#I <3 my unsettling son

[greenglowinspooks]

“Gee Dr’s Fenton, how come your kid sets off the geiger counter?”

#danny phantom #danny fenton #I <3 my unsettling son #the reason he’s using a rotary is because anything else won’t work with ectoplasm #(its bc I didnt want to draw a different kind of phone shhhh)

[galaxysharks]

I'm really glad that the writers made a point that the extras in scenes were excited and happy with the strange camp traditions.

Like everyone knew about the Shallow Lake song, and sang along, same with Susan Fine. They consistently are thrilled when Maddox leads events or gets up to speak.

I know the Wildcats at the POV characters, and we are supposed to sympathize with them and their reactions to things, but I got really annoyed by how negative they were about everything. I know they were uncomfortable and were kind of outsiders for the first time, but they didn't even try to adjust or understand.

Like, Y'all are tourists here, you dont get to show up and tell the locals that their practices are weird. I didn't really see any reaction channels mention this either, but that might be because I think all the ones I watch are American, thus our tourism areas are very curated to be digestible to masses.

I guess it also makes sense that Gina is the most open to embracing camp culture, her whole life has been the outsider in a strange place, so she's used to adapting.

#Hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #hsm the series #hsmtmts #hsmtmts maddox #hsmtmts gina #hsmtmts season 3 #also all the react videos were so unsettled by the haunted camp stories #i feel like thatbis such a common trope that i didnt even think about it #sleep away camp = haunted ghost stories #and a theater camp to boot #shout out to 'we love you Gadget!' kid #hes my honorary son

[lorenzosmicropp]

help him

He looks like a raisin. Smash.

#my son wrinkle he has every disease </3 #can someone get him a drink ? a nap ? #i think he has lost weight i said it b4 and i will say it agin someone get some food down this boy !!!! #he looks like a dehydrated grape the poor thing #nobody likes raisins </3 #he is so unsettling and i desire him carnally <4 #ask #elena <3 #his gray hairs i dont know if he is getting more or if i just notice them more now <3 #or his hair is thinning round the front and i am calling it grey haiir bc it is better than balding <3

[cheshirebitch]

Alastor x Reader

𝔸𝕞 𝕀 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥? pt 2

( part 1 here ) ( part 3 here )

 Husk was the first to notice me, since we both thought I was going to die. 

“Oh (Y/n) you son of a bitch!” Angel grabbed me tightly into a hug, squeezing the air out of my lungs. Charlie ran up with Vaggie tailing her.

“How did you do it?” Vaggie and Charlie asked at the same time. Husk looked over and barked out, “How did she do what? Because she saved him and she also somehow saved herself from Boss Man’s wrath.” He took a swig of his drink, eyeing me suspiciously. I knew he was going to pamper me with a million questions later. 

“Well, I just offered Vox information that sounded valuable in a state of dire quick thinking. Sure, he can be smart, but not on the spot. It was simply a trick play of environment and temptation.” After all, isn’t that what I’m good at? 

“What was the info you gave?” Curiosity got the best of Angel. I smiled before pressing a finger to my lips.

“Can’t spill. Even if I wanted to.” A red magic spread across my face where it looked like my mouth was sewed shut. Angel recognized it from when he saw my chains appear before. 

“Oh doll…” Pity. A look of pity is all I received and it made my chest tighten. My eyes scanned quickly over everyone. Everyone had the look of pity. I wiped the magic off before laughing dryly. “I have my ways around it obviously.” I waved them off. I don’t need their pity. I chose this. I just regret it lately. Alastor wasn’t always this closed off, at least not to me. We used to share almost everything. It was us against the world until he left me alone in it, twice.

“So, I take it we pissed off the Vee’s?” Vaggie stated as she looked at me and Charlie. She was holding up her phone that had Velvette’s recent social media post explicitly saying that Hell was about to freeze over.

“Well, it did give us the chance to actually redeem Angel Dust.” 

“Everything comes with a price though, Charlie.” I alluded to what was to come. The battles I can see happening here in the future are enough to worry me on what’s to come. The future is so unsettled on what can happen right now that I can only see small things and not the big picture. I felt a tightness in my chest again. 

“Stand straight darling.” Alastor smoothly spoke behind me as he pushed his hand against the small of my back and drifted up to make my spine straighten. I hate how he only gets on my case about that when Husk literally has a hunch back at this point. Deep breaths (Y/n). Deep breaths.

“Thanks sir.” I said through gritted teeth. Alastor flinched slightly at how I called him sir and how tightly I said it. He looked at me as if asking with his eyes, What is your problem? I couldn’t help but shift my jaw tighter. I squinted my eyes, You’re the problem dick. He clenched his jaw as well and pressed his hand harder into the small of my back, any harder and he would be pushing me. Somehow though, I noticed how his presence made the tightness in my chest go away. Despite the fact we were arguing through our eyes. Charlie turned towards Alastor, dragging our conversation to a quick halt. 

“What should we do in preparation?” She was mostly looking at me and not Alastor which made my once annoyed face into a smug one. They are looking towards me for leadership now. I warned you Al, don’t play with fire. After all, you are the reason I’m down in this mess anyway.

“We need to cover all our bases and make it seem like we aren’t even worried about whatever they are doing, and continue business as normal. Alastor and I will cover the rest. Just watch each other and don’t leave without a partner for a little while.” He seemed to relish in the fact I still sounded like I needed him. I can’t help but feel like he loves that feeling, even if he left me and still won’t tell me anything anymore. 

After spilling plans with Charlie and the team on what our next moves should be, I dismissed myself towards a separate room. I know he can feel the slight anger during our whole interaction because he swiftly follows me. 

“Yes, Alastor?” He smiled wider with his stupid half lidded eyes. But my god do I always melt- stop it. You’re mad, remember? How could he keep playing with your feelings? It's like these seven years took everything we built between each other and ripped it to shreds as if we were never anything. Were we though? 

“Inner battles dear?” I wish he would let that cheesy smile slip once or at least make it look sincere again. 

“You tell me. You’re the one who kicked me out of my own room.” He hummed playfully as I scrunched my face in anger.

“Well, since you’re my pet, it’s also my room.” That cocky motherf-

“We need to talk, Alastor. I want to begin the negotiation of my contract coming up soon.” A slip, his eyes screamed worry but then it was gone. Bingo.

“Renewing it again? We both know you will.” My smile matched his which unnerved him slightly.

“Remind me why again. If I remember correctly, you abandoned me for seven years, won’t talk to me anymore, and have been acting weird lately. You aren’t the Alastor I signed my soul away to.” I seethed. He was holding his jaw so tight I thought he was about to crack his teeth. I leaned closer, almost on my tippy toes to get in his face, his head looked down at me. I saw a glimpse of those eyes he used to give me. The eyes he would stare at me with while I listened to him talk for hours. Then they were replaced with a slight hurt. He opened his mouth, his smile quivering as he thought of the right words.

“There you are! Nifty got stuck in the toilet again, can you help us get her out?” Charlie spoke loudly. Everything I was about to get, all the answers, just…

…gone.

The feeling of overwhelming… EVERYTHING. I wanted to yell at Charlie. 

Why can’t you just wait? Fuck Charlie, you just ruined everything.

Alastor quickly fixed all the vulnerabilities he had and proclaimed, “Well of course! What type of help would I be around here if I didn’t?” I watched him walk away with Charlie, a hurt look that he caught when he glanced back. 

His smile faltered quick enough for me to see it. His eyes glanced at Charlie as if trying to tell me something before he fixed his behavior and carried on as normal with her when she looked back at him. They swiftly walked out as I was left in the entertainment room. 

Alastor, what did you do?

Husk was at the bar cleaning glasses from Angel and Cherri Bomb’s celebration. Swirling around my drink, wishing I didn’t drink as much as I did. I will hand it to Angel and Cherri for having such a persuasive way with drinking. My hair was slightly messy, my normal pantsuit switched out to my comfy clothes, and my eyes looked tired. 

“You finally going to admit you had too much yet?” Husk chuckled out. I chuckled back before I sipped the rest of my drink down quickly. The glass hitting the counter answered Husk instead, and the sound of it sliding down to him as I smiled at him.

“Nope.” I taunted back. He shook his head, pouring more into my cup, and gently sat in front of me. I stared at it for a little while before Husk sighed and piped up, “Penny for your thoughts?” He knew I loved it when he said the sayings I normally do. Made me feel like we really are real friends, despite the situation we are both in. 

“Well, I think I have a theory on what has Alastor… different.” I was careful with my choice of words as Husk eyed me. He knew I was never going to let this new Alastor last long. I mean Husk even was starting to get treated more like a dog rather than someone who helps Alastor with a slight rough friendship. Hard to believe we were all friends once. 

“Continue?” Husk poured himself a matching drink as he watched me intensely. This isn’t something I would bring out loud unless I had some sort of evidence pointing towards it. I shuffled my hands around before stealing a quick sip of my drink.

“I think Alastor made a deal he regrets but can’t talk about.” 

(Part 3...?)

(Lore buildingggg I promise next update will have one question answered. Can you guess which one? As always all characters and world belongs to the respected owners <3 story belongs to me. Tagged who I could! Thank you for loving the first one!)

(Should I add the songs that inspire the writing?)

TAG LIST: @immortal-ries @kat-nee @shybananabagellover @tiedyedghoulette @alyslovesflowers @seven709 @vixie--21 @montis-posts @trashbin-nie @sh3sa1dwhat @for-hearthand-home @funtimefreddynaofficial @jyoongim @eviebuggg

#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #radio demon #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

[merakiui]

delayed alchemy accident where, after the fog from the explosion settles and crewel scolds the pair of bad boys for fooling around with the ingredients near the cauldron, you and the affected twst guy seem fine. it's only until you fall asleep that the botched potion finally takes effect. when you and the twst guy wake up, you find you've switched bodies. naturally, as one does in this situation, chaos ensues.

✧ azul who knows you have a crush on jamil, so he takes this opportunity to carelessly (but smoothly) ruin your chances. the two of you meet up to discuss your predicament: "azul, whatever you do, please stay away from jamil while you're in my body." and of course he's grinning like a fool. "why, i would never do anything to jeopardize your relations!" and even if he does, it's not like you can do anything. you're in his body. do you really think jamil will believe that? azul can play a convincing (name). just you watch!

✧ floyd who uses the opportunity to check out certain assets he wouldn't be able to normally while in your body. you're so flustered, refusing to so much as peek while in his body because you're much too embarrassed. floyd just laughs. nudity means nothing to merfolk. shrimpy's welcome to check out what he has below the belt~ he won't mind. <3

✧ swapping bodies with riddle at the most inconvenient time: right before winter break. now you're in riddle's body, homebound and anticipating a meeting with mrs. rosehearts who has no idea you're a classmate in her son's body. ^^;;;;

✧ ace who makes it his mission to stop you from snooping through his things or else you might learn of his crush on you. >:D

✧ swapping bodies with idia, but both of you are so awkward. T_T promising one another not to do anything weird while in the other's body. you'll get through this strange trope! somehow...

✧ swapping bodies with rook and happening upon all of the secret collections he's started of you. photos, discarded items, HAIR. he's terrifying... meanwhile, rook is so happy to be in the sacred temple that is his beloved's body!

✧ jade who gives you the most unsettling smile while he's in your body. he won't do anything terrible. you can trust yourself (him). just what is he planning? (he's going to dress himself (you) in all of the outfits he's been dying to see you wear.)

✧ ROLLO BODY SWAP. being student council president for the day......... all while rollo is trying so hard not to be nosy or snoop while in your body. the temptation is so strong, but he must resist. he must!!!!! (he can't.)

#meraki mumbles

[stevebabey]

a piece that alas, will never get finished 😔 the bath fic that was once discussed, half written, and left to rot in my tumblr drafts. i hope u can read the seeds i was planting and see the vision i had even if i never could write it <3

Hot water is, indisputably, a luxury in the Munson household.

Far as Eddie knows, the same goes for the whole damn world.

Hot water is something sacred. Something to be used scarcely, lest you drain the tank and have only cold water to wash your plates and yourself in for the rest of the week.

It's not the worst, but, well, then again Eddie can think of few things worst than needing a shower during the colder winter months when the water splutters out lukewarm and the cold trickles in right when he's in the middle of washing his hair. It sucks. Always sends him to bed with the shivers.

Hell, sometimes he'd even do the mile at school just for a chance to get in the showers first — dashing in for the free hot water that only lasted a good couple minutes.

It was worth it though, Eddie thought.

Both the exercise and the sneers, in exchange for getting to be truly warm for the first time since he'd gotten out of bed that day. Warm showers will do that to you though.

Eddie's heard stories of places, of faraway like Hawaii or somewhere, where it gets so warm that when it rains, the water sometimes rains down already warm. Like a great big shower for the whole place.

He reckons if that ever happened here in the middle of nowhere Indiana, he'd be out dancing in the streets in the warm rain. Soaking it all in. Taking not a single drop for granted.

Steve's house, as Eddie has discovered, has more than one shower — because it's got multiple bathrooms.

In the time he's been hunkered down there, his sides patched up roughly and healing at what feels like a snails pace, Eddie has taken to exploring the empty halls of the Harrington House.

It's... enormous. Gargantuan. Fucking massive.

There's rooms with doors that never open. Rooms that Eddie's never even seen Steve go near. Endless doors and cupboards and an upstairs and downstairs, and far too many garages for one just couple and their son.

Eddie explores them all.

It stems from his boredom, of course, because patient isn’t one of the words used to describe Eddie Munson but restless certainly is.

He wanders aimlessly, under the guise that he needs to keep using the muscles in his legs while he heals up but truthfully, he loves a good snoop.

Soon enough, the driving force of his wandering transforms from boredom to… curiosity.

Steve Harrington has always been an enigma to Eddie.

Upholder of conventional standards and the heterosexual gaze turned, well, loser, in the manner of a couple months- it was jarring to say the least.

Especially to the likes of people like Eddie, for whom he had represented everything wrong with small town Hawkins. Rich meathead jocks who pay their way through school.

Eddie always figured he’d had a fucking mansion of a house but this place… it’s unsettling, seeing so much space, so unlived in.

It’s even more unnerving how Steve just… doesn’t take up space.

Even in his own home. Steve’s bedroom doesn’t sprawl out, it’s not packed with possessions and hobbies like Eddie knows his own is. His wallpaper matches his sheets, picked out by someone who clearly doesn’t know Steve.

Everything is tidy because Steve seems to have this neatness ingrained deep within him. He putters around, on auto pilot sometimes, to keep the space clean for parents who don’t seem to come home.

When Steve's out at work and it's just Eddie, wandering aimlessly to keep the strength in his legs, the loneliness of the place yawns down the halls. Consuming. Suffocating.

He’s found himself eagerly awaiting Steve's arrival home from work, if only to hear someone else's voice other than his own.

Today, Eddie's searching has lead him here— into the master bedroom’s ensuite and they have a goddamn fuckin’ bathtub.

It’s a proper fancy type one with clawed bronze feet and a wide lip, made of sparkling clean marble. The type he might describe for that is a King in a campaign, just to be on the nose about how wealthy and greedy this character was.

He’s so transfixed on it that he doesn’t even hear Steve jimmying his keys into the lock, coming home.

It isn’t until— “Eddie?”

Eddie jumps, startled, as Steve’s hand touches on his shoulder lightly. His goal to not scare the other boy doesn’t go as intended, considering how much Eddie flinches but the moment he turns his head, his face is relaxing.

“Fuck, dude,” He breathes a sigh of relief, lips quirking into a smile. “Didn’t hear you come up.”

Steve shrugs a bit and scratches behind his ear, a bit awkwardly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie nods, but his gaze has already shifted back to the tub before them. Steve follows his gaze easily, an easy chuckle passing his lips.

“I see you found the bath.”

“Yeah…” Eddie says, sounding a bit breathless, his voice distant. Steve glances over, trying to understand the strange emotion toying on Eddie’s features. It’s just a bath. Steve hasn’t even been allowed to use it before, sure, but he likes his own shower just fine.

“It was such a bitch to get it in when they first got it,” Steve explains, folding his arms across his chest as he recalls the memory.

He points his finger behind him to the doorway without moving his arm. “Knocked down a whole wall ‘cos they couldn’t get it to through the doorway. To be honest, I’ve always thought it was kind of ugly.”

He’s waiting for Eddie to say something. For the joke, for the sneering comment on his parent’s fortune, for any lippy spiel that usually gets under Steve’s skin in the best way. The longer Eddie stays quiet, the more it begins to worry Steve.

It’s as though Eddie hasn’t even heard him.

Steve clears his throat and tries again, his tone light and delivered with a chuckle. “Man, you’d think you’ve never seen a bath before.”

Eddie’s head snaps toward Steve. He finally breaks his trance, regrettably just to snap at Steve. “I have, thank you very much.”

Steve feels a bit of embarrassment bloom over his cheeks, wanting to backtrack on his poor joke instantly but before he can open his mouth Eddie is already softening, hackles falling. His eyes are back on the bath.

“Just… haven’t even taken one.” He admits softly.

Steve doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what’s going through Eddie’s mind — can’t come close to understanding what forlorn nostalgia is tugging at Eddie’s gut.

“Not really, I don’t think.” He continues. He pauses to think, head tilting back just a bit. “When I was really little, maybe. Little enough to fit in the sink or— or something.”

Eddie seems to realise he’s letting whatever thoughts he’s having drift out of his mouth and promptly snaps his jaw shut, teeth clacking as he does. He doesn’t look at Steve, doesn’t want to see the pity or the sympathy or the—

“Anyways,” Eddie huffs a breath, turning to leave his newfound discovery on the exploration of the Harrington House.

When—

“Do you want to?” Steve asks suddenly. His voice is sincere. “Take one?”

Eddie blinks. Wonders if it’s a joke, that it’s being offered out just so it can snatched away and Steve can laugh at how desperate Eddie is to actually be given this. He has to hastily remind himself that Steve wouldn’t do that to him.

There’s no containing the excitement rushing in his voice when Eddie spits out, “Can I?”

Steve chuckles, an easy smile at the other’s eagerness.

It’s easy to overrun the instinct that’s ingrained deep, not to cross the little rules his parents have scattered through the house — easy because he’s doing it more and more with Eddie here.

They’d eaten off his mom’s expensive and untouched china on the first night Eddie had managed to get up and about to eat downstairs, instead of tucked in bed.

He’d been so keen to help, proclaiming that he’d set the table for the both of them— too excited to be up and moving to remember that he and Steve weren’t usually as buddy-buddy as they were acting.

Steve had soaked in it greedily. Warm brown eyes, saccharine smile, he’s found that Eddie sort of glows when he’s happy. And that giving him good food is one of the ways to stir up that happiness.

But even then, Steve had paused seeing the plates in Eddie’s hands, an instant stone in his throat because he isn’t allowed to use those ones.

Sputtering through a sentence, Steve swallowed the stone and skipped over the rule he’d never broken before. It was worth it for the smile on Eddie’s face.

Just like it’s worth it now. Seeing the awed smile on his face, already a little jittery at the thought of a bath… Steve’s embarrassed to find he can’t really say no to him.

He keeps that to himself though, because if Eddie knew that he’d be batting his eyelashes and making every demand known to Earth. But then again, that didn’t sound so bad either.

Christ, Steve thinks to himself. He’s so screwed.

#gay ppl in my phone…. today i let u down #by leaving you hanging #it’s a fill in the blank story ! u can choose how it ends ! #mwah mwah mwah #ruby writes steddie #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #uhhhhh i think that’s all #enjoy?

[deliciousangelfestival]

Tears In His Ferrari - 12 || End

Character: Bucky Barnes x Farmer!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, used to a life of luxury, takes on farm challenges in a bet with his father. Mud-stained Ferraris and a rustic farmhouse lead to unexpected personal growth, guided by the stern mentorship of Y/N, a farmer making his city-boy life difficult.

Theme: Fluff, Slice of Life, Heart-Warming.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Chapters: Chp 1, Chp 2,Chp 3 , Chp 4 , Chp 5 , Chp 6 , Chp 7 , Chp 8 , Chp 9 , Chp 10, Chp 11 , Chp 12

Bucky's purpose in visiting Toby's house was simply to make a quick stop before heading to the markets. However, as he stepped inside, he immediately sensed that something was amiss. The once cozy atmosphere was replaced by an unsettling sense of disarray.

Furniture was overturned, and the air was thick with tension. Bucky's heart raced as he cautiously made his way further into the house. Then, he heard a low, pained groan from behind the couch.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Bucky approached the source of the sound. There, lying on the floor, was Toby's grandfather, his face contorted in agony, blood staining his lips. It was evident that he had been injured, but the circumstances surrounding it remained a mystery.

Kneeling beside the elderly man, Bucky felt a surge of urgency. "Gramps! Who hurt you?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with concern and alarm.

Toby's grandpa slowly opened his eyes, his voice trembling with pain. "My son is here..." he whispered, his words laden with fear and despair.

Bucky's breath caught in his throat. He knew all too well about Toby's drunken father, a man plagued by addiction and violence. With a heavy heart, he gently moved Toby's grandpa to the safety of the nearby couch, all the while silently cursing the man responsible for this chaos.

Quickly dialing the local police and the hospital, Bucky surveyed the scene, his mind racing with worry for Toby and his grandmother. As he was about to reach out to Y/N for assistance, movement caught his eye near the open door.

There, Toby stood, bravely blocking the path of a menacing figure, his expression resolute despite the fear in his eyes.

The intruder's voice rang out, filled with aggression and entitlement. "Where's the fucking key?" he demanded, his tone dripping with malice.

Toby remained steadfast, refusing to yield to the man's demands. "I won't give it to you," he declared firmly, his voice tinged with defiance.

"Bullshit. I heard the person who gave it is rich. Just say that you crashed it, and he will give you another truck."

Toby shook his head defiantly. “No.”

The intruder's voice grew more aggressive. “Shut up.”

But the intruder's patience wore thin, and with a swift, violent motion, he struck Toby across the face, the sound of the blow echoing through the tense silence of the room.

Bucky couldn't bear to witness the brutality any longer. With a surge of righteous anger, he pushed through the doorway, confronting the intruder head-on. "Get your hands away from him," he commanded, his voice laced with a steely resolve.

Bucky's sudden appearance startled both, the intruder who name is Jack and Toby, their eyes widening in surprise as they registered his presence.

Jack clicked his tongue in annoyance. "And who might you be?" he sneered, his tone dripping with contempt.

Bucky's fists clenched at his sides, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "You hit your own father and son?" he spat, his voice heavy with disgust.

Jack scoffed dismissively. "A real man can take a punch," he retorted callously, his words a feeble attempt to justify his despicable actions.

But Bucky knew better. "Not like this," he thought bitterly, his gaze narrowing with disdain.

"Are you planning to sell the truck and squander the money on your gambling addiction?" he demanded, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Jack's face twisted into a sneer. "This guy doesn't know how to respect his elders," he grumbled, his words dripping with disdain.

Bucky's patience wore thin. "You may be old, but you're acting like a child," he shot back, his voice firm and unwavering.

With a derisive snort, Jack lunged forward, his fists raised in a clumsy attempt at aggression. But Bucky was ready. With lightning-fast reflexes, he dodged Jack's clumsy attack, retaliating with a powerful punch that landed squarely on Jack's jaw.

The force of the blow sent Jack reeling, his eyes rolling back in his head as he crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Toby watched in stunned silence as his father lay unconscious at Bucky's feet, the aftermath of the altercation sinking in as the room fell into an uneasy silence.

Jack fainted, overwhelmed by Bucky's superior fighting skills despite his attempts to retaliate.

Though victorious, Bucky couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that washed over him at the sight of Jack lying unconscious on the ground.

“Toby, Bucky! Are you all right?” Y/N's voice echoed through the room as she rushed in, her concern evident in her tone.

Toby, bearing the marks of his father's abuse, managed a weak nod. “Big sister,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N knelt beside Toby, enfolding him in a comforting embrace. “It's okay,” she reassured him softly, her arms wrapped protectively around him. Then, her gaze shifted to Bucky, who stood frozen in place, his expression clouded with remorse.

Sensing his inner turmoil, Y/N gently took Bucky's hand, her touch a soothing balm against the bruises that marred his skin.

“Bucky,” Y/N's voice cut through his thoughts, drawing him back to the present.

He blinked, his attention snapping back to Y/N as she addressed him.

She peered at him with concern etched on her features. “Does it hurt?” she inquired, her eyes scanning his bruised hand.

Bucky shook his head, forcing a reassuring smile. “No,” he replied, though the ache in his hand begged to differ. “Let's get them to the hospital,” he suggested, his voice firm and resolved.

🏥

At the hospital, Bucky found himself in the waiting room, his mind still reeling from the events that had unfolded. The doctors had assured them that Toby's grandpa and Toby were alright, which brought a wave of relief.

“What about Jack?” Bucky inquired, concern evident in his voice.

The doctor let out a snort, clearly familiar with Jack's reputation around town. “That man's just sleeping. You gave him a good punch,” the doctor remarked, offering a pat on Bucky's shoulder.

“Bucky.”

Startled, Bucky turned to find Y/N sitting beside him, her presence a comforting anchor amidst the chaos.

“None of this is your fault,” she reassured him, her voice soft but firm.

Bucky opened his mouth to protest, but Y/N silenced him with a gentle shake of her head. “Nobody's blaming you. Everyone knows Jack is an asshole,” she added, a hint of wry amusement in her tone.

Bucky couldn't help but chuckle at her candid remark, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

“It must be the first time you've faced this situation,” Y/N observed, her gaze searching his face.

Bucky nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in her words.

“Do you need a ride?” Y/N offered, her concern evident in her eyes.

Bucky met her gaze and nodded gratefully. “Yes,” he replied, relieved to have her support.

But when Bucky returned home, a sense of unease still lingered within him. He sank onto the couch, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, attempting to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him.

When he opened his eyes, he found Archie lying beside him, his loyal companion in times of distress. Bucky scooped him up and made his way to the car.

Turning on the engine, he pressed down on the gas pedal, the familiar rumble of the car providing a sense of solace. He needed to clear his mind, to escape the suffocating weight of guilt that threatened to consume him.

The events of the day played over and over in his mind, each moment haunting him like a relentless specter. If only he hadn't given Toby the truck, perhaps none of this would have happened. The thought gnawed at him, a constant reminder of his perceived failure.

He couldn't shake the feeling of responsibility, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. The image of Toby, battered and bruised, at the hands of his own father, seared into his mind.

Thinking of his own father, David, only intensified his turmoil. David, who had always been patient and kind, never once raising a hand in anger. Bucky couldn't help but feel like he had failed to live up to his father's example, his own shortcomings glaring in comparison.

Lost in a whirlwind of overwhelming thoughts and emotions, Bucky felt the hot sting of tears pricking at his eyes. He didn't bother to wipe them away, letting them fall unchecked as he drove aimlessly into the night.

The road stretched before him, a seemingly endless expanse of asphalt leading nowhere. And so, he drove on, seeking solace in the rhythmic hum of the engine, hoping to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos of his mind.

🏎️

Until the car came to a stop in front of the imposing mansion.

The night had grown late, the darkness enveloping the surroundings in an eerie silence.

Bucky stepped out of the car and approached the grand mahogany door, his hand hesitating for a moment before knocking.

The door creaked open, revealing the familiar figure of Butler Bernard. His expression shifted from surprise to recognition upon seeing Bucky standing before him.

"Young Master?" Bernard's eyes widened in disbelief at the unexpected visitor.

Bucky offered a small smile; his voice sounded raspy and exhausted. "Hey Bernard. Is dad still awake?"

Bernard nodded, his features etched with concern. This could be the first time he saw the young master look this tired. "Yes, he's in his study."

Bucky nodded solemnly and gently passed Archie into Bernard's surprised arms before stepping into the familiar halls of his childhood home.

David, still immersed in his work, was taken aback by the unexpected appearance of his son. Concern flickered in his eyes as he observed Bucky's troubled expression.

Setting aside his documents, David removed his glasses and rose from his desk. "What's wrong, son?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Bucky remained silent for a moment, his emotions swirling inside him like a tumultuous storm. Finally, he found the courage to speak, his voice trembling with emotion as he reached out to his father.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Bucky began, his voice thick with emotion. "All this time, I've been ungrateful to you."

Tears welled up in Bucky's eyes as he embraced his father tightly, the weight of his remorse heavy on his shoulders.

Bucky clung to his father, his emotions finally breaking free as he poured out his heart. "I've been so selfish, Dad. I've taken everything you've done for granted."

David was taken aback by Bucky's sudden words. He held his son close, his heart aching to see Bucky in distress. "You're not selfish, son," he replied, his voice gentle yet firm. "You've been trying to find your way, and sometimes that means making mistakes."

"But I've been so blind," Bucky admitted, his voice muffled against his father's shoulder. "I never realized how much you've sacrificed for me, how hard you've worked to provide for our family."

David pulled back slightly, cupping Bucky's face in his hands so he could look him in the eye. "I've always been proud of you, Bucky. You may have made mistakes, but you're learning from them, and that's what matters."

Bucky nodded, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "I want to make things right, Dad. I want to be someone you can be proud of."

"You already are, son," David assured him, his voice filled with warmth and love. "And no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

With those words, father and son shared a moment of understanding and forgiveness, their bond stronger than ever.

David gave his son a reassuring pat on the back before letting him go. "Seems like something happened today. Get some rest," he advised gently.

Bucky nodded, grateful for his father's understanding. "Hmm," he murmured, his mind still heavy with the day's events.

*******

The next morning, Bucky woke up early, his body attuned to the rhythm of farm life.

Even Butler Bernard noticed his early rising. "Sir, you can't sleep?" he inquired.

Bucky chuckled. "No, I've had enough rest. Where's Archie?"

Bernard replied, "Ah, I gave him breakfast. He woke up even earlier than me."

Meanwhile, David made his way to the dining room, surprised to find himself the last one awake. It was usually Bucky who slept in until 10 a.m.

Observing his son playing with Archie in the backyard, David couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and nostalgia. Bernard, too, noticed the change in Bucky. "Young Master has grown up," he remarked.

David sipped his coffee, a mixture of emotions swirling within him. "Yes," he agreed quietly.

While Bucky was back at his own home, he couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness. There were no crops to harvest, no eggs to collect, and no livestock to tend to. And most notably, there was no one to annoy him—no Y/N.

Sighing heavily, Bucky was pulled out of his thoughts by Butler Bernard's voice. "Young Master, someone called for you," Bernard informed him.

Bucky grabbed the phone, secretly hoping it was Y/N, but his hopes were dashed when he heard Steve's voice on the other end. "You're home, punk? Let's meet," Steve said.

Bucky's disappointment was evident in his tone as he responded, "Oh, it's you."

Steve chuckled, picking up on Bucky's mood. "Hey, why do you sound so disgusted with my call?" he teased.

Bucky shrugged, trying to mask his disappointment. "Just a little. Where do you want to meet?" he asked, resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be spending time with Y/N anytime soon.

🎉

When Bucky arrived at the usual gathering spot with his friends, he was surprised to find that Steve had organized a homecoming party for him. Cheers erupted as Bucky stepped into the venue, greeted by the smiling faces of his friends.

Expressing his gratitude, Bucky thanked everyone for the warm welcome. However, despite the lively atmosphere and celebration around him, Bucky found himself feeling oddly subdued.

Steve, noticing Bucky's subdued demeanor, couldn't help but ask, “Something bothering you? Or are you sick?”

Bucky shook his head, forcing a smile. “I'm fine,” he replied, though it was a lie.

In truth, he couldn't shake the unease he felt witnessing the abundance of expensive food and drinks being wasted at the party. He couldn't help but think of the hard work of the farmers who had grown and harvested those crops.

Steve, always one to jump to conclusions, chimed in with his own theory. “Must be a girl,” he teased, nudging Bucky playfully.

Bucky simply looked at his friend, a mixture of amusement and contemplation in his eyes.

Steve snapped his fingers. “I'm right. I bet it's not Kate since she's left for London. Let me guess, Y/N?”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “She's just a friend, but how did you know?”

“It was a trade secret,” Steve said with a grin.

“I've known you for a long time. I can see that you've disconnected from this life,” Steve said, his tone serious.

Bucky sighed. “I guess so.”

“You should go to her,” Steve murmured, a knowing look in his eyes.

Bucky's brows furrowed in confusion. “I'm sorry?”

“I said you should go to her. What are you doing here?” Steve reiterated, his voice filled with conviction.

“You're right,” Bucky admitted, feeling a sense of clarity over him.

🏎️

Bucky left the party, feeling a sense of urgency to sort things out with Y/N. He spotted a familiar truck parked outside as he drove back to his house. Y/N was here.

Hurrying inside, he found Y/N and his dad in conversation. David noticed Bucky's arrival and excused himself. Now it was just Bucky and Y/N.

Bucky felt a lump form in his throat as he struggled to find the right words. “Hi,” he managed to say, his voice tinged with awkwardness.

Y/N's expression softened as she looked at him, her eyes reflecting a mixture of concern and relief. “Is that all you have to say? You suddenly left. You made us worried,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of reproach.

“I'm sorry,” Bucky replied, his tone filled with sincerity. He couldn't shake his guilt for leaving abruptly and causing concern.

"How's Toby and his grandpa?" Bucky inquired anxiously.

"They're fine. And Toby has been looking for you too," Y/N responded with a hint of concern.

Y/N sighed, her eyes softening as she reassured Bucky. “You still feel bad for hitting Jack? Don't be. That man deserved it. And your dad made sure no one would bother Toby and his grandparents again.”

Bucky's brow furrowed in surprise. “My dad?” he echoed, taken aback by the revelation.

Y/N nodded, her expression serene yet determined. “So, are you going to stay here or go back to the farm?”

Bucky fell silent for a moment, pondering her question. Then, with a decisive nod, he reached out and took Y/N's hand. “Let's go back,” he said, his voice filled with newfound resolve.

With a shared smile, they walked out of the house together, ready to face whatever challenges awaited them, hand in hand. It was a new beginning for both of them, and they embraced it with hope and optimism.

-End-

A huge thank you to everyone who followed the series! What were your favorite moments? Share your thoughts in the comments below!

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

#bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky barnes au #james bucky buchanan barnes #buckybarnes #james bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x f!reader #bucky x female!reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barn #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barns imagine #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x female reader

[osiris-iii-bc]

Secondo Emeritus - Naples

Primo | Secondo | Terzo

Naples. My beautiful Naples. My beloved, adored Naples. It is the city where I studied and grew up in and it is also literally filled with mysteries and legends. I thought Naples would have been the perfect formation place for a young Secondo Emeritus. Let’s see what may have influenced and inspired him in his religious journey.

1 - The musical church. 

Ghost’s music has always been heavily loaded with the Devil’s Tritone: also called Diabulus in Musica or Devil’s Interval, it is an unsettling dissonance produced by an unusual arrangement of notes that gives that spooky, devilish tone to music. In Infestissumam, it was featured on 9 out of 10 songs. The use of the Tritone was banned in Medieval times (In Ghost, its use dramatically dropped with Prequelle, with only 2 out of 10 songs featuring it). So what if I tell you that, in contrast, in Naples there is a church that functions as a musical score, whose music protects it from evil?

Basically, there is a church in Piazza del Gesù that has a particular pointy ashlar on the external facade. Under the side (the one facing the ground, so if you look up from the street you can see them) of each of these little pyramids are carved symbols, which turned out to be Aramaic letters that were later translated into musical notes. So, it turned out that the whole church is a big score, and it’s playable. The whole melody, called Enigma, was played for the first time inside the church to celebrate the discovery. You can hear the music here (sound quality is not the best).

Will it protect the church from Ghost’s music?

2 - The skull cult.

Naples has very intricate underground galleries, almost all visitable. One of these is Cimitero delle Fontanelle, a famous catacomb where the remains of about 40.000 people who died from plagues are stored. It is said the “anime pezzentelle” cult was born here: it is a particular relationship each Neapolitan establishes with a chosen skull. You literally adopt an abandoned skull, which according to our tradition is the seat of the soul, and your duty is to care for it, protect it and also create a special niche for it. In exchange, the soul of that skull will protect you.

A nice place for a Bone Daddy.

3 - Pretty and Evil like Mergellina’s devil.

Knowing the passion our Secondo has for women, here is a story about a very devilish one.

In Santa Maria del Prato church, in the Mergellina area, there is the only representation of the devil as a woman in a painting.

The legend has it that said woman was the beautiful Vittoria D’Avalos, who seduced the Bishop Diomede Carafa, who commissioned the painting in 1542 to represent his victory against the woman’s lust (we're all believing him, right? 🙄).

Now that story has a way of saying that refers to femmes fatales as “Pretty and Evil like Mergellina’s devil”.

I’d say she may be considered among the first-ever Sisters of Sin. 

4 - Who gives life can also take it.

Infestissumam is filled with references to birth and Jesus, turning it into the birth of the antichrist and creating a narrative that is completely opposite to the birth of the Son of Man. Now, in Naples, there is a statue that embodies both concepts.

Back to Piazza del Gesù: On a very high pedestal in the center of the square stands a statue of the Virgin Mary, the Mother. That's all... until you position yourself at a specific point in the square and look up to see the statue transformed into the Reaper. His face is hidden by the cowl, staring straight at you, with a sickle at its feet and a snake crawling on it.

Depending on your point of view, the giver of life becomes the taker of it.

5 - Body and Blood… but especially blood.

What never stops to fascinate me about the relationship of Neapolitans with religion is the very thin line between devotion and pure blasphemy. It is the case of the “miracle” of San Gennaro’s blood. It happens twice a year and it consists in bringing the Saint’s blood in a liquid state again (after centuries it is obviously solidified). The particular thing is that during this ritual, the worshippers (and the priests too) literally insult the saint to convince him to make the miracle happen, because if it doesn’t work, it means that something terrible is about to happen.

(Last time it didn’t work was right before the Covid pandemic 🙂)

I’d say this could have been a great inspiration for Body and Blood and Idolatrine.

Honorable mention to the fact that I have lived 32 years now on this Earth and I never attended this event even though I would like to.

Bonus: Now, I said that Dante would come back in the chapters, and he is. In fact, not only Virgilio died in Naples (and he is the protector of the city) but, apparently, the gates of Hell Dante mentioned in his comedy were located on the Averno lake, near Pozzuoli, not far from Naples.

#the band ghost #ghost theory #papa emeritus ii #secondo emeritus #secondo #papa secondo #ghost fandom #Italian cities #ghost band theories

[mt-oe]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡—modern mizu

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

So sorry for not doing requests much! I'll be deployed into a hospital known for being super busy ;; I'd like to get my ideas out before I become buried with work again.

This one's inspired by my favorite artist. They recently followed me back here and I melted ///// Every time I see their art, I always get so giddy and happy. They honestly make my day <3

I'll link them here: @winnie-illustrator / ig: winnie_illustrator / twt: babydollproject

Specific art that inspired me is linked here: link <3

Also, I feel excited because I want to try incorporating my field into my writing too. It won't be completely accurate to give it a sense of readability and because that would be hell to write www

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, reader is older than mizu, autopsy, slight violence, reader thinks mizu is a man (pronouns used will be mostly he/him), implied afab reader

note: I am more than willing to take this down if the artist wants me to, especially if they are not comfy with reader inserts. I respect your decision, which ever it may be. I will still love your art regardless <3

Nothing but the soft sound of metal being placed on metal and the vent fans spinning resonated among the cold tiled walls. An occasional cracking sound from a rib being opened or the soft, slimy 'thud' sounds of organs being placed aside could be heard. The air smelled like decay, formalin, or xylene depending on which area you stood. An eerie atmosphere lingered with an unsettling feeling, enough to be suffocating. Even the lights flickered, making the grayish tiles appear colder. Scalpels, forceps, and saws lined up neatly on the counter, shiny and sterilized as opposed to mess of organs and body fluids you had on your tray.

This place looked gloomy, empty, lonely.

It doesn't matter. That was how a morgue was supposed to be.

You sighed as you removed your dirty gloves, the latex producing a loud crispy snap. It was bloody and probably covered with something else like bile or whatever was left of the decedent's last meal. Stains weren't allowed on your reports anymore. Don't know why. It wasn't like what you were writing was legal anyway. The head's son must have touched a shit stain while handing it to his daddy.

Removing your mask, you placed a cigarette between your red-painted lips before lighting it. The smell of burning tobacco filling up the room as you rolled the cigarette to get an even burn. Your hand picked up the pen and started writing out the autopsy report for the recent corpse, taking hits from your cigarette in between. You hated writing autopsy reports. It was a waste of time considering the lawlessness of this goddamn place.

No one cared if you died. They'd step over and desecrate your corpse.

Name: unknown Age: est. between 30-40 years old Length: 175cm Weight: 73.3kg General appearance: fair skin color, appears of good nutritional status Other findings: Livor: appearance of postmortem lividity most prominent on left side of the frontal region of the head, left hypochondriac region, and the epigastric region; decedent exhibiting tache noir Rigor: whole body exhibiting rigor mortis, rigor still easily resisted. -blood vessel dilation found on upper and lower mucosa of the eyelids -nails and fingertips exhibit cyanosis -irregular-shaped bruising found on the left occipital region measuring 6cm x 3cm -laceration measuring 3cm x 0..2cm located on the right infraorbital region -linear fracture on right parietal bone -depressed fracture on left occipital bone, depression measuring 4.7cm x 2.6cm -several linear abrasions located on the upper palate (palatine raphe) measuring between 1-3cm x 0.2cm -crush laceration resulting in rupture located on the right lobe of the liver -traumatic fracture of left ribs (7-10) and xiphoid process resulting in partial decimation of xiphoid process

'Poor man,' you thought as you drew out the location of the fractures and lacerations on the poorly printed out piece of paper.

No, you weren't taking pity on him. He was a fool that probably had mouths to feed and was tricked by the enemy into thinking that he could handle the life-threatening, high-risk-high-reward job of being a spy for the enemy organization. They must've gotten him so drunk on fantasies of amassing a fortune, getting high on drugs he can't even pronounce, and women hotter than his wife. This fucking idiot probably thought sneaking in and poisoning your subordinates was an easy job.

Now his wife would have to live wondering where her husband went off to.

With a few more words and one click of your pen, you finally finished writing the report. You'd have to culture and assay the samples from his body later for any substance or biological weapons that he might have left. Your back rested on the cushion of your seat, a hand over your eyes as you closed them. "Fuck.. finally," you groaned out before sitting back up again to grab another cigarette and lighting it up, allowing the sound of the vents to take over the room.

...

It was quiet here.

No one ever went to your morgue...laboratory..whatever. Dead bodies lined this place up, a new face everyday. If you're lucky, maybe a new one will roll in every hour. A gut-retching, unnerving feeling never left this place. A feeling that someone or something was always watching you would linger; and somehow, to you, it was the most peaceful feeling. Like a tiny cove hidden amongst the mess where all you had to do was open people up like a treasure box, get a bunch of samples to perform tests on, then sew them shut.

It was your haven. Your little territory. No one wanted to go here.

...

...

...

"Impressive. I take it you're done?"

Well except for this little shit.

It was that blue eyed demon that had somehow made a name for himself allover the scene. An assassin who steps into the scene wielding only a blue katana. The only person who was crazy enough to bring a knife to a gun fight. His eyes striking terror to who anyone who saw them. Even your allies had chills running down their spines whenever they saw him.

Rumors quickly spread about how he took down a whole unit on his own. Stepping straight into enemy territory alone only with pure seething rage behind his sharp eyes, coming out covered in the blood of his own enemies. They say he only joined to kill the don of four particular groups. His presence screamed anger and bloodlust.

An onryo.

That's what they called him.

Despite only having graduated from training, he currently possesses the highest body count in the whole organization—and we're not talking about sex.

And luckily or unluckily, you had the privilege of instructing him when he was still a trainee. You had no intention of teaching anyone, your plate was full as it was. But one faithful day, he appeared in front of your morgue. His presence undetectable until he was right in front of you, sending chills down your spine.

Your eyes met blue, staring at it with a deadeye stare, not even bothering to hide the irritation you held. The blood in your veins was running cold, the tips of your fingers tingling from how nervous you had become. You accidentally left your revolver in your laboratory which was now blocked by this stranger.

'How the hell?' you asked yourself in thought, eyes breaking contact to glance around the hallway.

It was a simple hallway with only two doors on either side, one leading to your office and the other back to the lobby. There were no windows, no cubbies, no anything. Absolutely nowhere to hide. And yet somehow, you couldn't even detect his presence.

Sound always echoed around the gray tiles, capturing any sound no matter how quiet. Even the soft pitter-patter of water dripping from the ceiling echoed like a drum within this hall. However, no sound nor sign of footsteps could be heard. He was like the wind, suddenly appearing before you.

Your eyes went back to him, stare turning into a glare. Every part of your body was silently screaming at you to run, telling you that this person was dangerous. That one wrong move would kill you. "What the hell do you want?" you seethed out, eyes watching for any sign of aggression. Even with your vigilance, you couldn't win this without a gun.

No.

Even with a gun, something in your gut was telling you that you wouldn't win.

His cold emotionless eyes continued to watch over you before his hands reached into his pocket, pulling out a picture taken using a polaroid camera. It was a picture of a recent autopsy you performed, corpse laying on the cold metal table, all stitched up. "How did you obtain this..?"

The decedent was an instructor known for being cruel to trainees. Everyone knew of his behavior but he was too influential within the organization to get rid off. Until one day, his body was rolled into your laboratory, multiple lacerations over the body, a few missing teeth, signs of struggle evident. No one knew who killed him. Too many people held a grudge with him to be traceable. It didn't matter, it wasn't your job to find out anyway.

"This..cut," he started, voice husky as his finger pointed to the picture, clearly referring to the cut you had made on the corpse. "Its clean. Exquisite. Clearly made by someone skilled." He looked up at you, eyes narrowing slightly in suspicion. "Its you."

A clear look of confusion painted over your face. This boy sneaked up on you because of a cut?

You took a look at the picture again and rolled your eyes. "A y-shaped cut. Every examiner and coroner in this world knows how to do one. So what?" you groaned. The blue eyed man seems intrigued by your answer, eyes glancing around in thought. As you moved over to the side to head towards your laboratory, the man stepped back and blocked your way again, making you let out an exasperated sigh.

"Teach me," he said, handing you the picture. "Or at least show me how you made that cut."

Another exasperated sigh escaped your lips as you glared at him, hands shoving the picture back to him. "No. Get out," you scowled. No matter how oddly unnerving this man's presence was, there was no way you'd waste your time taking in a trainee. Your hands shoved him away from the door before going to the handle.

Before you could twist the doorknob, his hand immediately gripped your wrist. "I'm not leaving until you agree," he said, pulling your wrist to keep yours hands off of the knob. The look in his eyes told you that he was serious. God, this man was stubborn.

Your eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance as you pulled your wrist away from his grip, crossing your arms. "Then make it worth my time. What do I get for teaching you?" you asked, raising a brow at him inquisitively.

His gaze shifted around the hall in thought before landing on you. "I'll tell you who killed this man," he replied, showing you the picture yet again. Your eyes softened for a moment before glaring at him again. "As if I care. My job is to provide evidence, not convict someone."

No, maybe you did care...or was it because you already knew who.

The man let out an audible huff before looking around again. Now his vision was focused on you. Looking over your features, observing every detail of your clothes and body. Anything to convince you, to force you. "You're missing a gun, aren't you?"

Your eyes widened slightly, the unsettling feeling returning to your throat. "And why would I tell you?" you said cautiously. He chuckled darkly before looking over you once more. "A model 57, am I right?" he asked, slowly approaching you with soundless footsteps.

As he approached you, you took a cautious step back, following his steps. Something was telling you that he was not so keen on negotiating anymore. Soon enough, your back collided with the wall, effectively trapping you between the tiles and his body. There was no use struggling. Both were equally immovable.

Rough calloused hands lifted your chin up, forcing you to stare at his face. His thumb running across your lips, smudging the red lipstick against your chin, staring at it before his gaze went back to your eyes.

He was reading you, observing the fear as it ran through your body. Once again, he took out the polaroid picture and showed it to you, now with a sense of satisfaction as he felt your breath. "You're not an idiot. You probably know who killed him," he said in a low tone. The look in his eyes hungry as if he was a predator hunting and you were the prey.

You gulped and turned your head away the best you could with his hand still holding your chin. Your actions neither confirming nor denying his statement. Numerous large lacerations, clearly made by a sharp object. The cuts were clean too. It wasn't hard to figure it out. At least not to you.

He chuckled at your stubbornness, knowing full well that he had trapped you. "Now," he proceeded, pressing your body further against his as he loomed over you. "Teach me." His hand slowly slid the picture into the breast pocket of your lab coat, fingers tracing the stitches carefully and tenderly. The threat sent chills down your spine. Your body was telling you to run, to scream at least. You were trapped between a wall and a killer.

"Fucking shit...Fine!" Your eyebrows scrunching together at the feeling of being defenseless. The threat of losing your life wasn't what bothered you the most. It was the fact that this cocky trainee waltzed into your spaces, wasting your time and disturbing your peace; and yet, you felt utterly helpless under him.

It was unnerving. It pissed you off.

Finally, he lets you go, face emotionless but his blue eyes told you that he was more than satisfied. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you opened the door to your morgue before craning your head to glare at him. "Oh and never touch me again."

But this bastard never got lost. In fact, he came back every single day. At first he had the decency to wait for you to get back whenever you went out to submit your reports, standing in front of the door like a good little boy. Now he just waltzes in like he owned the place.

Sometimes he'd just sit around and watch, the blue in his eyes shining particularly whenever you cut up a corpse that died from something peculiar. Sometimes he'd dirty up the place, walking in after a mission, covered in blood and smearing it allover the chairs and tables. Most of the time, he'd walk in just to annoy the shit out of you, moving around the reagents and inspecting them. Like what he was doing right now.

"Didn't I just replace the lock?" you asked, raising an eyebrow and taking a long drag out of your cigarette. His hand reached into his pocket before presenting to you a bent up hairpin. This little shit picked the lock again. "You did," he affirmed, voice sounding a bit smug.

His footsteps echoed around the room as he approached you, sitting down right next to you on the smooth varnished wood of your desk. "You should consider having cameras in this place," he commented, tilting his head to look around as if he hadn't for the past years.

You rolled your eyes at his suggestion, exhaling the smoke through your nostrils in a deep huff. "Oh please, as if you won't find a way to break them and sneak in. You'd carve a hole on the ceiling if you had to."

He hummed in agreement, eyes closing while he nodded. For a moment, silence once again enveloped the place. His eyes looked over to the cigarette you were holding, blue orbs eyeing the red lipstick on the filter, gaze lingering on it in particular. "Did you like the corpse I gave you?" he asked, taking the autopsy report from your desk and reading it.

"You could've gone easier on the man," you replied, tapping your cigarette on the ash tray and snatching the report back from him. "Really. Blunt force trauma? What did you use? The back of a gun?" you chuckled, scanning over the report as well. "Just when they've handed us a new batch of rifles, you just had to use it like a machete."

The shrug he gave you was more than enough to affirm your suspicions. Raising an eyebrow at him, you put your half-finished cigarette out on the ash tray before walking over to the corpse, putting on a new pair of gloves, and zipping up the body bag. "A ruptured liver too," you sighed, bringing the tissue samples you took to another table and placing them in formalin.

"He deserves it," he replied nonchalantly, taking the lighter from your desk and standing up, striding over to where you were. Snaking his arms around your hips, he peered over your shoulder. Your body went rigid as you tensed up from the contact. Suddenly, the feeling of something firm being pressed against his shoulder made him step back a bit. His eyes trailed down to see the barrel of a revolver pointed at his shoulder.

Your eyes narrowed at him, warning him to back off. A clicking sound could be heard as you turned to face him, jaw clenched. "Touch me again and I will shoot," you warned, vexed expression evident. His gaze switched over to your gun then to his shoulder before he took another step towards you. It seems that your threat was ineffective towards him.

"Go ahead," he replied, pressing the barrel of the revolver against his shoulder before placing his hands on both your sides, resting it on the cool metal. "At least aim at a vital organ. A hit on the shoulder is easy to fix." Sharp blue eyes staring at your lips once again. The red on your lips fascinating him. It was like he was hypnotized.

You rolled your eyes at him, eyebrows knitting together as you realized that your threat was not working at all. "Oh and maybe I should remind you that I'm the only doctor here," you snarled sarcastically. He laughed softly, tilting his head down to look at you. "Aren't you a pathologist?"

"Exactly. So back off unless you want to be the next thing I cut open," you threatened but it was no use. The man in front of you stayed unmoving with his eyes fixated on your lips.

The more he stared, the more he pressed his body against you. Yet somehow, you couldn't bring yourself to pull the trigger. Instead, you raised a knee up before swinging it towards his crotch. However, upon impact, your eyes widened in realization. You stared at him dumbfounded, lips parting as you finally spoke...

"You're a woman."

At your statement, her gaze hardened, jaw clenching in sudden aggravation. Suddenly, her hands grasped your wrist, pinning you down on the table as she loomed over you. Your revolver now on the floor with loud clack, a heavy foot over it. Her eyebrows scrunching together in an irked expression. "Speak of this to anyone. I'll kill you," she threatened, face moving closer towards yours.

You couldn't believe it. All this time, the blue eyed demon was a woman all along. He who brought fear into his enemies, leaving them either dead or permanently incapacitated, was not a he. The little shit bothering you and messing around with the stuff in your laboratory was a woman.

The lack of reply irked her even more, her glare now directed towards your lips. Fuck. Maybe if she wasn't so distracted by your lipstick, she would have seen this coming. The longer she stared, the more her body grew hot either from infuriation or from something else.

Suddenly, her hand entangled itself within the locks of hair at the back of your head, pulling on it and smashing her lips against yours. Your lips opened slightly from surprise and she took the opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth. Her tongue explored the cavern of your mouth, not caring if you returned the kiss or not.

Your body trembled under hers, breathing becoming shakier as the kiss continued. A small groan escaped your lips at the feeling of her hand pulling on your hair tighter. Eventually, you allowed your tongue to move with her's, dancing together with your groans and soft mewls as the melody.

A thin string of saliva connecting your lips together upon pulling away. Your red lipstick smudged over your cheek and allover her lips. You could see her chest rising and falling as she panted through her nose.

"Fine...I won't," you breathed out, looking away to hide the warmth crawling up to your cheeks. The heat of the atmosphere taking all the snarky remarks out of your mouth. Her gaze softened before she leaned down, placing a trail of kisses from your lips down to your collarbone. She lifted her head up once again and let your wrists go, helping you up.

Before you could speak, she slipped her hand into your breast pocket and took out the carton of cigarettes, taking one out and placing it between your lipstick-smudged lips. Reaching into her pocket, she took the lighter she picked up from your desk out and flipped it open, lighting the cigarette for you.

Her blue eyes scanned over your figure before chuckling, all the anger she had earlier completely gone. "I know you won't" she whispered with a sense of sincerity. "I'll leave."

You watched as she headed towards the door, footsteps quiet and quick. Upon reaching the door way, she turned towards you with a slight smirk.

"Mizu," she said suddenly.

"H-Huh?"

"That's my name, so don't forget." She turned back around and left. The sound of the door closing echoing around the morgue. Your eyes stared at the door, stupefied from the turn of events. Your fingers slowly touched your lips, tracing where she had placed hers.

There was no way you'd forget it.

She'd come back every day to remind you of it.

#bes #bes mizu #bes x reader #bes mizu x reader #blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai mizu #blue eye samurai x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #mizu x reader #mizu imagine #mizu x you #mizu x fem!reader #blue eye samurai netflix #mizu bes #Spotify

[ultralightpoe]

Blood of my Blood- Aemond Targaryen

Authors Note: This is my first Aemond imagine. There will be a couple more  parts  (not long of a wait since I have already started the next part). Any hate will not be tolerated but I do hope you guys like it. Reader is written as a female. I do take requests so feel free to send some in.

Warnings: Smut, a little angst, beginning of a deranged Aemond. Next part will be terrifying for him 

Word Count: 3,328 (lmao. I went hard on this one) 

Description: Aemond falls in love with a woman already married. Not that anything ever gets in his way. 

Part 2     Part 3

            Life had been dull. That was the best word Aemond had been able to use to explain his life. Dull, empty, utterly useless. 

            He was the second born son, fourth born child. Even if something happened to his spoiled sister he would still not be a contender for the throne. There were her shit kids, and then his brother, then whatever heir his brother would provide. 

           Aemond could only really be thought of as useless. 

           So he trained, fought, and killed. Over and over and over. Any days he spent at Kings Landing were in the gardens listening to his older sister talk to herself and or barging in on council meetings in order to make something of himself.

          Dull, boring. The only thing he truly loved was flying with Vhagar. 

         But then…..then there was you.  

          The sun was shining the day you arrived, it had left a soft sheen of sweat across his skin that the wind dried off when he took Vhagar out for a bit of freedom that day, he liked to make sure she got her flight in everyday. The bastards could think he stole her all they want, but a dragon chooses its rider just as they choose their dragon. It’s a calling. 

         Vhagar was his, and he knew that she desperately craved an early morning flight everyday. 

          He had returned earlier that morning than normal, there was a lord to be arriving to court and it was important that the entire royal family be there. That included his older sister Rhaenyra coming, and whenever she was there his mother was intense on how late he was. It was best never to be late. 

         He had taken a seat next to his sister, still smelling like the morning breeze from his ride, doing his best to drone out his older sister mumbling under her breath. “Sunlight trapped by a falcon.”

           He avoids his mothers pointed glare and the wretched smell coming from his brother, he also avoids his half sister's entire family on his other side, which leaves him to stare forward. Which was fine, anyone not in his direct family had an issue looking at his face, the patch unsettling to them all. Weak bastards. 

             Soon enough they were announcing the lord and everyone stood out of respect, his father struggling on the throne and groaning in pain as he tried to stand tall. 

              The lord, a middle aged man with a messy beard and a beer gut, walked in with a gloating smile. His large hammer strapped to his back and his house crest stood out against the ugly colors of his house. The crest was a falcon, the colors green and red. Disgusting. 

            But his breath stops short when you come in, you…..you, you , you you. 

             Aemond could not breath, his spine going rigid as his eye catches you walking behind the lord with an older female using you to help her walk as well. 

            You kept your gaze to the ground, refusing to look up even when Aemond was mentally begging you to.  Please just look up, please let me see your face-

            Then you did, and it felt like every breath he had taken before this moment merely helped him survive, but this………looking at you was breathing. His lungs filled with air and his chest easing. You were air, fresh air. The air while flying a dragon, wild and clean and -

             “-I would also like to introduce to the king my lady wife, Y/n Borlis. Now lady of-” And all Aemond was able to hear from that point on was a harsh ringing in his ears. 

             He debated killing the man, one swing of his sword and he would marry you and-

                It was like you finally heard his thoughts, lifting your head and making contact with him. A feeling of shame crossed through him, making his mouth water with nausea as he awaited you to look at him with disgust. Just as everyone did. 

But you didn’t. 

You didn’t look away. Not for a second. 

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

               His mother thought it was weird how attached Aemond was to you. She fought it quite a bit. 

               You had been married 2 months ago, an alliance was necessary for your husband to get men and win a battle. He had, and now he was parading around the castle as if he was a god, if gods were drunken disgusting bastards. 

               He would never have won that battle without your fathers men. So you should have been getting the attention.  But it seemed no one cared for you. 

               You spent your afternoons with his grandmother, sewing and listening. You didn’t say a word and anytime he spotted you in the gardens you never smiled.

            You had been there for 2 weeks before he was even able to catch a word from you. But he did. 

            He planned the day perfectly, instead of taking Vhagar for a morning flight he stalled until the sun was already up. That way when he landed he would be able to walk through the gardens right as you-

           Perfect timing, just as he was taking a glove off and sauntering through the garden you were helping your husband's grandmother out. Aemond thought the woman was absolutely wretched, although he thought this of mostly everyone. 

           But from the conversations he had eavesdropped on he knew he was ready to kill the old hag. She spent her hours lecturing you, about your weight and your lack of children and your lack of blah blah blah. 

          What was it her fucking business? To him you were absolutely perfect and it was so much better that you weren’t pregnant.  

         “Lady Mirva, Lady Y/n….” He says softly, bending his head out of respect but he makes sure to angle himself to you and only you. 

           He notices how his grandmother pinches your arm harshly while you both curtsy, mumbling out a soft “My prince.” 

            He clenches his fist, desperate to grab his sword and swing it at the old hags neck. He would take you and run to the throne room and beg for your hand and- shit. You were watching him. 

             “How is the sun treating you today?” He casts a slight look to the old hag, who had covered most of her skin. 

               “Oh, it is quite  perfect prince. We are very blessed for your father to have-”

              “I believe I was asking Lady Y/n.” He snaps, arms pulling to meet each other behind his back as both fists clench in anger. 

               He sees the old lady look shocked, and you look absolutely terrified. But he had planned this. “Lady Mirva, it is far too hot for you to be outside in the gardens today, and I’m sure my dearest sister could use the company. My guards can escort you to her-”

              “That would be wonderful, my prince.” She nods, leaving you to him….finally. 

               “I should go with my-” You begin, and Aemond feels a burst of energy in your voice. 

            “No! Please. It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed our gardens, please allow me to escort you…” He holds an arm out, hand shaking a little as he does. Desperate to touch your skin, and he feels like fainting when you grab onto his hand, walking with him through the gardens. 

         “It is an honor, My Prince-”

         “Aemond. You must call me Aemond.” 

            “Oh I possibly could not-”

            “You must. An order, I’m afraid.” He teases, internally screaming when you crack a small smile and chuckle a little.  

         “Well if the prince demands it….Aemond it is.” 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

              He had made that his daily routine, trapping his sister with the old hag every morning while he spent time with you. He was desperate to spend every possible second with you. He began sitting at your table during meal times. He would meet you outside your chambers in the morning and escort you to breakfast. Then you began walking with him to greet Vhagar in the mornings before going to see your husband. 

             Your disgusting ass of a husband. 

               Aemonds day wasn’t complete unless he had imagined a hundred different ways to murder that man, especially when he saw your bruises and tear stained face in the mornings. He was desperate to kill that man, to watch the blood leak from his body. 

               You had been in kings landing for 2 months, and spent nearly every open second with him, any second your husband didn’t drag you away from him.

               He fully had you in the early hours of a rainy morning. 

                 It had been storming all night, and he had just gotten back from trying to scout an enemy on the shores. His first stop was to get to you. 

                  He had knocked on the doors, not really bothering to care that it was far too early in the morning and the sun hadn’t even come up yet. You didn’t answer. Not surprising considering the time. But he persisted, and you still didn’t answer. His heart beat through his lungs and he dismissed the guards, barging through the doors. 

                  He was ready to throw up, if something had happened to you he would slaughter anyone in reach and tear the world apa-

                    And then he saw you. In your bathing chambers, sobbing and scrubbing at your body. Your skin was red and screaming, blood dripping from the spots you had scrubbed far too much. 

                    He called your name, or at least he thought he did but you didn’t look at him, you simply kept scrubbing. Sobs racked your body as you kept the movement going, and Aemond was reaching to stop you. 

                     “Hey hey hey. Easy now.” He orders as his arms encircle you, a scream ripping from your lips as you struggle until you recognize his scent and hair. 

                        “Aemond-” You whisper, looking at him. He feels his heart shatter. Your neck was once again covered in bruises and it seems you’ve been scrubbing at your skin for hours. “Aemond, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” 

                  You kept sobbing as you wrapped around him, your entire body exposed to him as the anger began talking over. “What do you have to be sorry about?”

               “I’m sorry. I’m sorry-” He wanted to cradle your head, and kiss away all the pain. He wanted to comfort you, but he needed to know what the problem was to fix it. So he takes a hand, gripping your chin and making you look into his eye, his other arm pulling you out of the water and bringing you to his chest. 

               “What do you have to be sorry about? What does my little bird ever have to be sorry about?” He whispers, rubbing from your jaw to your chin, eyes pleading. “Tell me. Tell me all your worries and let me kill them.”

               “I am trying. I swear it. I’m trying to bear a ch-”  He looked away, he couldn’t possibly hear it. You were hurting yourself over that? Over bearing that fool a bastard that didn’t deserve you?

               “Enough.” It’s nearly silent, his throat too locked up for much sound to come out. 

                 You seem to take the order as a rejection and your body lunges away from him with another sob, he’s quick to snatch you back to him. “No. No easy, look at me.”

              “I’m sorry Aemond-”

                 “Enough. Don’t be sorry. You do not need to be sorry.” He sneers, pulling your forehead against his as his hands grip your jaw, your own clinging to his tunic. “Please don’t be sorry. Please don’t.”

               The kiss that follows is gentle, for just a moment, before he is devouring you. He drags his lips across yours before biting down in an effort to mark you, fresh air filling his lungs even though you hadn’t broken from the kiss. 

               You’re tugging him in, seemingly trying to mold your body to his own as he tugs your hair and deepens the kiss even more. He’s taking steps to the bed in the middle of your room, hands grasping everywhere he can possibly touch while also trying to keep you as close as he possibly can. 

                He’s ripping his tunic off as he presses you into the bed, moaning as you bite down on his lip before pulling away to pull the fabric over his head. You whine and grasp at him from the lack of contact, pulling a smug smile from him as he tugs at his pants and boots. “I just need to-”

                “Aemond please.” He feels a tug at his ribcage, looking at you in this moment of desperation. Your eyes were still leaking tears and you were sniffling as you reached for him once more, hands rubbing up his chest until they got to his neck and hair, grasping at anything you possibly can. “This is dishonorable-”

             “I know.” He answers, chest expanding as he leans closer.  “I can leave.”

             “NO!” You gasp out, reaching to grab him and stroke, his breath catching in his throat. He couldn’t breathe, he needed you, he needed to marry you and care for you and to take- “Please Aemond.” 

         “You….. you need to say it.” He whispers, hand reaching to stop your wrist, kissing along your cheek softly. “Please just say it little bi-”

           “Make me yours Aemond.” And now he was a crazed man. 

             Before he can even grasp his own thought process he has you pressed into the bed, one hand reaching to rub your folds, drawing a moan from you. His left hand comes up to hold your jaw as he pulls you in for another intense kiss. 

             “On any other day,” He gasps out, voice barely a whisper. “I would spend hours in between your legs, a feast for me, but today we do not have time and I need you-”

             And you laugh, a light airy laugh that has a wide smile covering his own face as he finally thrusts into you. 

                  He takes a second to let you adjust, your chests pressed together as he grunts and feels you. You were still so tight, and he tried not to let the pride take over at the fact that he was stretching you so far. 

               “All those nights your shit husband takes you and you’re still this tight- gods, you were made for me.” His words draw a moan from you as your hips move up in a desperate attempt to make him move. “Yeah? You like when I say that? How you were made just for me?”

          “Uh huh-” You gasp out, back arching as he begins moving his hips in slow but deep thrusts. 

             “Good. Because you were made for me. Your soul to match mine and your body mine to fuck. He doesn’t deserve you, no one fucking deserves you.” He speeds up, his thrusts getting faster and harder as you cling to him, lifting you both so he is on his knees with you splayed across his thighs, bouncing you on his member. 

                The sound of skin slapping and wet squelching filled the room as he began grunting, one hand tight around your waist while the other hand that had been rubbing your clit moves up your body to softly rub at the harsh bruises on your neck. 

                 “One day I will strangle him to match. I’ll hurt him just as he fucking hurt you. I’ll. Kill. Him.” And that was your undoing. He watched in amazement as you came around him, a loud moan falling from your lips as your head fell back and your nails dug into his shoulders and back. 

                  “My king-” You moaned, and he was right behind you, filling you up without a second thought. “My king….my king….. My brilliant masterful king.”

                 He’s kissing your neck softly as he lays you both back onto the bed, your arms still wrapped tightly around him. “I can fix this…. Let me fix this for you….”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

                He spent every morning with you after that, coming in  the early hours before the sun was close to coming up, right after your husband left you every night. 

                 He would bathe with you, washing you clean before taking you in the bath and then again in the bed. He kept to his promise of feasting on you, every morning, before taking you and claiming you as his. Your moans filled him with a purpose and your smile gave him something to live for. 

                He was your lover. He was your soulmate. 

               It had been five days since he saw you, out on a bullshit search that dragged him away from you. What if that idiot hurt you? What if something happened and he wasn’t there? What if-

               “I believe we are ready to head back, My Prince.” A soldier mumbles, bowing to Aemond from where he stood on the sand. Aemond looks to Vhagar, his dragon already looking to kings landing in a yearning stare. 

             “I know, girl. I know.” He mutters, climbing up to the saddle. “To Y/n.”

                The dragon knew what to do instantly, taking off in a flight to the castle you would be in, ready to see you again. 

               Aemond had taken you to ride Vhagar countless times and it seemed to have paid off. 

               When he lands he’s going to your chambers, ignoring his mothers calls, his only thought of you. 

                 He nods to the guards, walking in after they turn away and he searches for you. It’s not a long search, he finds you sitting on your bed. You’re staring out the window, looking at the dragonpit. 

                 “Were you watching me return for you, my little bird?” He teases, waltzing up to you and kissing your neck, his arms wrapping around you. You instantly melt into him, hands gripping his own but you refuse to look his way.

              “Look at me.” He whispers, though he already knows what he will see when you do. Just as he predicted, a split lip and eyes filled with tears. He moves to let go, already having a plan to march to where he is and rip out that fools tongue. 

                 You’re quick though, hands already grasping his and keeping him to you. “Aemond no.”

                  “No no no. Don’t tell me no. I’m going to kill him- I will-”

                 “I’m pregnant.” You mumble, a sob escaping your lips. “Aemond I’m pregnant.” 

                   He’s at a loss for words, nothing to say. 

                “Aemond I’m pregnant…….”

                  “Why are you sad? This…..This is what you needed.” He tries to sound happy for you, but the thought of losing you to a babe has his chest tightening, it was getting hard to breathe. “I…..We need to get the royal maesters to treat you….. You need the best care-”

                  “I’m not royal Aemond.” You remind, pulling him to sit with you on the bed.  “I’m not allowed access.”

            “I’ll get you the fucking access.” He snarls. “You need someone who knows what they are doing. You could die-”

           “They are going to kill me, Aemond.” You mumble. 

             “Not if we get you to the royal ma-”

              “Not the babe you fool. I will be beheaded for adultery.” You snap, thumb rubbing at his scar as you slip the patch off. It had been a long time since you had first seen his sapphire eye, and whereas he expected you to turn away disgusted you had simply spent the next two hours treating him like a king. 

               “No.” It’s the only word he can process while you shake your head. “I won’t let them- this will not-”

              “There is a strong chance it’s yours-” His chest expands with pride at the thought, only for his breath to leave his lungs as he realizes the truth. 

            The babe could be his, and if it came out looking like him you would be hung or beheaded. This Targaryen could kill you.

Will the baby be Targaryen??????? Tune in for Part 2 

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen angst #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon x reader

[skyfallslayer]

Should We Stay or Should We Go? || Chapter One

-A ST Rewrite Feat. Steve Harrington x Henderson!OFC-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🎲Summary: On the night of November 6th, 1983, Stephanie Henderson decided to walk her little brother’s friend, Will, back home. However… they never arrive. Now, Dustin, Mike and Lucas, and soon the exception of the girl’s ex-best friend, Steve, must band together to find out what happened. Meanwhile, Steph and Will must fight for their survival in this nightmarish version of Hawkins, Indiana.

🎲Chapter Summary: On his way home from a friend’s house, young Will and his best friend’s sister, Stephanie, sees something terrifying. Nearby, their loved ones start worrying hysterically, all while Steve hears some unsettling news.

🎲Pairings: Will x Platonic!OFC; Dustin x Sister!OC; Slow burn! Steve x Henderson!OFC (Ex-bestfriends to Lovers); Slow burn! Byler

🎲Rating: Teen-Mature

🎲Word Count: 9,471

🎲Date: 3/12

🎲Warnings: Angst; Swearing; Implied Broken Friendship; Racist Comment; Talks of Kidnapping; Car Crash; Mental Strain/Breaking Down; Implying to Sex; Lying; Suicide Comment; Homophobic Comment/Calling A Person A Derogatory Word; Implied Death; Steve's 'Asshole Era. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

(And let me know if I missed anything)

🎲A/N: Here we go folks. The official rewrite of episode one. Can't say it's perfect, might be a little messy, but think of it as it setting the whole plot up. Anyway, stay safe, and enjoy!

“It was a seven.” The words fell from his lips that would predestine this night. On the chilly night of November 6th, 1983, the small group of friends had gotten together to play their weekly game of DnD that was cut long short for being on a school night. Two of the boys had rode off on their bikes, away from the host’s house as the young brunette told his friend the truth.

The boy of the house, Mike Wheeler, turned his head, confusion on his face. “Huh?”

“The roll, it was a seven.” The brunette, Will Byers, replies, a frown on his face. “The Demogorgon, it got me.” He kicks the stand off and starts riding. “See you tomorrow.”

As his words lingered in the air, the garage lights flickered on and off that was forgotten with a shrug. 

Young Will catches up quickly with the other boys, Lucas Sinclair and Dustin Henderson. The wind in their eyes and smiles on their faces, they continued to ride for many blocks, slowly coming unwind.

“Good night, ladies.” Lucas teased as he broke from the group for his driveway.

“Kiss your mom ‘night for me.” Dustin quips back, before facing the other boy. “Race you back to my place? Winner gets whatever my sister brings home this time.”

Will’s eyes light up from that. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dustin says, not expecting for his opponent to take off immediately. 

“Hey! Hey! I didn’t say ‘go’! Get back here!” But as he says that, he knows there was no stopping his friend. “I’m gonna kill you!”

Will chuckled and shouted, “Bring it to school tomorrow!”

Dustin hits the breaks, out of breath and frustrated as he replies, “Son of a bitch…” Meanwhile, his friend pretended he didn’t hear that as he rode down the street they dubbed ‘Mirkwood’.

Yes, he lived the farthest away from… anything really; His friends’ houses, his school, the nearby strip mall, pretty much everything that was ‘useful’, But he didn’t mind it. As long as his family was happy with their place he could go along with it.

So Will continued to ride, in his own head that was causing him to ignore when his headlight flickered off and on until his bike chain magically came apart. 

The boy gasped and swerved in a jagged line, worriedness on his features as he used his feet to forcefully come to a complete halt. Stopping along the side of the road, he looked down, trying to figure out what the problem was. While doing so, he didn’t even notice a car had slowed and rolled its window down.

“Will?” The person in the vehicle said, catching him by surprise. 

He was met with a familiar face, the fair skin, freckled nose, and dark curls tied back in a small pony was a girl he practically grew up with. Ironically, she was the older sister of the boy he raced, Stephanie Henderson.

“Steph?” He said, still shocked as he watched her get out. Those bright blue eyes of hers trailed to his only transportation and frowned.

“What happened to your bike?” 

“Uh, chain broke. I think.” Will says, looking at it again, and then back at her. “You’re coming home late.”

“You’ll understand when you have a job and a crappy boss.” She smiles, softly. “Come on. Put your bike in the car and I’ll drive you.”

“What?” He looks at her in disbelief. “Are you sure? You came that direction.”

“You know I don’t mind. Besides, it’s quicker and safer than walking. Plus I’m sure your brother and mother would appreciate it.” She says, opening the back door.

“But what about your mom?”

“I called her already and told her that I’ll be a little late.” She gestures to the car. “Come on.” He smiles and puts the bike in before hopping in the passenger seat. She even spoils him by handing him a paper brown bag. “Cinnamon bun?”

His eyes light up. “Actually, Dustin betted me that if I beat him in a race back to his house I can have whatever you bring.”

“Then I guess they’re all yours.” She turns the car around. “So how was your campaign?”

“It was good until the end.” He takes a bite of the pastry. “I ended up getting beaten by the Demogorgon.”

“Remind me what that is again?”

“He’s a two headed demon prince. Very evil.”

“I see.”

Another bite and a small hum. “You should try playing it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You think?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun!” Now he was like a kid in a candy store. “You can be… our mage! A druid, or maybe even a ranger.”

She chuckles quietly. “I… have no idea what any of that even means. But uh… I’ll give it a shot. What’s the worst that can happen? I hate it?”

“Or you get eaten by a Demogorgon.”

“That’s true.” Steph agreed, and continued their light conversation until something strange started to happen. She watches as her headlights suddenly start to flicker. “What the?”

“Look out!” Will yelled, and her eyes snapped back up just in time to spot the bizarre looking figure in the road. 

She gasps and veers off the road, foot slamming into the brakes as it rolled down and down into the woods, crashing into a tree. Now, it wasn’t that bad of a hit, more like a little thump, but still. A crash is a crash.

Stephanie lets out a pant, tiling her baseball cap back up to look worriedly towards her passenger. “Shit! You okay?”

“Uh…” He nods, a little shaken up, but looking unharmed. “Yeah. I’m good.”

Another pant and she looks around. “Who that fuck was that?!” She snaps, upset. “Who the fuck stands in the middle of the road at nine o’clock at night?!”

But as she was having her meltdown, Will was staring at the side mirror and paled. “Steph?” He says, terrified.

“What?”

“I think he’s coming.”

“What?” She followed his eyes to the mirror before turning around. Standing behind them a few feet away was the figure who made her heart sink at its unnaturally long arms, and fingers coming at a point. Now she starts pales. “That’s not a person.”

“Huh?”

She starts fiddling with the door. “Get out of– Get out of the car, now!”

Once they were both out, she snags him by the wrist and pulls him along, running as fast as they could, a few miles down, all the way back to what their destination was. As soon as they stepped a foot inside the Byers home, the family’s dog, Chester, started barking defensively as she told the boy to lock the door.

“Mom? Jonathan? Mom?!” He replies after finishing the task, but alas it seems like they were the only ones home.

“Ms. Byers?!” Steph yells out, biting her lip. “Shit.” She runs for the phone as he looks out a window and sees the figure approaching the house. She tries dialing 911, but all she receives on the other end is static. “What the fuck?!”

“It’s unlocking the chain!” Will yells, backing away as she takes a look. Sure enough, they watched the chain on the door slide itself across the track as the other locks started to turn (What in the fresh hell is going on?!).

“Come on!” She pulls him away, thinking the only thing they can do is protect themselves now. 

They both run into the shed in the back, Will remembering what his mother had told him if something to this degree started happening, and begins loading the shotgun on the wall. 

“Is that all you got?” She asked, searching around for anything else she could use.

“Y-Yeah.” He mutters, and frantically points the weapon at the door, trembling as the girl stood behind him, hands over his and shielding his body protectively.

“If that thing comes in, shoot it. I’ll hold you steady so you don’t fall back.” She says, and he nods (His body subconsciously pressing into hers out of fear and comfort).

But the next few moments were tedtious, hearing that thing growling, which got louder and louder, until it sounded like it was right next to them. Steph, who felt the wind get knocked out of her, was the first to turn around, eyes widened as she kept the boy behind her, feeling him clench her jacket. 

“What the fuck are you?!” She screamed, the growling turning into screeching. 

Then the light in the shed gets brighter and brighter– Until everything suddenly stops.

Then…

.

.

.

There was no one left.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

As soon as the sun touched his face, the boy reached over and shut his alarm clock off before it could even ring. Groaning and stretching, he was feeling extremely exhausted after being up so late (But last night was so fun, it was totally worth it!). Grinning a toothless grin, Dustin rolled out of bed, his clothes in hand as he strolls to the end of the hall for the bathroom. However–

He lets out a sigh and throws his head back at the door being closed. “Oh, my god. Phanie! I told you I needed to use the bathroom first on school days.” Seriously, how many times has he told his sister this? He doesn’t get a reply, and bangs on the door. “Phanie!! Are you listening?”

And on the last knock, to his surprise, the door creaked open. Being cautious, he poked his head inside finding the light was off and the room was unoccupied. 

“Huh.” He said, looking around again. “Okay…” He quickly gets ready for the day, fixing his curls so his hat stays on, before adventuring back out. “Goodbye, sleepyhead!”

And once again, Dustin was shocked to find that now his sister’s room was unoccupied as well. The only thing present was their cat, Mews, who was curled up in a ball on the still perfectly made bed… with everything on it still looking the same in place.

What the? He thought, before heading for the kitchen where his mother was listening to the news.

// -And that’s it for News Center this morning. Thanks for joining us. Let’s hand off now to Liz at the news desk //

// All right, thank you, Donna. Turning now to local news, we’re getting reports of surges and power outages all across the county. Last night, hundreds of homes in East Hawkins were affected, leaving many residents in the dark. The cause of the outage is still unknown. We reached out to Roane County Water and Electric, and a spokesperson says that they are confident power will be restored to all remaining homes within the next– //

“Hey, mom, have you seen Stephanie?” He asked, ignoring the fact his mother was making him his favorite breakfast meal.

“Stephanie?” His mother, Claudia, asked as she slid him a plate. “No, I haven’t.”

“She’s not in her room.” He replies, taking a seat, thinking. “Did you see her come home last night?”

“Well, she did call me saying that she was going to be late, but I’ll admit, I dozed off before I heard her come in.” She notices her son’s worried expression, and smiles. “Oh, don’t worry, Dusty-buns. I’m sure she had to just pick up a friend for school. I can drive you.”

“No, I can bike, I just…” He trails off, not really hungry anymore. We always eat together.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, in another household. Joyce Byers was rummaging around her living room for her keys, cursing under her breath after every failed attempt.

“Where the hell are they?” She sighs. “Jonathan?”

“Check the couch!” Her oldest child said from the kitchen.

“Ugh, I did.” She moves the cushions around again, finally spotting them. “Oh, got them.” She smiles and comes over to give him a pat on the shoulder. “Okay, sweetie, I will see you tonight.”

“Yeah, see you later.” He says, finishing up the eggs.

“Where’s Will?”

“Oh, I didn’t get him up yet. He’s probably still sleeping.”

Joyce sighs, already leaving the room. “Jonathan, you have to make sure he’s up!”

“Mom, I’m making breakfast.”

“I told you this a thousand times. Will!” She claps her hands. “Come on, honey. It’s time to get up.” She pushes open his door only to find that his bed was empty. “He came home last night, right?”

Jonathan’s heart sank as he faced his mother. “He’s not in his room?

“Did he come home or not?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“No. I-I got home late. I was working.”

She gives her son ‘the look’. “You were working?”

“Eric asked if I could cover. I said yeah. I just thought we could use the extra cash.”

“Jonathan, we’ve talked about this.”

He frowns, looking away. “I know…”

“You can’t take shifts when I’m working.” She says, wheels turning in her head at where he could be.

“Mom, it’s not a big deal.” He makes eye contact again. “Look, he was at the Wheelers’ all day. I’m sure he just stayed over.”

“I can’t believe you.” She says, already grabbing the phone. “I can’t believe you sometimes.” She starts dialing the phone number she knows by heart and waits.

[ ‘Hello?’ ]

“Hi, Karen. It’s Joyce.”

[ ‘Oh, Joyce, hi.’ ]

Before Joyce could ask, she hears a ruckus in the background.

[ ‘Quiet!’ ]

“Was that Will I heard back there?” She asked, hopefully.

[ ‘Will? No, no, no, it’s just Mike.’ ]

“Will didn’t spend the night?”

[ ‘No, he left here a little bit after 8:00. Why? He’s not home?’] 

Joyce tries to keep the panic off her face as she replies, “Um, you know what? I think he just left early for... for school. Thank you so much.”

[ ‘Okay.’ ]

“Bye.”

[ ‘Bye.’ ]

Joyce hangs up the phone, exchanging concerned glances with her eldest child.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Three out of the four boys rode to school that morning, chattering away about a certain person that’ll only end in sadness. Frowning as they slowed down to their usual bike rack that laid empty before them.

“That’s weird. I don’t see him.” Mike said, noticing the absent bike. Did he park somewhere else this time?

“I’m telling you, his mom’s right.” Lucas said, trying to be the reasonable one. “He probably just went to class early again. You know he’s always paranoid that Gursky’s gonna give him another pop quiz.”

“That’s true.”

“Yeah… pop quiz...” Dustin mumbled, being completely distant from the group. 

Lucas sighs, rolling his eyes. “Dude, you still worried about your sister?” 

“Well, yeah! I mean, why was she not home? We always eat breakfast with each other, how could she just skip out on it?”

“She’s sixteen, you know? You’re just overreacting. I’m sure Steph is fine.”

“I don’t man, this ain’t like her.”

“Dustin–”

“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen!” A bully, named Troy, announced as he came over with another boy. “Step right up and get your tickets for the freak show.” He smirks. “Who do you think would make more money in a freak show?” He pushes Lucas first. “Midnight–” Then Mike. “Frogface–” Then Dustin. “Or Toothless?”

The other bully, James, looks pensive for a moment before making his decision with a point. “I’d go with Toothless.”

Dustin’s cheeks flush out of embarrassment. “I told you a million times, my teeth are coming in. It’s called cleidocranial dysplasia.”

“‘I told you a million times’.” James mocks, and laughs. 

“Do the arm thing.” Troy pressures, as Dustin takes a small step back.

“Do it, freak!” Deciding to just comply, Dustin cracks his arms with his collar bone, making him and Troy groan and recoil. “God, it gets me every time.”

Then the two of them push through the boys as they leave for class; The trio sending them a death glare.

“Assholes.” Luca scoffed.

“I think it’s kinda cool.” Mike said, trying to cheer Dustin up. “It’s like you have superpowers or something. Like Mr. Fantastic.”

Dustin chuckles. “Yeah, except I can’t fight evil with it.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, in the high school next door, Mike’s older sister was hustling inside, books in hand, acting all flustered. It especially didn’t help when her friend came over, grinning like the Chester Cat.

“So, did he call? The ginger girl, Barb, asked all giggly.

The sister, Nancy, shushes her looking around. “Keep your voice down.”

She nudges her with her elbow. “Did he?”

“I told you, it’s not like that.” Nancy blushes harder when Barb gave her a look. “Okay, I mean, yes, he likes me, but not like that. We just made out a couple times.

Barb raises an eyebrow. “‘We just made out a couple times’. Nance, seriously, you’re gonna be so cool now, it’s ridiculous.”

“No, I’m not.” She shakes her head while unlocking her locker.

“You better still hang out with me, that’s all I’m saying. If you become friends with Tommy H. or Carol–”

“Oh, that’s gross!”

“I’m just saying, you better still be friends with me. I heard that the King pushed a close friend out of his circle when he took the throne and–”

“Okay, I’m telling you, it was a one-time... two-time thing.”

She opens her locker, finding a note that read: MEET ME IN BATHROOM -STEVE.

Barb’s expression grew. “You were saying?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Before you know it, Nancy is having a make out session with the highschool’s King, Steve “The Hair” Harrington. The cocky bad boy that every girl fawns over, and the physic that every guy envies. If you wanted any kind of popularity while running around this place, you had to make a guarantee that he would be in your corner.

“Steve.” Nancy croaked in between kisses, making him hum. “I have to go.”

“In a minute.” He mumbled, nibbling at her neck as the school bell rings.

“Steve–” She nudged her way out from him. “I really, like seriously, I have to go.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Let’s…” He snags her bag, keeping her in place for a second. “Come on, let’s do something tonight, yeah?”

“No, I can’t. I have to study for Kaminsky’s test.”

“Oh, come on. What’s your GPA again? 3.999–”

“Kaminsky’s tests are impossible.”

“Well, then, just let me help.” He said, smirking.

She rolls her eyes with a smile. “You failed chem.”

“C-minus.”

“Well, in that case–”

“So I’ll be over around, say, like, 8:00?”

“Are you crazy?” Nancy shakes her head. “My mom would not–”

“I’ll climb through your window.” He insisted, all pumped up at the idea. “She won’t even know I’m there. I’m stealthy, like a ninja.”

“You are crazy.” She says, taking her bag back and starts leaving. 

“Wait, wait, wait. Just…” He steps in front of her. “Okay, forget about that. We can just– We can just, like, chill in my car. We can find a nice quiet place to park, and–”

“Steve, I have to study. I’m not kidding.”

“Well, why do you think I want it to be nice and quiet?”

That got her to crack another smile. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.” She replies, stepping around him. “Meet me at Dearborn and Maple at 8:00. To study.”

The school bell rings again, leaving behind a very satisfied teen.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Alright, class, I’ll be your sub for today.” The man explains, writing his name on the board. “I’m Mr. Dunwoody. If you have any questions, please refrain before I take attendance.” He ignores as some of the ‘cool kids’ snickered under their breaths and chuck paper balls around. “Uh, Barkley?”

“Here.”

“Brown?”

“Here.”

“Byers?” No reply. “Jonathan Byers?” He scopes the room, the seat in the back corner was absent. “No Byers. M’kay, uh, Davidson?”

“Present.”

“Evans?”

“Here.”

“Eubank?”

“Here.”

“Henderson.” No reply, he looks around – Yet another seat in the back unattended (And certain eyes following). “Henderson? Is a… Stephanie Henderson in?” His gaze shifts with the class’ and frowns. “No, okay. Uh, Harrington?” Silence. “Harrington?”

Steve blinks and faces forward, snapping out of his trace. “Uh, present.”

“‘Kay, uh–” He started shooting off more names, but the teenager wasn’t honestly listening. Something about that empty space (the space that seemed so far away now) didn’t sit right with him. And the gossiping in the background wasn’t helping his troubled mind either.

“Maybe grunge girl finally got the hint.” 

“Oh, yeah. For sure.” 

“Do you think the pressure made her drop out?”

“Drop out?” A laugh. “Maybe she took a dive off the overpass.”

“Guess we’ll have to check the news later for that!”

They laughed under their breaths and Steve’s hands started subconsciously squeezing his crossed arms. This shouldn’t bother him. It’s not like they’re–

He didn’t even realize he was turning around to say something if it was for Tommy’s hand snagging his shoulder. It, and he’s not sure if he can admit, hurt in a way he can’t describe. They both locked eyes, and Tommy shook his head ‘no’ just as the substitute finished calling out names, starting the soulless class.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

As usual the town’s head sheriff was strolling into his job late and looking like he’d been hit by truck after truck. His five o’clock shadow was strong and so were the bags under his eyes; Jim Hopper walks in with a lit cigarette in his hand, the receptionist amazed by his appearance.

“Good of you to show.” She said, as he passed by and gave a small nod to the other officers present.

“Oh, hey, morning, Flo. Morning, everybody.” He says, heading for the small kitchenette to pour himself some coffee.

“Hey, Chief.” Powell greeted with a grin.

“Damn! You look like hell, Chief.” Callahan replies, looking up from his game of cards.

“Oh, yeah?” Hopper spares him a look.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I looked better than your wife when I left her this morning.” His response made his brothers bust a gut as the elderly woman came over, trying to get his attention.

“While you were drinking or sleeping, or whatever it is you deemed so necessary on Monday morning, Phil Larson called. Said some kids are stealing the gnomes out of his garden again.” Flo explains, as he tries not to roll his eyes (or maybe he did?).

“Oh, those garden gnomes again.” He sighs, and picks up a donut too. “Well, I’ll tell you what, I’m gonna get right on that.”

Flo keeps a straight face, used to his antics by now. “On a more pressing matter, Joyce Byers can’t find her son this morning.”

He hums after taking a bite of the pastry. “Okay, I’m gonna get on that.” He starts walking away. “Just give me a minute.”

“Joyce is very upset.” She pushes, as he shakes his head.

“Well, Flo– Flo, we’ve discussed this. Mornings are for coffee and contemplation.”

“Chief, she’s already in your–”

“Coffee and contemplation, Flo!” He shouts as he leaves the room, and, due to not paying attention, is surprised to see Ms. Byers already waiting in his office. His jaw clenched. “Okay… Missing? I’ve been told.”

“Yes, missing!” Joyce says, watching him sit down and start typewriting a file out for her boy. Worriedly she waits for him to finish, even smoking bud after bud to calm the jitters. “I have been waiting here over an hour, Hopper.”

“And I apologize.” He says, trying to calm her.

“I’m going out of my mind!”

“Look, boy his age, he’s probably just playing hooky, okay?”

She shakes her head. “No, not my Will. He’s not like that– He wouldn’t do that.”

“Well, you never know.” He suggests, a little smirk growing on his lips. “I mean, my mom thought I was on the debate team, when really I was just screwing Chrissy Carpenter in the back of my dad’s Oldsmobile, so–”

“Look, he’s not like you, Hopper. He’s not like me. He’s not like most.” She explains, her face saddening. “He has a couple of friends, but, you know, the kids, they’re mean. They make fun of him. They call him names. They laugh at him, his clothes–”

“His clothes?” Hopper’s eyebrows shoot up. “What’s wrong with his clothes?”

“I don’t know. Does that matter?”

“Maybe.”

Joyce inhales deeply. “Look, he’s... He’s a sensitive kid. Lonnie…” God she could punch that man right now. “Lonnie used to say he was queer. Called him a fag.”

Another eyebrow raise. “Is he?”

“He’s missing! Is what he is.” 

“When was the last time you heard from Lonnie?”

“Uh, last I heard, he was in Indianapolis. That was about a year ago. But he has nothing to do with this.”

“Why don’t you give me his number?”

“You know, Hopper, he has nothing to do with this. Trust me.”

Hopper’s body straightens, hands coming to rest on his desk to make sure she was listening. “Joyce, 99 out of 100 times, kid goes missing, the kid is with a parent or relative.”

Her eyes widened. “What about the other time?”

He blinks. “What?”

“You said, ‘99 out of 100’. What about the other time, the one?”

“Joyce.”

“The one!”

Hopper tries to deescalate again. “Joyce, this is Hawkins, okay? You wanna know the worst thing that’s ever happened here in the four years I’ve been working here?” He could hold back a small smile. “Do you wanna know the worst thing? It was when an owl attacked Eleanor Gillespie’s head because it thought that her hair was a nest.”

Joyce sighs. “Okay, fine. I will call Lonnie. He will talk to me before he talks to–”

“What, a pig?”

“A cop! Just find my son, Hop. Find him!”

And then came a knock on the doorframe, which happened to be Flo who looked apologetic this time.

“Chief, I’m sorry, I have another hectic parent. A Ms. Claudia Henderson is here to see you.”

“What?” Hopper said, and just before he could blink, a blonde woman came stumbling in, all nervous just like someone else in present.

“Hopper, I’m sorry if you’re busy, but–”

“Claudia?” Joyce said, standing up with surprise. 

“Joyce?” Claudia’s face washes over with relief upon seeing her. “What brings you here?”

“It’s Will, I can’t find him.” She says, missing the way the other woman’s face lost all color. “And apparently he didn’t go to school either.”

“Well, what a coincidence. I can’t find my daughter, either.”

And then all eyes are now on the police Chief who was dumbfounded this was all happening at once. After a moment, he sighed and pulled Will’s form out of the typewriter before sliding in a new piece of paper.

“Alright.” He gestures to the chair. “Let’s hear your story.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

And then that’s how the police chief found himself at a middle school. His first “suspects” in this case was Will’s inner circle of friends. But what he wasn’t expecting while sitting in the principal’s office was the trio to be talking over one another frantically.

“Okay, okay, okay.” Hopper says, waving for them to stop which they did. “One at a time, all right?” He points to Mike. “You. You said he takes what?”

“Mirkwood.” Mike said, confusing him.

“Mirkwood?”

“Yeah.”

Hopper sighs, looking at his partner. “Have you ever heard of Mirkwood?”

“I have not.” Callahan shakes his head. “That sounds made up to me.”

“No, it’s from Lord of the Rings.” Lucas says, offended.

“Well, The Hobbit.” Dustin pushes as his friend rolls his eyes.

“Who cares?”

“He asked!”

“‘He asked’!” Lucas mocked which started their bickering again.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Hopper yells, getting to stop once more. “What’d I just say? One at a damn time.” He points to Mike again. “You.”

“Mirkwood, it’s a real road. It’s just the name that’s made up. It’s where Cornwallis and Kerley meet.” Mike explains, giving the Chief a picture now.

“Yeah, all right, I think I know that.”

“We can show you, if you want.” The boy replies, his friends agreeing with him immediately. 

Hopper shakes his head. “I said that I know it!”

“We can help look.” Mike pleads.

“Yeah.” Dustin encouraged.

“No.” The boys try to protest, but he shuts it down again. “No. After school, you are all to go home. Immediately. That means no biking around looking for your friend, no investigating, no nonsense. This isn’t some Lord of the Rings book.”

“The Hobbit.” Dustin mumbles, quietly.

“Shut up!” Lucas said, elbowing him.

“Hey!”

“Stop it!” Hopper snaps, while standing up. “Do I make myself clear?” He gets no answer. “Do I make myself clear?”

Mike nods. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He faces the principal. “Sir, thank you for your time.”

“Wait!” Dustin cuts in, and makes the man groan.

“What?”

“What about my sister? You mentioned her earlier. What about her?”

“Kid, listen, your sister’s sixteen, and to be honest, I believe a teenager playing hooky more than your friend Will. Okay?” Hopper tried to leave again, but the kid wasn’t letting up.

“But Stephanie’s not like that! I mean, yeah, she doesn’t necessarily like school, but she always studies hard to get good grades. She’s a good noodle.” Dustin frowns worriedly. “Trust me, she would never skip school. I mean… did you even check the parking lot to see if her car was there? Or the mall that she works at?”

I guess… the kid did have a point, Hopper will admit that one. He locks eyes with his partner who shrugs.

“I mean, we might as well kill two birds with one stone while we’re here.” Callahan says, truthfully.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Hopper sighs. “Okay. So Dustin, did your sister have any… friends we could talk to?” Then they got quiet, looking amongst themselves. “What? No? She didn’t? Or–?”

“Well, not really.” Dustin admits, bittersweet. “I mean, she probably hangs out with us more than anything at this point.”

“I mean, she’s friends with that douchebag Steve.” Lucas said, upset.

“Was friends. Not anymore.” Mike clarifies.

“Was a friend?” Hopper asked, skeptical. “What happened?”

“Not sure. They were inseparable until one day they just… weren’t.” Dustin replies, which was the truth. He remembers seeing Steve around a few times as he grew up, but then one day his sister stopped going out and didn’t even mention him anymore. Then before he knew it, he witnessed first hand the boy’s ‘asshole’ attitude (Makes him glad that she wasn’t around him anymore).

“Okay, then. What’s his name?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Steve Harrington.” 

Steve stopped himself from getting into his BMW to look who was calling him out. To his shock he found two police officers in his presence, and immediately felt sick.

“Um, can I help you, officers?” He asked, paying no heed to the passing stares from other students.

“I’m officer Hopper, this is my partner Callahan. We just want to ask you a few questions.” Hopper explains, as the teenager nods.

“Am I in trouble?”

“No, son. As long as you comply.”

“Okay.”

“Alright then, do you know a girl by the name of Stephanie Henderson?”

His heart sank again like earlier. “Stephanie?” Steve asked, his throat feeling tight (Why was his throat closing up?).

“Yeah. We were told by her brother that you guys used to be friends. Is that true?”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Have you spoken to her recently? Seen her?” Hopper asked, getting a shake of his head.

“Seen her? Yeah, I mean I see her everyday, we’re in the same classes, but I didn’t see her today.” Steve shifts his weight around on his feet. “As for talking, I haven’t spoken to her in years.”

“So you haven’t had any real contact with her?”

“No, sir.” Steve watches the two adults exchange glances which pique his interest. “May I ask what’s going on with her? Is she in trouble?”

“Not necessarily trouble, I would say. Her mom came down by the station earlier and reported her missing, saying she didn’t see her in the morning and when they called the school she wasn’t there.”

“If I’m being honest, son, she’s a teenager, she probably just wanted some time alone.” Callahan replies, with a half shrug. “Besides, everyone knows her mother’s a bit… out there. She tends to overreact.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about, Mr. Harrington. We appreciate your time.” Hopper replies, bidding him a farewell as he begins to leave (but this wasn’t sitting right with the boy’s stomach).

“She never misses her classes though.” Steve blurts out, getting their attention. “Even now, even if we aren’t friends, I notice she never misses school. It’s completely out of her character.”

It really is though. Steve waited until the officers processed his comment, before nodding.

“Noted.” Was all Hopper said and they left, leaving him high and dry, wondering what was truly going on. He was so stuck in his head he didn’t even notice Tommy and Carol making their way towards him.

“Oooh, looks like someone’s in trouble.” Tommy coos, with a grin.

“What did you do, Harrington? Slash Tammy Thompson’s tires finally?” Carol asked, making herself laugh.

But Steve didn’t find this funny, instead his attention was turned back to climbing in the passenger seat. “I gotta go home.”

“What?” Tommy said, caught off guard.

“I gotta go home.”

“What? But you said we were going to the movies?”

“Maybe tomorrow I–” He couldn’t even think straight. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He shuts his car door as his name is being called, and quickly pulls away.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Along the Mirkwood road, the three officers were paneling out, surveying the area. Everyone was shouting Will’s name, except Hopper who nerves were shooting through the roof; So much so, he had to stop and pop a pill. These kinds of situations, especially evolving children, were hard for him to deal with. It reminded him too much of his own–

Wait a minute. Were his eyes deceiving him? Does actually see this or was this another one of his episodes? 

But after triple checking, he finally calls the others forward. “Hey! I think I got something.”

He steps off the room, jogging a few feet into the woods. If it wasn’t for the daylight, he surely would have missed a huge clue that was being covered by a few shrubs and ankle deep piles of autumn leaves. Smashed into one of the sweet gum trees was a car, windshield cracked and lightly powdered in stray branches.

“I don’t remember hearing anything about crashes this morning.” Powell said, confused as he examined it. 

Hopper’s keen eyes also caught something lying in the backseat and pulled it out. He frowns, his nerves spiking again. “This is Will’s bike.”

“His bike?” Powell asked, suspicious now. “You don’t think this was uh… a kidnapping?”

“It’s possible. But it doesn’t explain why the kidnapper would crash and abandon the car. Then leave evidence of the child behind.”

“Now, what a second.” Callahan said, perking up. “This is a 1975 Tan Ford Granada, the same car that Ms. Henderson said her daughter drives.”

Hopper’s eyes widen as he sets the bike down. “She also said that her daughter had a Journey keychain.” He opens the driver door, and sure enough, still in the dead ignition, there was a little band keychain dangling off her car key. “Shit.” He locks eyes with his partners. “Which way is the mall?”

Powell pointed in the direction that he feared the most. It was in the same direction the Byers’ house was. Now it was starting to make sense. 

“What are you thinking, Chief?” 

Hopper frowns. “Well, if you look at the bike, the chain’s broken. My guess, Stephanie was driving by and saw him on the side of the road, and offered him a ride home.”

“Then how do you explain the car being off road?”

He sighs, dreading for the answer (both in a good and a bad way). “I’m not sure.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Saying Joyce Byers was livid was probably not a strong enough word after being hung up on so many times. Why, out of the times she actually needed to talk to her ex-husband, he doesn’t answer the phone?! She could pull all her hair out from that man. No wonder they were divorced since he frustrates her so–

“Mom?” Jonathan said, standing up from the couch (He was currently making missing child signs for his brother).

“What?” 

“Cops.” Sure enough, they saw many cop cars pull up, including a tow truck with a car none of them recognize. 

“Is that his bike?” Joyce said, worriedly once she was outside. “And who’s car is that?”

“We found this in Stephanie Henderson’s car.” Hopper replies, sitting the bike down. 

“Stephanie’s car?” Jonathan said, surprised. Well, I guess he shouldn’t be that surprise, ‘cause although they’re not exactly friends as one thinks they might be, given the situation, he knows her enough that she’s the type of girl to give you the shirt off her back if you need it.

“Our best guess right now is that she saw him on the side of the road and offered to drive him back. It makes sense since her mother told us Stephanie called to let her know she’ll be running late from work. And given the time stamp Will’s friends provided us, them crossing paths match up.”

“But that still doesn’t explain everything!” Joyce says, trying to piece this together. “Where did you find her car?”

He sighs quietly. “Down off the road, into the forest.” He starts walking away, motioning for his men to follow him. “Split up, fellas.” He said, once they were inside.

“Did it have any blood on it? Or– or what was the condition of the car? Did it slide off the road?” Joyce asked as she followed him around. “And why are you here instead of looking?”

“Well, he had a key to the house, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So maybe he came home. Maybe they both came home.”

Joyce scoffs, stepping in front of him. “You think I didn’t check my own house?”

“I’m not saying that.” He says, eyes trailing away upon catching something else. “Has this always been here?” He walked over and pointed to an indent in the wall.

“What? I don’t know. Probably. I mean, I have two boys. Look at this place.”

He suddenly opens the door to the backyard, the doorknob trailing directly to the spot of the mini hole. “You’re not sure?” He’s about to question it some more when the dog suddenly starts barking. He heads outside, finding Chester angrily staring down the shed. “Hey, what’s up with this guy, huh?”

“Nothing, he’s probably just hungry.” Joyce said, after following him out. She sighs and drags the dog by the collar. “Come on.”

But as they left, Hopper’s gaze was focused on the shed. Why was the dog so wound up from that place? Treading carefully, he goes inside, flipping the lightswitch on that buzzed lightly above. His eyes scaled the room, immediately noticing something. His fingers wrapped around the box full of shotgun shells, realizing it was half empty.

Empty? He thought, setting it down and heading for where the weapon would be stored. But the two hooks screwed into the wall were bare, and to a shock, when his fingers brushed where it should be, the light suddenly shut itself off.

Out of instinct his hand latched around a flashlight nearby, turning it on. He turned the light towards the door, wondering if someone was just screwing with him but… no one. 

Okay… not creepy at all. He trailed it around, looking closely, nothing making him want to stand on his toes until he decided to turn around. That’s when he saw the back half of the shed was a mess, shelves torn off, boxes and objects thrown everywhere, some even being crushed under some kind of weight. Even the hair on the back of his neck stood up when he swears he could hear someone growling.

His heart was beating in his ears as he crouched down, looking around for anything. (Un)Luckily enough, there was no kid laying emotionless in the pile. He frowns, wondering what scared the boy so much that he went to grab a gun. And then–

Something shiny caught his eye.

He reached out and picked it up, a gold chain unraveled, showing off a heart shaped pendant with two initials carved into it. 

S.H.

“Shit.” Hopper whispered, horrified.

“Hey!”

He shot to his feet, turning around to face his brother in blue. “Jesus!”

“What are you, deaf? I’ve been calling you.” Callahan said, before noticing how ill his boss looked. “What’s going on?”

“Fuck…” Hopper mumbled and started racing back outside.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Chief?”

“Listen, I want you to call Flo. I want to get a search party together, all right? All the volunteers she can muster. Bring flashlights, too.”

“Chief?” Callahan stops him before he goes back into the house. “Hey, you think we got a problem here?”

“I don’t think, I know.” Hopper shows off the necklace. “We’re going to the Henderson’s house.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin watches with fear as the officers explain the situation on hand about his older sister. His mom of course was hysterical, giving the professionals a challenge to get answers out of her. 

“Oh, who could have hurt my baby? And poor Will too.” Claudia sobbed into her handkerchief. “She’s always so kind to others, of course she would have offered him a ride.”

“Ma’am, I know you’re upset, and we’re sending a search party out as soon as possible. But I just need you to confirm that this is your daughter’s, then we can make this one big old case.” Hoppy explains, trying not to be snappy with his words. “Now–” He shows off the necklace. “Is this your daughter’s?”

Dustin’s eyebrows shot up through the roof. “She still wears that?!” He said, shocking both himself and the officer.

“What?”

“Y-Yes.” Claudia said, nodding. “That’s hers.”

“Thank you.” Hopper says, placing it in her palm. He spins his heels around to Powell. “Let’s go. We got two missing people we’re looking for.” 

“Please find her.” She begged, getting his attention once more. “I can’t lose my only daughter.” But all she gets is a sad nod from him as he leaves, watching as all the cars pull off her driveway in a hurry. She sighs and then gasps when felt her son take the necklace away from her, studying it intensely. “Dusty, why were you so surprised she still wears it?”

“Don’t you remember who gave this to her?” He asked, slightly sour.

“Well, no.”

He sighs, and starts leaving the room. “It’s nothing.” 

And it should stay that way.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, later in the day, a heated discussion was going on at the Wheeler’s house over a nice homemade dinner.

“We should be out there right now. We should be helping look for him.” Mike said for the millionth time tonight, extremely close to igniting the fuse in his own mother.

“We’ve been over this, Mike.” Karen said, drawing her attention away from her toddler. “The chief says–”

“I don’t care what the chief said.”

“Michael!”

“We have to do something! Will can be in danger.”

“More reason to stay put.”

“Mom!”

“End of discussion.” She snapped, silencing her son. But when one bird stops chirping, another one decides to start a tune.

“So me and Barbara are gonna study at her house tonight. That’s cool, right?” Nancy says, not an ask, but that of course gets shot down too.

“No, not cool.”

“What? Why not?”

“Why do you think? Am I speaking Chinese in this house? Until we know Will is okay, no one leaves.”

“This is such bullshit.” Nancy replies, dropping her fork.

“Language.” Ted chimes in, still munching on his food.

“So we’re under house arrest? Just because Mike’s friend got lost on the way home from–”

“Wait, this is Will’s fault?” Mike spat, sending daggers at his sister.

“Nancy, take that back.” Karen warned, as Holly started to get teary eyed.

“No!” Nancy scoffed.

“You’re just pissed off ‘cause you wanna hang out with Steve.” Mike quips, sending the whole room into silence. He swallows when he realizes he messed up (and how his sister looked like she was going to kill him).

“Steve?” Her father asked, finally tuning back in.

“Who is Steve?” Her mother asked, as her son decided to just roll with it anyway.

“Her new boyfriend.”

“You are such a douchebag, Mike!” Nancy yells, throwing the chair back and marching out of the room.

“Language!” Ted says, as Karen sighs.

“Nancy, come back. Come back!” She shakes her head, and cups her youngest cheek. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Holly.” She holds up her sippy cup. “Here, have some juice, okay?”

“You see, Michael? You see what happens?”

“What happens when what?” Mike snaps again, still in disbelief. “I’m the only one acting normal here! I’m the only one that cares about Will!”

“That is really unfair, son. We care.” And now his words drove his son away from the dinner table.

“Mike!” Karen yells after him too.

“Let him go.” Ted encourages, as his wife picks up their child.

“I hope you’re enjoying your chicken, Ted.” She says, then leaves herself.

“What did I do?” He notices he is truly alone now. “What’d I do?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Dustin was sitting on his bed, holding his sister’s necklace in his palm. It was a gold color chain with a dark red heart shaped guitar pick. It even had her initials scratched into it. Such a beautiful and expensive gift. However, he still wonders why she even still wears it. Especially since it was gifted by none of other then–

[ ‘Dustin, do you copy? It’s Lucas.’ ]

He perked up from the voice of his friend coming through on his walkie, and scrambled off the bed to his desk. “Lucas. What’s up?”

[ ‘Mike just called me. Says he wants to go out looking for Will.’ ]

“Looking for Will?” He gasps at how perfect this was. “We can look for Phanie too!”

[ ‘Steph? You mean she hasn’t come home yet?’ ]

“No! That’s what I’ve been saying!” Why don’t his friends listen to him sometimes? “So she’s out there, we have to go find her as well!”

[ ‘I mean, we can. But we’re biking over where Will was last–’ ]

“Oh, no. I got that! But…” Dustin frowns. “Wait. You didn’t hear?”

[ ‘Hear what?’ ]

“Oh, my god– Okay! Well, long story short, my sister wasn’t playing hooky like everyone thought.”

[ ‘What do you mean?’ ]

“According to the police, Phanie apparently gave Will a ride home before somewhere along the way, her car ended up in the woods. They found his bike in her car, and even found her necklace at his home. So, Lucas, my sister was with Will! It’s not just Will who’s missing! My sister is too! Together!”

He thought might have exploded his friend’s brain after the long silence he was given.

[ ‘Oh shit…’ ]

“Yeah!”

[ ‘We have to tell Mike this when we meet up. Don’t worry, man, we’ll find her too.’ ]

“And I have faith in us.” Dustin peeks outside his door. “My mom’s watching her shows right now to keep herself distracted. So we have a few hours.”

[ ‘Perfect. See you in ten.’ ]

“See you in ten.” He puts down the antenna, clenching the necklace in his palm. “Don’t worry, sis, we’re going to find you too.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

[ ‘I’m sorry.’ ]

He heard her apologize for the millionth time while over the phone. He can imagine her cute little face full of irritation (was that reason to be in love with a person?). 

[ ‘My… dumb mother has me under house arrest until morning.’ ]

“Don’t sweat it, Nance.” He said, leaning against the wall while they talked. “You know… I could always be sneaky like a ninja and–”

[ ‘No, Steve. You know what my parents would do if they caught you?’ ]

He hums. “Um, congratulate me?”

[ ‘Steve.’ ]

Steve laughs. “Alright, alright. I’m joking. Uh–” He runs a hand through his locks. “We could… study over the phone?”

That was a good idea.

Right?

Her silence was making him worry. “Um, Nancy?”

[ ‘Sorry. I was thinking. It’s a tempting offer but… risky. I don’t want my parents eavesdropping.’ ]

“Do they tend to eavesdrop?”

[ ‘Steve!’ ]

“Alright, I’ll stop.”

[ ‘We’ll just see each other tomorrow.’ ]

“Of course we will.” He smiles. “As long as uh… the search for that Byers boy isn’t still going on. Heard they’re grabbing everyone in town.”

[ ‘Yeah. Well, it’s not just for him, l mean they’re looking for the Henderson girl too.’ ]

And there it is again.

The horrible, aching feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“S-Stephanie?” The air got trapped in his lungs (Why was it so hard to breathe?). “I thought Will just went missing?” It was just him, right? There’s no way she went missing too. And at the same time no less. “Right, Nancy?”

[ ‘No. From what it sounds like on the news I just overheard, she gave him a ride home, but her car was found abandoned with his bike in it. So… as of now, we have two people missing.’ ]

Stephanie’s really missing? Once again he’s asking himself that it shouldn’t hurt this much, right? It’s not like they’ve been acquitted in years, so–

[ ‘Steve? You there?’ ]

“Uh, um, N-Nancy I… I think I hear my parents. I… I-I got to go.” He said, slurring his words and could practically feel the strange look she was probably giving him right now.

[ ‘You okay?’ ]

“Y-Yeah. I’m… I’m good, I– I think it’s time for dinner.”

[ ‘Isn’t it kind of late for dinner now?’ ]

“Oh, you know, we Harringtons like to have it late. So, uh, pfff– I’ll see you at school tomorrow. Have fun studying.”

[ ‘Steve–’ ]

He hangs up the phone before she questions him anymore.

It just doesn’t make sense. They’re not friends any more so…

.

.

.

Why does it hurt so much?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The rain was coming down like a monsoon. Thunder was starting to rumble, lightning was lingering around waiting to strike. Speaking of waiting… The Byers were on their couch, rummaging through photos that touched their emotions.

“Jonathan, wow. You took these?” Joyce asked, amazed by them. “These are great.” She got her son to crack a smile. “Wow, they really are.” Then came the sniffles again. “I-I know I haven’t been there for you. I’ve been working so hard and… I-I just feel bad. I don’t even barely know what’s going on with you. All right? I am so sorry about that.” And then the sobs started coming from her child. “Hey, what is it? What is it, honey?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“Tell me. Tell me.” Joyce urges, rubbing his forearm. “Come on. You can–”

“No. It’s just…” Jonathan’s blank expression broke. “I s-should’ve been there for him.”

“No. Oh, no. You can’t do that to yourself.” She shakes her own head and gives him a gentle squeeze. “This was not your fault. Do you hear me? He is… close. I know it. I-I feel it in my heart.” She clenches the left side of her chest. “You just have to… You have to trust me on this, okay?”

He nods while leaning into his mother’s touch. “Yeah.”

“Oh, look at this.” She says, picking one where it was just Will and his cute smile. “Look at this one.” It makes them both quietly laugh. “I mean, that’s it, right?”

“Yeah. That’s it.” He smiles sadly. “W-We should… see if Ms. Henderson had any photos of Stephanie. Maybe we can make a poster together.”

Then her whole world gets thrown around when she hears breathing. “Will?” She chokes, eyes widening. “Will? It’s Will!”

“That’s a good idea.” And the phone rings and she shoots off the couch. She prays and prays it’s good news as she yanks the phone off the receiver. “Hello?” She answers, which happened to be nothing but static.

“Hello? Lonnie? Hopper? Who is this?”

Jonathan was by her side in a split second. “Mom, it’s Will?”

“Who is this?!” Joyce screamed when growling came on the other side. “What have you done to my boy? Give me back my son!” And whoever was truly on the other side, replied by shocking her with electricity. She shrieked and threw the phone away, her son picking it up right after.

“Hello? Hello, who is this?” Jonathan asked, the silence making him furiously hit the phone box. “Hello? Who is this?” He finally hangs up, turning towards his hysterical mother. “Mom, who was it? Who was it, Mom?”

“It was him.” She sobbed, as she was taken in his arms.

“Look at me, was it Will?”

“Yes!”

“What did he say?” Jonathan choked, as his mother reached for the phone, hoping they were still connected.

“He just breathed. He just breathed.”

“And was someone else there?”

“I–”

“Mom, who was there? Who was it?”

“It was him…” She wraps her arms around him, knees almost buckling at the emotional exhaustion. “I know it was his breathing. I know it was his breathing.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, in the deep depths of the forest, drenched head to toe, the trio was shouting until their lungs hurt, hoping to find any one of their loved ones. 

“Will!” 

“Stephanie!”

“Byers! Henderson!”

“Anyone?!”

Lucas sighs. “Guys, I’m starting to feel like this is hopeless.” 

“Don’t be a big sissy.” Dustin says, getting ‘the look’.

“I’m just being realistic, man.”

“Well, stop being realistic! My sister and Will are missing, and they’re fine.” They have to be. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if they’re–

“Maybe…”

“Lucas!” Mike scolded, getting a shrug.

“What?” Lucas snapped. “I’m just saying. I mean, did any of you ever think Will and Steph went missing because they ran into something bad? And we happened to be going to the exact same spot where they were last seen? And we have no weapons or anything?”

“So?!” Dustin scoffed. “If it was any of us in their place, my sister and Will would be busting their asses trying to find us!”

“Really? How would you know that?”

“I just do!”

“Shut up!” Mike yells, facing them. Their jaws closed and he shushed them quietly. “Shut up and listen.” And then there was a faint sound of rustling. “Do you guys hear that?”

And then the rustling got louder and louder, the boys spinning on their heels and waving their flashlights around for any signs of life. Just as thunder roared and the spotlights moved to another side, that’s when they were practically blinding a person.

Although it was not Will or Stephanie.

It was another child, barefoot and in a shirt that was practically a dress.

Staring in amazed and confusion, the boys weren’t sure what to say except,

“What the hell?”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| THE NIGHT BEFORE ||

The lights flickered back on with an audible gasp. 

She heaved the strange tasting air into her lungs, eyes adjusting to the bright world before it completely went dim, like an eclipse was happening just overhead. Before she could question where she was, she felt someone tug on her jacket and gasp themself.

Stephanie whipped her body around, catching the sight of the young boy who was now having a bit of coughing fit. “Will?” She says, taking the boy by his shoulders, relieved to see him.

“S-Steph?” He choked, taking a moment to look around with his big cocoa eyes. “What just happened?”

Well that was the million dollar question. What actually happened?

She takes a moment to finally look around herself, realizing they were in the… same spot? Yeah… the same spot. They were still inside the shed, still holding the shotgun, but the only difference was no… what can you even call that thing they encountered?

“We’re still in the shed. But it’s…” Will crinkled his button nose at the sight. “Gross.”

Steph swallows, blue orbs landing on the door. “Stay behind me.” She lets herself push open the shed door slowly, heart beating like crazy as she luckily met with no scary creature. She shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. “Jesus, It’s freezing.”

The outside world seemed to be encased in a blue hue, the places around seemed to be tangled with vines and covered in something sticky. There was also a white powder that looked like snow, raining down from the dark skies above. A sky that didn’t even have moonlight like it did a few minutes ago.

Holy shit… She thought, before feeling around her head, worriedly. She then locked eyes with him and asked, “Did you hit your head when we crashed?” He shakes his head, fueling her emotions. So they weren’t dreaming or having a concussion. So what even is this place? 

Where the hell are we? And in the distance…

A creature snarled…

.

.

.

While waiting for his orders from his master beyond.

(TBC)

A/N: 😬🤭🫣

-Taglist is Open-

@ladygrey03 @poppet05 @tooearlyforthis @lovesfics @lordzzz

@mirkwoodshewolf @sadbitchfangirl

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #dustin henderson #dustin henderson x sister reader #dustin henderson x reader #eddie munson #will byers x reader #will byers x platonic reader #will byers #stranger things x reader #jopper #jancy #steve harrington x oc #Stephanie Henderson #my fanfic writing #skyfallwrites

[lightlycareless]

Omg the toji threesome fic is just...wtf there's no other worlds to describe it it's wtf in a good way omg what if she gets pregnant? What if it's not naoya's?! WHAT WILL TOJI FJCKING SAY?! GET RID OF IT?! GIVE BIRTH AND GIVE IT TO ME?! WHAT WILL NAOYA DO?! OMGGGGG PLEASE MAKE A FIC ABOUT THE AFTERMATH AHHHH!!!!! if you want baby no pressure <3

Hello! :>

I don't know if you saw my sneak peak, but I ended up writing a sequel to this heheh I'm so glad you liked it!!

Ngl, I wasn't planning on writing more of it, but then I saw this ask and... you know, I just had to do it to 'em.

Anyways I won't say anything more; except for the warnings: mentions of infidelity. mentions of smut (the word cunt is used) angst I believe. it's sad at the end, or I try to make it sad lol. Mentions of pregnancy. Also, I am no expert relating to pregnancy matters so take it with a grain of salt and lots of plot convenience 😅.

Happy reading!!

sequel to this.

Toji’s not to disclose if you or Naoya came back for a repeat of that night’s succession, though he will admit your pregnancy was not surprising.

It’s not like he could run away from it either, for as soon as news graced the elders’ ears, it’s all the estate spoke of.

From enthusiasm to welcome the next generation of Zen’in sorcerers, to the ever-growing hope of recovering their prized cursed technique, which has been absent for hundreds of years…

Expectations for this child were at an all-time high.

But to you and Naoya, all you could care about was the blessing this baby represented.

A family.

The pinnacle of all their yearnings, the fruits of their never-ending efforts finally appearing as the positive pregnancy test you took one morning after feeling particularly nauseous…

Or Toji’s, perhaps.

Toji initially didn’t think much of the “shocking” announcement. Not even after his behavior that night—they were just heat of the moment things, nothing that he meant nor really cared about, simply said to get a rise out of Naoya; and oh, was his reaction satisfying.

In other words, he really, genuinely, couldn’t care less about what the wimpy heir and his ditzy wife were to face from that point forward.

But when their behavior towards him, the engaging conversations, invitations to drink tea, amongst other activities, drastically ceased, to the point of them turning on their heel and going the opposite way when bumping into him…

It didn’t take long for the pieces to fall into place, and when the puzzle was complete, Toji could only laugh.

It’s like an open secret, albeit solely for those involved.

The baby inside you wasn’t Naoya’s.

It was Toji’s.

And this filled him with morbid fascination no other high had been able to provide.

To know that the baby everyone was praising as the future of the Zen’in, a promising sorcerer, as expected of the heir, was the ultimate irony, the exact anti-thesis of all they once declared of Toji.

He was very tempted to let everyone know.

Proudly announce the truth to the world, screaming to the top of his lungs that that baby isn’t Naoya’s, it’s mine.

The scandal this revelation would bring was nothing short of earth-shattering, and more likely than not, the elders wouldn’t even know where to start from. Although your infidelity could be a good reference.

Followed by the fact that no matter how much they try to get rid of him, he’ll always find a way to haunt them—like a ghost shackled to the estate walls, Toji would always remain in the back of their minds, unsettling them whenever they did as much as breathe.

Although for this to work, he’d have to wait until the child was born, officiated as son of Naoya, before he could do any true damage.

To see the kind of face the Zen’in would make upon finding out the truth… is one that makes his prolonged stay all but worthwhile.

As well as knowing your reaction towards the whole ordeal—if you’ve even been able to sleep knowing well that your life was on the line by carrying such a frightening secret in your womb.

Considering the way you frequently sought him out during those lonely nights where your husband would be away for long periods of time, this probably didn’t perturb you as much. After all, what did you expect after receiving his seed as constantly as you did? That nothing would happen? No consequences to be suffered?

You were many things, but he never thought you as delusional.

Or perhaps, you were hoping for this. To have his child. He’d come to believe so after the tight way your cunt squeezed him.

Well, that would only make him the delusional one.

Either way, he suspects that while your secret might’ve prickled the back of your mind from time to time, it didn’t bother you as much as he hoped—not with the way your staff coddled your every move, how the clan would gift you expensive items to celebrate the future head of the clan, per tradition, or how happy you appeared to be with your growing bump, gently caressing it and beaming while confessing oh how much you longed to finally hold your baby.

It irked him.

To see that even through this deceit, you were still blissful.

It was undeserving. Wrong.

At least to the man who has been sentenced to nothing but pain and disgrace since the moment he was born, that’s how it was.

Because it was impossible for him to grasp the innocence of others—To accept that some were just simply… with better luck. Free to live as they desired, and without having to pay for the prejudice of others.

Toji, now more than ever, felt that he was being used. Plucked from his misery, toyed with, and discarded once dried out of his benefits.

Thus, his motivation to ruin your and Naoya’s happiness became as palpable as ever—hastily making his way towards you once catching you by one of the many gardens, intending to remind you of the power he had, how easily it would be for him to plant the seed of doubt amongst the staff, let it flourish up to the elders, and ruin your and Naoya’s life forever.

Unless your anguished face was to stop him.

It was abrupt, happening in less than a second, yet enough for him to understand it wasn’t because you were upset by some redundant folly, but rather, of pain.

With one of your hands rushing up to your stomach while the other to your back, it was as if the weight of your baby had suddenly become too much to handle; you’d then anxiously looked for a chance to sit down, frowning when realizing the only option was the strenuous engawa in front of you…

Before freezing, face quickly void of any color, when seeing Toji abruptly standing by your side, with mysterious intentions you were not interested in finding out.

“Toji, you— You breathe as you do your best to walk away from him, just for him to keep up with you. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Gee, that’s the thanks I get for getting you pregnant?” he sneers. “Never thought you to be as prejudiced as the rest—”

“What—what is wrong with you?!” you condemned, snatching your arm from his grasp. “How dare you?! Don’t you ever say something like ever aga—ah!”

“Y/N.” Toji’s eyes widen when he sees you lean forward, wrapping your arms around your stomach as you hiss and cuss, while tightly closing your eyes in what he recognizes strenuous pain. “What is happening?! Are you—”

No.

Could it be? And so soon?!

”Are you having the baby??”

“What? N—No—!” you whimper, squeezing tears out of the corners of your eyes. “It’s just—it’s just this pain that comes and goes sometimes—I—I need to sit down—”

Toji doesn’t hesitate to help you onto the engawa by firmly, yet gently, holding your arms and lowering you down to the wooden floor. You didn’t plan on accepting his help at first, but when a sharp pain reminds you that you couldn’t really pick and choose in this situation, you end up agreeing.

Once seated, Toji concludes this was much better off in the hands of a staff member, or even a doctor if he could somehow manage to do that, so he quickly stands up and turns towards the hallways—but the moment you see him take as little as a step away from you, your hands fly to grab his sleeve, stopping him on his tracks before looking up to him with the most pitiable look on your face.

“Stay.” You breathe, swallowing. “Please.”

And whether because of your pleading, teary eyes, or because it had been so long since he’d basked in your warm company, Toji obliges, soon taking the spot besides you as your hand now securely gripped his, with such an unprecedented force that has him both amused and concerned by your pain, while offering whatever little comfort he could with his touch.

It’s in these quiet yet tense moments that he finally gets to see the certainty of your situation.

While you expected to happily enjoy your future life as a mother, relish on the compliments of those around you, the praises of your in-laws, and the company and support of your husband…

Reality had been nothing short of deviant from your dreams—starting from the high risk your pregnancy was labeled as…

To the haunting consequences of your past actions.

“Are you sure this is normal?” Toji asks, seeing that your pain was not subsiding. “I think you need help—”

“No shit, Toji!” you gasp, he raises an eyebrow. “I mean—I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize, princess. It’s nothing I’m not used to already.”

“… is that—is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“No. Not really.” He snickers, a smile that’s quickly wiped off his mouth when hearing you hiss. “But I’ve seen it work with others, so why not give it a shot?”

“I’m not—I’m not going to do that.” You huffed. “I—I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“But you’d ignore me?”

“If you’re here to scold me, this is not the right time.” You hiss again, feeling a sharp pain attack your lower back, making you press your lips and whine.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to do something? Bring you something to drink—or… something?”

“Yes, but—but it’s not like you can help me anyways.”  You confess, he frowns.

“What? Why? How hard is it to get something for you to take?” he scoffs.

“They don’t want me to—they say—they say it might hurt the baby.”

Toji blinks.

“And so, what? They’re just going to leave you to suffer?”

You don’t respond.

He sighs. Toji should’ve known better.

“Where does it hurt?”

“My—my back and stomach” you breathe, another sharp bolt of pain on those places precisely, making you hold his hand even tighter, once again, he’s surprised someone like you could even dent his skin. “And no matter what I do—nothing helps! Not even that stupid warm bath, or the massages Junko-san told me to do—”

The desperation for failed solutions after failed solutions is clear in your voice, a consistency that effectively shows your growing frustration at being reminded again and again that not even when carrying the future of the Zen’in, are you respected as a person.

It’s always the needs of others first, the beliefs of the rest—only this time around it was your baby, although through the twisted words of your in-laws.

“I’m so, so tired of feeling exhausted, I just want to—”

“Let me try.” Toji interrupts, offering a solution that initially catches you by surprise, a part of your mind urging you to decline and get away as far as possible, the dangers his closeness could give are far bigger than you’re willing to put up with—

Yet, another part of you is telling you to allow him, if only for a moment, to help you.

To enjoy his company, something you’ve been unjustifiably deprived of.

Something you should’ve had now more than ever due to your pregnancy, but for many painful reasons, you didn’t.

But just because you wanted it, does it mean you should?

…

…

…

It wouldn’t be the first time you succumbed to these desires.

Thus, the decision is made when freeing his hand and gesturing to him to proceed with a nod. Toji then places his hands over your shoulders, firmly pressing his fingertips against them before beginning to ease the tensions and stresses away from your body through circular motions.

Had you known of Toji’s talent, you would’ve asked for massages more than anything else from him—for the way he carefully worked over your knots, starting from your neck and shoulders, down to your spine and to your lower back… it was simply amazing.

And for a moment, it’s like you’ve forgotten the strained relationship you had with him in favor of wondering where he even learned to do something like that.

“Oh my god—” you sigh, shoulders relaxing as Toji continues to massage you. “This is so much better…”

“Well, know you can always count on me to make you feel better, right?” He teases, your satisfaction dwindles for a moment with a frown. “It’s just a joke.”

“It’s not the time for jokes.” You respond. “but at least my back doesn’t hurt anymore….”

“That’s the reason why you’re so tense— it’s because you can’t take a joke.” Toji adds, as if he were finding out how much he could push it before you snapped. So much for his concern… or perhaps it was his way to lighten up your mood?

“Yeah, how horrible of me—it’s not like I’m carrying a baby.” You chided, and once again, his arrogance is smacked out of him.

After a moment of silence and brief repentance, Toji speaks.

“How did Naoya take it?”

“…I don’t want to talk about that.”

It went bad. If not horrible.

Naoya was excited at first, over the moon to know that he was finally to be a father after all their attempts.

But when doubts began to plague his mind, eventually leading to the DNA test… his absence was the clear indication of his feelings.

However,  if his reaction hurt you and your marriage so badly, then why did you keep the—

“I always wanted a family.” You say, succumbing to one of the many questions you rightfully assumed Toji to have. “From the moment I married, no, even before that, I knew that’s what I wanted in life. To have a little girl, or boy, that I could endlessly dote and spoil on… And once I got with Naoya, realizing he too shared my dream, I literally felt it was only a matter of weeks before we’d have our own family.

But, when we began to try, and try, and try… what I once felt just by my fingertips was slowly transforming into an impossible dream.

People say that these things happen unexpectedly, just when you need them the most.

… and I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. Remain hopeful and believe that the gods had other plans for me in the meantime. But… the two of us knew it. There was something wrong, and we didn’t know what—

Or more like we didn’t want to know.

Naoya couldn’t even consider himself as the possible cause. And I… I also didn’t want to believe I was the obstacle between me and my dreams.

And then, you came along.

I guess it’s the weight of our actions that eventually made Naoya… hesitant for the baby.

We always knew that it was yours, it’s just that maybe… maybe we hoped it wasn’t. We so desperately wanted to believe the baby was his, ours, and not fruit of something we perhaps should’ve never done.”

Feeling both confused and slightly angered, Toji scowls.

“I can understand one thing—I was used. Fine, whatever. Nothing new. But the rest? If it was such a big issue your marriage, then why did you keep the baby? Surely Naoya considered getting an aborti—”

“Because I wanted to keep the baby.” You confess. “I was growing so desperate and lonely—to be married and yet be as isolated as I’ve never felt before, what was I supposed to do?! In a house full of people… do you even know how that feels?!”

“Like you wouldn’t imagine.”

Your eyes widen, and soon, a crushing wave of regret inundates your mind.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, Toji sighs. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You’re just stressed.” He concludes. “Pregnancy stuff, I guess.”

“…I want my husband, here, with me.” You quietly admit. “I don’t want him to work anymore, spend days and weeks far away. But instead, he’s out there, angry with me and the baby…”

“He’ll come around.” Toji doesn’t know why he said that, only that he had to. You frown.

“How do you even know that? How do you know he won’t divorce me—or worse, cheat on me?”

“Do you hear yourself?” he scoffs, partially holding back his laughter. “Do you actually believe he’d be capable of cheating on you?”

A woman as special as you?

“Everyone else did at one point.” You remind him, he rolls his eyes. “Well, what else am I supposed to think after his absence?! He doesn’t even love me anymore for all I care!”

“That’s stupid.”

“Maybe for you it is.” You cry, tears begin to pool in your eyes. “It’s just a matter of time before he files for divorce and leaves me for someone else! Someone that can give him children of his own! Oh, I should’ve never allowed—"

“Naoya isn’t going to divorce you because I’ve seen how he treats you.” Toji interrupts, hurt by your blatant disregard of him, and yet, something about seeing you so distressed like this, heartbroken, makes him want to console you even more. “He could’ve divorced you the moment he saw the results, but he didn’t. Have you thought about that?”

“Perhaps he’s waiting for the right moment to humiliate me before his family—”

“Naoya loves you.” Toji says, and the words hurt him more than he anticipated. But… why? “I’ve known the kid since he was born—I’ve seen how he treats the people he doesn’t care about. And you’re nothing like that, not even close. So no, he won’t humiliate you.”

“And what makes you think that?”

Toji goes silent.

He’s acting as if he doesn’t know why he’s out here insisting so much on comforting you. And honestly? It made sense, for just a few hours ago he couldn’t care less any for a woman that played with two men and now had to pay the consequences—

But the truth wasn’t as cryptic as he liked to believe. All that he needed to do was dive a little deeper into his own thoughts and he’d soon find out why, as clear as day, he was fighting so hard to make you feel better.

And it all started the moment he accepted one crucial detail:

You were the mother of his child, his firstborn, and so… it unknowingly evoked a sense of protection towards you, deep underneath the layers of his disbelief and mockery…

Or more like further developed.

Since the first night the two spent together without Naoya, or perhaps even before, there was something brewing inside him, slowly, but surely. The first foundations of the feelings that would only flourish the night he had you alone, completely for himself.

In those moments of solitude, Toji liked to imagine that you were his wife; accompanying him underneath the covers, seeking his embrace, his touch, while telling him of your tedious day and how you so desperately looked forward to seeing him again—

And not Naoya.

The possibility of coming home to a warm bed, with a wife that treated him like an actual person, not a stain in the long history of the clan, contrary to the cold, empty room he has been condemned to since birth… is something he didn’t know he wanted, until you stumbled onto his path.

To be able to seek your figure whenever walking across the estate, hoping to catch you just around the corner, gossiping with your ladies about whatever it is that you liked to talk about with them, before you notice him by the corner of your eyes, lifting your gaze and seeing the lovely way your eyes would brighten at his presence—

A wide smile adorning your face, cheeks quickly turning red as you shyly dismiss your staff in favor of receiving him. Running to him to tightly embrace him, subsequently standing on your tip toes to land a kiss on his lips before murmuring the sweetest welcome home and tending to him.

And eventually… getting to hear your moving cries upon learning you’re expecting a baby. After many weeks of trying, both their efforts are finally met with the most beautiful reward life could give, letting your imagination run wild with all the things you wanted to do as a future mother—and yet, you’d still find a way to reassure him that he’d be a good dad.

That the disgrace of the Zen’in, the wretched man no one deemed respectable, less capable of harboring love, was still capable of being a good father. A caring husband.

…

But this was nothing but a silly desire of his, a response to the horrible things he’s endured.

…Perhaps if things had been different, had he been born as literally anyone else but himself… or maybe even met you under different circumstances, his life would’ve been completely different.

One with you, hopefully.

“Toji!” you suddenly gasp, startling him and concernedly looking at you.

“What is it now?” he frowns.

“The baby.” You say, which does nothing to ease his worries. “It’s—”

“It’s what? What’s happening??”

“The baby is kicking.” You reveal, swiftly taking his hand and placing it over your round stomach and onto the area you feel their kicks to be. “I can’t—I can’t believe it, look!”

“What do you mean they’re—”

Toji’s eyes widen.

A kick.

And another. And another one.

You weren’t lying, the baby was kicking.

And unbeknownst to him, this was their first time doing it too.

“Can you feel that?” you say, and all past worries were now replaced with excitement and overwhelming happiness for this special moment. “The baby is finally kicking!”

“I… can.” He demurs, trying his best to comprehend what was happening just beneath his palm, before noting the peculiarity of your sentence. “What do you mean finally?”

“It’s the first time he does it.” You reveal. “It’s supposed to happen around this time, but I didn’t know when, of course. I guess… now’s the day.”

“That means…”

Naoya didn’t get the privilege of feeling the baby’s first kicks.

No.

Not any baby.

His baby.

And now that this truth settled in his mind, it quickly became the sweetest moment he had ever experienced in his life. Something he wishes to preserve for all eternity…

Just after dealing with the enormous sense of guilt and shame settling in his heart.

For how could he ever consider bestowing the same fate as his to this innocent child, just to get a rise of the family that wronged him? Towards someone whom he hasn’t even met… simply because he couldn’t deal with his own emotions?

Just when did he turn so despicable? Embracing the kind of malice as his clan?

He should be ashamed to even be beside you.

“It’s a boy.” You say, abruptly cutting through his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“The baby—it’s a boy.” You repeat. “We’re having a boy.”

Toji doesn’t know why, nor thought it possible, but the news somehow makes him feel even happier.

“A boy.” He repeats. “A son.”

“We haven’t decided a name yet” you confess. “I was thinking something in honor of Naoya, continue the tradition like him and his father.”

“Why not something for you?” Toji suggests instead; his concern might be disguised in favor of your emotions (and partially, he was) but it was mainly the distaste of having Naoya’s, or technically Noabito’s, name anywhere near him.

But he wasn’t going to tell you that, obviously.

“After the way he’s acting, you deserve that much.”

You press your lips together before lightly chuckling, finding some truth behind his words.

“I guess so… but then, which name?” you ponder, frowning as you go deep into thought, yet nothing seems to arise for the occasion, certainly not when you’ve done nothing but consider names with the same kanji as your husband whenever touching the subject.

Thinking you needed more time to consider, or perhaps needing to admit there was nothing else you wanted but honor your husband, you accept defeat with a sigh.

“I don’t know, Toji. Maybe I should just name him after Nao—”

“Megumi.”

“What?”

“Megumi. Blessing.” Toji explains. “I thought it’d be fitting with what you told me.”

“That’s… very straight forward.” You say after a few seconds of quiet consideration, “Unusual, since it’s mostly used as a girl’s name, and I don’t know if the elders would approve—”

“Look, if it’s that much of a problem you don’t have to use—” Never one to happily accept rejection, Toji quickly feels both embarrassed and frustrated by you, which he does not hesitate to let you know.

Only to be surprised yet again.

“But also, very sweet.” You smile, briefly looking up to him before glancing back to your stomach and onto your hand resting on top of his.

He blinks, perplexed by your sudden admittance—and such, all he can do is stare at you while you keep pouring your heart out.

“Even with the things I had to endure to have him here… he’s still my blessing, and I wouldn’t want him any other way.”

At your declaration, Toji is pushed down onto another turmoil of emotions.

It shouldn’t be that hard to conclude this is something he should isolate himself from.

Remember that he isn’t part of this marriage, no matter if he had permission of the other two involved, or how much he tries to convince himself—Understand that his blood means nothing, both inside and outside the clan, and that’s how it’ll always be.

But when your hand gently squeezes his for a moment, thumbs caressing his knuckles as you let him know your pains are slowly disappearing and how grateful you are for his help—all his worries are quickly discarded, allowing him to once again imagine live out this faux reality a bit longer.  

A happiness that comes from the notion of being your husband, simply enjoying a quiet afternoon, the refreshing spring breeze, while sitting by the engawa, in front of your favorite garden, trying to make up for all the time he spent away from you.

Time Toji knew he should’ve spent either way by trying to get close to you, see your growth firsthand, check on you from time to time, assist whenever possible— instead of plotting a stupid plan to ensure your and the baby’s downfall.

He reproached himself for having fallen for such an arrogant trap, and convinced himself this was the way to go.

Yet, he didn’t allow that thought to interfere much with the present. He shouldn’t either way—not with the lovely bumps of his son’s kicking against his hand, almost as if he recognized it was his father finally acknowledging him…

And certainly not with your warmth reminding him of what could’ve been.

A moment he’ll preserve in his memories for the rest of his days, because while relishing in your company, he had already made up his mind.

One that fitted with the idea that all good things must come to an end.

Especially those that are simply not meant to be, less for someone as disgraceful as him.

It hurt him to come to this conclusion. To acknowledge what his mind, and existenceconstantly reminded him about.

But he knew he had to do it.

From that point forward, he’ll do everything in his power to keep away from you.

Toji would no longer watch you from afar, nor ask for your whereabouts, whether directly or indirectly.

He’ll simply limit himself to hearing of your wellbeing, or how your relationship began to flourish yet again, through rumors of the staff, if he was ever around the estate to acknowledge them.

He was right when he said Naoya would come along, you know? He might be wrong in some things, or most, but when it comes to judging other’s character, Toji never misses.

It was nothing but obvious that Naoya loved you very much, after all, if he no longer wanted to know anything from you, you wouldn’t have lasted as long as you did.

Naoya kept you at the estate, fed, warm, tended for, because he loved you—to the point of going against his own clan to provide you with the much-needed assistance you required for your oscillating pains.

With such gestures, it shouldn’t come to him as a surprise that you also loved Naoya very much.

And yet, it hurt him to realize such a thing.

But who was he trying to fool?

At the end, he had always knew he had no place in that marriage. No matter how much he tried to convince himself that the reason you kept returning to him was because you wanted something more from him—it was never the truth to begin with:

Your mind was always in Naoya’s wellbeing, and in his love.

He was ultimately a step towards your goals. Whether for pleasure, or for something deeper, it didn’t matter—they all went to the same target.

So, when he hears from the gossiping staff that you’ve named your child Megumi, he doesn’t get his hope ups anymore.

Instead, Toji simply takes it as what it is: a way to thank him for the blessing he’s given you, honor him one last time, before cutting ties with him forever.

Because the moment anyone catches wind of his relationship to your son… everything will collapse, and that is something he is no longer willing to allow.

Thus, he stays away. Keeps his distance from you and Naoya as both continue to tend for their growing family, giving Megumi things he had only dreamed of getting:

A warm, cozy bed to sleep in, where he’d be able to dream about all kinds of things he’d like to do when the following day arrives.

A roof over his head, guarding him from the cold pours of the rain, or the burning rays of the sun, as he watches the world go by.

Food to fill his stomach, every day, whenever and whatever he wanted, ensuring his healthy growth or an occasional craving.

A set future that would reassure him of any misgivings, permitting him to fail and not worry if he’ll have anyone to back him up, or start from zero.

But most importantly—

Love.

To remind him that no matter what happens, whatever he does or doesn’t do, he’ll always have a family to support him just the way he is.

…

…

…

Yeah.

It’s clear to him now.

It had always been better this way.

In other words, Toji disappears from your and Naoya's life to ensure your safety. Woaaah. I hope I was able to convey that kind of sad redemption (?)

Also, I was debating whether to actually name the baby Megumi or not, since it's a whole other character—but then I thought, why not? and thus this happened.

I guess we get to the conclusion that if there's one person that's most deprived (and in need) of love, it would be Toji. We all saw how he got after mamaguro died... so I think him doing an 180 to protect the mother of his child and son is 100% accurate and sad omg. jesus, how different from the Toji I portrayed in the previous oneshot.

Anyways, I hope it was to your liking :3 Thank you for sending in this ask, I really enjoyed writing it!

Take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️❤️

#ask #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x you #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

[haru-natsuka]

The Unending Daze Part 3 (Malleus Draconia x Wife Reader x Ace Trappola)

Chapter start from below trailer*

>> Trailer <<

"My darling wife, the joy you have brought me throughout the years is without compare. Our children are fortunate to have been gifted with such a loving and caring mother as you,"

Malleus spoke with affection, his voice like honeyed words that melted the hearts of everyone that heard it. He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his warm breath brushing against your skin.

But just as you were getting used to this blissful scene, your old friend, Ace arrived in an unexpected turn of events. He claimed that he was your husband, which left you perplexed and bewildered.

"Wait a minute, that's not right! I'm your real husband! He's just trying to manipulate you with a dream. Wake up, now! Our children need you! I need you, Y/N!"

You were unsure how to proceed, caught in the middle of a confusing situation. In this situation, you feel conflicted and uncertain about whether your old friend or your darling husband had spoken the truth

>> PART 3 <<

You could not remember anything from the night before. Your eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, and the only memory you can recall is preparing for bed alongside Malleus. However, today, Malleus was nowhere in sight, which is quite strange behavior for him. You began to wonder whether you made a mistake last night. Since morning, you had not even caught sight of him.

"Mama! You got that wrinkle again" Marcellus tried to straighten that wrinkle off your forehead, but as he touched you, you suddenly flinched with a sense of revulsion and horror. The feeling of those wooden hands running against your skin reminded you of the illusion of a puppet. You could not help but imagine your son's face as having a lifeless wooden form with smiley eyes, while you looked at him.

No, why did you even imagine such a thing? This was your youngest son, who always seems so adorable and innocent to you. His skin was just as fair as Malleus's, though his horn was not as sharp as his father's because it was still growing. He was the exact copy of Malleus, except for his eyes, which have your color and shape.

You felt a sudden suffocation as the imagery of your lifeless son flashes through your mind, overwhelming you and causing you feelings of intense guilt and shame. Your son's innocent smile and warm eyes kept on interchange with a cold and lifeless demeanor as it emptily stared at you. You just desired for a moment of escape, to get away from this place and find some peace. You were not a good mother at all.

'Get away from them!'

'They are not your family!'

You heard a dark voice echoing in your mind, warning you to stay away from your son, from everyone in this world. The voice was similar to your voice, almost like it was warning you of a danger lurking near you.

'Run!'

'Run! Be safe! Don't be caught by him anymore! Stop-'

You felt a growing sense of desperation, as your breathing started to quicken and your heart began to race. You wanted these voices to go away, to leave you alone here in your mind. Your mind became filled with this darkening gloom, and you could not seem to shake this unsettling feeling.

"Y/N! Come back to me!"

You heard someone call out to you with a concerned tone of voice. You felt a strong hold on your shoulder as they asked you if you were doing alright, but your mind was preoccupied with the voices that continued to echo within your mind.

You pushed the man away, wanting to escape from his hold and give yourself some space. You looked up to see a red-haired man staring at you with absolute panic and concern in his eyes. Immediately, you felt your eyes tearing up, and a sudden urge to cry came over you.

Despite your efforts to maintain your composure, the tears began to fall. Your heart started to pound with a slight ache, and you were unsure of the reason why. How could your friend, Ace, make you feel this way?

"I'm sorry I'm late Y/N. You have gone through so much" Ace's tone was warm and caring, and there was a hint of sadness and remorse in his voice. He tried to take a step closer to you, but you backed away immediately. You felt uneasy around him, and a sudden sense of familiarity was growing within you as you stared at him.

Your heart beat quicker, and you started to feel a sudden sense of panic and fear as you realised you cannot locate Levan and Marcellus. A sense of desperation grew within you as you looked around, hoping to see them somewhere. Your thoughts were scattered, and your emotions were running high, making it hard to think clearly.

"What are you doing here, Ace? Where are my sons?" You asked in confusion.

"You don't seem to remember me at all, do you, Y/N? I'm your-" Ace said with a sad expression and his voice sounded somewhat hurt when the reality of you not remembering him hit him hard. Before you could focus on him any further, a strong wind blew in and threw him into the trees, his body injured and blood running down his head. 

You could hear Ace whimpering and groaning in pain from where you were standing, and you felt your feet moving towards him, driven by a compassion that was beyond your control. However, before you could take another step, Malleus appeared in front of you, acting as a barrier between you and Ace.

You could hear Ace's pained groans, but you cannot see him anymore. The sight of Malleus, standing protectively in front of you with both Levan and Marcellus in his arms, blocks your view completely.

Malleus's voice is soft and reassuring, and his expression is one of genuine concern. "Are you alright, my dear wife?" He stares at you intently, keeping a protective grip on Levan and Marcellus.

Malleus's gentle voice filled your ears, and his reassuring expression compelled you to draw your full attention to him. The feeling of wanting to help Ace suddenly seemed to dissipate, and you felt yourself compelled to abandon your previous intention, instead immediately rushing towards Malleus, Levan and Marcellus.

However, the look from Malleus's eyes stopped you. His eyes had a look of wanting to destroy your old friend from NRC, which caused you to hesitate. The scene felt a bit familiar and yet you could not recall anything specific as it remained vague.

As you felt the draw and rush towards Malleus, there was a wave of confusion as Malleus's intense gaze fixed upon you, his eyes appearing to radiate hatred towards the wounded Ace.

Your mind struggled to make sense of the intense energy and emotions that you were sensing, and you felt a vague sense of familiarity with the situation. You felt like you should remember something specific about this, but you could not recall anything clear or concise.

'Don't you remember me? Please, don't play around like this.'

'I know I'm not a really good husband, and I admit it but I will be better. Be with me, please'

'I will never stop searching for you, Y/N'

'Y/N. I'm glad you are alright'

Your memories of Ace are still very vague, but his words seemed to have a familiar ring to them. Like you had heard him speak like this before, but you could not recall any concrete details about your relationship with him. Who was he to you? Why did he seem so desperate?

"My dear wife, you are safe now. I will finish the man off. No one should take you away from me." You watched as Malleus sets Levan and Marcellus down beside you, both of your sons appearing frightened and clinging tightly to your skirts with their hands covering their faces.

Your husband turned towards the place where Ace was last seen being thrown at, but there was no sign of him. Malleus's tone was still one of protectiveness and care, but the words had a definite hint of hostility and anger towards the missing Ace.

Later that night, you discovered a pendant sitting neatly upon your study table. Your curiosity compelled you to open the pendant, and a note fell out, scrawled in an unfamiliar hand. You read the words on the note, your breath catching in your throat as you realised the implications.

The note spoke of a desire to rescue you, and your hand trembled slightly as you glanced down at the photo enclosed within the pendant. The photo showed you leaning your head upon Ace's shoulder and your hands gently touching his. Beside the two of you, two young boys are sitting and smiling softly, looking as if they were enjoying the scene.

PART 2 <<, >> PART 4

@d3sperate-enuf

#romance #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x you #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #ace x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus #ace trappola x you #diasomnia x reader #heartslaybul x reader #disney twisted wonderland #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus x reader

[ldrfanatic]

sitting in the corner i haunt

Theodore Nott x Reader "13" Series pt 4 warnings - depression, angst, blood, theo gets the dark mark, mentions of suicide, cursing

this chapter is written entirely from theo's point of view

to be added to the taglist, comment; Also I was gonna include so much more in this part but then I realized I was already at 2k words and it was long lol

ps sorry stinks but now that the series is starting to really pick up there's gonna be a lot more angst before reader and theo get their hea

translator series masterlist <previous chapter next chapter>

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One thing Theo hadn't expected was for you not to forgive him. He'd figured you'd eventually find out about the bet, but he'd also noticed your crush on him a long long time ago. In all honesty, he'd been hoping and praying that you'd be able to forgive him and the pair of you could move past it.

Turns out those hopes and prayers were falling on empty ears.

He'd spent the remainder of the fall term secluded. At first, he tried to ignore Mattheo and Draco, still too mad at either of them for what they'd coerced him into. Finally he came to terms with the nature of his new relationship with you after what could have been was burned prematurely. Another thing Theo hadn't expected was for you to be the type that burned bridges instead of mending them.

Rather than feel his emotions, Theo had taken to drinking them lately. He tuned out of the various famous Slytherin parties and drank firewhiskey until it felt like his head was screwed on backwards. His groupies didn't stop chasing him, but he'd started hexing them in return.

Nothing serious just the occasional bat-bogey hex. And only at the ones that insulted you. Whether or not you wanted to be, you were still the girl that held his heart. And it was unacceptable for anyone to insult you. Mattheo and Draco had learned that fairly quickly following the incident.

As the Express chugged along the tracks and onto Platform 9 3/4, Theo tried to ignore the twisting in his stomach. Ever since his mother passed away in fourth year, his father had become an unbearable rotter. He knew that with the war looming, this break would be particularly unpleasant. As he retrieved his trunk from above his seat in the compartment, he didn't even bother with useless greetings to his friends. The children of Death Eaters were never cheery at the holidays. Everyone was returning to their own personal nightmare.

Theo used to feel bad for Mattheo's home situation. Used to. Until Mattheo really begun to live up to his father's reputation. Then all sympathy he had for the boy really flew out the window. Mattheo had been a perfectly fine bloke until Christmas of fifth year. When they'd returned in January, he was awful. No explanation, no more apologies. Just downright awful.

The moment his boot touched the platform, Theo apparated to his father's estate.

Nott Manor was in the most horrendous part of England. It was ALWAYS dark and cloudy. The sun was shining so bright at King's Cross, it was nearly headache worthy. But the moment Theo twisted down in front of the gates of his childhood home, the skies were dark, and the air was cold.

To Theo's surprise, Nott Sr was waiting at the door when he finally approached the massive structure.

"Theodore, my boy."

Theo was silent at his father pulled him into an awkward hug. He was being unusual cheery and it was rather unsettling.

"Father?"

If Nott Sr noticed Theo's tone at all, he ignored it. A large grin was spread across his face. It wasn't the kind that Theo had been accustomed to when his mother was alive. This one was creepy and made Theo's skeleton want to climb out of his skin.

"It's time, son. The Dark Lord will be rising soon, and he's calling for us to strengthen our ranks to prepare for the coming war. You'll be getting your mark soon Theodore. Finally."

Fuck.

Thunder rumbled in the sky overhead and Theo jostled awake. He hadn't sat with his friends on the ride back. With the burning in his arm and the screams of whatever poor bastard his father was torturing in the house, he'd barely gotten any sleep over the break. In fact, the burning hadn't stopped. His body was apparently just as unfond of the mark as his heart was.

What he hadn't expected was to see you. Sitting across from him in the compartment, reading a book. Your eyebrows were furrowed and you seemed pretty zoned in to the novel. Theo cleared his throat lightly and immediately regretted it as it sent him into a coughing fit.

You passed him a flask that you had. Theo accepted it with a quick thanks and drank, the cool water soothing his apparently irritated throat. "Not that I'm complaining cuore, but what are you doing here?" He tried to appear cool and calm but inside he was freaking out. How long had you been sitting there? What if you accidentally saw his mark?

If you had seen it, you made no indication. In fact, you didn't even look up from your book.

"I was just walking past and saw your compartment was empty. Astoria has taken a fancy to my dear awful cousin Draco and wanted to sit with him and that repulsive boy Mattheo. I'd much rather not for obvious reasons."

Even though you came from a pureblood family, you'd never taken a shine to that blood purity crap. It was something that Theo and you had in common. Something that he admired about you. Despite constant pressures from your other, darker side of your extended family, the Malfoys.

Finally, your eyes made contact with Theo's and he felt his breath leave his lungs. He could no longer hear the soft chugging of the train. He couldn't even feel the damn thing moving. Every sense in his body was tuned into you. Your voice still lingered in his ears even when you weren't speaking. His eyes feasted on every inch of you that they could catch. Your scent filled his nose and intoxicated his brain.

"I do miss you, Theo."

"I miss you too, cuore. I know that we were never really friends before, but the truth is, I'd gotten used to your presence. Without you..."

Theo didn't finish his sentence and you didn't ask him to. After you'd finished your chapter, you closed the book and set it on the cushion next to you.

"How was your break?"

Theo stared at you thoughtfully. He hadn't wanted to talk to anyone about his break, hence why he'd been avoiding his friends. At the same time, he'd take any excuse to talk to you. And with his father's words, he'd feared this was his last chance to really converse with you before you positively despised him.

"It was... uneventful."

You stared at him with a look that told him you knew he was lying. Disappointment flashed in your eyes briefly and felt like a knife in his gut.

"We both know that's not true. Draco was boasting about your entire little friend group finally getting their gifts from you-know-who." You shifted in your seat and then leaned forward. The look on your face was so intense, Theo felt that if he looked away, he'd simply burst into flames and die. "But even if Draco hadn't said anything to me, I've had a crush on you for almost as long as I've been alive Theodore Nott. I can tell when you're lying. Especially when you're lying to me."

Theo felt rage building up inside of him. How dare you patronize him like this? You had no right to judge him. You couldn't possibly understand what he was going through. "Whatever. You don't know me, Y/n." He sneered at you. In his heart, Theo was screaming at himself to stop. But even as he saw tears gathering in your eyes, he locked that part of him away. You'd shown him that Theo couldn't afford to be vulnerable. "You've no right to judge me. Following me around for years like some little fangirl. You've no idea what it's like when your father and uncle hold you down while you kick and scream and beg for them to stop. To let you go. To get away from a true monster while he carves his mark into your flesh."

Your face morphed into one of shock.

"What?"

Theo scoffed at your empty question.

"What? That dear cousin of yours forgot to mention the excruciating pain? That he was there with my father and uncle and helped them hold me down so Voldemort could brand me like cattle?"

His questions were rhetorical but it didn't matter. He stood from his seat across from you and exited the compartment at the mark on his arm started to burn. It was time Theodore Nott learned. Feelings were and always would be a weakness.

By the time the middle of the second term rolled around, Theo had come to terms with the dynamics of his feelings for you. He'd learned to push them down and away, and he'd grown accustomed to doing so. Instead, he focused on the task given to him by his father to prep Hogwarts for the Dark Lord to take over. You could still get to him in his dreams and he often awoke with nightmares. You'd appeared to him many times and spewed various levels of nonsense. How you'd never forgive him for this and the like. Usually they ended with Theo consuming enough firewhiskey to put down a horse and then falling into a drunken slumber only to wake up the next day with a hangover from hell.

This continued for a few weeks longer until finally, Pansy Parkinson had enough of his shit. She'd never been a best friend of yours or Theo's, but as a close friend of Draco's she heard constantly about the depression the pair of you had fallen into without one another. She'd figured that she'd have an easier time getting through to Theo than you most likely.

And there she sat. Across the Slytherin Common Room from Theo fixing him with a stare that would make even Nott Sr. rethink his life choices. If monsters were capable of that sort of thing.

"What the hell is wrong with you Theodore?"

"What do you want Parkinson?"

Pansy sighed frustratedly and whacked Theo with her potions textbook before resuming her homework as though she hadn't just left him with a fresh bruise. "I want you to stop being such an idiot. What happened to winning Y/n over?"

"It wasn't working out. Found a new hobby."

"What? Cohorting with the likes of Mattheo Riddle and serving as the Dark Lord's newest little bitch?" Theo glared back at the girl but she continued undeterred. "Besides, if it wasn't working then how come she was in your compartment on the train? That is until you lost your shit on her like a rabid animal."

"She doesn't understand. She never will. Not my fault and certainly not my problem."

"What she understands, Theo, is that she loves you. She always has. And now that she's finally coming back to that, you've gone back to being the insufferable twat that you always are."

Theo lit another cigarette. Pansy eyes rolled so far back Theo thought they might actually get caught at the back of her head.

"She took too long to get there. I've moved on from her."

"Moved on so much that you drink just to sleep and smoke a pack of those disgusting things a day? Moved on so much that when you think no one's looking in potions, you stare at her like she's the only girl in this whole school? Why is it that she waited years for you, and you can't even last a few weeks?"

Theo sat forward and stomped his cigarette out on the cold stone floor. He'd officially had enough of whatever little intervention Pansy thought she was throwing. "Listen Parkinson. This isn't really any of your concern. My feelings for Y/n are a weakness. She's better off without me anyhow."

"Your feelings for her are not a weakness. They are the strength that one day will be the reason you wake up from whatever spell you let your father put you under. You fucked up, and it sucks. But now it's time to grow a pair, and fix it. Or don't. Suffer for all I care but please, if you're gonna die, do it quietly."

Pansy shut her potions textbook and stood from her seat. She marched silently up to the girls dorms. But by the time she'd made it halfway up the stairs, Theo was already gone.

--

wc 2059

3.31.2024

-- taglist - @moonlightreader649

#slytherin boys #slytherin #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #spotify #slytherin boys x reader #Spotify

[heich0e]

[warning: while f!reader is not described with any specific physical characteristics, the child in this fic is described as having inherited all of Megumi’s attributes and none from reader! please read with that in mind, or pass over this fic if not <3]

Who the hell are you?

Megumi can't shake the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach as he stares down at you. He watches as you quickly compose yourself, pulling your expression into something a little less shocked, a strained smile appearing on your face instead. You can't quite meet his eyes.

You're shaking a little bit, with a windbreaker wrapped around you that's much too big for your frame—the logos and insignia on the coat belong to the police precinct Nanami works at, and he suspects he must have loaned it to you. You're soaked through beneath it, just like Kota was when he showed up earlier, and Megumi wonders how long you were out in the rain looking for him.

"Thank you for taking care of him," you say quietly, your hand still on Kota's back. He watches as your eyes trail across Kota's sleeping face, a glimmer of something distinctly sad behind your eyes. You move to take him from Megumi's arms, and without thinking his grip tightens on the little boy's frame. You look up at him curiously. "I can take him now."

Megumi swallows and nods, handing the child over with a quiet, unnecessary "Careful."

Kota looks completely at peace in your arms, nuzzling his little face into your neck the moment you take hold of him. He doesn't wake at all. Doesn't even stir.

It makes Megumi sad for a moment, that he won't get to say a proper goodbye.

He shakes that sudden, unwarranted thought from his mind as quickly as it appears. But there's something else lingering in the back of his mind, more distantly, that begs for him to pay it attention. To acknowledge it.

You turn your back to Megumi.

"I'll take you two home," Nanami says, nodding down towards you. He's still in his uniform, still on duty as far as Megumi knows, having come from the police station when Yuuji called him. This seems a fairly low-priority task given Nanami's rank as an Inspector with the prefectural police, but given that Yuuji was the one who contacted him it doesn't altogether surprise Megumi that the man took it upon himself to see the job through.

Yuuji fetches Kota's rain jacket from the coat rack, laying it over the sleeping boy's shoulders to keep him dry in the quick walk from the clinic to the police cruiser. Then Megumi watches as he carefully slips his little yellow rain boots back onto his feet. You face him once he's done, bowing as deeply as you can with your son in your arms.

"Thank you so much for all your help, I'm so grateful to you," you say to him, still bowing. You stand, glancing over to Megumi next, though you don't let your eyes linger for long before looking away again. "To both of you."

"He's a really sweet kid," Yuuji assures you. "Don't get too mad at him for taking off like that, he was just trying to do what he thought was right."

You smile a little, looking down at Kota's sleeping face. You brush a tendril of his dark, unruly hair away from his eyes.

"I know," you murmur. "I'm just happy to have him in my arms again."

"You should keep a closer eye on him."

Everyone freezes when Megumi speaks, his tone fairly flat.

You don't meet his eyes. You nod. "Sorry, Fushiguro-san."

"We should go," Nanami says, cutting into the conversation and shooting Megumi a look that makes him feel like a misbehaving child.

You nod towards Nanami, and allow him to lead you out through the sliding front door of the veterinary clinic.

It's still raining outside, though not quite as heavily as it had been earlier in the evening. Yuuji and Megumi stand in the doorway watching as you leave, Yuuji waving one hand up over his head when Nanami casts one last look back before slipping into the driver's seat.

It's only once the car finally pulls away, that feeling of molten lead still churning in the pit of his stomach, that Megumi comes to a realization.

He turns to Yuuji, and his friend looks at him a little bit strangely at the abrupt movement. His brow furrows when he sees the bewildered look on Megumi's face.

"Did you tell her my name?"

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk drabble #jjk writing #writing #mini megumi #tw parenthood #tw pregnancy

[autumnshighlady]

I've Always Liked to Play With Fire (part 21)

NESTA ARCHERON X ERIS VANSERRA X FEMALE!READER

summary: plans become finalized, and you finally get a moment alone with Nesta and Eris.

warnings: graphic violence, misogyny, ANGST ANGST ANGST

word count: 7.5k

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

a/n: i genuinely hate how i wrote this chapter it disgusts me so i apologize for how terrible it is but let me know your thoughts as always!

part 1 // part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 10 / part 11 / part 12 / part 13 / part 14 / part 15 / part 16 / part 17 / part 18 / part 19 / part 20

read on ao3

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

The venison was tasteless in your mouth as you pushed your food around the golden plate. Beside you, Malgorm was already on his second helping, the juice from the meat dripping down his chin, and you tried not to cringe.

After Rhysand had left, Beron had ordered you, Malgorm, Nesta, and Eris to join him and the Lady of Autumn for lunch. Even though your stomach churned at the idea of consuming food after the anxiety of Rhys’s visit, you had simply smiled and said it would be an honour. Beron had offered you his arm, ordering you to walk with him to the dining hall. Keeping up the facade, you had once again gone along with it with a smile.

Beron’s moods gave you whiplash. When you had last seen the High Lord, he was ready to toss your body back over the Autumn Court border. He had not cared if you had lived or died, but something had changed. The way he defended you against Rhysand, treating you like his own daughter that he genuinely loved, unsettled you. It was an act so convincing that part of you wanted to believe it was real. But you weren’t stupid, you knew better. Beneath the surface, there was something evil and cunning behind his actions.

There was always an ulterior motive with Beron, that much you had been told by Eris. But if Beron had married you to Malgorm with the hopes that his second youngest son would eliminate you from his list of problems, then why bother being so nice to you? 

For a split second, your eyes had met Eris’s as you took his father’s arm. Panic flickered across his amber gaze before slipping away. That look haunted you as you walked – why was Eris so afraid? Even you knew that Beron wasn’t about to strike you down at that moment.

A thousand questions and thoughts swarmed your head as you ate. With a hearty sip of wine, you forced yourself to pay attention to the conversation at the table.

“The Lords from the remaining cities will be here in three days' time for the wedding,” Eris was saying to Beron. “Extra servants have been brought to the guest house to ensure all their needs are met.”

Beron spoke between bites, not bothering to look at his son. “And the wine storages are fully stocked?”

“Of course. I had extra barrels brought in just in case.”

The High Lord simply made a noise of what you assumed to be satisfaction. He turned towards you, those cunning eyes meeting yours. You fought the urge to squirm under his gaze. “Are you looking forward to your wedding, girl?” He asked. The question was pointed – phrased politely enough to not raise questions but there was a challenge underlying his voice. Beron was not an idiot, it was clear he had figured out you knew exactly what kind of male Malgorm was. Every wince in your movement had been noticed by the High Lord, it seemed. As he now dared you to protest the engagement.

The true Beron Vanserra seeping through the strained mask of a loving father.

But you did not give in. “Of course, my Lord,” You dipped your head politely. “It is an honour I could have only dreamed of. I look forward to being wed to your son.”

The High Lord pressed further, as if to urge a stronger reaction out of you. “Is it the wedding you always dreamed of having?”

“Not particularly. But only because I never thought I would be lucky enough to be engaged into someone of such royal status. Nor did I expect it to be a Lord of the Autumn Court. But this wedding is better than anything I could have ever hoped for as a child, and I thank you, High Lord.” A blend of truth and lies, the sweet spot to dealing with Beron Vanserra, as Eris had once told you. You could never outright lie to the male, for he had a talent of seeing right through it. Beron narrowed his eyes for a second, but thankfully did not press you further. Instead, he turned back to Eris. “Once Malgorm’s wedding is over, we will keep the staff for the next month to prepare for your wedding to Nesta. No use spending more gold sending them home only to have to bring them back two weeks later.”

Eris nodded. “An excellent idea, my Lord.”

As the eldest Vanserra discussed more details of the weddings with his father, you snuck a glance at Nesta. She sat across from you, eyes darting between her unfinished plate of food and the conversation between Eris and Beron. She sat stiffer than normal, as if being in close proximity to Eris was too much for her. Thankfully, no scent of the mating bond hung in the air between them, or between you and her, hiding this larger than life secret from Beron. 

More than anything, you wanted to go over to her. To sit next to Nesta and hold her hand, leaning into the comfort of her presence. It chipped away at your heart having to act so distant from the female, your mate. It was a hard act to keep up, and you didn’t know how Eris had survived for so long pretending to be so detached.

For the first time in days, you reached down through the bond towards Nesta. You did so as subtly as possible, as to not elicit any sort of reaction from her that might draw attention. On her end of the bond, it was as if a wall of storm clouds were surrounding her. You could feel her turmoil, a whirlwind of emotions so strong it nearly sent you back down to your end of the bond.

But you stayed, gently pressing into the thick wall on her end, urging her to let you in. At first, they did not give, shutting you out and preventing you from feeling her through the bond. Please, you begged her silently. And then you felt the clouds soften, allowing you to push through into the centre, towards the end of the bond. Instantly, you began to feel better, your nerves soothing as the bond warmed and brought you comfort.

But then you felt Nesta’s emotions through the bond. It took everything in you not to flinch as you stood in the eye of her hurricane. It was too loud, as if a thousand different voices were screaming at her at once. Guilt, anger, confusion, all crashing into her like the tidal waves of a raging sea. Yet none of it showed on her face, as if her emotions were not even there. You caressed her end of the bond, feeling the storm slow ever so slightly. It will be ok, you reassured her.

You saw Nesta’s shoulders relaxed a bit, and it took all your self control to go back to your end of the bond. You wanted to keep your mind huddled in there, soothing her and turning those grey clouds into distant memories. But you couldn’t, not with Beron there.

The sound of footsteps dragged your attention away from Nesta. A male in courtier attire appeared, bowing low and apologising for the interruption before insisting the Vanserra’s accompany him to attend to an urgent matter. Beron seethed, angry at being disturbed at meal time, but Eris spoke quickly. “Of course, we will see to it right away.”

Malgorm, Lirilla, Beorn, and Eris all stood up and began to follow the male, speaking in hushed voices leaving you and Nesta alone at the table. As the doors closed behind them, you peaked around at the ten guards in the room. No doubt they reported you and Nesta’s every move to Beron, making you unable to speak freely. Gods, it had been so long since you had a moment alone with Nesta. You had barely seen her in the last week with the wedding planning. 

After a few minutes of silence, Nesta finally spoke. “So, are you being kept busy with wedding preparations?” Her voice sounded forced and awkward, confusing you until you heard her speak a second time, but into your mind through the bond. The guards are listening. Keep talking about the wedding.

You cleared your throat, straightening your spine. “Yes, very much so. The different cake varieties I sampled were incredible. Would you like to hear about them? You’ll likely be presented with the same options in a few weeks.” Are you ok?

“Do tell.” Are you? Azriel told us about what Malgorm did to you. 

You barely heard yourself rambling on about various aspects of the wedding as you continued your mind speaking conversation with Nesta. Yes. No. I’m not sure. Things with him are already bad, and I’ve been told it’ll get worse once the wedding happens.

Like we said, we won’t let that happen.

Are you sure? Nesta blinked at your words. Because as much as everyone’s telling me I’m not allowed to know anything about your plan to stop the wedding and kill Beron, it really just seems like you have nothing. 

She did not respond. A chilly gust of wind seeped in through the cracked windows, unyielding against the blazing fires meant to keep the room warm. The candles flickered, and neither of you moved as you stared at each other. Well? You asked her. Am I wrong?

It’s not that. Nesta said, her blue-grey eyes going down to gaze upon the intricate designs of the table cloth. Eris, Azriel and I are at a disagreement about how to handle the situation. Eris and Azriel believe… Her voice in your head faded off like a song carried by the wind. 

You gulped, swallowing the lump in your throat. Well?

Nesta’s solemn gaze met yours. Eris and Azriel believe the best way to end the engagement is to kill Malgorm. And to frame you for it.

Your stomach dropped. You knew Eris was cutthroat and bold with his schemes, but this? This felt like a setup. Your trust with Eris had waxed and waned in the years you had known him, and since your arrival in Autumn he had done nothing to make you believe that he would betray you.

But if he was mated to Nesta as well, perhaps he did not want to share his mate. A mating bond affected males deeply, that much you knew. You willed your panicked breaths to cease as Nesta continued mind speaking. Eris would be the one to find you over Malgorm’s body and take you to the dungeons. That would lure Beron down for an interrogation, where I would be waiting with Eris to kill him. Eris claims that the shock of a bride killing her suitor before the wedding would be something Beron would want to keep under wraps, so he would be more likely to come to deal with the situation alone without letting the word get out that you were supposedly the one to kill Malgorm.

 So you’d use me as bait? Your throat was dry, stomach resisting the urge to hurl up lunch’s contents.

Silver fire flickered beneath Nesta’s eyes. Absolutely not. That is where we disagree. I am not willing to let you be put in this position. Too many things can go wrong.

I’ll do it.

Nesta’s slender hand curled tighter around her goblet of wine. No you will not. I wasn’t even supposed to tell you about this plan, (Y/N). Because this is exactly what Eris said you’d do.

So you’d rather me not have a choice, just like you didn’t have a choice either when you were shipped off to the House of Wind?

Your mate flinched as if she had been struck. Part of you regretted your words, but the other part didn’t. Nesta was being blinded by fear for your safety, as any good mate would. You knew it was unfair to compare the two very different situations, but that didn’t change how you felt. Nesta, I’ve had all of my choices ripped away from me these last few weeks. You know damn well how that feels. Please. As my mate, let me do this. Let me have this be my choice.

Her face softened slightly, contemplating your words. She sighed, pretending to fiddle with the hem of her sleeve as her voice sounded in your head again. Funny. Eris knew you’d say that too, if you found out. Something tells me the slippery bastard was banking on me telling you so he didn’t have to. I don’t think he wants to piss you off.

You chuckled into your wine as you took a sip. So, how do you plan on killing my beloved fiancée? Beheading? Death by glorious silver fire? Being fed to the dogs?

Believe me. After what Malgorm did to you, Eris wants nothing more than to make a public spectacle of his suffering. But we will have to be quick and discreet, lest we draw attention to ourselves. And it has to look like you did it, not us. 

How will that work?

We’re still figuring out the details. 

You folded your hands in your lap, taking a deep breath as you decided to finally address the elephant in the room. So… you and Eris?

Nesta stiffened visibly, her voice quieter in your head as if she was pulling back. I don’t want to talk about it.

Nes, please. We don’t have to talk about it right now but… but I need to hear it from you, not Azriel. Please, just tell me… is it true that a bond snapped between you and Eris?

A moment of silence before her answer. Yes.

Ok.

Ok? That’s it?

Well what do you expect me to say?

I don’t know. It feels strange, having more than one bond. It’s as if I am being unfaithful to you. Aren’t you supposed to be mad? 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, stabbing a piece of broccoli on your plate harder than necessary. Azriel asked me the same damn thing. And I’ll tell you what I told him: no, I am not mad. No, I am not jealous or hurt. Hell, I feel like I should be, but I’m not. I see no reason why potentially being loved by more than one person is a bad thing when it hurts nobody. 

But things have… happened between us. A faint blush crossed Nesta’s cheeks. Things I don’t just want to forget and let go of.

You remembered her words to you, those six words that made up the phrase you replayed in your head over and over again every day after Nesta was brought back from her hike with Cassian. It’s you. It’s always been you.

She had never explicitly said it, but Nesta loved you. And you loved her. No amount of mating bonds would change that.

And you don’t have to. Your hands tingled with the urge to reach across the table and entangle your fingers in her own. I certainly won’t. We can figure out what all of this means for us once things settle down, ok?

A hint of a smirk crossed Nesta’s lips. Remember that day after the Prison where you helped me bathe?

You were naked in front of me and I was too nervous to look because I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or pressured. Of course I remember.

There was a haunted glaze over her eyes that replaced the playful one. You’re so different from Cassian. He… he always wanted to fuck me in those moments where I was vulnerable. And I wanted it too, but… 

You finished her sentence for her. But he should have known better.

You felt something warm around your ankle. It was gentle, and you knew if you looked under the table and beneath your skirt you would have seen a silver flame there. It was electrifying, but not burning – a soft caress of reassurance.  

The sound of the doors opening snapped you out of your trance. A pissed-off looking Beron entered the room, his sons behind him with their heads low. Lirilla was nowhere to be seen.

You and Nesta quickly stood up, curtseying at the Vanserra’s. The atmosphere in the room tensed with their arrival, Beron’s anger casting a dark cloud over everything like the comings of a thunderous storm. His face was twisted with mal contempt as he resumed his seat at the head of the table, delving back into his food without giving the nod for the rest of the lunch party to sit down as well. The sound of the High Lord’s noisy eating echoed throughout the room. You clasped your hands together, impatiently wanting to sit back down.

After what seemed like forever, Beron finally nodded, urging the rest of you to finally take your seats. Malgorm reached behind you to pull out your chair, his hand conveniently brushing your backside along the way. It took every ounce of self control you had to not glare at him. He snickered as you stiffened at his actions.

“Father,” Eris spoke up smoothly. “Lady (Y/N) and Lady Nesta have finished their meals, and I believe you and my dear brother still have wedding matters to discuss. If it pleases you, I can escort both of them back to their chambers.”

Malgorm’s thin upper lip curled, eyes flashing with anger identical to Beron’s as he challenged his brother. “I can escort my own fiancée.”

Eris scoffed. “I saw you groping her ass just now. I do not think I can trust you to bring her back to her room without soiling her before the wedding.”

You cringed at his language, speaking of you as if you were a shiny new object. Females here were treated just as badly as in the Court of Nightmares. It would be hard for Eris to convince them to change their ways, and you doubted he would be able to do so without bloodshed. You wanted more than anything to make Autumn Court safe enough for Gwyn and Emerie to be brought here, along with any female who sought a better life. 

“You have no right to tell me what I can and cannot do with my wife, brother.” Malgorm snarled viciously, causing you to flinch.

“Silence!” Beron seethed. Malgorm’s eyes still burned with anger, but he clenched his jaw shut at his father’s orders. “Eris may not be able to tell you what to do, but I can. Eris is right – if you cannot be trusted to keep your cock in your pants, then you are not to be alone with your bride until after the wedding. She is to remain pure and untouched until you are married, am I clear, Malgorm?”

Malgorm sighed. “Yes, my Lord.”

“Then consider the matter closed.” Beron motioned for another glass of wine to be poured. “Eris, escort the females back to their respective chambers. Now.”

Eris nodded hastily, offering Nesta his arm as they both stood up. When they reached your side of the table, you took Eris’s other arm. His expression was unreadable as he led you away from the table, heavy doors closing behind you. 

 *********************

The three of you walked back to your bedroom in silence. Guards and servants hastily parted ways as you strode through the winding hallways. Eris held his head high, the perfect portrait of an arrogant eldest son. You wondered how many of the servants reported to Eris or Lirilla rather than Beron.

Autumn truly was a court of spiderwebs, each one carefully woven by each player of their own game. Unless you knew for sure who was loyal to who, nobody could be trusted. 

You relaxed when you saw Saeros and Ivar posted outside your door. They nodded to Eris ever so slightly, a reassuring sign that they wouldn’t repeat whatever they overheard. Beron’s eldest son ushered you and Nesta into your room, and only when the door closed and locked behind you did you let out a breath.

“We may speak freely here.” Eris said, igniting a small flame on his fingertip. He flicked his hand, casting it into the fireplace. A soft orange flow filled the room, chasing away some of the damp chill.

You kicked off your shoes and sat down in the middle of your bed, sighing against the soft pillows. You rubbed your temples, feeling the mattress sink beside you as Nesta joined you. Her comforting scent calmed you, and you finally reached down and entwined your fingers in hers. Warmth swelled in your chest through the bond, relief of finally having physical contact with your mate. Nesta’s gaze softened, her blue-grey eyes finally free of their cold mask. She squeezed your hand comfortingly, her free hand coming up to brush a lock of hair out of your face.

“So, (Y/N),” Eris drawled, crossing his arms and leaning against the tall bedpost. “Shall I challenge you to a blood duel for the hand of our mate?”

You felt Nesta stiffen beside you, and you shot a death glare at the Prince. “That’s not fucking funny, Eris.” You snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on (Y/N). It is a little funny, you have to admit. The female we both wanted to save from being swallowed by Rhysand’s dreadful court just happens to be both our mate? I find great irony in that, don’t you?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re an insensitive asshole?” You shot back. Beside you, Nesta’s lips twitched ever so slightly as if she were fighting off a chuckle.

“Oh, plenty. But it sounds so much better when you say it.” Eris purred. “Besides, I’m a very sensitive male. I got you guys your alone time at the table earlier, didn’t I?”

Nesta spoke up, confusion lacing her voice. “You planned that?”

Eris sighed dramatically, pressing a hand to his heart. “Your surprise wounds me, my love. Of course I planned it. With a bit of help from a certain shadowsinger in creating a distraction to pull my father away from his favourite meal.”

“You certainly have a lot of tricks up your sleeve.” You muttered, the heat from the fire finally beginning to warm you up. Nesta leaned closer into you, her arm grazing yours as she settled into the cushions.

The Autumn Prince smirked. “Always. Now, the elephant in the room is that (Y/N) and I are both mated to Nesta. However, that does not matter until we can end your engagement to Malgorm. But for the sake of efficiency, shall we put all discussions of mating bonds on pause for now while we figure out what to do about my brother?”

“Please.” You spoke at the same time Nesta said, “I would love nothing more.”

“Perfect. Now, I trust Nesta told you about how much she disagrees with mine and Azriel’s plan?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Yes, I did. And naturally, she was on board.”

Eris clasped his hands together smugly. “Good girl,” He said as he smirked at you. “I was right. Admit it, Nesta.”

“I’d rather stick pins in my eyes, thanks.” Nesta said dryly. You snorted at the deadpan tone of her voice.

“But they’re such pretty eyes.” Eris protested before continuing in a more serious manner. “Anywho, as I predicted, you are willing to play a role in this, correct, (Y/N)?”

You shifted against the pillows, nervous at the idea of the plan. But you forced your voice to be even as you said, “If you mean am I willing to be Malgorm’s bait, yes.”

“Make no mistake, I do not like it either. But as I am sure Nesta explained to you, framing you for his death would force my father to come deal with the matter personally. By having you chained up in the dungeons as evidence, it is more believable. Then, Nesta and I can kill him.”

“Why do your plans always involve me in chains?” You sighed.

Eris’s voice was like pure silk as he replied, “Maybe I just like the way you look tied up.”

“Eris.” Nesta growled, her voice low with warning. You couldn’t tell which your heart was fluttering from more – Nesta’s veiled protectiveness, or Eris’s flirtatious remark.

The Prince continued as if he had not heard her. “But yes, chains are a little extreme even for my taste. I will not lie to you, there are huge risks involved with this plan. And I promised Nesta I would be transparent with you. In order for it to be believable, you have to be there when Malgorm dies. And if you were without injury, my father would see right through it.”

Your mouth dried up at his words. As if sensing that, Nesta clamped her hand even tighter around yours. Her lips were drawn in a thin disapproving line, and you could feel her distaste for the plan through the bond. Even though it was written all over her face.

“So you’re going to let Malgorm beat me up a bit first?” You asked, swallowing the dread that was building up in your throat.

The look on Eris’s face was one of remorse, an expression you had not seen him wear before. “That’s the only way it’ll work, my dear.” He said softly. “My father needs to be able to smell Malgorm’s touch on you. Feigning injuries will not work in this case. The evidence of a struggle needs to be real.”

“Stop.” Nesta hissed at Eris. “We can’t do this. I will not stand by and let my mate get hurt by that male.”

“Nesta,” You said quietly, and her head turned back towards you. “He already has hurt me. After everything I’ve… after all that’s happened I can take it. I promise.”

“Besides, we will be right there in the shadows. We will not let anything terrible happen to you. You have my word.” Eris added in an attempt to ease Nesta’s worries.  

“Please.” Nesta’s voice was breaking barely above a whisper as she spoke to you, desperation in her grey eyes. “You have already sacrificed enough for all of this. I will support your decision but… please, don’t do this. We can find another way.”

You smiled sadly, cupping her cheek with your free hand and letting her lean into your touch. “We both know this is the only option. It’s okay, I can do this. Let me do this so we can finally be free of Beron and Malgorm.”

Nesta closed her eyes and sighed, but nodded. Gingerly, she grabbed your hand that was cupping her cheek and pulled it away. She pressed a soft kiss to the palm of it before entwining her fingers in your own. “Okay.” She said softly. “I trust you.”

Eris coughed, forcing you to break your gaze away from Nesta and focus back on him. “Now that that’s settled, we need to discuss the logistics of the plan.” He said. “(Y/N), Malgorm will undoubtedly choose to come see you here in this room. That’s where everything will take place.”

You frowned. “I thought your father banned him from being alone with me. Don’t your brothers obey your father’s orders?”

He shook his head. “Not Malgorm. His obsession with the chase of a forbidden female will tramp any desire to listen to Beron’s orders. The High Lord did us a favour and planted the seeds for him coming to seek you out somewhere that is not public, which gives us more privacy to kill him. I have no doubt he will come to your room tonight to spite my father.”

“Tonight?” Nesta said, tensing up beside you. “That soon?”

“I strongly believe so, yes. Malgorm will seek (Y/N) out tonight after most of the castle is asleep. She is to try and ward off his advances which will provoke him to anger. Then–”

You interrupted Eris. “Then I let him use me as a punching bag for a bit before you guys come in and kill him?”

“Not quite.” The male said, twirling the large amber ring on his finger. “He needs to die without magic being used to deal the blow, or else it won’t be believable since nobody knows you possess any kind of magic. Malgorm is to be slain with a dagger, the old fashioned way. Nesta will use her magic to restrain him and his powers, while Azriel comes in and deals the killing blow.”

“Azriel?” You baulked. “Why not you, Eris? Don’t you want to be the one to kill your brother?”

“Believe me, there are few things that would make me happier.” Eris said bitterly. “But Azriel can use his shadows to mask his scent – it would be too obvious if I killed him. My father knows exactly how I fight, how I wield a blade. We cannot take that risk. Plus, I believe the shadowsinger is still trying to make up for his role in your capture in the Night Court. Besides, I am trying to conserve my power to make killing my father as easy as possible.”

You hadn’t expected Azriel to be actively participating in this plan. It was an act of war for him to slay Malgorm, and a huge risk for him to take. But Eris was right – for the sake of evidence, it was easier if Azriel killed Malgorm with a blade than if Eris incinerated the bastard with his magic. “So what will you be doing amidst all this?” You asked. “Standing in the corner braiding your hair?”

“My job will be to keep you out of harm’s way after Nesta and Azriel enter the picture. And to provide backup if needed, but I am confident in Nesta’s ability to take on my brother alone. Especially with her hatred towards him.”

You glanced at Nesta, who met your gaze and nodded. “I will deal with Malgorm.” She promised, her voice cold.

“Once Malgorm is dead, Azriel will winnow Nesta away and I will make sure everything is in order. My guards have been instructed to enter the room once I depart, and they will take you to the dungeons while I go inform my father. You will be chained, but Azriel has the key. He will be in the cell with you, hiding Nesta with him. Once my father comes down, Nesta and I will work on killing him while Azriel unchains you. He will take you to my personal residence and get you healed up. Once Beron is dead, we will all breathe a sigh of relief.”

“And I won’t have to marry that awful male.” You added.

Eris nodded. “Precisely. by tomorrow morning, my father and brother will be dead, and I will be High Lord. And we will drink the best wine my court has to offer to celebrate.”

 *********************

It was impossible to try and sleep. You didn’t know why you bothered – perhaps it was an attempt to make time pass until the inevitable happened. Malgorm was coming for you. And every creak and noise from the surrounding area made you flinch.

It wasn’t the pain you were afraid of. Gods knew you had endured worse at the hands of Rhysand. It was the fact that so many things could go wrong. You were about to play a role in two murders. Well deserved ones, but murders nonetheless.

Please, You prayed to the Mother. Let us get through this.

You knew it was somewhat pointless, given that Estelle had said you were an incarnate version of the goddess she was. But you could still feel her presence, watching over you as if she, too, feared for what was going to happen. 

You knew Eris, Nesta, and Azriel were not far away, cloaked in the darkness by Azriel’s shadows as they waited. But even their presence was not enough to bring you comfort. Your body was sweating with dread, the usually comfortable mattress feeling like rocks as you tossed and turned.

It was going to be a long night.

 *********************

It was three hours later when the door creaked open, and you forced yourself to lie still as the unmistakable footsteps of Malgorm entered your room. The sound of a lock closing shut made your blood run cold. He was here.

You pretended to be asleep as you felt Malgorm walk around to the base of your bed. His presence was like a cobra in the dark, poised to strike at any moment, but not quite yet. The anxiety nearly made you tremble as you put on the best sleeping performance of your life.

You felt the covers being viciously yanked off of your body. Your surprised jolt awake wasn’t entirely an act. You blinked several times, panting frantically as your eyes focused on the male before you.

The sight of him made your stomach churn. Malgorm’s expression was nothing but predatory, his eyes practically glowing with glee in the dark as he drank in your nightgown-clad form. “Hello, lovely.” He purred.

You scrambled against the headboard, trying to cover your bare legs. “What are you doing here? It’s late, and your father said–”

“I don’t give a shit about what my father said.” Malgorm growled. “You are mine to do with as I please. Not even he has a say in that.”

You could feel Nesta’s anxiety through the bond, which increased your own. A large hand reached forward and grabbed your ankle, yanking you down to his end of the bed. Your body burned against the sheets as you were dragged towards him, squirming. “Please, don’t hurt me.” You begged.

“Please, don’t hurt me!” Malgorm mocked your voice before laughing and digging his sharp nails into your ankles. “I love it when they beg like that. So pathetic. I will not fuck you tonight, dear wife, that will have to wait until after the wedding I’m afraid. But I can enjoy other types of begging from you until then.”

Malgorm reached into his pocket and drew out the same knife had used the other day on you. In response, the barely healed cuts that littered your skin began to sting, as if he was reopening them all over again. Undoubtedly something he would likely try.

“I said no!” You shouted, bringing up your free leg and mustering all your strength to kick Malgorm between his legs.

The male let out a surprised groan as your foot connected with his groin. You gulped nervously – Eris had said to fight off Malgorm’s advances, but by the murderous look that crossed his face, you knew you had maybe taken it a bit too far.

“You little bitch.” Malgorm snarled furiously, tossing the dagger aside and launching himself at you. You had a split second to prepare yourself for his anger, and then the blows began.

Malgorm’s large form landed on top of you, his knees pinning down your legs as he drew back his fists and began bringing them down on you. 

The first blow collided with your stomach, knocking the air out of you. The second one came immediately after, agony lacing your cheek as his knuckles slammed into it. Your body screamed in pain as his fists pummelled you, punching and slapping with tremendous force. Through blurry vision, you saw his amber eyes wild with fury and glee as you squirmed beneath him. It was enough to fuel you with enough anger to finally begin fighting back. He had gotten his blows in, judging from the blood that pooled in your mouth. Now it was time to make the struggle look real.

With a strength you didn’t know you possessed, you freed your left hand and raked your nails across his face, clawing deep enough you felt blood. You screeched furiously as you began meeting his blows with your own, biting and clawing like a creature from hell. Malgorm continued to pummelled you with his fists, but you barely felt it as you savoured the growl of pain he emitted as you fought back, your elbow connecting with his chest.

You couldn’t tell if it had been hours or seconds before a current of silver fire exploded from the corner of the room, sweeping in and curling between your bodies. Malgorm’s weight was lifted off of you, his body thrown into the wall. Flames of silver wrapped around his wrists and legs, pinning him to the surface as he snarled furiously, Flickers of orange stemmed from Malgorm’s fingers, but were quickly smothered by the silver flames.

Through blurry vision, you saw Nesta emerge from the shadows, the dark ribbons peeling away from her body and skirting back to the towering form of Azriel. Hazel and silver eyes glowed in the darkness as Nesta approached Malgorm’s struggling form like a goddess of death, Azriel quietly beside her like the executioner of an ancient queen. Death and darkness, united against Malgorm who could do nothing but sputter angrily.

“You will never touch her again.” Nesta hissed at him, silver flames bathing her body like an otherworldly gown. They danced around her, happy to be unleashed.

“Let me go, cunt!” Malgorm spat.

“You will not speak to my mate that way.” A familiar voice sounded from behind Azriel. Eris peeled out of the shadows, his amber eyes blazing with fury. He came to stand beside Nesta, whose silver flames licked at his fingers, as if they wanted his attention.

“I should have known you were behind this.” Malgorm said furiously. “Once father finds out, he will have your head.”

“Father won’t find out.” Eris said coolly. “Because you won’t be alive to tell him. Actually, I had not even planned on making an appearance to you until I saw your corpse on the floor. But I had to see the look in your eyes when you knew you were going to die.”

“You won’t kill me.”

“No, I won’t. But he will.” Eris stepped aside to let Azriel stalk forward, shadows dancing around his scarred hands as the blade Malgorm had tossed aside gleamed in his hand.

To your delight, Malgorm’s eyes flickered with fear. Azriel had a reputation amongst all courts for his cruelty, it seemed. Even in your half-conscious state, you watched with a shiver of fear for Malgorm as the coldness in Azriel’s eyes made the room nearly freeze over. “Any last words, Malgorm?” Azriel’s voice was soft but lethal, the unmistakable voice of death against the echoing rush of Nesta’s silver fire.

“Father will kill you all.” Malgorm hissed, albeit with a hint of tremble in his voice.

“Beron will be dead before your body even grows cold.” Eris said before nodding at Azriel. Within a heartbeat, the shadowsinger brought the blade up to Malgorm’s neck and plunged it into his throat. It was messy and untrained, the opposite of how Azriel would normally deal a death blow – but it was a deliberate choice, you realised. One to make it look like you truly killed Malgorm.

A sick, gurgling noise echoed throughout the room as the male began choking on his own blood. It gushed from his throat, filling the air with a burnt, coppery stench. After the longest minute of eternity, the light left Malgorm’s eyes as he took his last attempt at a breath, body going limp under Nesta’s silver flames.

Malgorm’s body hit the ground with a thump, his face still twisted in a look of pure hate. The silver fire retreated, going back to Nesta’s fingertips. Not a single mark was left in the room from them, evidence of Nesta’s new control of her magic. You tried to turn your gaze to her, but Azriel blocked your view. The Illyrian crouched down beside you, pity in his hazel eyes as he muttered, “I apologise, this is going to be unpleasant but necessary.”

Before you could wrap your brain around his words, scarred hands filled with dark red blood met your own fingers. Azriel carefully painted Malgorm’s blood on your hands, face, and chest, using his fingers to flick it as if it were paint and you the canvas, creating a splatter effect. You fought the urge to gag at the scent, a single tear falling down your cheek as the adrenaline wore off and the pain from Malgorm’s fists began to take over.

When he was done, Azriel carefully placed the blade next to you, staging the perfect crime scene.

“(Y/N)...” Nesta’s worried voice sounded through your weary blinks, but was cut off by Eris’s sharp voice.

“Az, get her out of here. Now.”

You whimpered, but had only a split second to see the horrified look on Nesta’s face before Azriel’s shadows encased her, whisking her away.

“I know it hurts, love,” Eris said softly, having crouched down beside you. “You were brave, and I am so proud of you.”

And then you felt it. 

That tug in your chest that had always led you straight to Nesta and her mind.

Only this time, there was a fork in the path, a new rope to travel down. You felt yourself falling down it, away from the comforting silver clouds of Nesta’s end of the bond and into the red mists. The scent of smoke and evergreens enveloped your senses, and your skin was hot as if you were being bathed in flame.

At the very end of the magical rope, orange flames burned. Your eyes snapped open, suddenly seeing clearly as you met the orange flaming eyes of Eris.

The male at the other end of the rope. The mating bond.

“Eris…” His name felt different on your tongue than the hundreds of other times you had said it. This time, it was like a sacred prayer in a forgotten language was being uttered from your lips, the world itself spinning around you – and not just from the punches to the head that you took.

“I am sorry…” Eris’s voice was soft, and to your confusion, lacked the surprise that was reflected in your own.

Then it hit you. You reached down into the newly snapped bond, feeling the whirlwind of emotions of the flames that surrounded it. There was sadness, fear, and about fifty other different emotions, but not the one that you had expected the most: shock.  

Your stomach dropped, and you could barely hear your own voice as you spoke. “You… you knew.” You rasped.

Eris said nothing, only stared down at you with sadness and regret across his pale face.

You sat up, and said stronger this time, “You KNEW? All this time, you knew that you were…” Your voice trailed off, and you swallowed your own blood before uttering the phrase you never thought you’d say to him: “You knew that you’re my mate?”

He did not answer, but his expression said it all.

“YOU KNEW!” You screamed at him hoarsely. “Look me in the fucking eyes and tell me that you knew, all this time, that I was mated to you. And that even after I placed all my trust in you, put my fucking life in your hands, you still kept it from me.” Every word was agony, but you didn’t care.

The prince swallowed, his face breaking. “Yes. I knew.”

Tears flowed down your face. “Since when?”

“Since the Winter Solstice when Azriel took you away.”

You let out a sob, the force of it aching your sore ribs. Each breath was shaky, and you pulled yourself away from the bond, feeling the sting of the action deep within your chest. 

Eris had known since the ball in the Hewn City. You had trusted him with your plan, having felt something within that reassured you that you could trust the male. You could never explain it, choosing to justify it with a dozen other reasons. But now you knew why.

Was that the only reason Eris had helped you? Not because he truly cared, but because a mating bond forced him to care? The thought stung, and you recalled every time you had looked at him while in Autumn, and wondered how he could look you in the eyes and pretend he wasn’t keeping this big secret from you.

Once again, Eris Vanserra proved himself a liar.

“(Y/N)...” He began.

You cut him off. “Don’t. I don’t want to hear your excuses or more lies. It doesn’t change the fact that you kept this from me for weeks, for months. You’re a snake, Eris. And you’re no better than your father.”

Eris flinched as if you’d slapped him, a faint pooling of tears forming in his eyes. But you didn’t care, you just kept going.

“Get out.” You growled. “Get the fuck out of my sight. You’re fucking dead to me. I don’t care if you’re my mate. If you were a halfway decent male, you’d have fucking told me about the mating bond. But you’re not. So get out. GET. OUT.” You screamed the last two words at him, and as your vision faded to black you saw a single tear slip down his cheek as Eris stood up and left the room.

You didn’t even feel Saeros and Ivar dragging you to the dungeon.

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