scoffed. “Bullshit! You’ve done it once before!”

“And look at what’s happened because of it!” He spat. “The magic didn’t just take your father, Guppy! It gave two souls, and two souls it collected in return.”

You balked. He couldn’t mean…?

“Your mother,” he nodded. “Your mother’s life was forfeit to the magic all because I thought I could bend it to my will. It’s my fault they’re both gone.”

You swallowed, processing his words. The magic took what it was owed.

“What’s the magic owed this time?” You asked, eye gazing up at the old captain. “Another soul?”

Tom paused, narrowing his eyes down at you. “It’ll take magic to nullify the curse. Magic negates magic.”

“Then take me,” you told him. All eyes snapped to where you stood.

“What?” Tom grunted.

“Take me,” you repeated. “I’m a product of the magic, right? If you take me, will the curse be lifted?”

“Guppy, no,” Jake started, but you shook your head.

“If it means that you and the others will get to live a life free from suffering,” you began, sighing as you let the decision settle in your mind, “then it’s a price I will happily pay.”

“But I won’t,” he argued, grasping your arms in his hands. “I won’t let you do this.”

“It’s not a decision you get to make this time,” you told him, eyes pleading with him.

“You don’t get to make it either.”

You both turned to look at Bradley, a determined look on his face as he crossed the distance to stand in front of Tom.

“I’m a product of the magic too, right?” He asked. “Maverick only found me because he was owed a son.”

“Bradley, no,” you started, but he held a hand up to stop you.

“He took me in and cared for me like his own flesh and blood child when he didn’t have to,” he continued, offering you a gentle smile. “This is the best way I can think of to repay him.”

“Bradley,” you pleaded, “don’t do this.”

Your eyes met his, and for a moment the two of you were standing in the village again, your tiny fists balled up as you glared at the other children from the village. A group of teenage boys snickered at Bradley, taunting him with jeers and quips about his background.

“Nobody wants you, you know,” one of them sneered, a cruel smile on his lips. “You’re only around for the free labor.”

Bradley didn’t say a word, continuing to load the cart with the supplies the two of you had just purchased. You waited for him to say something, anything. He’s so quick to jab back when it’s the two of you at home, after all.

“Come on, orphan boy,” the same boy taunts, kicking at one of the small, wooden crates by Bradley’s feet, causing it to tip over. “You and I both know you’re not worth the food they waste on you.”

You saw Bradley’s jaw tick, but he continues with his task, not even looking in their direction. The boy growled in frustration, marching forward to grab Bradley by his collar, forcing him up and back against the wall. Bradley let out a grunt as his back met the wall staring the other boy down, daring him with eyes alone to make a move.

“I’m talking to you, rat,” the boy spat, eyes blazing. “Or maybe you’re too stupid to realize that. Is that it? Poor, orphan boy. You’ve not got a family to cling to, no one to protect you. You’re all alone in this world, and you always will be.”

“Stop it!” You cried, shoving at the boy, startling him enough for him to let Bradley go.

“Why should I?” He sneered down at you. “We all know it’s true.”

“It’s not true!” You hollered. “He’s got a family. He’s got me, and my mama, and my papa. He’s my brother, and we’re family!”

The boy stared down at you as you met his gaze with your fiery own. He snorted, turning to walk back towards his friends.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Once an orphan, always an orphan.”

You glared after them, waiting until they were a ways down the street before turning your attention back to Bradley. You looked him over, checking for any bumps or scrapes, only stopping when Bradley waved you off.

“Enough,” he snapped. “Quit it.”

“Let me do this for you, Bradley,” you murmured, tears stinging your eyes as you looked at him. “Let me be your sister.”

He stared at you for a moment, the hardness in his gaze melting away as he sighed.

“Come on, Guppy,” he hummed, eyes earnest as they met yours. “Let’s get home.”

You stared at him now, the same earnest look in his eyes as he offered to take your place.

“Let me do this for you, Guppy,” he murmured, echoing your words from so long ago. “Let me be your brother one last time.”

You lurched forward, throwing yourself into his arms as you hugged him tight.

“You idiot,” you whispered, eyes squeezed tight. “You’ll always be my brother.”

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you tightly, as if he were afraid to let go. After a moment, Tom stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Bradley’s shoulder and clearing his throat.

“It’s time,” he said. Bradley released you reluctantly, taking a step back as he looked at Tom. A moment of silent communication passed between the two of them before Bradley nodded. The two men moved to walk away, but you grabbed Tom’s hand, stopping them once more.

“Will I see him again?” You asked, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “Or is this it?”

Tom studied you for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You felt Jake come up behind you, sliding his hand into yours with a gentle squeeze, but your eyes remained fixed on Tom’s.

“Maybe one day,” the old man nodded, sniffing. “You’ll see him again.”

A zip ran up your spine, and your eyes widened as something softened in Tom’s. A hint of a smile curved on your lips as you nodded, letting him go. Tom turned back to Bradley, slapping his hand on his shoulder as he guided him down the beach.

You watched in silence until the two men disappeared into the night, and even then you waited a moment longer. You didn’t know what lay ahead of you, but you knew you wouldn’t be alone. You had a family still waiting for you back aboard the ship, and they would be anxious to hear the good and sad news.

“Guppy?” Jake prodded, uncertainty in his tone as his arm came around to hold you close. You let out a sigh, closing your eyes for a brief moment before turning to look at him, the smile carving its way back onto your face.

“Come on,” you said, tugging his hand forward. “Let’s go home.”

The waves lapped against the hull of the Hangman, the sky above shining with the light from the stars that hung above. For the first time in almost a year, the air around you was still, no sense of doom looming over your head. You inhaled deeply, letting the salty, sea air fill your lungs as you closed your eyes and basked in what had transpired in the weeks since the confrontation with Tom on the beach.

You and Jake had arrived back aboard the Hangman, cheers and revelry already sounding as the crew slowly realized that their curse had been lifted. Bob had helped you aboard, Jake’s hands on your waist to steady you as you crossed over from the lifeboat.

“What happened?” The bespectacled man asked, a smile on his face as he greeted you. “You were gone for so long!”

You did your best to match his smile, but even you knew it looked more like a grimace. Bob’s face fell as he watched Jake cross over to the deck, eyes searching for the third member of your party.

“Where’s Bradley?”

Your heart clenched at the sound of his name, and you hung your head. Tears stung the back of your eyes, and you shook your head.

“I think it’s best we head inside,” Nat murmured, resting a hand on your shoulder as she guided you back towards the cabins, the others close behind. Both Jake and you did your best to recount what had happened on the beach, and a drink was poured for Bradley and his sacrifice.

Most of the crew left the employment of the Hangman soon after, and the ship operated with a skeleton crew until new crew members were found. Javy and Nat chose to stay behind in Port Royal, Javy eager to set up a trading company of his own, and Nat eager to stay with him. You bid your friends farewell, promising to visit often before the rest of your crew departed.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jumped, turning to see Jake making his way towards where you sat at the bow of the ship. You scowled at him, earning a chuckle. You watched as he climbed up, sitting down next to you with a grunt.

“I suppose I couldn’t,” you replied to him finally, looking back up at the stars.

“You’ve been through a lot,” he conceded, “I’d be surprised if you could sleep after everything.”

“I’m not scared or anything,” you told him. “No nightmares. I’m just…wondering what comes next.”

“Another adventure already?” He teased. “I figured you’d have had your fill by now.”

You hummed, but didn’t reply. Instead, you shifted closer, pressing your thigh against his while resting your head on his shoulder. Jake let out a contented hum of his own as he wrapped his arm around you.

You had had your peek at the mysteries and pasts that lay beneath the surface of the ocean below, and they had terrified you. You had weathered every storm your travels had put in your way, and you had come out the better for it.

You’d be a fool to think otherwise.

A/N: And that's it. That's the end. Wow, what a ride, huh? An end of an era. I'm certainly not emotional about this at all. Nope.

Let me know if you guys want to do something to celebrate!

As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. I no longer do taglists, so if you would like to be notified on when I post, please follow my sideblog ( @arcanevagabond-library ) and turn on post notifications! You can find me and my works on AO3 under the username arcane_vagabond. Until next time!

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 21 - 'Suffocated’ | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.2 k

Trent staggered into his home, the quiet darkness wrapping around him like a suffocating blanket. Every step he took was heavy, weighed down by the events of the night. His house keys clattered onto the counter, the sharp sound echoing through the stillness, but it barely registered. His head was spinning—not just from the alcohol but from the chaos, the betrayal, and the sheer weight of the situation. He ran a hand down his face, dragging it over his mouth, trying to steady his breathing. His chest felt tight, like he couldn’t get enough air. Images of you in the club flashed in his mind: your tear-streaked face, your trembling hands as you tried to hold yourself together, and the look in your eyes when he barely even began to tell you those horrible, false words. He felt sick to his stomach. He walked into his bedroom, his movements jerky, his anger bubbling just beneath the surface. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he paced, his thoughts racing. The memory of Josh’s smug grin haunted him, the way he’d dangled that video like a loaded gun. And Jess—how could she do this? How could she lie and hurt you, of all people? Trent stopped in the middle of the room, his breaths coming fast and shallow. The emotions he’d been holding back all night—the rage, the guilt, the heartbreak—surged forward, overwhelming him. Without thinking, he let out a guttural scream, the sound raw and primal, and drove his fist into the nearest wall. The drywall cracked under the force of his punch, a jagged hole splintering outward from the impact. The pain shot up his arm, sharp and immediate, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the ache in his chest. He stared at the broken wall, his knuckles throbbing and speckled with dust. The anger left him as quickly as it had come, replaced by a tidal wave of despair. His shoulders slumped, and he sank to the floor, his back pressed against the wall. He rested his elbows on his knees, his hands clutching his hair as he fought to keep his emotions at bay. But it was no use. The first tear slipped down his cheek, and then another, and before he knew it, he was sobbing. Trent couldn’t remember the last time he cried—it had been years, maybe even a decade. But now, alone in his empty house, the weight of everything was too much to bear. He cried for you, for the way he’d hurt you, for the lies he’d told, and for the love he’d destroyed.

His mind replayed every moment of the night in vivid detail: the way you looked at him, the way Jack had nearly torn him apart, the way Josh had so effortlessly unraveled his life. And through it all, one thought kept repeating in his head: he’d failed you.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. The words echoed in the empty room, hollow and meaningless. “I’m so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands, his tears soaking into his palms. The silence of the room pressed in on him, broken only by his ragged breaths and the occasional hitch of his sobs. He was all alone. He didn’t know how long he sat there, crumpled on the floor, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. Time felt meaningless. Eventually, the tears slowed, leaving him feeling empty and drained. He leaned his head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling with red, puffy eyes. His knuckles throbbed, and his chest ached, but nothing hurt as much as the realization that he might have lost you for good. He stayed there, slumped on the floor, the broken wall beside him a physical reminder of the damage he’d done. And as the night stretched on, one thought consumed him: how could he ever go on without you. You’d been there his entire life. You were in every memory, every high, every low, you were everywhere. You saturated every moment of his and dug your heels so deep into his heart, he had barely even noticed you’d pierced straight through it. He felt like his heart was about to flatline, give out entirely without you there, leaving behind the gaping hole you’d cut that nothing, no one, and no amount of time could heal. He was bleeding out for you.  

Jack leaned back on the sofa, his hands running over his face as he tried to make sense of it all. The room was dimly lit, the silence between him and Noah broken only by their low voices.

“Jess said she didn’t hook up with him,” Jack started, his voice heavy with frustration, “but what I don’t get is why he didn’t fight back, you know, bro? Why didn’t he clear it up if that’s the case? He just left.” Jack looked for answers Noah didn’t have. Noah exhaled deeply, his gaze fixed on a point across the room. 

“Mate, can I be honest?” Noah asked haphazardly. Jack nodded looking for anyone he trusted’s input because sadly, at the minute, his usual confidants were the very culprits of the problem at hand. “Bro, something doesn’t sit right with me. I know you’re pissed and that’s valid. No one wants Y/N hurt and upset but something’s off. That’s not Trenty. He put in a proper hard shift in to get her to be his girlfriend. He made too many waves just trying to even get with Y/N in the first place. This…fuck, the whole thing… this doesn’t make sense.” Noah explained just as discombobulated but equally in search of clarity yet with a bit more hope in Trent’s character. Jack nodded again slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, reluctantly agreeing. 

“A part of me feels like he must’ve, though… you know? I feel like because so many people were upset, Jess now was just trying to cover for him. And she said she likes him.” His voice grew quieter as he recalled Jess’s confession. “There had to have been more there. There must’ve been an overlap or something. There has to be.” Jack spoke his thoughts aloud. He didn’t want to believe it but there was to big of a mess left behind for it to be nothing.  Noah turned to him, his expression incredulous. 

“She likes him?” He scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t really believe that. That’s ridiculous. She doesn’t know him, mate. They might’ve hooked up a few times, but that’s it and it was ages ago. And to that point, he’d kick her out right after. She doesn’t even know the lad. Not really. Maybe his salary but not him as a person.” Noah looked at Jack for a moment, hoping he would be getting on his page. Jack was quiet for a moment, letting Noah’s words sink in. He was right, Jess didn’t know Trent and she definitely didn’t know him like you did. Would Trent sacrifice it all for someone he barely knew?

“You think it’s made up, then?” Jack asked, unsure of his own opinion anymore. 

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t add up. Not with Trenty. We know end of the day he’s a good lad, even when he’s a bit of a knob sometimes. But with Y/N… he’s the best lad. If he was hitting Jess, he wouldn’t have ever started things with your sister like this. And… I don’t mean to make it awkward for you but didn’t we all know they’d get together? They are end game, bro.” Noah looked at Jack pleadingly. He couldn’t believe their best mate would do this. He was making a case for Trent he wasn’t even sure was true but he’d try because he believed in him. “Mate, he’s been in love with her for years. Y/N and him are like proper in love. They say it to each other, she’s sleeping at his house, he takes care of her. Always has. It doesn’t make sense…. He loves her in a way I can hardly even understand, you know that too.” Noah sheepishly continued on knowing the very idea of this relationship had been hard for Jack to stomach, let alone its demise. Jack sighed heavily, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. 

“I… I.. guess.” Jack muttered knowing that all the points Noah made were valid but they didn’t wash away the other things that had happened, had been said. “Yeah, but the thing is Megan…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “She said she knew about Trent and my sister. Said nothing about Jess. But if she knew about them, why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” He asked openly still not completely over your relationship with Trent in its entirety, especially now that it was up in flames with no sight of being extinguished. Noah shrugged. 

“Maybe she thought it wasn’t her place. Or maybe she was trying to protect Y/N, knowing you’d lose your head about it.” Noah smirked sympathetically. Jack shook his head, staring at the floor. 

“I gotta talk to Meg. I gotta apologize. I was too harsh with her, it wasn’t right.” Jack muttered mostly to himself. He felt so guilty. She was just caught in the crossfire but that didn’t make any of it okay. 

“You should,” Noah agreed. “But what about Trenty?” He asked expectedly. Jack’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. 

“I’m not ready for that yet. Y/N’s a mess, mate. She’s broken. He fucked up regardless of what the truth is.” Noah nodded, but his mind was elsewhere. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this whole situation was more complicated than it seemed. He knew Trent, really knew him, Jack did too but he was too close. This didn’t sit right with Noah. 

“I hear ya, Jack,” Noah said, standing up. “But I need to talk to Trent. I need to hear his side properly. I’m not settling until I know the whole truth.” He explained, gently but surely. Jack looked up at Noah, his expression torn. He didn’t trust Trent right now, but a part of him wanted answers too.

 “Yeah, fine,” he muttered, standing up as well.  “But if he tries to play you, or if he’s not straight with you…” Jack threatened, not really with any venom but more so with exhaustion. He was just so frustrated at how messy things had gotten. 

“I’ll handle it,” Noah assured him. “You’ve got my word. I really don’t want to lose movie nights.” Noah smirked cheekily. It was just Noah’s backwards way of being sincere. He wanted to help. Jack nodded hoping he could assist because he didn’t want to lose movie nights either and least of all his friendship with Trent.

A day had passed, and the silence was deafening. Trent sat on the edge of his bed, his phone clutched in his hand, staring at the endless stream of unanswered messages and missed calls he’d sent to Jack. He hadn’t dared to try you—not yet. Every time he hovered over your name, his thumb froze, his mind spiraling into doubt. What could he even say? That he’d been blackmailed? That Jess had lied? Would you believe him, or would it just sound like another excuse? The thought of you, hurt and angry, twisted his stomach into knots. He scrubbed a hand down his face and hit redial on Jack’s number, fully expecting to hear the voicemail tone again. But this time, it didn’t come. A click on the other end was followed by a sharp voice.

“What do you want bro?” Jack answered, his hostility cutting through the silence like a knife. Trent’s heart raced.

“Jack. I need to see you,” he said quickly, the words spilling out before Jack could hang up. “I need to explain.” When Jack heard the words all he could think of was your face. The way you’d been sobbing for hours inconsolably. His anger wasn’t something he could push down. He was mad at Trent, no matter the circumstance. 

“What’s there to explain, mate,” Jack snapped. “You’re not coming near my fucking house or my sister. Do you understand me?” He threatened his best friend of years, now sounding like a stranger he hated. If Noah wanted to dig for unsurfaced truths he could, but to Jack the only thing that mattered was that you were hurting and nothing would fix that. 

“Then come to me,” Trent pleaded, his voice cracking. “Please, Jack. You have to hear me out.” He took a shaky breath, his desperation slipping through. “You need to understand.” Jack paused on the other end, the silence tense. 

“Understand what?” he bit out. “That you cheated on her? That you fucked her over? That you lied to all of us? Again…” His voice grew louder, each accusation hitting Trent like a blow.

“I didn’t—” Trent started, but his voice broke, and he stopped to compose himself. “It’s not what you think. Please, Jack,” he whispered, his voice thick. He sniffled audibly, and Jack froze. Was he crying? Jack sighed heavily, his anger faltering for just a moment. Something about Trent’s tone—it wasn’t defensive or self-righteous. It was broken. And that shook him. Maybe what Jess had admitted was true. That this whole sequence of events wasn’t entirely clear cut and true. Maybe there was more to this mess than he’d thought. Maybe he should follow Noah’s lead and look beneath the surface. 

“Where?” Jack finally said, his voice gruff but less hostile. Trent exhaled in relief, his grip on the phone tightening. 

“My place, I don’t care, anywhere, mate,” he said quickly. “Whenever you can. Please.” Jack didn’t respond immediately. 

“Fine,” he said eventually. “But if I don’t like what I hear, it’s done. Yeah?” He cautioned Trent.

“Yeah,” Trent whispered, his voice small. “I got it.” Jack hung up without another word, and Trent sat there, staring at his phone, his chest tight. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. It was a chance. And right now, that was all he could hope for. 

It was a days time between that phone call until Jack entered the room, the air felt heavy, oppressive, as though it carried the weight of all the chaos and heartbreak from the past few days. Trent sat on the edge of the couch, his shoulders hunched, his hands nervously clasped between his knees. His eyes were fixed on the floor, unable to meet Jack’s piercing glare. Noah stood to the side, shifting awkwardly, clearly caught in the crossfire of tension, ready to be a mediator. 

“Hey…” Noah started, his voice uncertain, as if testing the waters.

“Yo…” Jack replied curtly, stepping further into the room. His gaze flicked to Trent, sharp and calculating, before landing back on Noah. He didn’t sit, his posture stiff and unyielding.

“So… erm…” Noah began again, scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought maybe I should be here because I care too, you know…. And I just had to hear Trenty’s side. I told you, it didn’t sit right with me, mate. None of it made sense.” Noah babbled a little nervously for how things were going to go. Jack’s jaw tightened, but to everyone’s surprise, he nodded. 

“I know,” he said simply, his voice low. Both Noah and Trent froze, their eyes snapping to Jack. Trent, who had been bracing for an onslaught, felt his breath catch. Jack’s answer wasn’t what he had expected. Not at all.

“What?” Trent finally managed, his voice hoarse.

“What?” Noah echoed, his confusion mirroring Trent’s. Jack sighed, dragging a hand down his face. 

“I said, I know. I know something’s off. Jess was lying. Megan’s been going on about how things don’t add up, Noah too, and honestly, I’ve been thinking about it more now too.” He explained with a deep exhale. Trent blinked, stunned. He hadn’t allowed himself to hope for this—to think Jack would give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Mate, I—” Trent tried to speak. Jack held up a hand, silencing him. 

“I didn’t come here to forgive you, alright? I came here to figure out what the hell is going on. Because if you’ve actually hurt her like this, Trent, I swear to God, I’ll make sure you never come near her again.” He threatened but Jack was tired of threats, he just wanted answers. Trent nodded quickly, his throat tight.  Noah was trying to remain impartial, he understood Jack’s anger but he was praying Trent had an answer. Too much time had gone by without one and his faith in Trent was starting to waiver.

“Trent, you’ve gotta just tell us straight… What happened, bro? Did you…” Noah awkwardly pished for some truth, some clarity to lower the temperature of the room that was rapidly rising.  

“I swear on my fucking life. I didn’t do what I said that night. I… I… I love her. I did it for her you have to fucking believe me.” Trent whimpered. He looked like a sad puppy. Jack and Noah had never seen him so weak. There wasn’t an ounce of the confidence that was usually oozing from his pores. He looked broken. 

“So…” Noah probed confused but desperate for Trent to have an answer for it all.  

“I didn’t, do it. I swear. None of it—none of what was said—is true. I’ve been trying to figure out how to fix this without making things worse, but it’s all so fucked up.” His voice cracked, and he rubbed at his eyes, trying to compose himself.

“Alright, then try to explain,” Jack said, crossing his arms. “Because as far as I know, it sounds as if Jess and you have been fucking and since it came out, now you and her are trying to protect yourselves saying you weren’t screwing my little sister over this whole time.” Jack laid out what he knew to true in black and white. Trent inhaled shakily, his hands trembling as he finally looked up at Jack. 

“Mate….” Trent sighed, preparing himself to admit it all to Jack, ready to colorize the lie that got him to this place. “It… it was Josh.” He mumbled.

“Josh? Fuck off. Bro, serious. I’m trying to help you here and it’s just looking like you've been playing with Y/N’s heart.” Noah quipped desperately looking for clarity Trent was continually skirting around. 

“What the fuck does that piece of shit have to do with this? Nah, serious, what the fuck is going on.” Jack threw his head. Not at Trent but at the fact that Josh seemed to lace himself intricately into their lives way too often as of late. 

“I haven’t hooked up with Jess since, swear.” Trent jumped to the chase. “But Josh…” He sighed. “He has a video…” Trent sheepishly admitted. 

“A what?” Noah asked incredulously. Jack tensed. You and Trent together was one thing, but you and Trent together intimately was another.

“A video of us, bro. I don’t know how he got it. He showed me at the club and said he’d send it out if I didn’t tell Y/N I’d been messing about with Jess still, that I needed to leave alone that night or… god fuck!” Trent shouted angrily at the situation he found himself in. “You have to understand, he said he’d release it… I couldn’t let that happen. He was fucked up. He would’ve done it.” Trent muttered. “I couldn’t let him hurt her anymore.” Trent whimpered.

“Fuck… “ Noah seethed. 

“So you haven’t hooked up with Jess?” Jack pressed. 

“No. On my life.” Trent confirmed. “He has this video though of me and Y/N. He said he’d send it to The Sun… I don’t know, literally anywhere, her work, my work, your dad all just to embarrass her, hurt her, tank my reputation using her, ruin her anyway if I didn’t play along. He just wanted to hurt her. He wanted everyone to see her on her knees, bro… It’s … I don’t know how else to explain it, mate but I couldn’t let that happen to her. I couldn’t do that. He was fucked up. He would’ve done it, I could see it behind his eyes. I swear, I honestly didn’t even care about myself, I just cared about protecting her. That’s why I lied. For her. That’s why I said I was with Jess.” He swallowed hard. “I didn’t know what else to do. I was just doing what Josh said so he wouldn’t hurt her, so the video wouldn’t get out.” Trent took a deep breath after his long soliloquy. Jack’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of Trent’s confession sinking in. Noah leaned back in his seat in shock.

“Josh?” Jack repeated, his voice sharp. “You’re saying this is all because of him?” He questioned Trent, his eyes narrowing as if he could gauge the story somehow clearer. 

“Yeah, bro,” Trent said firmly. “He was trying to fuck with her and take me out in the process, Jack. You know what he’s like!” Trent yelped desperately. 

“Jack, the lad’s fucking crazy, he stormed into that party trying to start shit too, he wants to embarrass her. He’s trying to hurt Y/N. That sounds exactly like what he was looking to do that night.” Noah added cautiously. He didn’t want to pile on but he felt maybe it would help Trent’s case and maybe it would help them all remain friends. 

“Crazy is an understatement. He doesn’t fucking care. He just wants to hurt her and I wasn’t going to let that happen. I figured taking the fall would be better. I’d rather her hate me than him think he had control of her. You have to understand, he had the fucking email ready to fire off. He was going to do it, unless I lied, unless I left alone that night. I didn’t have another choice.” Trent babbled frantically, desperate for Jack to understand. Jack’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger simmering just below the surface. 

“That fucking prick,” he muttered. He paced the room for a moment, running a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you just tell her, Trent? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked with venom.

“He told me I couldn’t! I couldn’t risk it. He was drunk… what if he sent it right then!” Trent yelped. “I was trying to protect her,” Trent admitted, his voice dropping barely above a whisper. “I didn’t want her to get hurt more than she already had been. But I fucked it up. I know that. I just couldn’t risk it. I just—I didn’t know what else to do. It was better for her to hate me than to let that kid hurt her any more.” Trent whimpered. But as he said his words aloud he realized that maybe it didn’t make enough sense. Jack stopped pacing, his expression hard but less hostile. He studied Trent for a long moment, weighing his words. 

“If you’re lying to us right now, Trent,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, “I swear, I’ll never forgive you. I’d never  let you near her again. But if you’re telling the truth… we need to fix this. For her.” Jack’s eyes flicked towards Trent and then to Noah looking for some confirmation. 

“I’m telling the truth,” Trent said, his voice firm despite the tears threatening to spill. “I just want to make this right. I don’t want him to hurt her anymore. She’s endured enough. His fucking hands on her, his words, I can see her wince anytime anyone comes near her….” Trent voice shook. And finally… a tear tipped over. Trent was stood in front of his best friends crying. Jack and Noah were stunned. Never had they seen Trent cry. “It’s like she’s prepared for everyone to treat her like she’s already on her knees, to be thrown about and I couldn’t let him hold that over her, I couldn’t. He was going to exploit her, use her. I just couldn't stomach it. It’s breaking my own heart letting her hate me but I do it a million times over before I let him break her spirit once more. I couldn’t-“ Trent’s words were desperate with short gasps trying to catch his breath. He was completely distraught.

“T… mate. Just take breathe for a minute.”Jack spoke, cutting him off. The lump in his throat stifled his words. “Thank you.” Jack admitted and he meant it. The realization that the effects of Josh’s abuse was extending far past the expiration date of your relationship with him hurt Jack. He had to believe Trent. The strain in his voice, the desperation in his eyes, he could see it all written clear as day. 

“We’re gonna sort that fucking son of bitch out.” Noah chirped adamantly about creating a plan to put Josh in his place. Jack nodded slowly, his shoulders relaxing slightly. 

“Alright, then we figure this out. We need to sort this for her… and you know for you two.” Jack admitted through gritted teeth realizing that he was about to do anything to protect not just his little sister but he was about to do anything to protect his little sister’s relationship with his best friend. 

“Just for her, mate. I need to make sure she’s okay. He can’t do this.” Trent answered, his voice breaking.

“I deserved this,” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out. Your voice cracked as if the weight of the pain you were carrying would physically tear you apart. Layla didn’t hesitate. She crawled toward you on the bed, her movements slow and careful, but her arms wrapped around you with urgency, pulling you into her warmth as if she could shield you from everything hurting you.

“You didn’t,” she said firmly, her voice a quiet strength that demanded to be believed. “None of it. Not Trent, not Josh, not Jack and your dad, not your mum. None of this is fair, babe. None of it. But I’m here. I’m always here. You’re going to get through this.” She pressed her forehead against yours gently, grounding you when you felt like your entire world was falling apart. Your skin felt icy, a chill that seeped into your bones and made you feel like you weren’t even in your own body anymore. The detachment scared you, but you couldn’t find the words to explain it. You just stared at the ceiling, tears slipping silently from the corners of your eyes and onto the pillow beneath you.

“I just…” you started, voice trembling, barely audible. “I thought he wanted me.” The words fell from your lips like a confession, raw and bleeding. Your throat tightened as the tears came harder, blurring your vision and making it almost impossible to breathe. “Like someone actually wanted me— He was always so nice to me and I was stupid enough to believe him.” Your voice broke completely as the sobs overtook you, violent and gut-wrenching. You pressed your hands to your face, trying to smother the sound, but it was useless. The pain was too much. It was too big to hide. Layla pulled you closer, cradling you against her chest like a child. 

“Oh, babe,” she murmured, her voice filled with grief and love, trembling as much as your own. “I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of it. You deserve to be loved.” Her hand ran soothingly down your back, but even she was struggling to keep it together. “Not like this. Not in pieces. You deserve to be someone’s whole world.” Her voice cracked at the end, and you could feel her tears against your temple as she tried to hold it together for you. “Please… we’ll come out of this. I promise.” Her words felt so far away, too soft to reach you through the thick fog of anguish you were drowning in. All you could think about was Trent—his smile, his touch, his promises. He had felt like salvation, like the answer to years of brokenness, but now all he felt like was another lie. Another person who had used you and left you worse off than ever before. Every corner of your life felt tainted by him. You could still see him everywhere: you sat in the stands on weekends watching him with the rest of the world and yet somehow he still felt like he was just yours, his hand warm and protective on your waist in crowded clubs, the way he’d rest his head on your lap during lazy movie nights. His laughter, his whispers, his love—if it ever was love—were ghosts haunting every inch of your space. You couldn’t breathe without feeling him, without hurting.

“I can’t get away from him,” you admitted, your voice a shattered whisper. You buried your face in Layla’s chest, as if that might somehow shield you from your own thoughts. “It’s like… he’s everywhere. Everywhere I go, I see him. I feel him.” Your tears soaked through her shirt, but she didn’t care. She held you tighter, her hands never stopping their soothing motions down your back. You couldn’t even go anywhere in your own home, his imprint was ubiquitous; he’d sat in every chair, he’d held every glass, he’d opened every door. Now you found yourself feeling more battered and bruised than anytime Josh had ever touched you. You were starting to feel like maybe emotional hurt was worse than anything physical.

“It’ll take time,” Layla said gently, though her voice shook. “But you’ll get there. I promise. One day, he won’t hurt this much. He won’t have this hold on you. None of them will” You shook your head against her, the pain too fresh for you to believe her. 

“He hurts more than Josh ever did,” you admitted, the words coming out unbidden, your voice raw and bitter. “At least with him, I could see the scars. I could feel the bruises. His hands on me. But this—” You clenched your fists against Layla’s shirt, your body trembling with a fresh wave of sobs. “This is worse. He didn’t just break my heart. He broke me.” Layla froze for a moment, your confession hitting her like a punch to the gut. She felt at fault, guilty that she didn’t see it all. What Josh had done, what Trent apparently had done. She hadn’t known you felt like this, hadn’t realized how deep the wounds Trent could leave behind went. “I never want to see him again but he’s plastered around the entire country. I don’t know how to escape someone I so desperately wanted to see for years. He was the only person I looked at for years. I had complete tunnel vision, focused on him. I just wanted him to look only at me and I wasn’t enough. He looked elsewhere but he’s still all I see… and it hurts.” Slowly, Layla pulled back, cupping your tear-streaked face in her hands, her own eyes swimming with tears. 

“Listen to me,” she said fiercely, her voice trembling with emotion. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. You didn’t let him do this. You trusted him because you’re a good person. Because you have a good heart, and you believed he had one too. That’s not on you, babe. That’s on him.” Her words were like a lifeline, pulling you up just enough to take a shaky breath. But the emptiness inside you remained, a hollow ache that seemed too vast to ever be filled. 

“I just want it to stop,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “The pain, the memories… I just want it all to stop.” Layla’s tears spilled over then, but she didn’t let go of you. 

“It will,” she promised, her voice cracking. “I swear it will. And until it does, I’ll be here. Every step of the way, I’ll be here.” Her arms tightened around you again, holding you as if she could keep the pieces of you together by sheer will. And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into her, the faintest flicker of hope breaking through the suffocating darkness.

When Jack stepped into your room, his stomach twisted in a way he hadn’t felt in years. You didn’t just look sad—you looked like you’d been hollowed out, a shell of the person you used to be. His chest tightened as he took it all in: the dim light from your computer screen illuminating your face, your body wrapped in a blanket like it was the only thing holding you together, the empty water glass on your nightstand and the untouched bowl of snacks Layla must’ve left earlier. You weren’t just grieving—you were unraveling. Jack didn’t knock. He couldn’t. The sight of you like this obliterated every barrier between the two of you. He pushed the door open fully, the creak of the hinges announcing his presence as he stepped inside. The room was suffocatingly dark, the blinds shut tight, sealing you in a cocoon of silence and despair. Without saying a word, Jack walked to the window and yanked the blinds open. The sudden flood of light made you flinch, and you burrowed further under the blanket, shooting him a weak glare.

“Need to get up,” Jack said, his voice gentle but firm. He didn’t move closer right away, instead giving you space to process his words. You blinked at him, your voice hoarse and barely audible. 

“Why?” It wasn’t a challenge, just a broken question. Why get up? Why move? Why try? Jack took a hesitant step closer, his movements slow, like he was afraid you might crumble under the weight of his presence. He sat down on the edge of the bed, close enough to reach you but not close enough to overwhelm you. For a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read the pain etched into every line. 

“Just for me,” he murmured, his voice soft and raw. “Please, Y/N. Just put on some sweats. Wash your face. You don’t have to do anything else. Just… do that for me.” He pleaded. You stared at him for a long moment, your lips trembling as tears welled up in your eyes. The lump in your throat was so thick you could barely breathe. Finally, you gave a small nod, sniffing back the sob that threatened to escape. Slowly, like moving through quicksand, you pushed the blanket off and swung your legs over the side of the bed. Jack didn’t say a word as you stood up, your body heavy and sluggish. He just watched, his heart breaking at how much effort it seemed to take you to even move. You trudged toward the en suite bathroom, the soft shuffle of your feet on the carpet the only sound in the room. Once inside, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you caught your breath. The light from the bathroom mirror was harsh, and when you finally looked up at your reflection, you almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at you. Your eyes were swollen and red, your cheeks blotchy, your hair a mess. You looked like you’d been drained of every ounce of life and energy. Turning the faucet on, you let the cold water run for a moment before splashing it onto your face. The shock of it sent a shiver down your spine, pulling you back into your body for a brief moment. You reached for a towel, patting your face dry as you tried to steady your breathing. The faint murmur of the trash tv you were watching in your room filtered through the door, a reminder that Jack was still there, waiting for you. He hadn’t left.

With shaking hands, you pulled on an oversized hoodie and a pair of joggers from the pile of clothes on the bathroom counter. It was from laundry you should’ve done but menial tasks fell to the wayside, lost on you days ago. The clothes weren’t much, but they felt like armor against the weight of the world pressing down on you. You heard Jack pause the show in the other room leaving the en-suite eerily quiet, the faint hum of the light above doing nothing to break the stillness. You stood still barefoot on the cold tiles, the chill biting at your skin, yet it wasn’t enough to ground you. It felt like you were floating, disconnected from your own body, staring at a reflection in the mirror you barely recognized. The girl staring back looked broken—eyes rimmed red, lips trembling, cheeks stained with tears.

Your gaze shifted downward slightly, catching a glint of gold and blue in the mirror. The earrings. The ones Trent had given you when he sincerely and thoughtfully asked you to be his girlfriend. You had worn them every day since, a tangible reminder of the joy, the love, and the hope that had bloomed in that moment. Now, they felt different. A lump formed in your throat as you stared at them—the delicate gold butterfly in one ear and the striking blue butterfly in the other. They had been a symbol of the start of something beautiful, of a relationship you had longed for. But now, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you had barely even gotten the chance to hold onto. You didn’t even know how long he was even your boyfriend for, that’s how short it all felt and yet the hurt made it all feel incredibly long.

The tears came back quickly, racing down your cheeks before you could stop them. You sniffled, clutching the edge of the sink to steady yourself as your chest heaved with quiet sobs. It wasn’t just the loss of Trent that weighed on you. It was the idea that you had finally allowed yourself to believe in something good, something real, only for it to be ripped away before it had the chance to truly take root. Your fingers hesitated as they reached up, brushing against the earrings. For a moment, you considered taking them out, desperate to erase the pain, the memories, the pieces of him that lingered. But as your trembling hand hovered there, you froze. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t let go of him—not entirely. Even if your relationship was over, your love for him wasn’t. It clung to you, stubborn and unyielding, refusing to fade no matter how much it hurt. Maybe these butterflies, pinned delicately to your earlobes, could still be a source of hope. Maybe they could remind you of what had been, but also of what could still be. You let out a shaky breath, wiping at your tears with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. The weight in your chest didn’t disappear, but as you looked at your reflection again, you realized something. These earrings weren’t just about Trent. They were about you, too. About the courage it had taken to open your heart and the strength you’d need to keep it from breaking completely. The Trent that gave you these was gone. The Trent that looked after you for years disappeared but the girl you thought he loved was still there staring back at you, you couldn’t change that. You couldn’t escape her. Maybe, the butterflies—fragile as they were—could carry you through.

When you stepped back into the room, Jack was standing by the window, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the street below. He turned toward you as he heard the bathroom door open, his eyes scanning you carefully. You tugged at the hem of your hoodie self-consciously, feeling exposed even though you were fully covered. Jack’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he gave a small nod of approval, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“Thanks,” he said softly, moving back to sit on the bed. He patted the spot beside him, and after a moment’s hesitation, you shuffled over and sat down next to him. Your body felt heavy, like it might sink into the mattress and never resurface. For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was just heavy, filled with all the things you couldn’t say yet. Jack placed a hand on your knee, his touch warm and steady, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in days. “I’m sorry I didn’t come in sooner,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “I knew you were hurting… I just, I didn’t know this was how bad it was in here..” Jack cooed softly as he inspected the room. You’d been holed up for ages. “I didn’t know what to say… I didn’t want to hurt you anymore.” You swallowed hard, blinking back tears as you stared at your hands in your lap. 

“It’s not your fault,” you whispered, but even as you said it, the tears started to fall. Jack didn’t try to stop them. He didn’t tell you it was going to be okay or that you needed to pull yourself together. He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug as you let yourself completely crumble. You sobbed into his chest, your whole body shaking as the dam broke.

“I’m here,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “I’ve got you, Y/N. I’m here.” He whispered as you fell apart.

After a long while and buckets of more tears. Jack convinced you to get into the car with the enticement of starbucks. The car ride was quiet, the kind of silence that wasn’t uncomfortable but still carried the weight of everything unspoken. Jack had barely said a word, his hands gripping the wheel tightly as he navigated the streets. You didn’t ask where you were going—because it was clearly not in the direction of the closest Starbucks but part of you was too tired to care, and another yet part trusted him to know what you needed better than you did right now.

When the car pulled to a stop, you felt a pang of recognition before you even looked up. Heaton Park. Your chest tightened, and you let out a shaky sigh, your fingers fidgeting in your lap.  The moment you stepped out of the car, the cool air bit at your skin, but it couldn’t cut through the numbness you felt inside. You were sluggishly, the bitter wind brushing against your face and making you shiver. The familiar sight of the park stretched out before you, the stone paths winding through the greenery like veins in a leaf. The park stretched out before you, serene and empty, but it felt like the ground beneath you was unsteady.  For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of something—a memory, a connection—but it was fleeting. Jack walked a few steps ahead of you, his strides purposeful yet hesitant, silent, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. You followed, your feet dragging slightly on the gravel path.

“Are we going to go to—” you began, your voice soft and tentative. Jack didn’t let you finish. He turned and just nodded, his eyes returning to be fixed ahead. He knew what you were going to ask. Of course he did. The greenhouse.

It was a sanctuary, a place where your mum had poured so much of her love and energy. After she passed, it became something more—a place where you could feel her presence, as though she lived on in the delicate flutter of the butterflies that filled the glass room. It was a space that brought both comfort and sorrow, a bittersweet reminder of what you had lost and what you still held onto. As you walked toward it, the weight in your chest grew heavier. You weren’t sure if you were ready to step inside, to face the memories that waited for you there, you hadn’t been in a long time. But before you could take another step, Jack stopped.

“Why are you stopping?” you asked, turning to look at him with confusion. As the greenhouse came into view, its glass panes glinting faintly in the muted sunlight, your heart sank. The lush greenery inside was just visible through the tinted windows, the flickering movements of butterflies a distant echo of life you didn’t feel. You frowned confused as Jack stopped in his tracks. He turned to you, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes didn’t meet yours. He nodded back toward the greenhouse for you to really look. Your brows furrowed as you followed his gaze. There, through the glass, was Trent. He was seated on a bench, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together like he was holding on for dear life. His head was bowed, his shoulders slumped, his entire body radiating a kind of exhaustion you recognized all too well.

“Jack…” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to see him. You swallowed, blinking back tears. You turned back towards the car. 

“Just talk to him,” Jack said softly, but firmly, pleadingly. He didn’t push you forward, didn’t try to guide you. He just waited. Your feet felt like they were weighed down. Finally, you took a deep breath. At the very least maybe you could sever ties entirely with Trent. You could let Trent break your heart to your face. Let him hurt you, slice you completely open and there in the green house so full of life, you could let this all die. 

“Why are you doing this?” you asked finally, your voice shaking as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you. And with those words, the dam broke once more. Jack didn’t answer. He just gave a small nod, his gaze shifting toward the greenhouse again. Your heart clenched, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. He looked different—not in a physical way, but in the way he carried himself. His shoulders were hunched, his hands clasped tightly together as he stared at the ground. He looked like a man who had been hollowed out, as though the weight of the world had finally caught up to him. You turned back to Jack, your eyes wide and filled with questions. “Jack…Why—” You asked again because you wanted to know. 

“I didn’t bring you here… for him,” Jack said quickly, his voice low and steady. “I brought you here for you. But… he asked to see you. Said he’d wait as long as it took. He’s been here for hours, Y/N. He’s not leaving until you talk to him.” Jack’s voice was calm. You could sense that he was comfortable with letting you go into an enclosed room with Trent. It didn’t make sense. He hurt you. Why was Jack okay with this. You felt your throat tighten, your emotions warring inside you. Part of you wanted to turn and walk away, to leave him sitting there in the greenhouse with his guilt and his regrets. But another part of you, a part you hated to admit existed, wanted to go inside. To hear what he had to say. Jack moved gently and slowly before placing a hand on your shoulder, grounding you. “You don’t have to do this,” he said gently. “But if you want to… Just do what you want.” Jack exhaled. “Y/N, for once, do what you want. Please.” Jack pleaded, desperate for you to be brave for yourself… not for him, not for Trent, but to either go in or get out on your own terms. 

And so then in that moment you decided, you wanted to feel it all, all the heartache, let it pull you under, hot box you in what once was. You wanted to be suffocated by the memories of your mum and memories of the Trent you’d once trusted that filled the greenhouse and be able to close the door behind you. You nodded slowly, your feet carrying you forward before your mind could catch up. The closer you got to the greenhouse, the louder your heartbeat became, pounding in your ears like a drum. Every step toward the greenhouse taking more effort than the last. The closer you got, the more details came into focus. The way Trent’s jaw clenched as he stared at the ground. The way his leg bounced nervously. The way his hands trembled, just barely, as they hung between his knees. When you reached the door, your hand hovered over the handle for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. You wanted to turn back, to run away, to avoid the pain you knew was waiting for you inside, maybe you weren’t strong enough for what you decided.  But something kept you rooted there—a flicker of hope, or maybe just a need for answers. You pushed the door open, the faint creak of the hinges cutting through the stillness. The soft hum of the greenhouse filling your ears as you stepped inside. The warm, humid air hit you immediately, carrying the faint smell of flowers and earth. It was warm and fragrant, the scent of memories mingling with the faint flutter of wings. Yet simultaneously, it was almost too quiet inside, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the soft mossy floor. 

Trent didn’t look up at first, but the moment the door clicked shut behind you, his head snapped up. His eyes met yours, and the raw emotion in them hit you like a wave, his eyes meeting yours. The pain in his expression mirrored your own, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking, as he stood abruptly, his voice raw with emotion. He looked like he didn’t know whether to move closer or stay where he was, his hands twitching at his sides. You didn’t say anything at first. You just stared at him, taking in the sight of the man you loved—someone who now felt like a stranger. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, with pain and regret and longing Trent stood as you approached, his movements slow and tentative, like he was afraid of scaring you away. You stayed quiet, your arms wrapping around yourself as you stopped a few feet away from him. The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating, until finally, Trent spoke again. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice a meek whimper, a tone you had never known. “For everything. For hurting you. For not fighting harder to protect us. I—I don’t even know where to start, but I need you to know… I never wanted this. I never wanted to lose you.” His words hung in the air, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. The anger, the hurt, the betrayal—they were all still there, but so was something else. Something softer, something that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, there was a way forward. But first, you needed answers. And you needed to know if you could trust him again.

“But you did hurt me. You didn’t fight for me. All you’ve done….” You whimpered barely able to get the words out. Tears were already coursing down your cheeks just merely at the sight of him. “All you’ve done is break me down in ways I didn’t even know were possible.” You cried, unable to look him in the eyes. You felt naked crying in front of him. Like your sweatset had vanished entirely.  

“I know.” Ternt muttered, unable to stay quiet as guilt crashed over him. You heard Jack’s car wheels pull across the gravel leaving you with Trent. You were alone, fragile, boxed in with the boy who broke your heart in a literal glass house that felt it could shatter at any moment.

“Why did you hurt me…” You sobbed. Trent wasn’t sure he ever knew pain like this existed either watching you stand there doused in the tears he caused.  “Why did you lie to me? Why wasn’t I good enough? You told me I was… you’re the only person who's ever even taken a second look at me, taken an interest in me, really saw me and… and… it was a lie. Why did you do that? What did you gain from that? Was it for the sex? You didn’t get enough of that elsewhere? You think I didn’t ache every time I saw you with a new girl for years and finally… god! fucking finally you really looked at me. I thought you loved me! You made me you’re fucking girlfriend just to screw Jess? Why would you hurt me…” Your words were fast, rushed, emotional, with gasps and hiccups interspersed between words.  

“I didn’t touch her.” Trent looked at you earnestly. Your brow furrowed trying to deduce if he was being honest or if he had the gull to lie to your face right now. “Y/N, I swear on my life, I have not looked at another girl, let alone touched one since you kissed me. I did not kiss Jess. I did not have sex with her. The day you kissed me my fucking life got flipped upside down. You have been the only thought in my head for months and you’ve been the only girl I’ve wanted for my years.” Trent confessed, his voice was weak but it was raw and unfiltered. It was unapologetically honest and you couldn’t ignore it. “Y/N… baby, please. I’ve waited. God, I’ve fucking waited my turn… I watched you with all those fucking assholes wishing you’d let me have a chance, let me in… please don’t shut me out now.” He whimpered desperately.

“Then why… I don’t understand how this got so fucked up.” You questioned him quietly. “Why did you say those things? Why did you leave?” You asked hesitantly, not sure if you could stomach the answer. 

“Josh… He has a video.” He confessed. The moment the words left his mouth, the air seemed to shift, heavy with a revelation that landed like a weight in your chest. Your mind reeled as Trent’s confession unfolded, the pieces clicking into place in a way that made your stomach churn.

“What?” you whispered, your voice trembling. He took a step forward. He’s hands gently wrapped around your biceps.

“Josh…” Trent said again, his grip on your arms tightening ever so slightly, like he was afraid you might disappear. “He has that video. I don’t know how he got it, but he threatened me. Said if I didn’t leave you, if I didn’t do what he asked, he’d release it. He wanted to hurt you. He used me to hurt you. He has a video of us and he was using it to exploit you and me, us.  Baby, I would never do this to you unprompted. He pushed my hand, I didn’t fuck Jess, that fucking prick made me lie to you. To everyone. I just couldn't handle him thinking he had control over you anymore. It broke my heart hurting you, letting you hate me but I’d do it a million times over before I let him come near you again. I will always protect you, even if it came at the cost of losing you. I lost the love of my life that night but….” Trent tried to keep talking but the look on your face made him pause.  Your knees buckled, and Trent was quick to steady you, his hands sliding down to your elbows. But you pulled back, stepping out of his reach as you tried to process what he was saying.

“He’s been blackmailing you?” you asked, your voice breaking. Trent nodded, his eyes red-rimmed and pleading.

 “I didn’t know what to do. I thought—I had to play his fucking game, it was the only way I could protect you. I could keep him from doing something worse. I didn’t want to lose you, baby, but I couldn’t let him hurt you again. I couldn’t.” He whimpered as you stumbled backward, your hands clutching your temples as the weight of it all came crashing down. The betrayal, the heartbreak, the manipulation—it was too much.

“You should have told me,” you said, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “You should have trusted me. Trusted us.” Trent stepped forward again, desperate to close the gap between you.

“You don’t understand, he was going to send it at his fucking table that night. He had a video of you on your knees, Y/N ready to send out to anyone and everyone. I didn’t want you to carry that weight. You’ve been through enough. I don’t want him near you. My only option was to handle it on my own. I was protecting you the only way I could, that night.” Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. 

“But you weren’t. Trent, you weren’t protecting me. You were letting him win. Letting him keep control.” You whimpered, explaining your very real thoughts. He dropped his head, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. 

“No. He doesn’t have control,” he said softly, yet unsure. “I know I messed up. But please, baby, I’m trying to make it right now. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. To fix us. He won’t take you away from me.” You looked at him, your heart aching in a way that made it hard to breathe. You wanted to believe him, to let yourself fall into his arms and trust that he could make it right. But the pain, the betrayal, the fear—it wasn’t something you could push aside so easily. You didn’t respond, your body too numb and your mind too overwhelmed to form words.  It felt like the ground had been ripped out from under you. You couldn’t comprehend it—Josh, holding something so intimate, so vulnerable, like a weapon against you. Your tears continued fast, hot and unrelenting, blurring the lush greenery around you into an indistinguishable haze. Trent stepped closer into you, his voice trembling.  “I know it hurt, baby, but I couldn’t risk it. Not that night. Not with him. I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to lie to you, to everyone. You have to believe me.” His words cracked, and you saw his own tears spill down his cheeks. You’d never seen him cry like this before, and it broke something inside of you.

“So Josh still has a video of us?” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible as you wrapped your arms around yourself protectively. The nausea hit you like a tidal wave, and you staggered slightly again.

“I don’t know how he got it,” Trent said, his voice hoarse. “But he was trying to use it to get you away from me, to keep hurting you but I won’t let it happen.” The betrayal and disgust churned in your stomach, but amidst it all, there was one truth you couldn’t deny, one thing that felt louder than the rest. 

“I don’t want to be away from you,” you whimpered, your voice raw with emotion. That small admission shattered whatever invisible wall had been keeping you apart. You took a single step forward, and it felt monumental, like crossing a chasm. Trent didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest as if he could shield you from everything, even the weight of the world. His embrace was warm and steady, but it also unraveled you completely. You broke down, your sobs shaking your whole body as you clung to him. It was a release you didn’t even realize you needed, all the pain, fear, and uncertainty spilling out in waves.

“I’m not going to be away from you,” Trent whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the emotion lacing it. “I’m here. Okay? I’m not leaving.” He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to reassure you of his promise. The greenhouse felt both fragile and comforting, the tension in the air gradually giving way to something softer, something hopeful. For the first time in days, you felt like you could breathe. The lush oxygen in the greenhouse was no longer suffocating, it was liberating. It was quiet for a long time, only the sound of tears, ragged breaths, and broken hearts. 

“Are you still my boyfriend?” you whimpered against the soft cotton of Trent’s shirt, your voice barely audible. The words felt heavy in your throat, weighted with everything you’d been through, everything that had been said and done. Despite it all you were desperate to repair the gaping hole he’d left behind in your chest. You didn’t even know if you wanted the answer—because what if it wasn’t the one you needed? Trent froze for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. Then, with a tenderness that almost broke you, he pulled back, his large hands moving to cradle your face. His thumbs gently wiped away the tears spilling down your cheeks, his dark eyes swimming with emotion. He leaned in, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breath warm and steady on your skin.

“I’ve waited my entire life to be your boyfriend,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m not backing out now. Not for no one. I’ve got you.” The sincerity in his words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, you leaned forward, capturing his lips in a kiss. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was slow, deliberate, and filled with everything you couldn’t find the words to say. It felt like you were pressing your broken pieces into him, hoping he could hold them together. When you pulled away, your chest heaving with silent sobs, you noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of your eye. A delicate blue butterfly flitted through the still air, its wings shimmering in the golden light streaming through the glass walls of the greenhouse. It circled once, twice, and then landed gently on Trent’s shoulder, its tiny legs gripping the fabric of his hoodie. The sight made you gasp, your tears momentarily forgotten. “That okay, pretty girl?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and almost hesitant. He didn’t move, afraid of disturbing the fragile moment unfolding between you. You nodded, your throat too tight to speak. “Supposed to be with you,” Trent continued, his voice barely above a murmur. “Take care of you. Love you. I know that.” He paused when he noticed your eyes weren’t locked on his anymore. His gaze shifted to the butterfly, his lips curving into a small, reverent smile. “And she knew that.” He cooed softly. Your heart clenched as you realized the significance of the creature perched so serenely on him. It wasn’t just a butterfly—it was a sign, a reminder of your mum, of her love, her presence, and her belief in you. Your fingers trembled as you reached out, brushing them lightly against Trent’s arm. 

“I miss her so much.” You sniffled. “I can tell she’s here though,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I can feel her.” Trent nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. 

“I know, baby.” He whispered. You blinked, tears blurring your vision, and suddenly remembered the earrings he’d given you—the ones you’d worn so often without fully understanding their significance. They were just like the butterfly: delicate, blue, shimmering. A quiet tribute to your mum, a connection between the past and the future.

“She always knew I loved you,” you murmured, your voice gaining strength. “Even now I feel like she pushes me to remember that it’s always been you… Even when it shouldn’t work.” You whimpered. Trent shifted slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at the butterfly as it fluttered its wings. 

“It should work. I will make it work. She knew that I would take care of you, that I’m supposed to take care of you,” he said, his voice steady now. “And I will, Y/N. I promise because I love you.” The emotion in his voice shattered the last of your defenses. You stepped into him fully, burying your face in his chest as your tears soaked into his shirt. His arms wrapped around you tightly, holding you like he never wanted to let go.

“I love you,” you sniffled, the words muffled but clear. Trent pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering. 

“I love you more than you will ever know, more than I could ever even begin to tell you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. The butterfly finally took flight, fluttering upward toward the glass ceiling. You both watched it go, its wings catching the light as it disappeared into the rafters. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. When you turned back to Trent, he was already looking at you, his expression filled with so much love and determination that it made your knees weak. “C’mere. My perfect pretty girl,” he cooed, taking your hand and lacing your fingers together. “Love you so so much.” He whispered almost to himself as his other hand pulled your head into his chest. He kissed your hair again and again. The way you smelt, the way you felt, it all felt like a dream. It didn’t make sense that this was real but as you marginally separated he opened the door to exit the green house reality came crashing back down. The light catching your cheekbone, a tear streak stain on your cheek, a painful reminder of how very real you were. How very real the hurt he had caused was. You were real and you were his and he’d do anything to keep you safe. 

“T…?” you questioned softly, your voice barely audible as your fingers curled around his hand. The two of you walked slowly along the winding paths of the park, the faint rustling of leaves and the distant laughter of children filling the quiet space between you.

“Yeah, pretty girl?” he hummed, glancing down at you, his dark eyes full of warmth despite the tension lingering between you. You hesitated, your steps faltering for a moment. 

“I’m… I’m scared of Josh. That video getting out would be so bad for you,” you mumbled, your gaze fixed on the path in front of you. The words felt heavy, and saying them out loud made the fear all the more real. Trent stopped walking, turning to face you. He placed his hands gently on your arms, his thumbs stroking soothingly over the fabric of your sweatshirt. 

“Y/N, baby,” he began, his voice low and steady, “I would risk my life, my career—everything—to protect you. And I’m so sorry that trying to do that ended up hurting you. I swear with my whole heart, that piece of shit will never hurt you again. He can’t even get close to my baby, alright? I gotcha.” The conviction in his voice and the fierce protectiveness in his eyes made your heart clench. You nodded, leaning into him as his arm wrapped around you, pulling you tightly into his side. The spring breeze carried the scent of his cologne, wrapping you in a cocoon of safety and comfort.

“Okay,” you murmured, though the unease still lingered in your chest. After a moment of silence, you tilted your head up to look at him. “Are we going to have to hide again?” you asked hesitantly, the thought of going back to a secret relationship filling you with dread. Trent’s grip on you tightened slightly, his arm anchoring you to him. You had so many questions you almost felt bad asking them but Trent felt worse having to answer them, it should’ve never come to this.

“No, pretty girl,” he said firmly. “I’ll protect you, alright? No more hiding. We’re doing this right. You and me.” His words brought a flicker of warmth to your chest, melting away some of the fear. 

“Okay,” you whispered again, your lips curling into a small smile. “So… I’m your girlfriend again?” you asked playfully, a hint of mischief creeping into your tone. Trent chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. 

“You’ve always been my girl,” he murmured, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your temple. Your cheeks warmed, and you let out a quiet giggle. 

“Good,” you said, squeezing his waist. “Because I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he teased, kissing the top of your head. You walked in comfortable silence for a while, the park’s serene atmosphere working its magic on your frayed nerves. The weight of the past few days still hung over you, but in his presence, it felt a little lighter, a little easier to bear. “Thank you for listening…understanding,” Trent spoke after a while, his tone soft but serious. “I know that night was hard—harder than I can even imagine on you. For me too. I just… I was trying to protect my pretty girl.” You looked up at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity etched into his face. 

“I’ve always waited. I understand,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I do.” Unable to resist the pull of his warmth, you wrapped your arms around his waist, holding onto him as if he were the only thing tethering you to the ground. He didn’t seem to mind—if anything, he held you just as tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back as the two of you slowly made your way out of the park. For the first time in days, you felt a small spark of hope. Maybe the two of you could get through this. But maybe, just maybe, as you felt relationship coming up, you'd also be reminded of that little video of you going down still existing on Josh's phone.

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Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 22 - I'm Sorry xx

[eldritch-spouse]

Sometimes greedy gambits do work out.

Your typical greedy fiend may wax about their insatiable desire for the material, how satisfaction is the death of their nature and never shall they cease stretching their fingers towards the next shining trophy-

But they know limits.

They have that little bit of normalcy that tells them when it's time to drop something, even if it leaves a taste like curdled milk in their mouths.

Not Xiko.

Xiko grabbed onto something and he did not let go.

Not even when death came knocking at his door.

This celebrity of the Greed Ring was known for being the biggest, most successful human/monster trafficker of Hell itself. Xiko, a mere mid-ranker, yet clever and crafty enough to dethrone nearly everyone in his field of vile work.

Wanted humans and monsters worth owning? In mint condition? With some really rare traits? Leave it to him and his boys, you won't be disappointed.

With great skill and talent comes great danger, but Xiko didn't cower when he started to gain many an enemy, when he could no longer count them, when he spent most of his time hunting them down rather than hunting the poor souls he's supposed to sell. With each visit, he'd return home with a few trophies to remember his victory.

Things were going well.

His empire of fifth kept growing, enough so that it garnered the attention of the very Lord Rinx, a client Xiko both reveres and dreads, due to his extravagant tastes. Why, he ever earned himself a juicy deal with this strange, extremely popular establishment on the surface that constantly bulk-orders humans. The Clergy's Eye or something of the sort, he knows the Icons had been there before.

How impressive is that? Enough for prideful folk to eye him wantonly.

Xiko had the opportunity to grow in rank, to sit at Rinx's table and negotiate starting a little jewelry store in the heart of Greed to keep up appearances and branch out. What luxuries.

Unfortunately, all highs lead to lows.

His health starts deteriorating inexplicably. Xiko begins being unable to move properly without chronic bursts of pain debilitating him from doing much of anything other than lie and wait for the wave of torment to pass. He has no idea where it's coming from. The pain is so great he gets blinded and passes out in some episodes.

The best doctors he can find tell Xiko he developed something terminal. Not quite a cancer, similar, something only demonoids can exhibit.

But what did the name of it matter? His own monumental riches wouldn't save him from certain doom.

One might think Xiko would do some soul searching with the time he had left, as laughable as that sounds for a being as rotten as him.

Not even close.

You don't get this far without being stubborn.

Things can't end as they are. Xiko can't die, he has so much to do and so much to oversee, it's simply not an option. He can't.

In the midst of despair and hopeless solution-seeking, Xiko finds a possible answer to his impossible conundrum inscripted in his most favored trophy, a timeless chalice.

Between its jewels and lovely finishes, the instructions for a ritual sat written in one of the oldest tongues in Hell. Having a historian for a friend sure comes in handy, doesn't it?

Said acquaintance is there to witness it when Xiko grows mad enough to try it, at the hands of demons who perpetuate these ancient practices.

A mummification-like ritual.

Except, to avoid death, Xiko must remove the two organs which the soul is most connected to, the brain and heart.

He knew what he was getting into when he laid on that altar.

He knew that he would suffer physical trauma beyond anything he could ever have experienced in life. He knew he would come out of it looking like a completely different being. That he would no longer be a demon.

And he was ready.

He was ready when they started chanting.

He was ready when his jaw was stretched to absurd proportions.

He was ready when his chest was torn open.

When he danced in that barrier between life and death, looking down at himself while his figure withered and contorted.

Those memories are... Scratchy, to say the least.

Xiko recalls screaming at the top of his exposed lungs and feeling his skin rip from several sides all at once, as if rejecting him. He remembers when his skull was crushed and how he could hear it for a moment. He knows he twisted and shriveled like a bug on that marble.

And that he woke up.

Wrapped like a present.

Dead yet amongst the living.

To continue his work. To remain forever at the top.

So what if he was emaciated now? If he'd never get rid of the massive scar where his figure was torn open, if his eyes now reside inside his bizarre gaping maw and his arms are elongated? Xiko had made it.

And while death was unavoidable, it was not the end.

In fact, it was the beginning of something a lot more amusing for Xiko.

He found his new appearance frightened his competition. Rumors of him being an undead diety spread. No longer featuring a core name or even something as simple as a sigil, Xiko was freed of even more weaknesses.

He made no effort to hide what he had become the next time he was present at Greed's Conqueror's Spoils festival. His mangled, infernal undead form on the spotlight.

Some of them were smart enough to understand what he had turned into, knew to stop pursuing him. For when you take something from a mummy, it cannot rest until it retrieves its possession.

Others came to find that out eventually.

Perhaps the person Xiko feels most sorry for is, not one of his enemies, but you.

You poor thing, still trying to escape him, still trying to lockpick your cages and manipulate his men, trying to make it out at all costs.

You never think twice when you set foot outside his territory.

Unaware that he'll always instinctively know where to find his "stolen" possession.

[technicallyfriendly]

Here, I'm going to continue my thoughts on what the OGs think about the ship parallels when they look at lucemond and jacegon.

Alicent feels a deep sense of grief when she sees the looks filled with yearning exchanged between Jacaerys and Aegon. She knows how this ends. Jacaerys will ultimately choose duty over love and break both his own and Aegon's heart in the process. She never thought she would feel any sort of kinship with one of Rhaenyra's bastards but here she was. Seeing Jacaerys repeating her mistakes. She should have taken Rhaenyra up on her offer that day. But what is the point of crying over spilt milk. Nothing remains only longing for something that never was.

And while she mourns for Rhaenyra's heir and her son, when she looks at Aemond and Lucerys, she despairs. She knows this song and dance. Has sat in the first row when it was happening at court the first time. Now she watches it playing out again right in front of her. She thought she had raised Aemond better than for him to try and emulate that despicable man but maybe watching him stalk his nephew like prey, she has to accept that her son is a Targaryan and not even her influence can curb his impulses. If only that little bastard would stop encouraging him. Not behaving like prey being stalked at all. He is the poisonous kind of prey. Beautiful and dangerous, and she worries for Aemond for he might think himself the hunter while walking straight into a deadly trap.

Rhaenyra watches Jace and Aegon dance around each other, and her heart aches with sorrow. Sometimes, she dreams of the carefree days of her youth yet to be marred by the tragedies of life and betrayal, but she also has accepted reality. For dreams are dreams, and they will not change a thing. She knows Jace. He takes duty too seriously. Not rarely does she wish he would lighten up at least a little, but she also does not wish for him to get his heart broken over a fruitless tryst with her useless brother. Maybe Baela was not his first choice, and looking at her and Helaena, neither was he hers, but they are close enough as friends that they will at least not be unhappy together. Aegon will just have to grow up just like Rhaenyra herself had to.

There is another relationship that troubles her much more than Jace and Aegon's yearning for each other. Jace would never do something impulsive that may compromise her claim to the throne, but her brother, Aemond, might. She knows the look he throws at Lucerys all too well. She enjoys it when Daemon directs it at her every time. But Aemond is a different beast from Daemon entirely, and no matter how similar the situations may be, there has never been that much bad blood between Daemon and herself. She worries for Lucerys and worries what her brother's intentions may be. Though, one look at Lucerys tells her that this situation might exceed her control, and she asks herself if this is how her father must have felt when he witnessed Daemon and her own dance.

Daemon does not care either way for Aegon the Spare. From what he has heard, the boy is no threat on his own. A lazy hedonist, nothing more. He does care for Jacaeys, though. He watched the boy grow up into a steadfast and honourable if, unfortunately, much to a serious young man who may actually benefit from getting it wet occasionally. For all Daemon cares, Jacaerys can do what he wants as long as it does not dishonour Baela in any way. If Jacaerys wants to take that pathetic little Prince to bed, then he shall. Daemon knows that Jacaerys would not make a mess of things he is much too meticulous to give their enemies ammunition.

Speaking of messes. He does not have to look too far to find one in the making. He knows he is not supposed to have a favourite son, much like he should not have a favourite daughter, but Daemon is at the end of the day only human, no matter what he likes to believe himself and if he could have one it would be Lucerys who reminds him so much of Rhaenyra when she was young. All the fire. All the sass. Unfortunately, he also knows what effect this kind of behaviour has on young, hot-blooded, Targaryan men. That does not mean he is sympathetic. No, he would like nothing more than to run Dark Sister through Aemond Targaryan's other eye just for the way it keeps following Lucerys wherever he goes. If One-Eye was not so unpredictable, Daemon would welcome it. Having access to the biggest living dragon would be an enormous boon for their side, but he cannot yet believe the devotion in Aemond Targaryan's gaze and as such he would prefer to keep him as far away from Lucerys as possible. This must be how Viserys felt watching Rhaenyra and himself all those years ago, and ultimately, much like Viserys back then, Daemon has no choice but to watch closely and hope that it does not blow up in their faces when the two collide. He has seen the provoking smirks Lucerys has sent One-Eye's way. Much like Rhaenyra, the boy is defiant and bone headed and does what he wants, and where Daemon likes those attributes in Rhaenyra in Lucerys, they drive him up the wall.

[batchilla]

Fata Morgana Chapter Three - A Choice Made

Roman Sionis, being of a family as old as your own, is a marvellous dancer. You can’t help but grant him that, at least. “You dance well.” You say to break the silence. “Easily done, with a partner as skilled and beautiful as yourself, Princess. Though you seemed a good deal happier dancing with the Captain.” You raise an eyebrow and take a breath as you move your shoulders in anticipation of the game, and how aggressively the Earl wishes to play it. Part of you is almost happy. You often scheme, play the innocent doe eyed ninny. To be openly called on your behaviour is thrilling as it is off putting.

“Captain Todd-Wayne is a dear friend. I imagine you, more than most of the gentry must have been thrilled by his return. You served with him at the Battle of Arkham did you not?” Roman tilts his head “I did not serve, my place was in the advisory tent. But yes, we indeed were both present on that glorious day.” “A day that served you most … auspiciously then, as a man who never took up the sword.” As your partner waltzes you around the room in a twirling pattern with your fellow dancers, he laughs, deep and from the chest. “Indeed I did. Though I do try not to brag about it. Pride, they say, goes before the fall.” 

He can’t help but feel grateful. It would not do to break down so publicly. He only hoped no one had seen his brother escort him aside. That his princess had been too wrapped up in her new fiance to notice. “Jason?” his brother asks, pressing a stemmed glass into his hands, which he drinks without hesitation. “Don’t fall in love.” He says with a humourless laugh. “And not with someone above your station.” Tim just looked at him. Often Jason hated that look Tim fixed people with. As though he was a sheet of tax information for the local peasantry. As though all his problems and fears and ambitions and joys were simple data that while he could never make complete sense of where to his little brother completely obvious. Once, there was a time Jason would have thought he hated Tim. He’d never felt the Duke loved him as he had the others. Dick, the heir who had come to the Duke through great tragedy, and became a golden example of the Wayne name. Then him. He’d been robbing the stables. He’d expected to lose his hand. He’d been taken in by a man spiralling, in need of a project. He’d been given status, education, all the things that by birth he’d never ought to have. Then he’d given him a sword and sent him away. 

He’d taken in Tim. A boy of noble birth who he’d always seemed, in Jason’s eyes, one he’d always favoured. Then the bastard. Jason had no personal objections to young Damian - at least not by reason of his birth. He owed his mother … everything. But death - because he had died, surely, that day - had a way of giving perspective. 

Damn the Duke's favour - his brothers were his brothers. “Her Highness?” Tim says, that analysing look falling away to sympathy. “Her Highness.” He concurs. “If I may… While you may not be the heir… you are a war hero. Our father would surely grant funds in your name enough to persuade the King. You could be wed.” “She’s engaged.” Jason manages, the words poison in his throat. “Except … there’s been no such announcement. Not yet. Deals, maybe. But no formal engagement. There is—-” “Roman Sionis will not take well to a slight so great.” “Why do you care so deeply about the opinion of Sionis?” “In truth… I have no proof. But whatever happened to me, I fear he was its mastermind.” Tim’s expression darkens. “I’ll see what I can uncover. But you have to understand… It's been so long now. If no witness came forward then, it’s unlikely I’ll get far.” “I know. But if he does manage to wed her…” Jason shakes his head. “There’s not a damn thing I can do to save her from this.” He fights a laugh, not of humour but of despair. 

“And the worst thing is, I could have. True, I’m not worthy of her. She deserves someone better. Someone softer and kinder and untainted by atrocities. But at least if it were me I’d know she was safe. She was loved. Because… unworthy as I am, content as I ought be to be her shield and her sword… I love her. And she’s trapped with that fucking SCOUNDREL, and I can’t do a damn thing about it and maybe once I could have but it’s too late—-” His rant is cut short by Tim crushing his ribs into a hug. “It likely is.” he acknowledges “but give me a chance to see what I can do.”

As your partner waltzes you around the room in a twirling pattern with your fellow dancers, he laughs, deep and from the chest. “Indeed I did. Though I do try not to brag about it. Pride, they say, goes before the fall.” You smile in return, and it does not meet your eyes. From his smug tone, lack of respect for your station or for the Captain, ostentatious suit, and general air, this is the least humble man you have beheld with the lone exception of your father. But ego on its own is a failing you could live with in a future husband. What you could not live with was the cruelty in his eyes, in his toothed smile and too strong grip. What you can not live with is the fact that Captain Todd-Wayne had been dancing nearby until a mere few moments ago… until something had terrified him. He stands stone like, staring at the Earl. You trip, tearing the hem of your dress on your heel “oh. Oh my how silly of me. If you would kindly excuse me my lord… If you could accept such a clumsy partner at the next ball I would gladly make it up, but I ought to exit before anyone notices.” The Earl kisses your hand in parting. “But of course, but of course. How can I complain to have the choicest of partners on yet another occasion?”. You cannot afford to go to Jason’s side. The scandal would be unavoidable then. But still, you are glad to see a young man with the Wayne’s distinctly black hair. Even for one who adopted his heirs, the Duke Wayne had managed that many of his brood resembled him. One Mister Drake-Wayne, you believed. Either way, you had work to do. The two people you cared for and trusted most closely in all the world feared this man. You needed to discover the why. And more importantly then why was the how. Stephanie, her quarrel with him you never knew. Captain Todd-Wayne is not a man who fears easily, and he fears Sionis. You slip out of the ballroom with a whisper to a footman that you need to retire, and not to allow concern should your parents enquire. You can’t afford to panic. You need to think. Roman Sionis had been present at Arkham the day the Captain disappeared. He had directly benefited from that disappearance. That on its own was fortune. But add to the evidence the Captains fear? The earl had done something to your beloved. As you venture back into the corridors of the palace with each step your walk becomes ever closer to a run, until you are running indeed. You lift your skirts, the back of your skirt trailing behind you as you race deeper and deeper into the castle. Golden light from the torches lining the walls bathes your skin and casts dramatic shadows. You have to hurry. You figure you have ten minutes from when you left the ball before Sir Rayner, your guard on duty noticed you had fled. Or, if Sir Todd recovered before then, he’d alert the castle guards at once. Ten minutes till your absence was noted, maybe five more till you were caught if you can keep this pace.  Because you refuse. You refuse. You will not be petals in the wind a second more. You are a hurricane. And god himself can’t protect those who’d try to control your path. 

Fate be damned, illusions and hope could go… could … could go fuck themselves.

You were in charge. And you were getting married.

And you would choose your own goddamn groom. If you read this far, reblog. taglist:

@jasontoddproblems

@sunnie-angel

@stormz369

@love-theangel

@torchbearerkyle

@interwebseriesfan24

Honestly not entirely thrilled with this one, but I was at the point where if I couldn't post this chapter the series would rot and never be completed as I procrastinated and lost motivation. So. Here it is.

[denaliwrites]

f i c m a s t e r l i s t

p o l i c i e s (please read before making requests!)

b a d s a m a r i t a n The Best of You, Honey, Belongs to Me Blackthorn Cover Myself in the Ashes of You Dumb Ways To Die Enough of You to Dull the Pain (18+) Hellbent Looking For A Godsend Hit Me With Your Best Shot I Got This Feeling On A Summer Day (18+) I'm Gooey in the Middle Baby Let Me Bake In His Eyes A Flaming Glow Intrigued and Afraid Keep You Like An Oath (18+) Killing Me Softly My Baby Shot Me Down (18+) Not Much Between Despair and Ecstasy (18+) Only Touch That Gets Me Melting (18+) Run Rabbit Run (18+) Say My Name Send a Thousand Kings Away Shia Surprise Something Good to Celebrate Stop, Look and Listen, It's Halloween! Taste of a Poison Paradise Trust in Me, Just in Me With Your Scars and Your Lonely Heart Your Body's a Secret Girl and You're About to Spill It (18+)

t h e b o y s Watch That Butcher Burn

b r o a d c h u r c h Always Leave Me With a Hungry Heart Am I Doing This Right? An Art to Life's Distractions Beating Like A Kick Drum Girls Like Girls Like Boys Do It's Been a Long, Long Time Love's Perfect Ache Now and Again We Try to Just Stay Alive Regale You With A Gourd-geous Tale Say You'll Remember Me Say You'll Remember Me (Denali's Version) Tell Me It's A Nightmare What My Heart Was Worth

d o c t o r w h o Cuddle, Meet Puddle Cute Things Don't Blink (Part 1) Don't Turn Your Back (Part 2) Don't Look Away (Part 3) Dreams See Us Through (Part 4) Hate the Feeling of Falling Have a Holly Jolly Christmas Horrible Things Isn't That Wizard It's How I'm Made Let Me Come Home Little Creepy House Love Letters On the Brave Shit The Origin of (Love Bug) Species What Beautiful Things I'll Wear When the Crypt Doors Creak You Know That I Would Jump Too

d u c k t a l e s Tales of Daring

g o o d o m e n s All I Want For Christmas Aziraphale's Favorite Author Dance on a Tightrope of Weird Free as My Hair His Love is All in Me How the Wine Plays Tricks on My Tongue Lockdown Blues Making Biscuits My Heart's a Stereo Naked in That Garden (18+) Out There Making DuckTales Pickin' Up the Pieces of the Mess You Made Road to Hell Something Meaty For The Main Course Step Too Far Tongue Tied Your Love is Holy (18+)

f a l l o f t h e h o u s e o f u s h e r Tomorrow I Shall Be Fetterless (18+)

f r i g h t n i g h t Emptiness to Melody Everybody Scream in Our Town of Halloween Fixed Up to the Nines Howl Like an Animal in the Darkness I'm So Hot I'd Fuck Myself (18+) I'm Starvin', Darlin', Let Me Put My Lips to Somethin' Late Night Devil Put Your Hands On Me (18+) Make Me Glow Night of Long Fangs (18+) Parade of Dancing Skeletons Talk So Pretty (18+) Who Are You Supposed To Be, Criss Angel? (18+)

h a u n t i n g o f b l y m a n o r ???

j u r a s s i c p a r k / w o r l d Best Behavior The Future Ex Mrs. Malcolm

p r o d i g a l s o n But Then My Stupid Phone Beeps Never Fallen From Quite This High Office Supplies Rude Boy They are the Hunters, We are the Foxes Trigger Happy With a Sense of Poise (18+)

s l o w h o r s e s Imposing Figure Inappropriate

[zoropookie]

HOW HATERS ARE BORN (HHAB)

♡ chapter six — everyone f**king stinks! 💋

The entire area felt foreign to you.

It was like walking into the backrooms, but if the backrooms were filled with stans and nerdy enthusiasts of the backrooms. Your stomach was rumbling with pure anxiety, and for a split second, there was mirth dancing in your eyes.

Once you stopped, you were in clear view of a big banner that had all of Inazuma's members on it. It was a promotional emblem for how long they'll be here and their times they'll be available to see people.

You shouldn't have felt jealous, but you did, and you pried your eyes away from the showcase, looking back at her three friends who accompanied you first.

"Where's Aether and Tohma anyway? Are they still at the hotel?"

"Uh, something happened I guess? They said they would catch up with us eventually." Lumine said, but before she could fully confirm, she saw the aforementioned inside and pointed.

You bated your breath for a second, twiddling with your phone in your hand like a fidget spinner. “Should I really..?”

“Go for it! What’s the worst that can happen?” Ayaka said in an encouraging whisper.

“At this point? I don’t even think I’d like to know.” The line slowly moved up, and with more of a hushed resolve, you tapped on the LIVE button on the app and held the camera up with a bright smile on your face. “HI CHAT!”

Instantly, everyone in practically a mile radius looked back at you. Either with confusion or sheer disgust and apprehension. Most of them were talking amongst themselves about you ‘actually showing up’.

But Hu Tao hopped on board as the line was moving, cheerfully waving. They were inside of the convention in no time, all four of the group with coffees in their hands, lanyards clearly showcasing that they were streamers, the whole she-bang.

You quickly ran to an empty corner of the convention, quietly whispering to your audience. “Guys, I never knew that the rumors were true, but…everyone seriously fucking stinks in here!”

“No seriously. Holy shit, people. Wear deodorant or a hazmat suit, whatever. Please.”

“I don’t think it’s that bad!”

“AYAKA. This is the in real life version of the green fumes you see in the cartoons, please be so for real right now.” Hu Tao replied.

A flood of hate was in your chat, mostly people telling you to end the stream if you were going to talk shit and to keep yourself safe. You paid no mind as you showcased everything with your friends, including the different stands. But as you went further along, and the more people who were fans of Inazuma started to notice you were here, the more hostile a lot of people seemed toward you? You weaved through crowds silently, and it still felt like people knew that it was you.

You didn’t even see a point in streaming, up until you accidentally shoved your coffee into somebody’s back. You feel with a forceful thrust to yourself, hardly doing any damage to the person in front of you other than moving them slightly and getting drips and talons of coffee all over their black clothes. You were splashed in the face with your own hot coffee as well, brown liquid all around you as it sunk into your lower back and the fabric around you.

Your phone skidded across the floor, but in view of the ceiling and still actively on live. Hu Tao’s breath was knocked out of her lungs, and it looked like her soul tap danced out of her body. “Oh…Y/N—!!”

Frustrated, you took your phone, and noticed that it now had a big crack before feeling your heart drop to your stomach. You still had a financing plan on this bad boy! You were so pissed that the scorching coffee on your skin had nothing to your blood boiling.

“You really need to watch where you’re going!” You barked. “You can’t just be in the way of the stands if you’re not looking, there’s a reason why the yellow tape is literally everywhere! Hey!”

There was a long silence, and a second of despair from Hu Tao as she quickly shook her head at you in view. She seemed to be mouthing at you something, but you didn’t seem to capture what she was talking about until the person turned around. Ayaka simply didn’t know what to do except look worried, and Lumine was entirely frozen.

“I want to know…who the fuck you’re talking to like that. Huh?” The #1 streamer himself, Scaramouche said as he approached your figure on the floor. He was hovering over you like a sleep paralysis demon. “Because it’s not me. Look up at me while I’m speaking to you. You were trying to get my attention a few seconds ago, what’s wrong?”

“Oh my god,” Lumine murmured. “Guys…we need to get them.”

“Lumine…” Hu Tao looked at her with pleading eyes. “I’m deadass about this. We are next if we go over there.”

As you realized that you did this in the exact proximity of Inazuma’s huge booth, you were hoping whatever God put you into cardiac arrest in that moment.

previous ♡ masterlist ♡ next

YOU ARE on your way to being one of the hottest streamer in your nation at the moment, racking a monthly average of 10 million viewers, but something specific bothers you about it. you know that a lot of people hate you, but there's this one account. one account that's been following you since the early days of your career. they leave a flood of rude comments in your stream, your moderators banned each account they made, but they keep making more. you are at the end of your tether. but you are yet to find out that this persistent cockroach is none other than your friend's friend (and the only other streamer that's bigger than you), scaramouche.

taglist ♡ @thystarsshine @veekoko @gumickajolli @simonisferal @kamiboo @justpeachyteastea @feiherp @pinkismyfavcolor @aether-darling @melpomenelurks @keiiqq @mine-lu @featuredtofu @danhenglovebot @k4zushi @kyon-cherri @1lellykins @iiinaurate @quacking-simp (bold users means i'm having trouble tagging you)

[kasagia]

Familiar flame

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x fem!Grisha! reader Summary: Aleksander lost his Y/N the day he created the fold. The king's soldiers killed his one true love in front of his eyes. His despair and anger led to the creation of a dark fold. After centuries, Aleksander meets a girl identical to his beloved… her reincarnation. Will he be able to restore your memories? Could he get you back after centuries of mourning you? Or maybe Aleksander finally lost his mind... Nonsense from me: This is request from @morrigan-crowmwell I hope that you like it! ♡♡ And I'm veeeery excited to write your next request! (and to publish it soon ♡♡) P.S. I'm sorry it took me ages again, luckily I'll have a lot more free time now, so I promise it'll get better. 😅 Warning(s): references to reincarnation; Aleksander misses the reader and can't resist her (even if she doesn't remember him); the reader is a bit hysterical; the reader behaves like a little child spoiled by Aleksander; the reader has Aleksander wrapped around her little finger, but he doesn't care; the reader has a panic attack and hyperventilation; de@th mentions; NOT CHECKED grammatically and so on - I wanted to publish it as soon as possible Word count: 9,4k Taglist: @aoi-targaryen @morrigan-crowmwell

"So many centuries on this earth, and you're still a naive, hopeless romantic. Tell me how do you do it, boy?"

Baghra taunted him without even looking up from her dinner. Aleksander growled, irritated by her lack of interest. He slammed his fist on the table, drawing the unfazed woman's attention to him.

"It's true, I saw her! It was her!"

"Aleksander... you must move on." Darkling snorted, jumping up as if burned from his chair. Baghra followed her son as he ran out of her hut, not giving up. If they both had something in common, it was their great stubbornness. "How many times have you seen this girl? You have to realize that she's not coming back. Y/N is dead, Aleksander. For hundreds of years."

"She is here! I danced with her month ago at the ball, you can't tell me I didn't because I remember her face perfectly. It is etched in my mind more permanently than any other memory."

"You wanted an answer to your question. Here it is. There is no such thing as reincarnation, the reappearance of someone on this world. We die once, Aleksander. Once and successfully. So whoever you met yesterday, even with a face that looks like her, is not Y/N. So you'd better leave the innocent girl alone."

The Darkling laughed bitterly, shaking his head. His mother would never see him as more than a small, quick-tempered, silly boy. He should get used to it after all these years.

"You think I'd come to you with this if she was just one of the faces like her? Me and my people have been watching her for a month now, ever since some snobbish nobleman's daughter came back to the palace and turned out to be the only woman I ever cared about in this saint-damn world. It must be her. I don't know how, why, and honestly, I don't care as long as it's really her. Neither should you - as far as I remember you cared for her more than for me."

"Aleksander. I know you loved her, but you have to let her go. People just don't rise from the grave." she tried to reason with him. But he knew better.

It must be you. Somehow the Saints took pity on his tortured soul and returned you to him, and he wasn't going to stay further away from you than necessary.

He will have you again in his life, arms, and bed.

No matter what he has to sacrifice to restore your memories.

"Just as they don't live forever, and yet we do." he growled as he mounted his horse and galloped back towards the Little Palace. He was in for a long night spent in his library, poring over books. If Baghra didn't want to help him, he would find the answer himself.

"You stupid boy..." Baghra snorted, shaking her head in disappointment.

Your death was both the worst and best thing for her son. You would never live as long as they did - your death would have come anyway, just in a less bloody way. Ordinary people were fragile, and their lives were shorter—one breath of Baghra or Aleksander equaled thousands of them. She had no idea why her son was so stubborn about getting you back, even though you were truly reborn. Aleksander would lose you again. Even he couldn't fight death itself and go against nature in such a matter... or so Baghra hoped.

The boundaries that Aleksander wouldn't cross in your name were practically nonexistent.

And she would be afraid of him more with you by his side - the most powerful Etherealki woman this earth has ever seen… a tribrid with the powers of Squaller, Inferni and Tidemaker.

~•♤♤♤•~

It all started a month ago.

Aleksander was at another of the king's balls, circulating among the generals of the First Army, trying to win their favor and consent to a slight modification of their plans. For his and Grishas' benefit, of course.

He would never have guessed that a conversation with General Petrova, the king's irritating, faithful soldier, would bring him more than a headache. It was usually with him that the Darkling had his greatest disputes during war councils.

However, while the general caused him the most trouble of all in the king's court, he was one of the few who respected the Darkling not for his powers, which instilled fear among other soldiers, but for the sake of his tactical, sound thinking.

Never in his life would Aleksander have thought that General Petrova's daughter would be a faithful doppelgänger of his long-dead beloved.

He was stunned as soon as he saw you enter the room.

Anywhere, even on his deathbed, he would have recognised that mischievous twinkle in your eyes whenever you were given full attention. You were a vision. Apparition. A fairy tale that was etched forever in his memory.

And he may have lived many lives, met millions of ordinary people and thousands of Grishas, but this face, the face of his loved one, whom he only met in his sweet dreams and darkest nightmares, had never ever flashed a second of his hundreds-year life. There were no humans even close to your beauty...

And then, after hundreds of years of sorrow, pain, and grief, he saw you again. He was again enchanted by your mesmerising eyes, your sweet, mischievous smile, your tempting lips... He let himself be lost for a while in the view of his beloved before questions started to cross his mind.

How? When? Who is she? From where? Could it really be you? Hundreds of years in pain, only for you to walk casually one day to one of the balls of a king whose ancestor killed you?

Aleksander didn't even notice when you approached him and General Petrova. But YOUR voice, his Y/N's voice, definitely brought him back into the world. Like a strong, vicious slap.

"Father. It was definitely too long." Aleksander almost broke down there. Being so close to someone who looked like you, hearing your voice again in REALITY, smelling the perfume so damn well know to him - the same one which made him lose his mind ages ago for you...

"General Kirigan. My daughter, Y/N. Y/N. General Kirigan, commander of the Second Army." your careful gaze finally met his. And Aleksander was gone.

Saints save him… even those bloody, fucking eyes he would die for were the same….

"It's a pleasure to meet you, General Kirigan." Aleksander couldn't do anything else but reach for your hand and kiss it—something he'd also dreamed of a thousand times, but in his dreams you only used his true, real name. "Your fame extends to the farthest reaches of Ravka. I am glad to see the legendary Darkling with my own eyes." Aleksander shivered as his title spilled out of your mouth. Not with mockery or insult or fear, but flatteringly, strongly… He had to control himself. It wasn't his Y/N… unless…

"I think these aren't very… flattering stories."

"You'd be surprised, General…" Aleksander could feel himself melting under her attentive gaze. The number of long-buried emotions overwhelmed him. And he himself felt his long-forgotten, dead, cold heart come to life again under each of your charming smiles, warm tone of voice, and enticing looks.

Now that he had had the opportunity to look at her more closely, he noticed all the (perfectly familiar) small details.

The way your hair was styled—so that a few strands stand out from your perfectly styled hairstyle, no long earrings, only small pearls that your hair would be harder to get into, delicate jewellery, not flashy like most women's, jewellery that instead of testifying to your wealth emphasised your beauty.

You seemed so familiar to him…

"Do you dance, General?" your question snapped him out of his mind about HIS Y/N.

He didn't dance on such occasions. Never. But he would be damned if he didn't try to find out how far your resemblance to his Y/N goes.

"If you wish, Lady Petrova." he replied with a charming smile, reverting to his image of a confident general of the Second Army.

"Please..." she grabbed his hand. The touch of her delicate skin against his rough made him shiver uncontrollably. He was putty in your hands... but he would be cursed if he let go, if he loses again the one thing that holds him firmly in this world. "Call me Y/N."

"Y/N." he mumbled, leading her to the dance floor. He gripped her securely around the waist, pulling her close enough to be considered appropriate. "I'm dying to see how this one's ends."

"Not only you… general." you peeked at him over those beautifully painted eyelids, biting your lips lightly. Reincarnation, doppelgänger, or real you, you always had to tease him, you always challenged him. And he was more than willing to play that game with you again… even if he wasn't holding his Y/N in his arms.

"Please..." he turned you around to pull you back to his chest. He smiled, remembering how those Y/E/C irises were the only thing that mattered to him hundreds of years ago… he marveled at how they still enchanted him. And having you in his arms again, so close he could smell your scent again… it made him dizzy. "Call me Aleksander." he whispered into your ear, getting close enough not to touch you but to feel the warmth of your cheek against his.

Was it wise to tell you his name? Absolutely not. Did he regret giving himself up to this moment? The answer came to him after a few seconds.

"Aleksander..." your soft whisper made him shiver. The old memories, the ones he tried to bury in his mind, the ones that were both sweetly blissful and devastating, came back to him. Foolish hope rose in him the moment your brow furrowed as if you, too, recognized the significance of what had just happened.

If he'd had any doubts before, he definitely knew now... he was cursed. And he didn't care enough to break this spell you put on him.

~•♤♤♤•~

"Y/N! Rise and shine, you lazy ass!" you groaned, covering your head with a pillow.

"Go away demon. It's too early for anything." you mumbled, snuggling into my comfy bed. You snorted in surprise when suddenly your friend threw herself on your bed and brutally tore the pillow off your head, laughing like a madwoman. "Y/F/N!"

"What have you been dreaming about?" she asked with a sly smile.

"About nothing." you muttered as you got out of bed and walked over to your closet to pick out your outfit for today.

"Yes? Is that why I found you grinning like a psychopath in love and mumbling someone's name? Is there some poor guy you finally like? Who could it be? A soldier? Maybe a nobleman?" you huffed in amusement as you walked out from the wardrobe.

"I haven't gone crazy yet. The world will burn before I voluntarily muzzle myself with marriage."

"Doesn't change the fact that someone caught your eye, does it?" she inquired with a curious smirk.

"Let's go, you hopeless romantic. I believe you dragged me out of bed over that very exciting tea time with the queen." you sighed, knowing full well that this meeting would give you a terrible headache.

"We're going to suffer together, sweetie. But cheer up. Genya will be there. You've liked her company lately, haven't you?"

"She's too good for these royal assholes." you replied, taking her arm and walking out of your room towards the palace gardens.

During that month, you quickly fit into the role you had to play at court. And thanks to your numerous travels, you managed to win enough favour with the queen to become a permanent member of her "group of snobbish noblewomen". You also met Genya, Grisha, an angel among the palace demons who was rather unpopular at court… well, at least not when the queen didn't need her Grisha's skills.

The meeting with the queen dragged on as usual, you couldn't help but wander your mind to your today's dream interrupted by Y/F/N.

"Aleksander!" you laughed, punching him lightly in the chest. "Stop teasing me."

"I don't do anything, milaya." he replied smiling innocently which made you snort. You crossed your arms and gave him a meaningful look.

You were in the little library at his house. (By the way, it's a miracle that he and Baghra found a place for their books in such a tiny hut.) You tried to get to one of the books on the upper shelves, but Aleks had other plans. He stood in front of you, and every time you stood on tiptoe to reach the book, he took the opportunity to grab your waist and pull you into a kiss.

"You do not?" you asked, trying to get to the book, but Aleksander caught your lips in a kiss again. "Aleksander!" you huffed, punching him in the chest with a laugh. "Your mother will kill me if I don't at least start reading this book." you complained, laughing at the smug man. He was so childish sometimes... You squealed as Aleksander suddenly grabbed your waist and pulled you close, burying his nose in your hair.

"I am more than strong enough to protect moya milaya from my bloodthirsty mother." he whispered, placing a tender kiss on your temple.

"Aleksander." you moaned as he moved his lips to your neck. You ran your hand through his hair, giving in to the feeling for a moment, until you remembered what you were supposed to do today. "How about a compromise?"you asked, taking his attention away from your neck for a moment.

"A compromise? And how do you want to negotiate your freedom, lapushka?"

"I'm not blind. I see you're clingier than usual today. Of course you won't let me out of your arms, which I can't really say I'm complaining about… But since I'm about to spend the rest of the day on your lap or in your arms, then you could at least read me the book Baghra told me to learn by heart." he was thinking, rubbing his nose against yours.

"I think I can accept it." you squealed in surprise as he picked you up bridal style, lifting you up so you could reach the book you needed. "But I reserve the right to give you some breaks. As your beloved I've got to make sure my little tribrid doesn't overwork herself." you giggled, making his smile of satisfaction only grow wider.

"What a good and caring lover you are, Aleksander." you teased, knowing full well what the study breaks were for… or rather, for whom.

"Have you ever doubted it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, the sparkle of amusement in his dark eyes only made your mood more up. You loved seeing him so happy, carefree.

"No. Never." you whispered, kissing him with all your love and tenderness…

Such nonsense dreams have plagued you almost every time since you met the general. Visions of his younger self and yours, as if the two of you lived together hundreds of years ago. It also didn't help your plan that, for some strange reason, you felt this... attraction, this desire to be close to him.

You didn't know where your sudden fondness for the Darkling came from, but one thing was certain. You had to get rid of it. And that's before your father presents the king with plans to permanently disband the Second Army and return all the Grishas to the slave system. You couldn't give in to some stupid feeling towards their general... not when everything you and your father had worked for was coming to an end.

"Lady Petrova. You're surprisingly quiet today." the queen has distracted you from the thoughts that have plagued you for weeks. You put on your learned, polite smile.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty. I'm not feeling well today. I think I have a slight migraine, but it should pass soon, Your Highness."

"You look paler than usual… Genya, lady Y/F/N. Take lady Y/N to the healers." you had to do your best to keep the frown from appearing on your face. This old witch…

"Your Grace." instead, you bowed to the queen and walked away with the two women at your side. You didn't speak to Genya until you were sure you were out of earshot of anyone other than the three of you. "I'm fine, Genya. I just had to get out of there."

"Then I should thank you for saving me from there too." she replied with a smile as tired as yours. "But the queen was right. You looked a little pale earlier. Are you sure everything's okay? I can improve your appearance and cover up those little dark circles under your eyes if you want."

"No need, sweetheart. But if you somehow have power over dreams, it would be really helpful." you joked, knowing full well that Grisha are incapable of entering other people's dreams… though you doubted it after the general's face haunted you at night in those strange dreams.

"It would be great to be able to do that."

"Anyway, thank you, Genya. You can hide somewhere in the palace. You deserve some time off." the woman nodded to you and headed towards the Grand Palace, leaving you and Y/F/N alone in the gardens.

"Okay, what's the matter? What are you dreaming about that you can't sleep? And why are you hanging around Grishas and Darkling lately? You want to settle him down or something?" your friend asked annoyed. You looked around, making sure you two were still alone.

"I'm not going to settle him down. My father wanted me to take care of our strong, dark general. After all, what's the best way to steer a man who doesn't care about anyone but his people, than an affair with a pretty, nobel woman?" you asked with a cunning smile.

You preferred to keep your strange dreams to yourself… at least until you were sure it was just a stupid figment of your imagination and growing teenage crush on a dark general.

"I don't quite understand… so what exactly are you doing with him?" she asked, growing suspicious as you headed towards the Little Palace.

"It's just a game. I charm him with my beauty, spend time with him, and so on, which makes him less interested in the war, and I don't have to put up with my father's complaining about me finally getting married. I serve both Ravka and my own interests. Isn't it wonderful?"

"You'll get burned. Be careful with him. He's a Darkling. If he finds out…" she warned you, slightly scared. You snorted, shaking your head. You looked around one more time before whispering conspiratorially to her.

"Then what will he do to me? It's in his interest to keep our little affair as a secret, the dignity of a man and all that crap won't let him seek revenge openly - he'll only embarrass himself even more. I'm perfectly safe." you replied confidently as you left the gardens. You smiled. According to your plan, the general should leave his palace right now to meet the council. It was your job to make sure he didn't get there… well, at least not for the most part.

"If you say so… But you have to admit, even you, that he's hot."

"That's true... which only makes it more interesting..." you saw Kirigan coming out of the Little Palace with one of his loyal dogs by his side... Ivan or the other, you couldn't remember. You smiled slyly, sensing a good opportunity. "Excuse me."

You didn't waste any time. You immediately approached the general, inwardly triumphant with the smile he sent you as soon as he saw you… the grimace on his companion's face was also the reason for your good mood.

"Lady Petrova."

"General Kirigan. So you do occasionally leave the Little Palace."

"Indeed it happens sometimes." he smiles back at your teasing, keeping his distracting dark eyes on you.

"Then I can't pass up this opportunity to take you anywhere other than the path leading to the Grand Palace or the gardens. It's a beautiful day for a ride, don't you think? Perhaps you could accompany me?"

"Actually…"

"It's a wonderful idea. Ivan, could you get our horses ready?" the general interrupted his Girsha. You lowered your head, biting the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling victoriously. As Ivan passed you, you stepped closer to the general and turned your careful gaze back to him.

"He doesn't like me very much, does he?" you asked, catching the arm he offered you as you two walked to the stables together. "Your gruff companion." you added seeing his confused look.

The general snorted, placing his hand over yours, which made you shiver uncontrollably. You internally chastised yourself for such a… pathetic reaction to his little touch.

"Ivan is… specific." he finally replied making you chuckle.

"I saw the look he gave me when I took you away from him, like I was stealing his favorite cuddly toy." Kirigan snorted, which made you smile. You felt how your cheeks redden involuntarily at the sound of his laughter. "You don't have to always defend your people at all costs, General. Well, at least not in such a case." you replied with a smirk.

"Ivan is a good soldier and comrade… he can be funny once you get to know him."

"Then I guess you find volcra hilarious too."

"And maybe one or two of the queen's nobles." you gave him an offended look, placing your hand over your heart in a hurt gesture.

"Ouch. That's good that my company at least gives you some fun. It must be really hard to always be that grave, grumpy, dark general."

"Surely it can be lonely sometimes." his thoughtful, sombre statement ruined the fun atmosphere between you two.

For a brief moment, you could see the familiar twinkle of grief in his eyes before he hid it behind his mask of indifference. You knew that feeling. Especially after being transferred to different courts so many times. You had to master your emotions to perfection… especially the feeling of loneliness that was getting worse every day.

"Well, that's good that I have enough time to play a foolish, wayward, snobbish noble around you… maybe you won't feel so lonely, anymore." you joked, not knowing if you were saying it out of a duty to get close to him or from the depths of your completely lost and confused heart, which always acted like that near him.

"You're not the worst noblewoman I've ever met." the amused note returned to his voice, as did the twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Maybe you just didn't know me good enough?" you asked, stopping by the stables and letting go of his arm.

"Maybe..." he replied thoughtfully, not letting go of your hand.

You turned back to him. Your gaze lingered on your joined hands for a moment, until you shifted your confused gaze to him.

The moment your eyes met his, any questions you wanted to ask him escaped your mind. You could only stare blankly into his eyes. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you flashed an image of the younger Aleksander you dreamed of... the exact same one who was giving you an affectionate look like the general was doing now.

"Aleksander." you whispered, not even realising when the idea of saying his name popped into your head.

You were besotted, too mesmerised by the dark irises that stared at you like some saint, like you were all he ever wanted to look at for the rest of his life, to think of anything other than getting closer to him.

And the worst of it all was that you had no idea how you knew the smell of his cologne and why it reminded you of home, of safety. Or why he seemed so familiar to you…

"Yes, milaya?" you trembled. You knew he felt it; you knew he saw how you reacted to the nickname his younger version gives you every night in your dreams… and although it reminded you of something only a close person could say to their beloved, for the hell you didn't know what it meant or how he knew about it. But before you could answer something (or take the one little step that lasted between you and him to feel his lips on yours), Ivan arrived with your horses. "Thank you, Ivan." the general cleared his throat. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn't happy about being interrupted either.

"General. Let me remind you that in two hours…"

"Postpone all my appointments. I'll be unavailable." you couldn't help but send Ivan a victorious smile from behind Kirigan's shoulder, which made heartrender wince. Aleksander turned to glance at you, and you gave him a nice, polite smile, making sure the flash of malice disappeared from your eyes. The man shifted his confused looks to Ivan. "I'll be back tonight. Lady Petrova needs an escort."

"Of course, General, have a nice trip."

"Thank you, Ivan."

You gave Grisha a fleeting glance and malicious smile before you and Aleksander left the palace grounds. Ivan has tried to stop the general from joining you more than once this month... he has failed miserably each time. Seeing Grisha grumpier than usual was another advantage of your quest... besides being with Aleksander.

"Wanna race?!" you shouted, not giving him time to answer as you galloped your horse along, laughing as the general chased after you.

~•♤♤♤•~

"Forgotten fountain in the middle of the forest? I didn't think you knew such romantic places, general." you said with a teasing smile as you dismounted from your horses.

"You find it romantic?" he asked, throwing an amused glance over his shoulder as he tossed out the branches in the fountain. You smiled, internally laughing at how the great general commanding the entire Second Army was preparing the atmosphere for your pseudo date.

"Oh, don't tease me. You know what I meant. It's amazing that with your work schedule you have time to wander around and find places like this."

"You do realize I have free time sometimes, right?"

"Rearranging figures on a war table is no leisure time, General." Kirigan snorted, shaking his head in amusement. You smiled as you walked over to the fountain to stand next to him. Only then did you see what was so amazing about her that the general brought you here. It was dedicated to the Black Heretic. "Wait… that's your ancestor's story, isn't it?"

"You know it just from those old pictures?" he asked, apparently impressed with your knowledge, to which you snorted indignantly.

"Of course. Every child in Ravka know his story... well, or at least they should. To be honest, I'm not sure how ignorant the other nobles are, but I hope they're not that bad after all. But I'm guessing you didn't bring me here for a history lesson, did you?"

"When I was a boy, I used to run away and hide here once I realised I was the descendant of the most hated Grisha in Ravka. I've come here to throw a coin and make a wish in the fountain that I could be anyone else."

"A dangerous wish." I murmured as I looked at the pictures on the fountain to avoid his scrutinising gaze. "You never know what fate may befall you. It may turn out that things weren't so bad after all." I replied, remembering all the stories of noblewomen I had the opportunity to know... not all of them lived wonderful, fairy-tale lives. At least not the ones with powdered bruises.

"I devoted my life to undoing the greatest sin of my forbear. But I never seen this as a solution. Only as a reminder of the problem. They always need someone to blame."

"Every story needs a villain." you replied, sitting on the edge of the fountain, facing the general. "Sometimes it happens that there are several of them in one, if we look at the matter from the perspective of someone else. So forgive me if I say that I don't consider your ancestor to be evil incarnate."

"Why wouldn't you?" he asked curiously, walking over to you and sitting across from you.

"Every coin has two sides. Maybe he created a fold; maybe he wanted more power, but no one ever told it from his side. Maybe he wasn't the only villain in this story. Also, I don't believe in a golden hero and a vicious villain fighting doggedly against each other. There are no pure black or white people; we are all grey in our own way." you said, dipping your hand in the water, playing with it, and making small waves with your hand movements.

You glanced at the general, noticing that he was closely watching as you played with the water. You furrowed your brow, not knowing what so interesting he sees in this childish behaviour.

"And how gray are you?" his question snapped you out of your thoughts. You shrugged, still running your fingers through the water.

"I think I still have a long way to go to find out."

"What if I already know?" you frowned as you looked at him, which turned out to be your worst mistake. His dark eyes were to be your undoing…

You felt it again. This need to be close to him, this bond between you and him that was formed from the moment your eyes met in the ballroom a month ago. You were supposed to be his undoing, the downfall of the great, black general... so far, he's been the one who's been messing with your mind effectively, making you doubt everything your father ever taught you about your superiority over the Grishas. And you played the role Kirigan expected of you, like a foolish, naive girl.

"And how would you know that?" you whispered, cursing yourself for the obvious weakness in your voice.

Kirigan placed his hand on yours, the one you used to lean on at the fountain. His touch sent that weird feeling into your chest and made you shiver uncontrollably again. You were losing control… and the worst part was that you didn't mind at all.

"I feel like I've known you and waited for you my whole life. As if you were long lost part of me, which finally came back." you couldn't get rid of that terrible feeling of déjà vu that came over you after his words.

Somewhere in the back of your mind and deep in your heart, you had the feeling—no, you were SURE—that you had been in this situation before. That he once held your hand, telling you that you were destined to be together and that the stars, fate, destiny, saints, gods, or whoever was watching over you were responsible for bringing your souls together.

But it was impossible. You didn't know him before, you couldn't. You've never been to the king's palace until now…

However, everything ceased to matter the moment he leaned in, crossing the short distance between you and catching your lips in a kiss.

You gasped in surprise, your only warning being his tighter grip on your hand, which you only noticed after his soft lips gently pressed against yours. However, you had the sense to return his kiss, deepening it just as you felt Aleksander about to pull away from you.

He grabbed your waist tightly with one arm, pulling you to him, but he never let go of his firm grip on your hand.

You groaned, sinking into the so damn familiar closeness of his body against yours, taking in every ounce of his warmth and scent. But it was his gentle biting on your bottom lip that made you forget anything other than his lips on yours and let yourself get completely lost in the moment. You took your hand out of the water, grabbing the back of his head to get as close to him as possible, when suddenly a huge wave of cold, chilly water splashed you.

You gasped, breaking away from Kirigan. You sighed as cool water dripped from your hair onto your already-soaked dress that was sticking to your skin. You shifted your confused gaze to the equally wet man in front of you, who stared at you with an incomprehensible, fascinated twinkle in his eye.

"What have just happened?" you gasped, glancing at the now empty fountain.

"Are you asking about our kiss or the fact that you just demonstrated tidemaker's abilities?"

"What? No. I can't be Grisha. I…"

"Have you ever been tested, milaya?" he asked softly, so calmly he almost managed to calm your frantically beating heart. But you couldn't shake the feeling of panic rising within you. All plans would go to hell if you turned out to be… one of THEM.

"You know perfectly well what it is like among the nobles. They would rather kill or throw away a child with such powers." you replied, marvelling at how you managed to sound cold and emotionless despite your growing fear.

Kirigan frowned, obviously dissatisfied with your ability to cover up your emotions. What you didn't know was that your eyes betrayed all your emotions to him. He'd stared at them for so long that it would be impossible for him now not to be able to read your emotions.

"Well… it's always better to know, isn't it?" you stared at him for a moment before you nodded uncertainly, swallowing nervously. You couldn't be Grisha. That… whatever happened, it couldn't be it. "May I?" he made sure, pointing to the sleeve of your dress. You nodded silently.

For a moment, the world stops. It's just you and the general, who, with unusual delicacy for him, rolls up the sleeve of your wet dress and uses his sharp-pointed ring to cut your skin.

You're both shocked and oddly excited to see the water gushing out and the hot fire coming from where he cut your skin. Suddenly, a wind rises around you, drying you both and blowing some of the leaves off the trees into the empty fountain. You freeze, feeling the dormant power coursing through your veins, which the general's touch awakens with incredible ease.

It's like he's bringing to life a version of yourself you don't know...

"You are a Grisha. Etherealki Tribrid to be precise." he says, breaking the silence between you. You raise your confused gaze back to him, noticing that he's still studying your face. Weighing, evaluating, expecting something, and having hope so clearly written in his dark eyes that for a moment you are at a loss for words.

"You… you don't seem surprised." you manage to get out of you. You are terrified of your weakness right now. But with the general staring at you with such... tenderness and longing, you're not sure which of you has put your heart in more danger. You just don't know what caused this sudden, overt display of affection for you.

"I felt your power. Only someone special could carry such a huge amount of energy. You and I are going to change the world, Y/N."

"But… I can't… no one can know about this. Please, Aleksander." you pleaded in a panic, gripping his hand tightly. "Promise me that this will stay between us. If my father finds out about this… if the court finds out… Please, Aleksander." the man was staring at you. Apparently, the prospect of having a tribrid in his army was too tempting for him to just forget what had happened here. You had to convince him otherwise. "Wouldn't it be better if it stayed between us? You could train me yourself. Secretly teach me how to use… this. Wouldn't it be better to have a secret weapon? Someone who can be summoned to the battlefield if needed and used as an element of surprise?"

"I don't want to use you." he growled, wrinkling his nose as he realized how sharp his words had come out. "I want you to be my equal, Y/N. But fine. We'll keep everything that happened here to ourselves. You'll come to my office every night so we can train."

"Every night? You want to cause a scandal, General?" you ask, regaining your ability to joke and banter.

For now, you hide all your doubts, fear and greyness that your life will change irreversibly in the back of your head. You allow yourself to get lost in the general's eyes for a while before returning to real life… before you have to decide what to do about the "Grishas case", knowing your newfound abilities now.

"Do you care?" you know what he's asking you, but he doesn't know how many different meanings his question has for you. And you're afraid that once he finds out about your plan against him and against his people, he'll stop looking at you with that... adoration in his eyes. Because, for some strange reason, you want him to look at you like that.

"No…" you replied, moving your gaze between his mouth and eyes. "I guess not."

~•♤♤♤•~

"I can't believe it! How did you know that was my favorite dish?!" I ask him after another grueling session of our training as he returns with a dinner brought to his door by servants.

"I have my ways." he responds, laughing as you practically pounce on the food ravenously. You didn't realize that using Grisha's powers was so… exhausting.

"Just like my allergy to the awful pollen that's out now, what particular, specific type of tea do I like, and what books do I prefer to read? What's next? Just hand me my favourite flowers and tell me it's pure case?" you laugh over your plate, glancing at him briefly. The general blushes slightly and clears his throat awkwardly. "Oh, Saints, you do have flowers for me, don't you?" you asked as a little smirk started to form on your face.

"It seems to you, vain little tribrid." you tremble at his words, and that sick feeling of deja vu follows you every time his damn dark irises pierce your soul. If he wanted you to go crazy, you're sure he was well on his way to making it happen.

Aleksander, on the other hand, stared longingly at you, searching for any trace of recognition in your eyes. How many times in those training sessions has he wished your memories of living with him would come back to you? He didn't know. Ever since he made sure you displayed the powers of virtually all ethereals, he's spent countless sleepless nights in his bed dreaming of the moment you'll whisper that damn nickname you love for him.

But nothing like that was coming.

Instead, he had to fight this urge to kiss you to death, to hold you forever in his safe arms where nothing could hurt you. He had to fight his longing for your slightest touch, your tender gaze, and the unconditional love you had. And with each passing day, he cursed himself for his inability to remember the life you two had spent together.

He was desperate enough to talk to his mother about it. He went to her as soon as he was sure it was really you to brag about his hunch and victory over her judgement. And complain about your innate ability to spite him and not remember him when he worked so hard to make it happen.

"If it's not her, then explain to me how she's already ruining all my plans and is getting on my nerves?" he asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow at Baghra.

"Just because you have a natural bad luck with women doesn't mean Y/N is back from the dead." she replied ironically, not even looking up at him.

"It is her. And when I prove it, forget about seeing her, because I won't let you."

"I'm not a spoiled child, General." you laugh back, snapping him out of his thoughts as cool water hits his chest. He raises an eyebrow at you, failing to keep an amused smile from spreading across his lips.

Saints, how he wants to kiss that malicious smirk off your alluring lips. But he has to be careful with you. He has to control himself. He can't lose you or scare you away now, not when he's so close to getting HIS Y/N back.

"You're definitely acting like one." he replies teasingly as he takes out the flowers hidden behind his back and hands them to you.

You sigh in shock before another heart-melting smile appears on your lips. You dip your nose in the flowers, and Aleksander tries to remember this moment forever. The silent hope that you will remember one of the many times he gave you those special flowers you loved bursts into unwillingness in his chest.

"Please, as if you don't like to spoil me…" you just reply teasingly, reminding him how fate was never on his side. It would be impossible for him to just get you back like that.

"I'd throw all the jewels in the world at your feet just to see that beautiful, wide smile spread across your lips." you tremble under his heavy, intent gaze, feeling him ignite that familiar, strange fire inside you, calling for him.

The answer to his confession just slipped out of your mouth as a whisper.

"You don't need jewels to make me smile like a fool in love."

Aleksander flinched as he recognised the words you said to him—the exact same words you used in response to his confession hundreds of years ago. You liked torturing him with it. Remind him of stolen moments with you in the woods, away from the king's men, his mother, and other envious people too scared of your abilities to see you as anything more than a dangerous monster. You loved throwing him into the past, while you stuck hard to what was happening now. At times like this, he promised himself that once he had you back, he would never let you go. He won't be that weak to let someone take you from him again.

You, in turn, watched him bewildered as another vision/memory flashed before your eyes. His warm lips on your wind-cold skin, his whispered promises in your ear as he held you close to him, his shadows dancing around you, shielding anyone from seeing you two.

That memory revived in your mind as the general's lips met yours.

Kissing him, enjoying the firm grip around your waist, you had those strange visions again. You were beginning to wonder if the general had seen through your cunning plan and decided to punish you by driving you crazy with these supposed memories.

But you didn't want to do anything about it. Not when he felt so good against you.

You kiss him greedily, tangling your hands in his hair and pulling him closer to you. He picks you up, placing you on his war table. Your hands travel up his shoulders to the buttons of his kefta and his to the strings of your corset at the back of your dress...

Just then, a loud knock interrupts you.

You laugh in disbelief that they're bothering you again. Aleksander smiles, biting his lip as he looks at you with amusement in his eyes. How he missed your sincere, carefree laugh.

"Go see what it is." you whisper to him as you slide off the table to stand on your own feet. Aleksander smirks mischievously and leans in to steal a kiss from you. You giggle as you push him away and whisper a softly "go".

You blush, feeling like a teenager caught kissing a boy. And you have a very strange feeling that this has happened before...

"Aleksander!" you squeal, laughing as quietly as you can. "Someone will see us!" you reprimand him by tapping him lightly in the chest.

"Only if you keep being so loud. Besides, how can you blame me for wanting to kiss my beautiful beloved after weeks apart?"

"Your secret beloved I would like to point out. Baghra and my parents will kill us if they find us here." you remind him, only smiling wider as his grip tightens around your waist.

"They'll have to go through my shadows first… that gives us enough time to escape."

"Well, well, what a cunning boyfriend I have. I like that plan of yours." I whisper into his lips, teasing him, as I move away each time he wants to kiss me.

"Y/N?" Aleksander's whisper and his gentle grip on my shoulder pulls me out of my memories. "Everything's all right?" he looks at you with concern in his eyes and something else, something like longing mixed with hope. You have no idea what it could be.

NO. I have strange visions of you where you love and need me more than anything in this world. I have dreams of a reality where it's just us, too busy loving ourselves to see anything else or care about all the problems in the world. And I have a feeling that I'm going to go crazy if you once again arouse in me that feeling of familiarity and fire that for some unknown reason cries out desperately for your slightest touch and affection. - you think.

"I'm fine, just thought of something. What did Ivan want from you?" I ask with a gentle smile.

"I have to go now. The First Army soldiers and my Grishas have reportedly gotten into some kind of fight. I need to investigate it."

You freeze, knowing full well what's going on. Your and your father's plan. Kirigan is about to get into the middle of a fight caused by the people of the first army (actually hired by your father's thugs). A fight with a general defending his people in the main role will start, which your father and the king are supposed to come across by "pure accident". You were supposed to let him get into your trap.

"I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't worry, it's probably some stupid skirmish." he assures you, but you know better. You know that once he goes there, he will be banished at best for suspicion of treason and wanting to start a rebellion - rumours your father is now spreading to the king.

Your brain screams for you to let it go. You were Grisha, but people like you would never accept you; you knew that. And the nobles would kick you out if they found out about your powers; it was safer for you to get rid of the general, the only person who knew about your abilities.

But your stupid heart already bled at the thought of putting Aleksander in danger and being the cause of his downfall—the thing you were supposed to be so proud of only a few months ago.

"Wait!" you scream, reaching for his hand before he steps away from you. You lost. You lost the war with the devil and sold him your heart and the soul he had anyway, since he kissed you at the fountain, since he started appearing in your dreams as a strange vision of an alternate world where you live with him as his. A vision you desperately wanted to come true. "Please don't go."

"Why?" he asks, placing his hands gently on your shoulders.

"I... you can't... trap... my father... and king... they..." you hyperventilate, tears welling up in your eyes uncontrollably, and an indescribably great feeling of unease seizes you, making it a huge challenge to take even the slightest breath.

Suddenly, all you hear is a buzzing in your ears. Slowly, your knees weaken, and you fall straight into the waiting arms of Aleksander, who looks like he's screaming something. You are enveloped in blissful darkness.

But before you lose your consciousness one thought runs through your mind.

What the hell did I did?

~•♤♤♤•~

You opened your eyes. It was dawn. You were in a clearing near some castle ruins. There were a lot of soldiers around you.

You slowly got up on your elbows and lifted yourself off the ground. You tried to push your way through the crowd of soldiers, but as soon as your arm was about to touch one of them, you felt yourself walking through it. You froze in place.

The sound of Aleksander's voice snapped you out of your daze. You walked forward, passing through the soldiers as you reached the stairs of the palace ruins.

It was a younger version of him, exactly the one you saw in your dreams. But this time it wasn't a pleasant dream. The love in his eyes was replaced by pure fear and fury.

You turned to where he was staring and gasped as you spotted a beaten, bloodied version of yourself held by one of the king's soldiers.

"Surrender. Or your girl will die." Aleksander stared at the younger version of you, trying to make eye contact with you, making sure you were still holding on to your life for him, despite the gruesome state you were in. "This one was brave. She was willing to die than reveal your hiding place. Fortunately, we got another, weaker one. Now, you better hurry before that bitch bleeds to death."

Tears began to form in Aleksander's eyes. He raised his trembling hands in surrender. You lifted your head with difficulty, watching him.

Then all hell broke loose. You set a soldier on fire and started a great fire. You tried to approach Aleksander and he came to you, but the soldiers around you were faster. One of them caught you; the rest kept Aleksander, who was struggling with all his strength, from rushing to your rescue and summoning his shadows. The soldier drew his dagger.

Your eyes and Aleksander's did not separate for a moment. Desperation and fear were reflected in his eyes, which met your gaze full of sadness and fear for his life.

"Aleksander, I love you-AGH!" you tell him when a soldier pierces your heart with a dagger in front of your beloved.

"Y/N!" Aleksander screams, tears in his eyes obscuring his vision at your last breath and your last look at him. He is overcome with rage, grief, and frustration so great that he can do nothing but scream.

His scream proves deadly. Deadly for his enemies.

His grief, desperation, and tremendous pain piercing his heart and seeing his beloved Y/N die raised within him a power so great that it covered the world in the darkness of his shadow.

And so the fold is born.

And Aleksander remains utterly alone in his darkness.

~•♤♤♤•~

You jump out of bed, screaming. You just saw yourself die... but it wasn't you, was it? It's just your twisted imagination. Aleksander couldn't... couldn't create the fold. The Black Heretic lived hundreds of years before you; it couldn't be true. It's just your sick imagination. You kept telling yourself.

You looked around the room, recognising that you were in the general's bedroom. You changed out of his black shirt, which you don't know who put you in, and left the bedroom in a hurry. You didn't know how Aleksander would treat you after he found out about your father's plan, and he certainly did after your panic attack in his war room. You also didn't want to risk getting caught in the general's chamber.

You were about to leave Aleksander's chamber, but someone's hand grabbed your arm tightly and covered your mouth. You tried to wriggle out of his attacker's grip, but in vain. Fortunately, the stranger let you go as soon as you entered one of the secret passages of the Little Palace.

You turned around, freezing as you came face to face with the woman haunting your dreams…

"Who are you?" you whispered in horror, recognizing the woman as the light from her torch illuminated her face.

"It doesn't matter. You need to get out of here as soon as possible." she grabbed your hand again in a strong, bruising grip, but this time you managed to pull away from her.

"Who the hell are you?! Why am I dreaming about you and some Aleksander?! How do I know you, Baghra?!"

"Hush for the saints! We're not far from his room." she tried to silence you, fearing that at any moment you would bring Aleksander back to his chambers here.

"Whose room? General's? What does he have to do with it? What the hell is going on here?!"

"Shut up you stupid girl before he comes here. I'm trying to save you."

"Saved me from what? I don't need a hero, thank you very much. All I want to know is why I'm having these fucking visions about you. Who are you? Why am I having some weird flashbacks about you from hundreds of years ago?" you ask, tired of it all, trying to finally get to the truth, whatever it may be.

"Aleksander was right… it's true. It's really you." she says in shock, eyeing you closely as you use all your powers in anger, summoning both fire, water and a light breeze in the deserted secret passage.

"Aleksander? Which one? Kirigan or some other? Answer me for the love of saints!" you scream at her, feeling like you're about to lose your mind at any moment.

"Child, there is only one Aleksander. My son. Aleksander Morozova. Black Heretic. General Kirigan and many other names he's taken since you died."

"What? What are you talking about? It's impossible, a Black Heretic lived hundreds of years ago… wait. Since I died? What do you mean by since I die?" the vision you just had haunts you again. Your blood, Alexander's screams. Screams of people turned by his grief, anger and rage into volcra as he creates a fold...

"You real name is Y/N…"

"BAGHRA!" Aleksander's furious scream echoes through the deserted corridor. He walks over to me faster than I can blink and stands between me and his supposed mother. "Go away."

"Aleksander..." she begins in a serious tone, but one dark look from the general keeps her silent. Never, not even during their worst quarrels, had he dared to oppose her so openly, so hostilely.

"I said... Go. Away." Baghra looks at you. Half in disappointment, half in fear, knowing full well the reason why her son is ready to use his shadows on her.

She lets go. This time. She knows full well he can't bring back your memories anyway. Or at least she hopes so.

Shee leaves you alone in a dark corridor. Aleksander slowly turns to you and reaches for you, but you pull away before his fingertips even try to touch you. He freezes. He watches you fearfully, afraid of what Baghra might have told you to make you so disgusted by his small touch.

"Don't take a step further. Why do I know you? Why did YOU know me before anything started between us? What the hell is this all about?!"

"Y/N... you need to calm down." he tries to calm you down as he sees you gasping for breath again. He reaches out to touch your cheek tenderly but you jump away from him. The fire begins to slowly circulate around your hands as you unknowingly summon it.

"DO NOT TOUCH ME! Who are you? Who are you to me? That's true? Are you a Black Heretic? What is going on here?!" you scream, you feel an indescribable power flowing through you that you are unable to control, a flood of emotions floods your mind, and your powers go out of control as a great wind rises and the corridor begins to slowly fill with water. The fire in your hands grows bigger, more alive, more uncontrollable.

"My milaya, please... try to calm down for me." he says, taking a step towards you with his hands up so you can see his every little move, every attempt to touch you.

"What am I?" you whisper, your tears flow freely, the water begins to rise faster and faster, the wind is so great that it blows both his and your hair and his black kefta in all directions, and the living fire from your hands prevents him from approaching you without risk of burning himself. But Aleksander doesn't care.

He wades towards you through the water that comes up to his hips and cups your face with both hands, forcing you to look him in the eyes. As soon as his skin touches yours, everything stops. The wind stops blowing, the fire disappears, and the water stops at a constant level. It is quiet. Eerily silent as you stare at him in a daze, tears dripping from your eyes into the makeshift river you created in the hallway.

"You know who you are. Just reach for it. Please, come back to me, Y/N Y/L/N. Moya milaya, moya lapushka..." he pleads, resting his forehead against yours.

You close your eyes. The flood of vivid memories makes your head hurt, but as soon as all the images are gone from your eyes, you open them to look into those familiar dark irises that pierce through you. And you cry with relief, finally knowing perfectly well how you know him, why you associate him with home, peace, love, unconditional devotion.

"Sasha?" you whisper, afraid you've gone completely insane, that it's all a nasty, twisted figment of your imagination.

And Aleksander sighs with relief hearing that damn diminutive he missed so much.

"It's me. My beloved Y/N. My life. My Light. My tribrid. You are finally here." he takes you in his arms as tears flow freely down your cheeks. You snuggle into him, your nose brushing his neck as you inhale the damn good smell of his perfume. Aleksander buries his nose in your hair, trying to hold back tears as he trembles uncontrollably. He finally had you. After hundreds of years, months of torture where he had you at his fingertips but couldn't touch you properly, you were finally with him. "Eya fyela chi." he whispers in old Ravkan, making you laugh in relief.

"I love you too, Sasha. I promise I'm not going anywhere anymore. Nobody and nothing will take me away from you."

"Brave of you to think I'd let you go anywhere. You stay by my side. Forever. I won't waste such a wonderful gift from the saints, my little flame." he says, kissing your temple.

You shiver for the first time enjoying the familiar feeling of love and warmth that comes with this tender gesture, often repeated by him in the past.

He leaned in, catching your lips in a passionate, long-awaited kiss. And you couldn't do anything other than enjoy the taste of his lips on yours and how you could create new memories with him without the old ones attacking you with every touch he made. You are no longer an intruder in your own body. And the unknown fire calling for him turned into the familiar flame of love.

[elysiaheaven]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐄𝐘𝐄-𝐒U𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐗 𝐅.𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑-𝐎𝐡, 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐞-𝟎𝟏

'Oh, small bird- Be sealed in this cage. So your weakness won't be seen'

Words:4403

---

During the disaster, I could hardly hear anything.

Just the soft, haunting whispers of my mother's sobs. Even the loud ringing in my ears couldn't drown out the truth: she was terrified yet smiling.

Smiling, pretending everything was okay. So we could be okay...

Even in her fear, she held us both tight, her embrace like a fragile bird's wings. She sang her lullaby one last time, a sweet melody that danced on the edge of despair, before whispering,

"You will be safe and sound..."

But what about her? I was weak. So weak that I couldn't protect her. Yet, as I held Robin's hand, something ignited within me—a fierce determination to keep her alive at all costs. Even if it meant...

...

...

"Dear child, go on."

"Even—"

"Go on. Sunday, my child, look... Right now, this is your chance to reveal your true self for the last time."

"A broken boy who cries at everything. Tell me, how was little Robin when your mother urged you both to stay strong?"

"She held back her tears, striving to absorb Mother's last words. She was...

Controlling her emotions, trying to ease Mother's fear for us."

"Less?"

"Less scared for me."

Hmm? And what did you do then?

"Mr. Wood, you've asked me this before... Please, every time I remember, it—It hurts.."

"It hurts?

You feel weak? What a disappointment. To be strong is to control your emotions. Sunday, tell me: what were you doing when that happened? Remember how weak you were".

I couldn't control my tears. I kept asking if there was another way to save all three of us... I felt hopeless...

How shameful. Your sister was stronger than you. She gave your mother hope one last time by controlling her tears. You? What did you do? You cried. Your mother's heart must have ached, offering her only half-hearted hope. Both of you watched her fade into a memory.

"M-Mr. Wood, I would appreciate it if you didn't say it... It hurts."

Control it.

"Huh?"

Mr. Wood leaned back in his chair, a mock expression of concern etched on his face. "Sunday, how quaint that you still cling to your tears. It's almost endearing, really. But don't you see? This weakness only serves to burden those you love. Your mother needed you strong, yet here you are, a puddle of sorrow."

He paused, letting the words hang heavy in the air. "Why must you make it harder for her? Do you think your tears will change anything? They won't bring her back. They won't save you or little Robin."

Sunday's heart sank further with each cutting remark. "But I wanted to save her, Mr. Wood! I tried!" he pleaded, the desperation evident in his voice.

"Ah, but wanting is not enough, is it? You've learned that by now," Mr. Wood continued, his tone dripping with condescension. "You see, strength lies in control. Your sister, she understood this. While you cried, she offered hope, the only thing that can hold back despair. Did you not notice how she stood firm, a pillar of strength in the face of chaos?"j8

6

"Robin—" Sunday's voice cracked, pain washing over him at the thought of his sister's bravery.

"Yes, Robin," Mr. Wood interjected smoothly, as if savoring the sting of his words. "She managed to mask her fear, to keep your mother afloat even in the darkest of moments. Yet here you are, so easily swayed by emotion. What a disappointment. A broken boy who cannot even honor his mother's last wish. How tragic."

The corners of Mr. Wood's mouth curled into a semblance of a smile, an unsettling mix of kindness and ridicule. "If only you could harness your feelings, channel them into something powerful. But no, you'd rather wallow in this pathetic display, wouldn't you?"

Sunday's face flushed with shame. "I'm trying to be strong! I just... I can't..."

"Then stop trying," Mr. Wood replied, his voice low and almost soothing. "Instead, simply control it. It's not difficult. You must learn to bury the tears, to swallow the pain, and rise above it. That is how you become strong, how you honor your mother's memory. It's time to stop being a burden and start being the protector she needed."

As Mr. Wood's words echoed in the silence, Sunday felt the weight of his expectations. The kindness in his tone twisted like a knife, but beneath it all lay the undeniable truth: if he wanted to survive, he had to learn to control the storm within him.

"Do you understand, Sunday? Or are you still too caught up in your own sorrow to grasp the reality of your situation?"

Sunday looked down.

Mr. Wood leaned forward, his gaze sharp and penetrating. "You know, Sunday, I think it's time you learned to smile more. After all, how can you protect your sister if you're still moping about your mother's death? You must move on, put on a brave face. The world doesn't have room for weakness."

"But... how can I just forget?" Sunday's voice trembled, his resolve wavering as he struggled to keep the memories at bay.

"Forget? I didn't say forget," Mr. Wood countered smoothly, his tone almost playful. "I said to move on. If you stay shackled to your sorrow, what will become of Robin? What if your weakness consumes her the way it did your mother? Can you afford to let that happen?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Sunday felt a chill run down his spine. "I won't let that happen! I'll protect her! I'll sacrifice anything for her!" His voice rose with a mix of desperation and determination.

"Good," Mr. Wood replied, an eerie calm settling over him. "But let's be honest, Sunday. A weak heart like yours is a poor vessel for sacrifice. What if one day, Robin steps back, refuses to do the right thing? What will you do then?"

"I'll make her listen! I'll show her how to be strong!" Sunday's voice cracked under the weight of his emotions, but he pushed on, fighting the tears that threatened to spill.

"Such a confident declaration from someone so fragile," Mr. Wood remarked, his expression almost bemused. "But tell me, what if your weakness swallows her whole, just as it did your mother? What if she dies the same way? It's a simple test, really."

Sunday felt his breath hitch as the implications crashed over him like waves. He squeezed his eyes shut, fists clenched tightly as he fought to keep the rising tide of tears at bay. The thought of losing Robin, of failing her like he failed their mother, felt like a knife twisting in his gut.

"Open your eyes, Sunday," Mr. Wood commanded, his voice low and insistent. "Look at me."

Reluctantly, Sunday opened his eyes, the glossiness betraying the battle he fought within. He met Mr. Wood's gaze, a mix of fear and determination swirling in his chest. "I won't let it happen to Robin. I swear I'll protect her!"

Mr. Wood's lips curled into a smile that was anything but warm. "Congratulations, Sunday. You did well. As long as you cage your feelings, no one will get hurt. Not Robin, not anyone. You must learn this, or risk losing everything."

"But it hurts..." Sunday murmured, the weight of his emotions threatening to pull him under.

"Pain is a small price to pay for strength," Mr. Wood replied, his voice steady and unwavering. "You must face it head-on. Stop looking weak, stop crying. You need to become a guardian, not a grieving child. Your sister is counting on you."

With each word, Sunday felt the remnants of his resolve solidifying, but the fear still loomed large. The images of his mother's fading smile haunted him, intertwining with the knowledge that he couldn't let that fate befall Robin. Clenching his fists tighter, he struggled against the tears, willing himself to silence the grief.

"Good," Mr. Wood said, watching Sunday closely. "That's it. Bury it deeper. Strength comes from control. The stronger you are, the less pain you allow to surface. You must become a fortress for Robin—a shield that cannot break."

As Sunday fought against the tide of emotions, he could feel a change within him—a steeling of resolve. He wouldn't let history repeat itself. He would cage his feelings, as Mr. Wood said, and protect Robin at all costs.

"Now, remember this, Sunday," Mr. Wood continued, his voice like ice. "A weak heart will only lead to tragedy. Be strong. Be unyielding. You owe it to your sister, to your mother's memory. If you falter, it's not just your fate at stake—it's hers too."

End!-Lesson 0 seal your emotions.

Sunday found himself ensnared in a web of grief and denial, each thread woven tighter around his heart. He learned to mask his pain, to build a fortress of smiles even as his soul felt hollow. Every laugh he shared with Robin echoed with a bittersweetness, a façade he wore like a heavy cloak.

When they played together, he forced himself to join in, his laughter ringing out in bright notes that belied the darkness lurking beneath. They would spin in circles, their voices rising as they sang silly songs, both of them promising to light up the world. But deep down, Sunday was torn.

"No, Robin," he wanted to tell her, "the world isn't bright. It's shrouded in shadows. It's dark and unforgiving." Yet, he couldn't bring himself to shatter the fragile joy in her eyes. Instead, he nodded, forcing a smile, locking away the ache in his chest.

"Yes, let's sing for the world," he replied, his voice trembling with the weight of hidden sorrow. "Together."

The harsh studies loomed like a storm cloud over them, each challenge reminding him of the burden he bore. When the assignments became overwhelming, when his heart ached for the mother he'd lost, he buried it deep inside. Each time Robin looked to him for encouragement, he swallowed his pain, presenting only the cheerful exterior he had crafted.

"You're doing so well, Robin! I'm proud of you!" he exclaimed, but inside, he felt like a fraud. How could he be proud when he felt so lost?

In the quiet moments, away from Robin's bright gaze, he would stand in front of the mirror, forcing a smile that never reached his eyes. He practiced until his lips curled naturally, even as the reflection whispered secrets of sorrow he refused to acknowledge.

It was all so suffocating. The cage he had built around himself felt safe, a small haven where he could stifle his emotions and hide from the world. But the bars of that cage were his heart, and the more he locked it away, the more it felt like it was slowly withering inside him.

Each day was a battle. Each time he felt joy, guilt clawed at his insides like a hungry beast. He couldn't let Robin see the truth, the storm brewing just beneath the surface. "Smile, Sunday. Just smile," he would tell himself, yet the ache never faded.

One afternoon, as they played in the fading sunlight, Robin turned to him, her face glowing with innocent hope. "Let's make a promise, okay? We'll sing together forever! No matter what happens!"

Sunday felt a pang in his chest, a desperate wish to tell her that the world was cruel, that promises were often broken. But he simply nodded, forcing a smile that felt like it might shatter. "Yes, forever," he echoed, the words tasting bitter on his tongue.

He locked away the tears threatening to spill over, swallowing the raw ache that clawed at his throat. With every laugh they shared, every song they sang, he felt the weight of his grief settle deeper, like a stone in his heart.

But the cage had its price. The more he caged his emotions, the more he felt like a ghost haunting his own life. The joy he displayed felt increasingly distant, a fleeting shadow of the boy he once was. The pain of his mother's absence hung over him like a shroud, a reminder that no matter how many smiles he wore, the emptiness would never truly leave him.

Yet, he couldn't allow Robin to see. He wouldn't let his weakness swallow her the way it had consumed their mother. So, he continued to play the role of the strong older brother, sacrificing his own heart for her light, even as it felt like each day drew him further into darkness.

With every song, every smile, every moment spent pretending, he sank deeper into his self-imposed cage, where the walls closed in tighter, suffocating yet comforting.

"Just a little longer," he would whisper to himself, "just until Robin is safe." And with that, he clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, he could keep the darkness at bay, even if it meant losing himself in the process.

---

Sunday grew older, the cage he had built around himself felt less like a sanctuary and more like a prison. The walls, once comforting, now loomed large and oppressive, trapping him within his own despair. Each day blended into the next, the darkness creeping in deeper, the laughter shared with Robin becoming increasingly hollow.

After all! He did lose!

He caught sight of himself in the mirror. He stared, and for a fleeting moment, he saw not just the mask of the strong older brother, but the true self locked away inside—the boy who cried, the boy who failed to protect his mother. The reflection shimmered with the echoes of his sorrow, shadows dancing behind his eyes.

Locked up, locked up, locked up.

Suddenly, a dark shape flitted through the window, a raven with feathers as black as his despair. It landed on the edge of the mirror, peering at him with beady, judgmental eyes.

"Ah, a little Halovian trapped in his cage," the raven croaked, its voice dripping with mockery. "What a sight to behold! A bird should be in a cage, but here you are, confined by your own failure."

Sunday felt the words sting like ice, and he recoiled, fists tightening as he tried to mask the rising tide of emotions. "Leave me alone!" he shouted, but the raven only cawed, a chorus of others joining in from the shadows.

"Disappointment! Disappointment!" they shrieked in unison, their voices a cacophony of accusation.

"Why do you exist?" the raven continued, its eyes glinting with malicious glee. "If you can't even do what your father asked, what purpose do you serve? Look at you, so pathetically weak. You've let your mother down, and now you're destined to let your sister down, too."

The voices echoed in his mind, a relentless assault that stirred the pain he fought so hard to contain. "Control it! Control your feelings!" they chanted, drowning out his resolve. "Don't let them see how pathetic you are! How weak you are!"

"Control it!" The raven flapped its wings, the sound a harsh reminder of his failings. "Why didn't you do what he asked? Why didn't you respect his wishes? You're just an imperfect reflection of what a Halovian should be."

"Shut up!" Sunday screamed, the words escaping him before he could think. He pressed his palms against his temples, trying to block out the haunting echoes, but they only grew louder, more insistent.

"Seal it! Seal it!" the raven shrieked, its cawing piercing through the fog of his thoughts. "Lock it all away! If you want to protect her, you have to be perfect. You must bury your flaws, your emotions—everything! Seal it tight, or you'll only lose her like you lost your mother!"

Sunday felt his heart race, panic surging as he grappled with the weight of the raven's words. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to shut out the chaos, but the voices flooded in, suffocating him with their relentless accusations.

"Why can't you be strong?" the little voice within him echoed, the boy he used to be now taunting him. "Why can't you do this? Why do you insist on being so weak?"

He struggled against the tide, battling the feelings of inadequacy that threatened to drown him. Every moment he spent locked up in this cage of his own making felt like another failure, another weight pressing down on him.

But amid the chaos, a flicker of defiance ignited in his chest. "I won't let you swallow me!" he yelled, clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white. "I will protect Robin! I will be strong!"

The raven cawed, laughter lacing its tone. "You think that shouting will change anything? You're still just a broken boy behind bars. Can you even believe your own words?"

"Shut up!" Sunday pressed his palms to his ears, desperate to block out the haunting sounds, but the noise only grew louder. "I will seal it. I will control it! I can't let it destroy me!"

"Then prove it," the raven jeered, its voice dripping with disdain. "Show us you can be perfect. Show us you can truly seal it all away. Because if you don't, you're just destined to fail again."

 Sunday stood in the dim light, surrounded by shadows that mocked him, he felt a tear escape, sliding down his cheek. But he quickly wiped it away, forcing a smile to mask the pain, a fragile façade that felt like it could shatter at any moment.

"Seal it," he whispered to himself, the words a mantra that resonated in the stillness. "Seal it tight. You can't let them see you weak. You can't let Robin see..."

And with that, he buried the feelings deeper, locking away the sorrow and fear until they felt like distant echoes, lost within the confines of his cage.

But as the raven took flight, disappearing into the shadows, a small voice in his heart whispered, *What if sealing it away means losing yourself forever?*

No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!No!

The astral Express won!?

---

The shadows danced around him, Sunday felt the weight of his failures pressing down like an anchor. He was supposed to be the one to protect Robin, the guardian who would keep her safe from harm. Instead, he had failed her—exiled and alone, a prisoner of his own making.

The ravens circled overhead, their cries sharp and accusatory, each word a dagger that twisted in his heart. "You didn't do what Wood wished, did you? You didn't keep your sister safe!"

Their caws rang in his ears, relentless and mocking. "Look at you now, abandoned and alone! All because of that foolish deal your sister made with Lady Bonajade. She sacrificed everything for you, and what did you do? You lost your home, your family!"

And just like that, the memories surged forward, drowning him in a tide of guilt and regret. He could see Robin's face, the heartbreak in her eyes as she pleaded for his freedom, her voice trembling as she faced the dark figure of Lady Bonajade.

The boy inside him, the child he had locked away, began to shout. "Why did you put her through that? Why did you let her suffer for you?" Each accusation struck like lightning, illuminating the dark corners of Sunday's mind.

"Why are you so weak?" the child's voice echoed, piercing through the din of the ravens. "Robin is heartbroken! She must be disappointed in you! Do you think she doesn't feel guilty for giving up everything to save you? And look at you—sleeping peacefully while she bears the weight of your choices!"

"Stop! Stop!" Sunday shouted, gripping his head as the pressure mounted, as if he could crush the boy's words into silence. Anger surged through him, a fire igniting against the icy fingers of despair. "You don't understand! I did what I had to do!"

The ravens cawed in delight, the cacophony building into a frenzy. "Lock yourself away! Lock yourself up so you won't have to cry! Seal it all away! Isn't that what you wanted?"

But the boy wasn't finished. "What are you going to do? WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?! You're just going to sit there while she suffers? While she's left alone with the burden of your mistakes? Wake up, Sunday! Wake up!"

The words sliced through the fog of denial, raw and unrelenting. Sunday felt the walls of his cage closing in, darkness pooling around him like a suffocating shroud. "I... I can't..."

"Robin needs you!" the child shouted, the echo reverberating in his mind. "She's out there, lost and broken because of you! You can't just sit in your cage and pretend it doesn't hurt. She's waiting for you to wake up! She's waiting for you to save her!"

The anguish in the boy's voice resonated within him, a haunting melody that stirred the dormant guilt. Sunday's heart raced as he fought against the weight of despair, the suffocating darkness closing in around him. The ravens circled, their eyes glinting with malicious satisfaction.

"Be locked up! Be safe!" they screeched, their voices blending into a nightmarish chant. "You don't have to feel! You don't have to cry! Just seal it all away! Forget your sister! Forget your failure!"

But the boy's voice broke through, insistent and demanding. "What will you do? What will you do to protect her? You're nothing without her! You're just a coward hiding in a cage!"

Sunday clenched his fists, the pain of the child's words piercing through the darkness. He could feel the tears threatening to spill, the grief that had been locked away now bubbling to the surface. "I don't want to be weak anymore!" he shouted, voice raw with desperation. "I want to protect her! I want to make things right!"

But as he cried out, the raven's voices grew louder, their laughter echoing in his ears, drowning out the boy's haunting cries. "You'll always be a disappointment! You'll always be weak! Seal it! Lock it away! That's the only way to survive!"

Suddenly, the cage felt tighter, the bars pressing against his chest as the shadows surged, wrapping around him like chains. "No! I won't let you!" he shouted, panic rising within him, but the darkness only tightened its grip.

"Lock up your heart!" the ravens shrieked. "Seal it! Don't let anyone see how broken you are!"

With every word, he felt the flicker of hope dimming, the shadows clawing at his spirit, pulling him back into the depths of despair. The child's voice, once so vibrant, began to fade. "You can't leave me here! You can't abandon her!"

"Wake up!" the boy cried, the final plea echoing through the nightmarish cacophony, but the darkness swallowed the sound, leaving Sunday alone in the suffocating silence of his cage, haunted by the choices he had made.

---

---

Sunday jolted awake, his heart pounding as he gasped, "Robin!" The echo of his own voice filled the dim, unfinished room, and he quickly scanned the space around him. The walls were bare, and the air felt thick with an unsettling stillness, like the remnants of a dream lingering just beyond his grasp.

The Astral Express had said someone once occupied this room, but now it felt empty—dull and lifeless. The furniture was sparse, the decor unfinished, reflecting a haunting reminder of what could have been. It was a space where hope had been stifled, a room still waiting for its purpose.

He sat up slowly, a chill running through him as he took in his surroundings. Everything felt imperfect and lacking, but he couldn't complain. He had to breathe; he had to live. Robin had begged for him, pleading for him to keep going, to survive when he thought he'd never find the strength. The thought of her determination, her unwavering belief in him, ignited a flicker of resolve deep within his chest.

Glancing at the mirror, Sunday caught sight of himself and felt a wave of vulnerability wash over him. He looked... disheveled. Sweat clung to his smooth, shoulder-length silver hair, the fringe swept up haphazardly to the left. His golden irises, usually bright and expressive, appeared dulled by exhaustion, framed by dark circles that spoke of sleepless nights. His clothes were tattered. It was....!

He took a deep breath, reminding himself of who he was—a Halovian. Behind his ears, wings of a similar silver shimmered, the left one adorned with two gold stud earrings, a testament to his heritage. The halo above his head, detailed with intricate eye motifs, felt heavier than ever, a constant reminder of expectations he struggled to meet.

Something itched at the back of his mind, pulling him from his thoughts. He stood up and made his way to the bathroom, the sound of water beckoning him like a whisper of comfort. As he stepped into the shower, the warmth enveloped him, and he closed his eyes, letting the water cascade down, washing away the remnants of the nightmare.

The water flowed over him, memories of the night surged back. The raven's accusations echoed in his mind, and he clenched his fists, trying to push them away. But the weight of those words clung to him, a heavy cloak that refused to let go.

He brushed his teeth, the soft bristles of the toothbrush soothing against his gums, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of disarray. Each of the three bristles felt scattered, just like his thoughts, each one out of place and waiting for a sense of order. Everything he touched seemed to reflect the chaos inside him. He tried to arrange the items neatly—mouthwash lined up perfectly, toothpaste squeezed just so—but it felt so odd, so foreign. But that was just who he was, always seeking perfection in the midst of turmoil.

He looked at himself in the mirror again, noting how tired he looked, as if he hadn't slept for days—because he hadn't. The nights blurred into one another, filled with nightmares and the haunting realization of his own weaknesses. He didn't know how many times he had awakened in this strange world, feeling like a ghost of himself.

But today, something shifted within him. As the water washed over him, he felt a sense of clarity, a purpose that beckoned from the depths of his soul. He was here, alive, and Robin was out there, believing in him.

"Get it together, Sunday," he muttered to himself, a gentle reminder. "You owe it to her to keep fighting.. Keep- Cage it up! Cage up your worries."

After finishing his shower, he dressed in the most normal clothes Dan Heng and Mr. Welt had given him, fabric soft against his skin, an unexpected comfort in the midst of uncertainty. As he stepped outside, he inhaled the fresh air, a mix of hope and fear swirling within him.

With every step he took, he could feel the weight of his past pressing against his chest.

[sporadicallyanenthusiast]

Do you think Odysseus ever watches Telemachus living fiercely by his open arms world view, a mirror of the kind man he himself used to be, and he resents his son?

And he loathes himself for it, loathes himself so deeply he hangs on too tight to his boy. He is so desperate to make up for the dark thoughts in his mind. He clings to Telemachus in a silent apology, but sometimes he wishes his son wasn't so kind.

And Telemachus can sense his father's desperation. He lets his father cling to him, and it should feel right, he should be happy, but he takes Odysseus' desperation as his own and he wonders. Is it him? Is he failing as a son? And he wants to ask, he wants to talk to his mother, she would understand, but he can't bring himself to burden his parents any more than they already have been burdened.

And so father and son stay in this dance of despair where they're almost close enough, but always way too far. Sometimes it hurts as if Odysseus never made it back at all.

Ok, I'm gonna shut up now, I don't know what I'm talking about anymore.