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flyingseacow · 1 year

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Hey @xxtc-96xx ?

I found myself pondering the existence of Stripe, and the mental stage Scarfy would have to reach and uh.

I wrote you a fic? Hope you like it?

Stripes

It had been nice.

Mewtwo lazily floated along the edge of the forest, casually noting how the jungle was lining the steppe, lines of trees breaking into the yellow grass like green stripes.

It was rare that they all came together, sure they often ran into each other, or sought out company when they felt it. But a full meeting with all of Mew’s descendants together was quite uncommon now a days.

Their number had grown so much, now able to fill a hidden glade with color and movement.

The twins were getting so big, it wouldn’t be long before they would set out on their own. He would likely get more visits from his sister as the “nest” became empty. Or perhaps she would seek out Pigment, Stain was still enough of a youngster that he might soothe the heart of a successful mother. Perhaps he could join the three for a time as well. It wasn’t because he felt lonely himself, not at all. But after the brief meeting he had to admit it had been nice to be around his kind, regardless, or perhaps exactly because of the chaos the young ones induced.

Huh, what an odd thought.

A flash of red caught his attention. Cheri berries sparkled between green leaves.

Mewtwo gently descended.

Ah yes, sweet Cheri, Huey was rightfully proud of the rascal, even if the youngsters colorization did feel like a cosmic joke.

Mewtwo felt himself chuckle slightly at the age-old joke, using his scarf as a temporarily bag as he plucked several ripe berries, gently striped in color from the different levels of sunlight received. He was long past the days were Mew, well intended if rather disturbingly, had constantly nagged him about eating enough. Sure he still had lapses, eating was easily forgotten when focused on a new project or thought experiment, but the last time was at least…huh, half a decade ago?

How peculiar, he thought. Though, loath as he was to admit it, Mew had been right all those years ago (as well as his sister, not that he would ever admit it to her face) He really did feel much stronger, more centered and even troublesome memories was less harsh.

He snorted slightly to himself and set of, making sure the new weight was secure against his chest. For a moment memory, pleasant ones, assaulted him. The weight of a small squirming body settling against him, a separate heartbeat slowly syncing with his own.

Mewtwo found himself closing his eyes, some of the memories was fairly recent. Stain was such a fuzzy child, but even he could not deny the security of the warm and snug fabric. Of course, he was too big for it now, and Mewtwo found himself strangely missing the sensation.

How silly.

Right now he really should be more focused on finding a new place to enjoy his lunch, and he carefully scanned the treetops as he veered away form the steppe and directly into the jungle.

There.

A slight gab between the canopy, revealing a grass covered glade.

He landed, and found a nice grassy knoll as a temporary seat. The berries were slightly warm from the sun and his own heat, their juices prickling pleasantly against his tongue.

The glade had a beautiful bloom of flowers, all stretching out for the sunlight available, the tops of the trees filtering the light in flickering stripes of light, and Mewtwo was quite pleased with his choice of resting spot. So many colors, so many shapes and scents. Even after centuries the world still presented him with new beauty and color.

One particular bloom was quite spectacular, its diameter larger than his fist, the tips of the petals a rich purple, fading in small stripes to a more gentle lavender towards the middle where soft yellow stamens rose, their pollen delicately clinging to the stalks.

He found himself contemplating it, internally marking the spot on his inner map. Huey would be glad to be show it. Even as a small kit he had been so delighted with the colors of the world. So silly, such a tremendous change in his life, the very idea of their kind actually being able to reproduce, as well as so many other revelations.

Mewtwo rested his chin in his paw, still watching the flower. It was strange, how he could now look back to those chaotic, painful and wonderful days with only an occasional sting of emotional pain.

He had regrets, sure, but also so many pleasant memories. The children in particular, so baffling, so infuriating, so wonderful.

He closed his eyes, gently allowing himself to study a thought he has been carefully cultivating, so cautious, so wary as it was one of the few that still brought pain.

Pigment had changed his life, in so many ways. And it could have gone so wrong, he had initially made such mistakes. And only now, years and years later, did he truly allow himself to wonder. How would it have been, if he had accepted her as a daughter from the very beginning?

He knew it never would have happened, quite honestly he had been such a volatile pokemon back then that it was a wonder Pigment had turned out as well as she had. It was merely a thought experiment, and not one he turned to very often.

Perhaps he really would seek her out for the time. Why not? Loath as he was to admit it, right now he did feel a need for company.

Carefully he rose, taking a moment to gently savour the scent of the purple flower, its fine floral tones rising in the air along with small yellow specs of pollen.

As he ascended above the trees he carefully cast out his mental senses, trying to pinpoint Pig’s distinct psychic presence. Finding a direction, he set of with a casual speed. Even if had only been a few days it would be quite nice to be around her again.

Mewtwo had only flown a few hours when he noticed a strange tingling feeling in his lover abdomen.

Darn it, he really hoped those cheri had not been bad, or that it heralded something worse than that.

#xxtc-96xx #fanfic #of a fancomic #Pokemon #Mewtwo #the timeline between the kids are pure guesswork #I most likely got it wrong #behold my clumsy attempts at stuffing as many references to striped patterns into this #Oh well #its just a fun little experiment

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gabessquishytum · 7 months

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omg step up dance movie my beloved. And you're so right, the dynamic of rich snooty ballet dancer and not rich hip hop dancer from "the wrong side of the tracks" is so dream/hob. the hip hop dancer character feels like it fits hob so well too bc it's like. The feeling and expression of self in hip hop is... Very different from the strict rules and standards of ballet. Hob doesn't hate ballet, but he didn't grow up with it, not being from a particularly wealthy background. And he does feel hip hop is a superior form of dance in that it is so much more... Free. And honest and raw and real. Less tense over rehearsed painful movements and more flowing authentic and human.

Dream however. He could not disagree more. He doesn't even consider "hip hop" or "street" dancing as real dancing. Real dancing is practised, incredibly difficult routines and strict schedules (not just around rehearsing but eating too). Real dance is something you devote your whole life to, not something you do for fun in your free time (whatever that is) with your friends (another concept dream isn't very familiar with). Has he actually deigned to watch any hip hop dance? Don't be silly, he doesn't have time to waste on something so frivolous.

Dream turned up early (as usual) for practise before classes and scheduled rehearsal time. He assumed the studio would be empty as it usually was at this hour, however walking down the hall the sound of ... Heavy bass and a seductive rhythm with lyrics to match spilled out from his studio (okay it's technically not his but no one else uses it nearly as much as him so it might as well be) down the corridor. Dream slows down, curious, if a little annoyed, that his early morning extra practice was going to be delayed in the least. When he gets to the door what he sees stops him dead and makes his mouth fall open. What this man is doing with his body is... Unholy to say the least but dream can also appreciate the muscle control and timing displayed here from a technical stand point. Of course he isn't observing for any other reason. Not bc the way this man's hips move is hypnotic and quite frankly down right sinful. Dream becomes aware that he's staring and has inexplicably started to grow hard, which his legging do very little to conceal.

Anyway pretty please share anything that dreamling step up makes you think of !!! I would be forever grateful 🙏💞

AJSJDJFJDBD YEAH <333

Absolutely love this. I'm imagining that Hob notices that Dream is there and the two of them immediately get into an argument about who booked the studio to use, which devolves into Dream saying "your dance form is ridiculous and foolish so you should just give me the studio" and Hob is like??? WHAT??? He can't believe anyone would be so rude but he's got to fight back. He tells Dream that ballet isn't even that hard, anyone can do it if they're rich enough.

Dream runs at Hob, intending to demonstrate that Hob won't even be able to catch him - let alone do a lift. But he's very surprised when Hob grabs him by the hips and effortlessly shifts him into a fucking angel lift.

Dream is unmistakably hard and blushing. Hob is like "You shouldn't have done that, you didn't know that I wouldn't drop you" and Dream can't even SPEAK. He decides to graciously allow Hob to finish his practice session (while he sneakily watches from the side of the studio). Hob keeps smirking him in the mirror and Dream genuinely has to cross his legs to avoid being caught with a major boner in his leggings.

He later discovers that Hob has quite a big following online for his dance videos and tutorials. He stays up way too late (far out of his usual strict schedule) watching Hob dance. He is undeniably beautiful and talented but more than anything he looks so happy! He looks like he's enjoying himself, like he enjoys his own body and what he can do with it. He wears baggy track pants for most of his routines but Dream is still convinced that he's caught a glimpse of a very impressive bulge.

Not to mention that Hob occasionally dances shirtless... and that some of his videos are more thirst trap than dance...

So what can Dream do but show up at the same time next week to see Hob all over again? Hob seems pretty thrilled to see him, anyway. He even offers to share his breakfast (another big step outside of routine for Dream, who hasn't eaten a store bought pastry for... a very long time). And when Dream gets up to start his practice, Hob settles in to watch with a wink.

"You had an opportunity to thirst over me. Now I'm repaying the favour. I want you to show me why ballet is the superior form."

And Dream has never been able to resist a challenge...

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #ballet au

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meabh-mcinness · 1 year

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~~(⁎❛ᴗ❛⁎)~~ Requests are closed

Commissions page here!

Patreon here!

Ko-fi here!

-Rules!

Right now, I'm strictly writing for the Mairimashita! Iruma-kun fandom and monster x readers. Please keep requests within that frame!

I write NSFW (both gore and happy fun times) but there are certain kinks I won't write. Including but not limited to: urophilia, underage, age play (light play such as calling "baby" is fine, I'm talking about the more hardcore version with nappies and stuff) r*peplay and a few others. If what you want isn't on this list, but you're still not sure, then dm me! I'm more than happy to talk about it!

You can ask for head cannons, scenarios, fics or even request prompts!

It may take a while for me to write, so please be patient!

Masterlist

Key:

Angst Ⓐ

Smut ♣ Multichapter ■ Fics ♪ Ficlets ♦ Headcannons ☼ Drabbles ⌂

Balam Shicirou

*In Sickness (x gn reader) ♪

Humans do not have ‘Evil Cycles’ it’s true. However, they can bend under stress in other ways. Some lose their minds and others present more physical symptoms. With all the stress of parenting, working as a teacher, and doing your best to make sure no one figures out either your or Iruma’s rather human status, it’s no wonder you fall victim to a stress fever. Luckily for you, the resident gargoyle demon is more than happy to help nurse you back to health once he discovers your ill state.

Family Day (x mom!reader)♪

In Schenell's endless quest for Ameri's love, he accidentally turns Iruma into a toddler. This would have been fine, if he had a remedy for said confliction. Now, as you wait for the restorative potion to be made, you get the joys of spending time with both your son as a tiny tot and Shichirou as he joins you for the day.

Naberius Kalego

Kalego courting human!reader☼

For Charity (xfemhuman!reader) ♣♪

When Sullivan throws a charity event for repairs due to the six fingers damage, you end up getting thrown into the auction so that some rich sod can get a date. Luckily, you had your own personal guard dog who comes to your rescue.

Thumping - (Naberius Kalego x GN!Reader) ♦

On Earth, it's common knowledge that when scratched correctly, a canine's leg will start uncontrollably thumping. Even with this in mind, you really didn't see coming that the Babyls 'Guard Dog' would have the same issue.

Cheating (Kalego x gn!reader)♪

As a teacher at Babyls, you had to go through and experience many things. Demon-eating plants on the loose, potion labs blowing up, and the many, many events that Babyls put on and almost always had something go wrong before you, the teachers, had to fix it. In the few years you had been there, you thought you had gone through it all, until now. For the first time ever, you had caught a student cheating.

Naberius Narnia

*Love Lost (x gn reader) Ⓐ ♪

The Naberius’s were the clan of unwaveringly loyal guard dogs. Each and every member was raised with the strictest guidelines and expectancies, and those who failed were disgraced. The latest members were the elder brother Narnia and the younger brother Kalego. Both excelled and will excel at every challenge thrown their way, until Narnia didn’t. One mistake led to a life of regret and a love lost.

Narnia courting human!reader☼

Dance With Me (xfem!reader)♦

When Iruma becomes scared by "Fenrir", it isn't Amaryllis that comes to save him, but an unknown woman instead. An unknown woman who is quite unhappy with the way her partner is acting and isn't afraid to show who exactly is in charge in their relationship.

The Price of Freedom - request (Yandere!Narnia x fem!reader)Ⓐ

Narnia keeps you trapped on the property to keep you safe from the rest of the Netherworld and while his intentions are good he's doing more harm than intended. After all, humans are social pack animals meant to be able to roam about wild and free. And while there are exceptions to every rule, you are not one of them. So when you see a chance to leave, you take it. Leaving your heart behind but gaining your freedom in the process.

The Cost of Love pt. 2 (Narnia x fem!reader) ♪

As a runaway, you relished your newfound freedom after escaping from your possessive partner, Narnia. Exploring the Netherworld and forging new friendships, you grapple with profound loneliness, longing for Narnia's presence. Your world is turned upside down when you discover you're pregnant with Narnia's child, a cambion. Faced with this life-altering revelation, you must confront a heart-wrenching decision: return to Narnia, now a powerful political candidate in the Netherworld, or go it alone, going through an entire pregnancy and raising your unique child amidst the complexities and dangers of the Netherworld.

Opera

Bake Date (Opera x gn!reader)♦

Fresh from the human world, you can't help but feel out of place as the new lady of the manor. Far too used to having to take care of yourself and Iruma by doing everything from cooking and cleaning to working long hours in the hopes of giving him a better life, you felt rather disgruntled at having absolutely nothing to do. After all, your adoption into the Sullivan family meant getting a do-it-all family butler who refused to allow you to do anything even remotely based in those categories. However, in all these years you had actually grown rather fond of baking.

And come hell or high water, you were going to enjoy the kitchen space again.

Any Relationship/Choose your own adventure

Hide and Seek (any demon x gn!reader)♦♣

Living anywhere was dangerous. Natural disasters, man or demon-made catastrophes, or something bigger and stronger than you comes along and decides you would make the perfect meal. A more than good enough meal that they are more than willing to chase, hunt down, and devour you whole.

Multi Relationship/Poly

A Holiday Treat ♪♣

Me and my friends are spiritual whores. Happy late holidays. Enjoy this filthiness.

No Relationships/General

Peppermint (gn reader) ♪

Living in the human world had meant learning tips and tricks to keep pests at bay while still enjoying small luxuries. Such as using lavender to deter bed bugs the one time you bought and forgot to clean a comforter at a thrift store, or peppermint around windows and doors to keep spiders outside. You hadn't known, of course, that such tricks could apply to pests in the Netherworld too. You couldn't decide whether you were happy or not to discover they did in fact do so.

Boss B*tch - request (gn!neutral reader & Iruma)♦

When Narnia tries to put Iruma in his place, it ends up being him who is shot down instead. By you, Iruma's parent, who is none too pleased that an overconfident mutt hurt their baby's feelings. Luckily, if there is one thing humans are good at, it's mimicking that they are much more fearsome predators than they actually are.

Stories/Headcannons coming soon!

*Tittles and summaries are subject to change*

Misunderstandings - request (Balam Shichirou x fem!reader)♪

When Sullivan goes on the news to brag about his family after the events of Walter Park, he does a bit more damage than just turning the entire Netherworld's attention onto Iruma. He also brings their attention to you, as both the only childe of Sullivan and the unwedded mother of new hero Iruma. This would have been fine, if it wasn't for the numerous amounts of proposals and courtships you were being offered on the daily for the past several months now. This certainly would not do. Neither Sullivan nor Iruma were prepared for even the idea of letting you go to another. As such, operation protect the daughter/mother was a go.

Birthday Surprise (Shichirou x Kalego x intersex!reader) ♣♪

When you had agreed to venture over to Shihirou's house after work today, you certainly hadn't been expecting this. Between teaching, helping Shichirou with his research, and making sure no one discovered either your or Iruma's human status, it had been all too easy to forget. Luckily, you had two observant partners who were all too happy to remind you that it was your birthday.

Rutting Season - request (Schichirou x fem!reader)♣♪

The past few weeks, you had noticed your partner acting very odd. Constantly shadowing you when he wasn't in class, bringing about multiple gifts, and being extremely irritable to everyone but you. It's only when you find a book Clara left behind that you finally understand what's happening. Shichirou has entered a pre-rut. And he's courting you as a rutting partner.

Queen B*tch Pt.2 - request (gn!reader & Iruma)♪

When you told Iruma to prove that humans belonged to the demon world as well, you hadn't quite expected the Deviculum to go quite this south. First Baal runs his mouth and now a giant was wreaking havoc on what was supposed to be a ball. And all but one of these demons can do is panic and protect themselves, rather than working together to bring down the threat. Perhaps you would be showing Fenrir why humans were so feared after all.

Devi Stage (Narnia x chubbyfem!reader) (Love Stage inspired/parody) ■

When you are talked into attending a ball in Iruma's place, you meet Narnia, who is also attending as a security devil. When you get to talking and find you actually enjoy one another's company, you're both disappointed when you have to separate for the night and forget to ask for one another's numbers. Flash forward to the Deviculum in which you're attending with Iruma and Narnia receives the nasty shock at the revelation that you are in fact a human.

#blog rules #request rules #headcannons #drabble #fic stuff

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dat-bruv-person · 2 years

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hii, i dont know if u accept requests but if yes, i am interested in your work "oh to be harbinger"? I'm not sure now and I wanted to ask if you could write something in the style where Signora is like an older sister/friend for the reader and reader is dating dottore or pantalone? I'll leave the choice up to you, i just wanted to know how they will react when they see s/o is on the verge of a breakdown

if it's uncomfortable, feel free to ignore it and have a nice day, thank you <3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ oh to be a confidante

a/n: this is a really nice request! Oh, and also don't be mislead by the title, it refers to Signora rather than the reader.

gn!reader, poc!reader friendly <3

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Pantalone holds you by the waist tenderly, you on the verge of tears. The Harbinger's heart hurts to see you like this: you were always strong and firm, yet a joy to be around. You were fun to tease, and a good sport, which is what attracted him to you. However, this was all because of The Fair Lady: Lady Signora. When you first joined, you were completely different, but she moulded you to become a person of elegance and great strength, so you naturally became the Tsaritsa's favourite: the Tertia Rosa. Signora was your everything, had a deeper place in your heart than even your rich boyfriend. She was your first companion, the first to see you cry and the first to cheer you up. You were her everything, her confidante, her best friend, she vowed to be your older sister. Now you were crying because of her. Oh to be a confidante, you were supposed to trust and embrace each other, never to be the cause of the other's woes.

Poor Pantalone, all through the funeral he could see you were struggling, and through the sealing of Zapolyarny Palace you were practically crying, although tears didn't spill from your eyes. He went out to buy you gifts upon gifts, untied his hair to let you play with it, exchanged coats with you, got you a fluffier one, wiped your tears yet none of his actions seemed to affect you like Signora's did. You lay on your giant, king-sized bed in your mansion, eyes dull and glossy. You couldn't cry. Your boyfriend sat at your bedside with Arlecchino, who'd had a crush on you for quite some time now, but couldn't do anything but look jealously at you and Pantalone together. She could comfortably you wayy better than him. Who cheers a person up with gifts when you have physical affection to show??? Oh to be a confidante, others can replicate your affections and persona, yet they can never be them.

The Knave and Regrator watched with wide eyes as you obliterated Childe. You took out every single gram of your anger onto the ginger, every ounce of pain and anguish. You pretended he was the Shogun, your best friend's killer. She would be crushed like a bug, you made sure of it. You wielded your visions gracefully yet ruthlessly and with brutal strength. Childe might as well've been dead, because you were relentlessly dicing up his body as if he were onions, or apples for a small child to eat. (Pun intended). Oh to be a confidante, the things that you promise and vow to keep and never share to the world may be so deadly, one may commit suicide for the other.

You miss The Fair Lady. You miss Signora. You miss Rosalyne.

#ainsley answers #ainsley's gift pile #ainsley writes #genshin x reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin angst #signora x reader #signora angst #genshin x poc!reader #genshin x black reader #pantalone x reader #pantalone x gn reader #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino angst

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rhaenella · 9 months

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You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 17

Part 16 | Part 18

Summary: What happens when reader assassin is tasked with killing the possible future mayor of London; Rhys Montrose. Politician by day, Eat the Rich Killer by night. But he isn’t the only person wearing different masks.

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, smut

Word count: 5k

A/N: at the end.

Song: Lavender Haze – Taylor Swift

“Oi! Watch where you’re going!”

A group of obnoxious tweens bustled their way into the busy underground station, harshly bumping into you in the process.

“For fuck’s sake,” you bristled, checking whether they hadn’t sneakily pickpocketed you. You could never be too sure in this city.

You continued towards the exit of Russell Square station, on your way towards the park bearing the same name. At the park you would meet up with an associate of yours. A very secretive one that is. Understandably so, as his business wasn’t exactly part of the normal world of economic trade. He would be able to provide you with an illegal but quite essential product, something you needed for tonight’s big event — the murder of one Daniel Fernsby.

Since you’d met up with Ms. Edwards nearly a week ago, you hadn’t been sitting still, diving back into the job you were so tremendously good at. You’d quickly decided that tonight’s greatly anticipated social event would be the perfect opportunity to get close to Fernsby without raising much suspicion. Besides, Ms. Edwards wanted Fernsby to be found dead in public, so you would honour her request.

The plan was straightforward. Later this evening, Fernsby would attend a private and highly exclusive dinner and auction, hosted by Sotheby’s. Their regular auctions were already intended for only the highest rankers of the social elite, but tonight that would be even more true.

For a few days you contemplated the best way to access the event, carefully weighing your options. You’d ultimately decided to pretend to be one of the prestigious guests, ready to spend a disturbing amount of money on some work of art. There was only the issue of gaining an invite and unfortunately for you, those weren’t exactly easy to come by, or forge. Sotheby’s top management handpicked the riches and sent out the invites themselves. Not to mention, their security was top-notch. Simply put, if you weren’t on the list, they’d never let you in.

Luckily for you, you had another contact who would be able to help you tackle this hurdle — Colin Turner, a shy and geeky student from the same uni your sister attended.

As a talented young hacker, the lad had the means and skills to place you on the invites’ list, hacking Sotheby’s state of the art computer system. Colin had informed you that it might take a while to get it done and you were still waiting on the confirmation that he succeeded. You sincerely hoped he would come through in time. But you weren’t too worried, he always did.

The planning of your next hit and all of the preparations that came with it meant you hadn’t seen much of Rhys lately. None in fact. Except for the late-night phone calls and the good morning texts. You kept each other updated on each other’s lives and happenings as much as you could, highly aware of the fact that you weren’t able to discuss the most sensitive details over the phone.

It wasn’t entirely your fault that you hadn’t seen each other after that one, very blissful night. Rhys had been quite busy himself, with the announcement, his campaign now in full motion, and of course the charity run he’d been organising and planning for weeks in advance. It had been a great success. A lot of money was raised, which would be donated to cancer research. You’d both been thrilled, but even more so for what it would mean for his campaign. Rhys was already popular and this win right at the start garnered him even more support. It was all a political game and Rhys was damn good at playing it.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

You came to a stop, your gaze falling upon a young couple with two small children. The man’s accent indicating they were tourists. That and the puzzled expression as, presumably, his wife tried to make sense of a map of London.

“Do you know where the British Museum is?”

“Yes, of course,” you smiled kindly.

You concisely explained the directions, pointing on the map and then in the direction of the museum and which road to take. They thanked you at least three times and were quickly on their way to the museum where their own national art was likely wrongfully on display, two babbling kids in tow. You shook your head. Good god, you weren’t a museum robber but that one certainly inspired you to want to play Robin Hood.

Five minutes later, without any more strangers interrupting your journey, you entered Russell Square Park. You were unable to keep the smile off your face as you looked at the newsstand, a very familiar face gracing today’s front page of The Times.

Rhys’ face was absolutely everywhere. And you were very appreciative of the fact that the press hadn’t yet figured out your identity. Which is also why you hadn’t gone to Lewisham for Rhys’ announcement, not wanting to draw too much attention to yourself. Besides, it was his moment.

Zoe had been right about the media frenzy, though. One day, sooner or later, you knew you would have to deal with it.

You couldn’t ignore the slight nervousness you felt for how it would affect your own freedom, especially in terms of how you lived your life. And you were also slightly concerned for the safety of your sisters. The whole Lockwood situation had made you even more mindful of what, or whom, you could potentially lose if you ever made a mistake like that again. There was currently only one other person who knew you through your work, and that was Ms. Edwards. You trusted her, to a degree. Even so, you had to be extra careful meeting new clients from now on, never letting your guard down.

But for the moment, you enjoyed your anonymity, brushing off the festering nerves inside of you. You’d even smiled to yourself as you had overheard two elderly women discussing the latest gossip on the tube a couple of days ago, holding a copy of The Mirror, wondering out loud who the dashing woman was that Rhys Montrose was keeping a secret, and why he would. Was it because she would cause a scandal for him?

It was quite amusing, you had to admit. And some part of you wanted to agree with them, you’d likely cause a scandal if the public found out their potential new mayor was seeing an assassin. Then again, voting a serial killer into office… Well, it was all up to them in the end.

You walked towards the park’s centre, taking note of every single person in the park at this hour. It was nearing lunch time, which meant it was quite busy, just as the station had been. That was good. It would allow you to blend in as much as possible. But it also urged you to be extra cautious, making sure there were no people around who were secretly watching you. Specifically, the police, either in uniform or plain-clothed.

When you neared the centre, your eyes slid over the frame of a handsomely dressed man sitting on one of the many benches. The man was about forty years old and you’d never seen him not wearing one of his impeccable and rather expensive suits. Overall, you would describe him as attractive, for sure.

He sat legs crossed, engrossed in reading today’s newspaper. The Times. It was even easier to recognise as Rhys was on the front page.

The meeting and the approach always followed the same exact instructions. When your contact would be reading The Times, the financial page to be correct, only then would you be cleared to make the approach. But first and foremost, it was crucial to not appear to be conversing with one another.

Which is why you slowed your pace a mere ten metres away from the man, taking your phone from your purse and pretending to answer it. You saw the man discreetly glance up at you and check his surroundings before returning his attention to the newspaper. He turned towards the next page, laying it on his knee, allowing you to see that it was opened on the financial section. That was your cue.

Casually walking towards the same bench, you sat down beside the man. He didn’t spare you a single look as he took out his own phone from his inner coat pocket, bringing it up to his ear.

“Mr. F,” you greeted under your breath. “Have you been able to acquire what I requested?”

“Oh, dear,” Mr. F scoffed jokingly. “Have you met me?”

“Not the real you, I imagine.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his lips twitch into a charming, little smile. He didn’t bother to correct you, nor would you have expected him to. You were both part of a secretive world, one where you didn’t stick around to make friends.

Mr. F kept his eyes trained on his surroundings, making sure the coast was still clear before sliding his free hand into his inner coat pocket once more, retrieving a small bottle. A perfume bottle to be exact. He carefully placed it on the bench between the two of you.

“I took you for a Chanel lady. I hope it’s to your liking.”

“I’m sure it is,” you said, swiftly taking out a small, folded paper bag filled with his payment.

The travel sized perfume bottle was small enough to conveniently carry with you in your purse, and thus easy to smuggle into the venue tonight unnoticed. Of course, it wasn’t actually filled with Chanel no. 5. Although, no one would be able to tell just by looking at the bottle — it seemed perfectly common, like any you’d pick up at the store. But in reality, it contained a highly toxic poison, capable of killing a grown man within minutes.

“My apologies for the increased prices.”

“Inflation is hitting all markets,” you joked.

“Indeed, it has,” he smirked.

You put away the poison filled bottle in your purse whilst Mr. F tucked his money into his coat pocket.

“Pleasure doing business with you, as always.”

“The pleasure is all mine, dear.”

With that, you stood up, walking back into the direction of the station. Not a single person in the park had taken notice of the quite illegal transaction taking place right in front of them. After all, the entire exchange had only lasted a minute or two, and not once did you make direct eye contact with each other. It was safest that way, for both of you.

As you walked down the road, your phone buzzed and you took it from where you were still holding it to your ear. Better to be safe than sorry.

>>> I’m at the restaurant. How long will you be?

Claire.

You were meeting her for lunch after not having seen her in person since she’d dropped you and your sisters off at Rhys’. It’d been a crazy couple of weeks and a lot had happened.

Finally, you’d been able to find the time to meet up with Claire. Even though you were in the midst of your killing preparations, you were determined to find a moment to see each other, planning to meet up for lunch.

<<< I’ll be there in ten.

You quickly sent your reply, smoothly transitioning from your hidden dark side to the loving friend as you once again made your way through the busy underground station.

––

“Well, if it isn’t the most sought-after woman in the country,” Claire beamed, getting up as you neared the table she had already claimed.

“Oh, fuck off,” you laughed, throwing your arms around her. You’d missed her.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?”

You both sat down, Claire’s grin as much contagious as it was smug. “Fuck off,” you quietly repeated. It only earned you a laugh in return.

This tiny restaurant in the heart of London was your regular haunt, so to speak. You’d been coming here for ages, sometimes wondering if you were single-handedly responsible for keeping the restaurant in business. Although, they were doing fine on their own, it was always crowded, just like today.

The dozen or so tables were almost all occupied, placed around the central bar. The warm, earth tones gave off an inviting atmosphere. A bit hippie-esque almost, in the best way possible. There were at least thirty different types of plants scattered around the place, some hanging from the ceiling, making it feel like a welcoming home to all. It was a place where you’d meet up for coffee, grab a quick bite, sit down next to the window to people-watch for hours on end, or perhaps even get some work done. It was the one public spot you truly missed during the pandemic.

A waiter appeared beside you, handing you the menu and informing you on today’s special, some salmon or whatever. You forgot it as soon as you’d heard it, always ordering the same thing anyway, which you did immediately, Claire doing the same. The waiter nodded politely at your quick order, walking off with a smile.

“He’s new,” Claire pointed out, tracking the waiter as he walked back behind the counter.

Now it was your turn to grin. “You know what else is new? Your interest in this restaurant’s staff.”

Claire whipped her head around a little too quickly to be able to play it off cool.

“What?” She shrugged. “I’ll admit he’s cute. Maybe a tad too young. Looks like he’s barely out of uni.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” you murmured, making Claire narrow her eyes at you.

“No,” she shook her head, backtracking. “We’re not here to talk about my love life. We’re here to talk about yours.”

You raised a single eyebrow in amusement. “Are we, now?”

“Definitely,” Claire said, raising her hand to silently point towards the tele that hung behind the bar.

Your eyes followed the movement of her hand until your gaze landed upon the screen. Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

You watched as Rhys shook hands with two interviewers before taking a seat in what appeared to be a packed studio. Right, he was supposed to go on and do a live interview this afternoon, which included answering questions from the audience.

“Jeez, he’s bloody everywhere,” you said, but there was no denying the proud undertone in your voice.

“Thank god for that. Imagine if you were the only person allowed to see that attractive face. We’d all be miserable.”

You stifled a laugh when the same waiter returned with your drinks. Claire sat up a little straighter, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“Could you turn up the volume on the tele a bit?” Claire asked the lad, shooting him a flirtatious smile. Internally, you rolled your eyes.

“Of course, ma’am,” he answered professionally, turning around to oblige her request.

“Ma’am,” Claire groaned. “What am I? Fifty?”

“Fifty’s the new thirty, everybody knows that.”

“You’re a fine one to talk. I don’t know how you do it, but your skin doesn’t look a day over twenty.”

You laughed. “I’m the modern-day Dorian Gray.”

“Please, have a bit more of a happy ending, at the very least,” Claire joked.

“I’ll try my best.”

The clapping noises of an audience made you both turn towards the tele as the waiter had upped the volume per Claire’s request.

The camera cut from the audience to show Rhys sitting there on a large couch, all by himself, the two interviewers sitting on another couch placed adjacent to his. He looked entirely comfortable, even though he was currently on live television. Sure, he’d done it plenty of times before, especially in the last week. But he seemed so at ease, almost like he owned the place, yet not in an arrogant way at all. Once again, you found yourself impressed.

Rhys was in the middle of commenting on the Eat The Rich killings for the nth time. How it had made him feel when it was discovered one of their own was the serial killer, Roald Walker-Burton, as well as how he thought the public had perceived the entire ordeal and used it to speak out about the problems they faced — some type of social commentary, highlighting larger issues at stake in not only London but the entire country. Basically, the same answer he had provided to a hundred other reporters and interviewers in the past weeks, cleverly rearranging his words as though he was actually saying something new.

“I still can’t believe there was an actual serial killer running around the city,” Claire shivered.

You peeled your eyes away from the tele to shoot her a reassuring smile. “At least they caught him.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “Fairly easy job when the creep’s blown his own brains out.”

You bit your tongue, slowly nodding in agreement. You couldn’t help but think back to how Rhys had simply wanted to tie up the loose ends of the Eat The Rich killings by using Roald, twisting and falsifying a story to further establish the perfect basis for his campaign.

“As you may well know, I grew up in a council estate in Lewisham,” Rhys’ deep, eloquent voice made you glance back at the screen, Claire following suit. It was as if you couldn’t help but tune in and listen to what the man had to say, like a mermaid’s siren at sea.

“And I saw over and over again how not everybody’s getting the same chances. I’d been given that rare opportunity that has led me to be sitting here today,” Rhys said, gesturing towards the audience off-screen.

“So, if I become mayor, I wanna do more for the working class of London. To help out both the old and the young, and everyone in between.”

The audience started applauding him and Rhys momentarily paused before adding, “All of the underprivileged people that are every much as deserving of a chance and opportunity in life as everybody else.”

“If he keeps this up, he’s sure as hell going to win,” Claire observed, interrupting your silent transfixion with the man who was indeed likely to be swaying hundreds, perhaps thousands of voters to his side right this second.

He was currently skyrocketing in the polls, leaving Atkinson behind him for now. Rhys’ ability to speak to both the aristocrats and those on the lower stairs of London’s hierarchal society, gave him an edge over his opponents. Or opponent. Singular. Marcus Atkinson really was the only other dangerous man in this political game for power.

“I think you’re right,” you agreed.

“So,” Claire cleared her throat, casting her full attention to you. “Is it that same persuasiveness that resulted in you finally opening up to someone — to him?”

Your eyes met and her dark ones were sparkling, the happiness she felt for you easily detectable within them. You’d kept her up to date on how Rhys had managed to secure your sisters a flat and also how you had taken this next step in your relationship with him. Whatever this relationship actually was. It was complicated, but it felt oh so right.

You chuckled. “Possibly, yeah.”

Claire smiled and that’s when the waiter returned with your food, placing it in front of you and asking if you needed anything else. You said no, thanking him, and he walked off, Claire not being able to stop herself from tracking his retreating figure once more.

“I don’t know, Claire. There’s just something about him that’s impossible to resist,” you admitted, picking up the cutlery.

“I get that. His charm or, I don’t know what it is exactly, it’s definitely working in his favour right now. Not just with you, but also with these elections.”

“That’s just it, though,” you countered. “It’s not simply his charm or his presence you see on tele — it’s more than that. I’ve felt this draw to him from the moment we met, and he’s told me he feels the same thing.”

“Soulmates,” Claire remarked, taking a bite of her salad.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me. Soulmates.”

You scoffed. “There’s no such thing. This isn’t a fairy tale world we live in.”

Claire shrugged, clearly choosing not to accept that. “How do you know?”

“Have you looked around lately? This world is as fucked up as it can be.”

“I’m not talking about the state of the world, Y/N. I’m talking about you and Rhys, regardless of circumstance and what’s going on around you.”

You slowly chewed your food, a troubled look passing over your features. You both had your own set of beliefs and Claire had always been the one who believed in unconditional love a lot more than you did.

How could you, really? The only love you’d ever felt growing up was with Zoe and Sadie. There had never been any real love between your parents. So, not having witnessed that or any affection from them for you and your sisters meant that no one ever truly taught you how to love another person. Especially not a potential partner. Someone who you’d choose to spend the rest of your life with.

“Circumstance,” you echoed, sighing, zeroing in on that single word.

You briefly glanced at the screen once more. Rhys was answering questions from the audience now. When you looked back to your lunch date, you noticed Claire carefully analysing your body language, setting down her knife and fork.

“Okay, we’ve been here before,” Claire hinted at your heart to heart in the hospital from a few weeks ago. “Apparently, I was wrong in my earlier assessment. You’re clearly still holding back. Why? What is it?”

You sighed again. “Circumstance and the world around me are starting to play a larger role with each passing day.”

Claire was quiet for a moment, her keen eyes on you. Her silence prompted you to keep going.

“I just— I don’t know if I’m ready for the world to know who I am, to be scrutinised even further in the spotlight,” you confessed.

Zoe and Sadie had teased you about the articles, Zoe even warning you for the inevitable moment your identity would become public knowledge. You’d dismissed it then, mostly because you’d thought the press’ obsession with you would stop at some point. Now that your relationship with Rhys was developing, there was no turning back to the safety of the shadows where no one was the wiser. It would be sooner rather than later that someone would recognise you from all of the media coverage, or would catch you with Rhys somewhere.

If you were finally being honest with yourself about the matter, it was also why you’d been somewhat fine with not seeing Rhys the past week. You still missed him. You still wanted him more than anything. Maybe even more than before you’d spent the night with him. But you also felt something stopping you from going to his house at night, nervous that someone would see you or take pictures of you. The British press could be relentless. And there was obviously even more attention to Rhys’ every move now than before.

You were just starting to pick up the pieces of your own life, getting back to work and what you did best — it almost felt impossible to mix the two.

Claire hummed in understanding. “You’ve never been the type of person to attract attention to themselves. So, you withdraw.”

“Yeah,” you chewed your lip, eyes downcast.

But really, what were you supposed to do? How could you prepare yourself to deal with the attention and publicity? It seemed Claire was able to read those doubts straight off of your face.

“You know, Y/N, it all boils down to a single question.”

You looked up, searching her face. “Which is?”

She gently smiled. “Is he worth it or not?”

You slightly shook your head. “It’s never that simple.”

“Is it not?”

You stared at her.

“Because I think it is,” Claire continued. “And my understanding is that you both care a lot about each other. Your face lights up when you look at him, or talk about him. Why would you jeopardise this beautiful thing between you just because of some pesky media attention? Why throw it away?”

“It’s not that I want to. I don’t think I’m actually considering that. I guess I’m just a little—” you faltered.

“Apprehensive?”

You bit your lip before silently nodding.

“Like you said, I’ve never been one to actively cast myself in the spotlight. I can accept that for Rhys it is different, but I don’t know how to navigate that for myself and — well, us.”

“As long as there is an us, and you are both willing to make it work, I’m sure you will be fine.”

Claire spoke with such conviction that you couldn’t help but find some solace within her words. And gladly so.

“I want to try, honestly I do,” you said, solemn, finding comfort in her words.

“That’s good,” Claire smiled.

“However, I won’t deny that I would love to burn all those fucking gossip websites and their editors alive,” you swore.

It was the truth, really. But you cracked a little smile at the end, letting it reach your eyes. Claire laughed, buying into your ‘joking’ threat.

“Speaking of those articles, I’m kinda surprised your mother hasn’t yet called one of the gossip websites to make some money.”

“Don’t speak it out into the universe like that,” you groaned. “Next thing you know, she’s become besties with The Sun’s editor.”

Claire laughed. “Nah, she’s way too far gone.”

“Don’t underestimate her, Claire.”

“Why, have you finally heard something from her?”

“Nope,” you replied. “And I’m honestly starting to question myself whether I should find that to be reassuring or not.”

“No matter how you feel about her, it would still be nice to have some sort of closure. You know, if she actually,” Claire gestured awkwardly.

“Died?” You supplied.

“Yeah…”

“I suppose so. Although, and I know it might be hard to believe, but I think I’d rather she’s still alive. Somehow, somewhere.”

Claire shot you a sympathetic smile.

“It’s not hard to believe at all, actually. You’re a caring person. Your sense of empathy transcends hers by miles.”

You mirrored her smile, but inwardly you winced. Claire couldn’t be farther from the truth when it came to this side of your emotions. She could often times accurately read you, like she did when it came to Rhys, but as to your hidden darker side — she was usually wrong. And you couldn’t blame her for that. Claire wasn’t wired the way that you were; able to experience some sense of compassion and normal human behaviour, whereas the next minute you would openly entertain the wicked tendencies you felt brewing away inside of you.

It was okay that Claire wouldn’t be able to understand that the only reason you wanted to find your mother alive was because you wanted to make her suffer at your hands, right before you would end her life.

It was okay. Because there was someone else that understood. Someone who would be by your side to help and support you every step of the way.

That conviction and overall trust you felt for Rhys was enough for you to convince you to try and make this partnership, or relationship you should say, between you work. Claire was right on that front. Rhys was worth it. You didn’t want to imagine your life without him anymore.

You could make this work. Together. Because that’s what you had done thus far. Sure, it hadn’t all been rainbows and sunshine, but you’d soldiered on, and in the end, it had worked out. So, when the public would find out about you, you would deal with it. Together.

But before you had to figure out how to balance your unorthodox career and life with being publicly connected to London’s potential next mayor, you still had tonight’s hit. Possibly the last one in which you could relish in your anonymity and make clever use of it.

You were about to answer Claire — to somewhat nicely and politely agree with her completely inaccurate assessment about your person, when your phone buzzed loudly. Excusing yourself, you picked it up to check the new incoming text message.

Reading it, you tried to suppress a sardonic smile threatening to make its way onto your face. Just as your mind had wandered towards tonight’s activities…

>>> it’s done. you’re on the guest list.

And thank you very much, Colin.

You placed your phone back down on the table, gazing up into Claire’s curious eyes. She would ask if it was Rhys as she’d already noted his interview had ended. And you would simply shrug your shoulders, playing it coy. And that would be it. No further questions to which you would never be able to provide her an honest answer.

You were grateful for Claire, though. To have someone who you could talk to about complicated relationships. And you had needed it, wholeheartedly welcoming her advice on the matter of you and Rhys. It had helped you realise that yes, you would try to give it your all. To give him your all. No matter the circumstances of his public life in the spotlight.

But first, you had a few more hours to enjoy your time with Claire and you weren’t going to waste it on heavy subjects alone. To also use this precious time to joke and have some much lighter conversations. You needed to relax a little and have fun, to not think too much about the intricacies of your life.

Fortunately, you were able to enjoy this little time off significantly more now, knowing everything was set for tonight. And by then, you would be ready and focused to get the job done.

––––

A/N: Claire, our bestie, always here to give the best relationship advice. Hopefully reader is actually ready to fully commit… We shall find out soon :)

Also, apologies for the lack of Rhys x Reader interactions in this chapter. He’ll be back to annoy her with his shenanigans in the next part, not to worry!

#rhys montrose x reader #rhys montrose x female reader #rhys montrose fanfic #rhys montrose fic #rhys montrose #you netflix #you season 4 #you season 4 canon divergence #jonathan moore #joe goldberg #goldrose #ed speleers #rhys montrose x original female character #on ao3 #you and me

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divinegrey · 2 years

Text

𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 / 𝐯𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

yes, i'm back with yet another viper imagine, sorry not sorry! thank you to my friend for putting prompts in my inbox (and also threatening to eat my toes, fucking weirdo). this part one of two, the other half is gonna be with reyna!

prompt: Grey I'm seeing a decline of hot mean women fics, so I present a Rivals to lovers undercover banquet AU 🤩 And they get forced to dance with each other and Reader is just teasing the shit out of her (preferably with Reader in a tux but whatever you prefer hon)

words: 1623

warnings: viper being a bitch, swearing, slight sexual themes toward the end

“I can’t believe they chose us for this,” you say, pulling on the front of your blazer, trying everything you can to get it a little less tight around your arms. To your left, Sabine, otherwise known as Viper, picks up two flutes of champagne and presses one into your hands. “You think they would’ve chosen Chamber, or— or even Cypher! Those two would’ve been way better at this.”

“Quit whining,” Sabine says. You shut up promptly, bringing the champagne to your mouth to down it all in one go. You feel the prickling sensation of her eyes on you as you empty the glass. It tastes expensive, bubbling in your throat. Sabine’s brusque words hardly bother you anymore; you’ve built a tolerance to Sabine’s bite. “Brimstone chose us because we’re the most respectable. Had Chamber come, he would’ve been making bets against too many people and pissing them off.”

Fair point.

“Just don’t know why I got put with you, of all people,” you mutter under your breath, hand tucked into the pocket of your slacks. You deposit the empty glass on a waiter’s serving tray as they pass by. “I’d rather choke on one of Raze’s grenades than be here.”

Sabine lets out an exhale, tipping her chin back. “Don’t think I’m delighted to be here either.”

You flex your jaw. Leave it to Brimstone to send the two of you undercover at a corporate party. Everyone knows Sabine, they’ll flock to her, leaving you in the wings listening for information. Again, Cypher would’ve been much better at this. The man knows dirt on everything.

You’re here, so you can’t complain. The only thing you can do is suck it up. This is exactly what you intend to do, by drowning yourself in crab bites and enough champagne to fill your stomach and make you drunk. Even throwing up would be more tolerable than… than hanging out with Sabine.

Sabine, who glares at you whenever you have to share the lab. Sabine, who makes snide remarks under her breath when the others can’t hear her, knowing fully well that you can. Part of your skillset is listening. You hear things, more than regular people would.

For example, you can hear her fucking breathing. It’s annoying.

Why is she breathing so goddamn slow all the time?

“Aren’t you going to start networking? Get schmoozing?” You say, gesturing to the throngs of people in black tie formal; most of the men you see are wearing the same version of suits; you opted for something a little different, something that wouldn’t set you too far apart.

But also something that marks you as Sabine’s party partner, unfortunately. The rich, deep green blazer is a few shades away from black, complimented by a black undershirt and vest, capped off with an emerald tie. Not exactly black tie, but you don’t give enough of a fuck to care.

Sabine has a silk dress on, thin straps hugging her lean shoulders and a plunging backline that shows off (to your disappointment) smooth muscle. You can still spot the scars from fighting, but they’re hardly there.

“No,” Sabine replies, sipping her champagne. “Not time for that yet. “We arrived late— people have just started dancing.”

Your eyes widen. “Please don’t tell me I have to dance.”

“I hope you know how to waltz.” Sabine cleverly doesn’t answer your question but gives you a whole new host of headaches and problems. She gives you a crass yet sharp smile, paired with the slightest narrowing of her verdant green eyes. “Be a dear and escort me to the dance floor, won’t you?”

Fuck. Fine. Whatever. You sigh, holding out your hand. Sabine’s hand slides into it and she steps close to you, only highlighting the height difference now that she’s donned some strappy heels to accentuate her outfit. It’s more than annoying at this point.

To make matters worse, there’s a goddamn orchestra playing some music, prompting more couples to flock toward the wide open space in the middle of the ballroom. Begrudgingly, you move to stand in front of her.

“Gonna have to help me out here. I don’t know how to dance for shit,” you say.

“You don’t know anything, do you?” Sabine’s voice is a whisper, harsh and diamond cut. You can almost feel the air slicing your cheek when she exhales, moving one of your hands to sit on her waist.

“I know plenty of things. Dancing with a stick up my ass is not one of them,” you reply, gripping her a little tighter. You’re suddenly regretting your decision concerning gloves— Sabine’s skin is cold, a sharp contrast to the warmth of your palms. Sabine props your hand up to hold hers and her other arm comes around your shoulder, holding your back. She subtly fixes the collar of your blazer.

“Then it’s a good thing you have me to pick up your slack, hm?” Sabine’s voice is heated for a reason you don’t quite understand, but there’s no room left to talk. The music swells, and you start dancing. You’re lucky that all of your time fighting for the Protocol has given you steady feet, but you realize that despite being the man of the dance, Sabine is very clearly leading you around the dancefloor.

You loathe being this close to her. You can smell the faint residue of chemicals covered by the scent of mulberry and something bittersweet. Her toxins are disguised by the perfume coating her skin, and the unfortunate height advantage leaves your nostrils near her neck and collarbones, where the smell is most potent.

You feel a little lightheaded, but you chalk it up to the champagne you slammed back three minutes ago.

“Spin me.” Her command is whispered, but you do it nonetheless, stretching your arm up high to spin the woman before pulling her back to you. You do it perhaps a little too roughly because Sabine gives you a look that could melt through steel. You simply keep following the steps, now having the rhythm down enough to try and take the lead.

Sabine is not willing to give that up, it seems.

Somehow, it becomes a spar on the dancefloor. Movements are disguised as flair, and no words are said, but the pounding in your chest becomes hard to ignore when the music comes to a crescendo.

You force Sabine into another spin, to which she executes with grace before you bring her close, doing another round in the box steps. She spots the slight curl on the corner of your mouth and can do nothing to stop you as you push her down into a dip. Your hand wraps around her waist and you spread your feet, unable to hold back a grin as the woman all but falls into a regal drop.

What you don’t expect is Sabine’s harsh breathing, her arm wrapped around your neck to keep herself balanced. There’s tense eye contact, the smell of mulberries infiltrating your nose and filling your body with heat. She’s openly staring at you in a way she’s never done before; no poison behind her eyes, no snark or bite.

Your heartbeat vibrates against your sternum as you bring her upright.

Why… why is she looking at you like that?

You don’t get an answer, because as soon as the music stops, Sabine is walking you off the dancefloor, all but speed walking toward one of the many corridors leading away from the bathrooms.

“Wh— hey, easy!” You hiss, trying to slap her hands off of you, but god, she’s insistent. She pushes you into a room, pushing the door shut behind her. You glance around— this is one of the glitziest bathrooms you’ve ever seen. It’s empty, with a long marble counter complete with two sinks. You look over your shoulder. “Sabine, what’s going on—”

She cages you, hands on either side, pushing you onto the counter.

And that’s how it starts. That’s when you realize why she’s looking at you like she’s trying to burn your clothes off with acid.

And that’s how you end up sitting on the counter, Sabine pulling the button on your jacket with her mouth on yours. You taste the champagne you had earlier on her lips, and you push insistently into her, eyebrows furrowed. Her hands— god, they’re fucking cold— press into your sides, pulling you close.

She leans forward, pressing you into the mirror. You grab onto her shoulders, anywhere you can reach as the stench of mulberry fills your body with heat. Sabine bites your bottom lip hard, causing a curse to slip from your lips. She acquaints herself with your neck, biting and sucking above the pressed collar of your shirt, and with every press of her teeth into your skin comes pleasurable pain.

“I still don’t like you, you know,” you whisper, your words broken up with the sharp inhales you take to keep yourself from floating away.

“The feeling is mutual,” Sabine murmurs into your skin, before lathing her tongue over a spot underneath your ear that summons a shudder to rock through your entire body. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re a bitch.”

In response, Sabine clamps down on your neck with her teeth hard. You can’t hold back the groan that slips out of your mouth. You slide your hand into her hair, clenching and pulling to guide her mouth back to yours. Her hand grabs yours and presses it to the mirror behind you, the nails on her fingers digging into the tendons on your wrist.

You’ve never liked Sabine.

Not really.

Yet, the only thought in your mind that exists now is I know it’s bad, but we could be so good.

#viper x reader #valorant x reader #valorant viper x reader #valorant fanfiction #valorant #viper #viper valorant

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serinic · 2 years

Text

His Greatest Love [ Jeon Jungkook ]

★: angst & fluff!

— Christmas is coming and so are salty words from Jungkook's family, and more fuel was added to the fire when his so-called ‘Greatest Love’ was invited to the small celebration.

“Are you okay? You seem quite.” Jungkook squeezed your left thigh as he noticed your unusual silence. A soft 'yes' left your mouth. Are you really? Jungkook knows there is something wrong, yet he doesn't want to annoy you with his questions. After the small celebration at his parents' house, he intended to take you to places you had not yet visited in his town.

Jungkook parked his car in the garage, and you slowly stepped out of the car. Your palms started to sweat—you were nervous. You even practiced yourself to not cry when they secretly started to throw insulting words at you while Jungkook was away. You can do this!

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon.” The butler bowed and guided you towards the inside. Jungkook intertwined his left hand with your right one. You looked at him and plastered a believable fake smile.

You and he were about to walk close to his family when a woman suddenly appeared in front of you and hugged Jungkook. He hurriedly let go of your hand and returned the woman's hug, a wide smile on his face.

Your heart almost broke at his actions, but you quickly brushed it off. She was just probably his friend, whom he hadn't seen for a long time. You took a glance at the people and saw his aunts—even his mother was smirking at you.

“Let's eat, shall we?” The unknown woman asked, and Jungkook smiled and nodded. He followed her while you followed him. Just a matter of seconds and he already forgot his wife. Great!

At least he made sure you sat first before him, but he continued to talk with her, ignoring you like some stranger. You felt out of place and despised it—you felt as if you didn't belong here, which you don't.

You saw how his mother kept glaring and smirking at you. She probably noticed how Jungkook was so into the conversation with her that he forgot about his lovely wife. As expected, she will be the one to make you and your relationship with him go downhill.

You just silently ate the food. Jungkook wasn't bothering to check on you, not even reaching out food for you like he used to. The atmosphere became more uncomfortable for you when she finally took notice of your presence.

“Is she your wife?” Jungkook nodded and introduced you to her and vice versa.

“Yes, this is Y/n. My gorgeous wife and love, this is Jia, my childhood friend.” You were actually blushing and smiling when you heard the "gorgeous" word from him until one of his aunts spoke.

“Not only a childhood friend, but also his first love and first girlfriend. Too bad they didn't end up at the altar.” You managed to not lose your 'genuine' smile as you imagined yourself taping his aunt's mouth. Jia secretly grinned at the statement.

“Auntie” Jungkook seriously called out his aunt for saying that. You gently tapped Jungkook and shook your head, “It is okay, the past is past.”

After dinner, you were called by his mom—you knew what was going to happen, so you prepared yourself. You're willing to be a douchebag for Jungkook's sake.

“Honey, are you sad?” Jungkook's mom changed her voice to a baby one, and the other ladies just laughed. You felt so small—and indeed you are. Jungkook's family hated you for that.

How can her one and only son marry a girl like you? You're not rich, you're neither smart nor pretty, the total opposite of him.

Jia, the woman who's loved by everyone—extremely perfect, no wonder why Jungkook loved her. Since the time they broke up, Jungkook's mother did everything to get them back together again, but you literally needed to come out of nowhere and ruin her plans.

“Now that she's here, a plan to ruin your and my son's relationship is easier. Thanks to sweet Jia,” They begin to forcefully shove their words into your pocket, to the point that there is no space left. Unbeknownst to all of you, Jungkook accidentally heard all of those and immediately entered the scene.

His mother first acted like nothing was going on and immediately left, along with the other ones. You hugged Jungkook, hiding your teary eyes on his chest. Jungkook makes a fist out of his hand. How dare they?!

You and Jungkook go to the living room. He stood up in front of everyone with a stern and angry face. “I know what you are all doing to my wife. I'm here standing to let all of you know that no one will and no one can replace Y/N, and if you can't respect that, especially her, I'll gladly leave this town and never come back. One more bitter and insulting word from you all, and I'll make sure that everyone of you can't speak anymore.”

Jungkook grabbed and kissed you in front of everyone to see. You're his and he's yours.

You were on the balcony and still can't stop thinking about what happened earlier. Though, you remembered Jungkook's action with Jia that made you pout.

Someone suddenly hugged you, “What are you doing here, love?” Jungkook uttered softly while planting kisses on your nape. You ignored him. Jealousy is still lingering on you.

“What's wrong?” You turned around so you could face him. “You ignored me earlier, too busy chatting with your first love, first girlfriend...your greatest love.” You huffed.

When Jungkook heard those words, he instantly hugged you tightly. “I'm sorry, love; please understand that I didn't mean it. We haven't seen each other for so long. I'm really sorry. And besides, what do you mean, greatest love? Her? You are my greatest love, love. So what if she's my first? Mark my words. You will always be my last.” This time, Jungkook kissed you on the lips. Every kiss there is an after-sorry.

You finally kissed him back and returned his tight and warm hug.

You are only his greatest love, not Jia, and not anyone else.

#jungkook angst #angst #bts #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jjk fluff #husband jungkook #jungkook

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fanaticsnail · 3 months

Note

SNAIL! I love chapter 4!!!!!

(Incoming: extremely long ask with memes included)

I'm really excited about the lore that is developing, the rhyme was really creative (was it in an original version of the story or did you come up with it yourself?) And all this information about the Sapsorrow Queen has me aching to hear more! She seemed at first to be set up as an antagonistic force, purely due to her claiming Mihawks soul should Governess not marry him, but I feel like you've shrouded her in enough mystery that she didn't come off as antagonistic in intentions. And with all this new lore I'm getting kinda Corpse Bride vibes? Might be me projecting though.

Governess calling Perona and Zoro "my-... -our wards" AAAASSA

Her recognizing Mihawks eye colour but not making the connection followed by her immediate next observation being that his eyes are soft and somber - something she hasn't noticed (as much) in Mihawk's eyes. And him then using those eyes that are now displaying vulnerability and emotion he wouldn't normally let himself display to "searched your face, darting from focusing on each of your eyes and looking over your parted lips before rising back to your intense irises." The POETRY!

"You may ask anything of me, but you will leave my bride out of the equation."

KEEP MY WIFE'S NAME-

Governess hiking up her socks:

I just know Mihawk was fighting for his LIFE

Do the staff know Mihawk is the farm-hand? Because all I can think is either way;

The staff, watching the distinguished Governess walk beside a dog on two legs / The staff, watching their feared and revered boss covered head-to-toe in mud and twigs: what the fuck.... What the fuck...

The fact that the ghosts know makes me think that one of them spotted him eating shit in the mud puddle the first time and then Perona, having been informed of it, woke up in the dead of night to watch him willingly roll around in mud the second time.

"-Do not dare to do yourself the disservice of calling yourself low,"

KEEP MY WIFE'S- oh shit that is my wife

Mihawk allowing his guard to slip and laughing heartily??? Governess giggling???? And remarking that she hasn't experienced something like this since childhood??? Slipping her regal exterior??? My heart is pounding

He stooped down to you, the brims of your hats touching as he cooed down in a mocking tone, “I did this, this morning.” - oh my lawd. This whole section. Sir. Please. One of us will have to restrain ourselves (pun not intended)

"She cannot marry her father, of course she cannot." <-- I'm not sure if it's an exact quote from the narrator but I feel like you're referencing the story teller version. And when Governess divulges her wanting to marry Mihawk for reasons beyond the superficial (fate, or his riches) and Mihawk in turn divulges a love for an "unknown" woman, it seems really similar to the Storyteller scene. I really like it!! IDK if I mentioned before but I like how the roles of Straggletag and the prince were reversed

"I am proud to call you my friend", "I'm here by your side, I will not drop you," <- Mr President. A second quote has hit the reader.

(also I can't remember if I asked before but can I be on the tag list?)

SNAIILLLLL YOU'RE HERE!!!! YOURE BACK!!! Oh how I missed you!!

To answer your questions! The poetry and the rhymes are all my own. The original story has no real mysticism nor mystery surrounding the concept, SO I decided to add my own to shake things up 💃.

The Corpse Bride is one of my favourite Tim Burton films of all time. Considering Oda based the layout of Kuraigana on the art from The Nightmare Before Christmas, I couldn't not incorporate the elements into the plot. That wouldn't be fair.

I did need to have a small: "Hmmm... His eyes are quite similar," moment for her to get some semblance of familiarity from him - but I didn't want the mystery to be revealed just yet.

I HOWLED THE BIGGEST CACKLE AT THE GIF USE!!! PROBABLY WOKE THE NEIGHBOURS (ITS MIDNIGHT).

The "keep my wife's name" just ruined me.

The sock hiking was not a deliberate flirtation on her behalf, but absolutely Mihawk was feeling some feelings.

To spoil the spoiler, that is not really a spoiler - the staff are 💯 aware that Mihawk is the Farm-Hand. He was not always covered from head to toe in sludge and grime, opting to just have his straw hat and shielded mask over his beard in the happenstance that he might get dirty.

Upon that one time he did topple headfirst into the mud, meeting the governess on that day, he simply said: "welp, I guess this is my life now" and has to cover himself in that disguise to keep up the illusion. The staff don't know how to deal with the new look, but they're wise enough to not say anything about it.

The ghosts likely woke up Perona that first night being like: "Honey, you seeing this shit??" And Perona is just there like ⚫👄⚫

I needed to have them slip their guards a little in this chapter - they need to get to know each other a little before their engagement party (which I'm nearly there with. Couple more days, I think).

I have to reference the source material of the storyteller episode. It wouldn't feel the same without hearing John Hurt in my head, I think. I love the way he yells it.

I did do a role reversal for stragletag (Farm-Hand) and the prince (Lost-Lady) specifically to keep things a little interesting for me, and to keep the twists and turns coming for you guys! Can't just tell it how it is, where would be the fun in that? 😏

"I'm here by your side, I will not drop you," he is such a flirt and I don't think he's even aware of it.

I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE NOT ON THE TAG LIST. OF COURSE I WILL ADD YOU!!! MY SNAIL!! THE SEXC KIND!!

Thank you for your asks, I always adore hearing from you!!

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #mihawk #mihawk x reader #mihawk fairytale au #sapsorrow fic #the storyteller au #dracule mihawk #favourite snail #thank you for your ask #i am glad youre enjoying the fic #love you snail

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buttoncup · 8 months

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The Duality of Darkness, a Gwynriel fic. CH. 11 "Blood Ties"

I'd stayed awake as long as possible talking to Eris, the knowledge he was my grandfather was the least daunting thing he spoke of.

The whole idea of meeting his father soon sent my nerves tumbling through my body but it was bound to happen sooner than later. Especially since Pollux had apparently made quite the impression already, the conniving self-serving bastard.

Eris had stated that he'd formulated a quick plan after he'd read my notes on the Asteri in Midgard, how the end of his family tree happens, how Rigelus intends to bring a stop to the threat to his current plans - aka Bryce.

I had to admit, Eris worked fast. He'd decided it would be best to go in with as much honesty as possible, to not push for kindness from his father or pity as he'd only provide none. I had to prey on Beron's glutton for power and the only way we could do that was to be indisposable to him.

Pollux had a head start but whether Beron liked it or not, I was blood. Muddied blood of course but blood that held the knowledge of gaining power, or retaining the source to that power. I was to lure him in with a promise of a direct way to joining the higher powers, pushing Beron into the belief that if he killed me he'd lose any chance of gaining the power Pollux had no doubt already vouched for existed. I had a direct link to Rigelus, who was much more powerful and ambitious than Koschei, Beron's current beau. One who'd curiously kept quiet the months I was gone from Prythian.

I found it even more curious, a death God that had done nothing to wreak the havoc he was so apparently feared for, was in close cahoots with a High Lord that had questionable loyalty at the best of times.

Beron could be bought if my offer was big enough and I doubted anything would beat the chance of becoming the most powerful ruler the world had ever seen.

He just had to believe it. He had to believe me. Or he'd kill me.

Just before the push back down to Prythian, Rigelus had told me I was to return Koschei to him and I wondered now if there was more to that than first met the eye.

If anything having no voice had taught me so far was that using your ears and listening could tell you so much more than the spoken word.

I had to listen, keep up my guard, pretend to be the silly, scared little female and infiltrate possibly the deadliest Court that existed. No pressure, easy.

I told myself this as I sipped water and with my good hand, spooned soft milky oats into my mouth for breakfast.

Eris had given me a fifteen minute warning before he'd left me in my room to ready myself for my first meeting with my great grandfather.

A maid had already been sent into my room, a heavily embroidered gown hung over her arms as she scurried inside, helping me to dress for such a momentous occasion.

Eris said I had to look the part, as much as Beron detested lesser fae he hated lesser fae that LOOKED lesser, he was much easier to ruse when given what his eyes wanted to see. So I wore the damn dress with all its finery, hid my ears behind curled hair, the weight of the dress dug into my shoulders making them ache already.

My hair had been softly curled to hide the softer arch of my slightly pointed ears, a braid wrapping across the top of my head like a band secured my hair from out of my face with a few curled face framing tendrils, at least that was comfortsble.

I think the maid could feel how irritable I grew the more she tried with my hair and gave up when I fidgeted in my seat for the umpteenth time. I smiled apologetically before she told me to eat from the tray a servant had brought in.

So here I am, sat like a good little Autumn female, dressed in burnt umber velvet with gilded lace at the edges of my sleeves eating porridge rich with honey and cinnamon.

I just prayed to the Mother I didn't spill any over my dress.

A knock rapped from the door and in walked Eris after the maid called out her invitation dressed in his usual fine hunting suit, minus his brood of hounds trailing around his ankles.

Eris barks a laugh as he reads the note I give him as I sip the last of my water.

Where are your dogs?

Eris smiles and taps the side of his nose before dismissing the maid with a curt nod. He waits for the maid to leave before standing near the fireplace and leaning into the empty hearth "My dogs seem to have taken a strong disliking to your friend" Eris said with amusement as he folded his arms across his chest.

I smile as I place my used cutlery on the tray and wash my hands in the small basin in the corner.

"Incredibly amusing I have to say to see such a hulking male get ruffled by a pack of mutts" chuckled Eris at the smile on my face and raise of my brows. " Are you ready then?"

I nod quickly as I dry my hands with a cloth and brush my hands over my hair making sure it hasn't moved out of place.

"You're sure? I can delay my father"...

I roll my eyes as I scratch a quill across some parchment and push it in Eris's hands with an exaggerated huff.

"No. It must be now. I'm growing ever so tired of writing every damned thought that comes to mind now that this arm has thankfully started to heal"

Eris bites his lip from smiling at my annoyance and offers his arm to me " Shall we?"

I take the crook of Eris's arm and we walk out into the hall together, the feel of curious eyes scorching the back of my head as we follow the carpeted path to wherever his father was waiting. Each softly thudding footstep matching the beat of my heart that had begun to beat just like it did whenever I was about to go on a job.

Right before blood was going to be spilled...my eyes looked over to Eris who wore his mask of cool indifference, silent and untouchable, before my own found the carpet at my feet again.

It would be a shame to spill blood on such pretty things, I hoped to the God's that were still listening it wasn't going to be mine.

Winding through halls and walking through corridors that spanned the length of the forest House, Eris remained stoically quiet as we walked slowly arm in arm.

Guards had assembled behind us at first but Eris had shunned them away which only intrigued the house staff even more. I couldn't help but worry over the stories and rumours they'd come up with after being seen on the arm of their High Lord's heir, unguarded and unchaperoned.

Eris, sensing my knawing lip looks down to me and gives a tight smile " Remember Gwyn, it's me that has the hard stuff to do. You can't talk. And that's probably a good thing you can't...if my father knows Pollux holds the key to your voice though he won't wait to free it. He's far too curious for his own good when it comes to gaining power. He needs you Gwyn. Alive." Eris strokes a thumb across my knuckles and I smile back. Eris arches his brow at me as I take in a deep breath "Chin up, shoulders back. Your great grandfather is going to be in for one hell of a surprise and I quite frankly can't wait to see it all play out " Eris's eyes gleam with mirth as I silently grin.

"Did you bring your roll of parchment, and quill?"

I nod. Thinking to the hidden scroll under my sleeve attached to my wrist by a string of twine.

"Let's hope you don't have to use them but best to have them just in case"

Another nod of my head appeases Eris and we continue down the halls, passing paintings and armoured figurines as tall as doorframes until we hear soft chatter and music coming through a heavy wooden door.

Ah, so Court is being held...Great.

Eris unfurls himself from my grasp and pats my arm once before he pushes the doors open and the chatter almost stops, turning to whispers immediately as Eris strides to the steps at the throne Beron the High Lord is seated upon, leaving me to stand at the back of the room near the door. The centre of the room is risen slightly so that Beron's throne is seen by all which, I suppose is exactly as he likes it. Centre of attention.

Everyone is looking at me. From head to toe, assessing, analysing, judging. Who am I, where did I come from, who am I to Eris, why did he walk in with me, why is he with me? What's so special about me?..

The whispering is like an itch all over my body, invasive and EVERYWHERE, I have nothing else in my defence but to move and so I do, my footsteps echoing as I walk up beside Eris who turns and tells everyone in court to leave the room at once without reason.

"We have Court business to attend Father. Of utmost importance" Eris gives Pollux a pointed look, the angel stands proudly at Beron's side In traditional Autumn Court garb as if he had been a permanent fixture for more than just a few days.

Beron's brows crease as confusion and the scent of anger filters through the air " What is the meaning of this? Can you not see boy that we were enjoying ourselves?

Pollux leans up and whispers something into Beron's ear and a smarmy smile splits the bottom half of Beron's face that sends a shiver down my spine. With his twisted golden crown he looked cruel, even moreso when he smiled. It was as if smiling wasn't something he should ever be able to do.

"Ah yes. Indeed. Our little friend seems to have recovered quite nicely, although not as quickly as I'd of liked." A harsh look was shot to Eris who grit his teeth and curled his hands into fists at his side. The movement did not go unnoticed by his father who's lips quirked with amusement.

The woman at Beron's side, who had thick, heavily curled hair merely turned her head to Eris as he placed a foot on the step above ground to make his father heed his words.

"Down boy! You're going to have me treat you like one of you're dogs if you climb those steps any further"

Raucous laughter breaks around the room at the High Lord's mocking but Eris keeps his boot rooted in place and the Lady sat at the throne beside Beron's clenched the arms of her seat white knuckled as she stared at Eris with a warning.

That must be his mother then, the Lady of Autumn.

My own fists clench as the noise of cruel laughter rings in my ears. Pollux laughs with them all and I shoot him a glare that he answers with another chuckle.

As if I'm nothing, as if I am weak. As if I can't kill him right now if I willed it.

I smile back then, just for him, letting it slowly spread over my face. Pollux blinks and straightens his feathers looking away.

"Yes, there. The family resemblance! Now I see the killer in you my dear, oh yes, your friend here has informed me of your... very impressive skillset." Beron pushes from his throne and walks passed his son without acknowledgement until he is a foot away from me. The room has gone utterly silent and my heart fails to remain steady as I'm confronted with the coldness of the male before me.

I can do nothing but try not to stare at him as to not draw more attention to myself.

"Father, this matter is meant for a private audience" Eris hisses under his breath but Beron holds a hand in the air and his voice blasts over me "Silence. Whatever is to be said is Court business is it not?" Beron turns to raise a brow at his son, both of his arms going out wide as he turns gesturing to the many people in the room. Eris merely nods his head once, his jaw tight.

"So then let the Court hear it" says Beron turning his attentions back to me as I stand rod straight, head hung low, eyes to the ground.

Footsteps sound as Beron nears where I stand, the scent of burning getting nearer...

" How curious I was to hear the tales your companion told me. Autumn blood and a spy, a killer...one of the best amongst his kind apparently"

The compliment had my head shooting over to where Pollux stood unsmiling.

A rich chuckle grabbed my attention as Beron, seemingly happy to have gotten it speaks " Yes, Antonius has told me of quite the ordeal. And one with such a prize to be had!" The gleam in the High Lord's eyes glaze over to something else as he nears, his nostrils scenting something he'd clearly missed.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Eris sensing my impending panic rushes to spin his father away from me but Beron has sensed something clearly amiss, his eyes suddenly becoming incensed as he takes in my appearance with greater detail.

"Eris, you seem to be owing me an explanation...for this...this.." the words were spoken in the same tone Beron had used before but the pure unfiltered rage I could see burning in his eyes told me his true feelings as he quickly realised what he'd scented. What I was.

Eris, taking it all in his stride as if it were nothing sauntered over and took my hand placing it on his arm, much to the surprise of the whole court who gasped and whispered again.

"This is Gwyneth Berdara, of Autumn and Spring, my long lost granddaughter, who has been returned to me, to us!" Eris smiled at me expectantly which I blinked at like an idiot.

This was not part of our plan.

Beron almost turns completely red as his eyes focus hard on his son who stares defiantly back without breaking. The crackle of their energy is almost palpalbale as they stand off, which only seems to annoy Beron more but, Beron sensing his Court whispering and already spinning tales, claps his son's back that sends a loud smacking noise echoing around the room as he laughs and smiles too wide for it to be genuine.

"Oh I am being truly gifted today! A great granddaughter and one who is so accomplished! Eris my boy, you spoil me! However could I return the favour?" Beron's cold eyes promise pain as he looks down his nose at his son.

My heart lurches as Beron grasps Eris in what appeared to be a show of affection to those not attune to what his body language was really saying, they saw a father and a son share a hug...I saw the deathgrip Beron had of Eris's shoulders as he whispered into Eris's ears that had him bowing his head as Beron left to take his seat on his throne once again.

"Stop the music! Court is adjourned. I have a new family member to acquaint myself with! " Beron, taps his fingers against the thrones arms as he watches through clenched teeth, the courtiers and staff leave us to be alone.

The counting seconds as the dregs of people leave irritating the High Lord to no end. I watch the lanterns posted around the walls, how their flames flicker with each tap of Beron's fingers. He was incredibly annoyed.

Once all servants and loiterers are gone Beron pounces from his seat and hurls a fist into Eris's face, knocking Eris back a few feet but he remains standing, as if used to it.

I gasp at the same time as Lady Autumn who stands from her seat. The males stood behind her all different versions of Beron move to make sure the Lady complies. Their faces a mix between the female and the High Lord contorted with their own cruelty. They must be Beron's other sons. How charming.

"Sit down bitch or it'll be you!" snarls Beron over his shoulder to his wife.

The lady sits meekly, wiping her hands over the skirts of her dress, her eyes glazing over back to nothingness.

"You snivelling little shit! YOU dare to mock Me infront of MY own court!" Beron grasps the lapels of Eris's doublet with tight fists.

Eris smirks as he wipes blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand " I did request a private audience"

Beron breathes in deep ready to strike again but I take a step forward before I can think better of it. Beron whirls to me now instead, his face of disgust and malice as he purses his lips.

"YOU, you filthy little half breed. You disgrace my halls, my Court, my HOME! I should hang you on a post at the entrance, I should hang you both! Lesser than dirt is what you are and my disappointment for a son is lower than that to have debased himself with the likes of your kind..with that RIVER RAT!" Beron spits at my feet as I stand, heart racing as I crave to shout back.

The moons of my nails dig into the pads of my palms as I refrain from giving in to my own boiling anger. But I can't slip up, I have to allow Eris to maneuver this meeting. I have to trust him.

Eris shakes his father's hands from his person and brushes invisible rumples of fabric from his jacket as he speaks as though this whole situation is juvenile "Father, I was about to die, what would you have me do?"

Spitting hot energy surrounded Beron as his anger grew "I'd of killed you myself you stupid fucking hinderence!" Shouted Beron through his nose.

"Ah but if you did that then you'd not have learnt of what that overgrown chicken has no doubt told you either"...Eris, smirking over at an affronted Pollux continues as he checks his buttonholes "Or that Gwyneth brings news. News much greater than what Antonius speaks of."

Eris certainly knew how to spin his father as interest peaked in Beron's brow, the High Lord signalling for Pollux to come to him "Is this true? Is what Eris says true? Do you DARE lie to me?"

I watch as Pollux straightens, my eyes notice he wears the chain holding my voice under his tunic, I track it as he steps down to join our small gaggle at the foot of the steps " My Lord I'm afraid it is true. If it were not for Gwyneth I wouldn't of been able to come and give you the knowledge you seek, but I have told you no lies, I have no reason."

Beron stares at me then, cold and hard, unflinching as he decides what is to be done.

"I know of how you came to be here these days gone passed. Antonious has told me much of your masters, gods walking amongst the Earth, how strong they are, how they wish to work with me...what are YOU here for? What tales have you to tell me than that of those already spun?...I have knowledge of how to gain power from a Death God already girl, Pollux here wants to help me, help my Court grow. He has promised me an army that's undefeatable..."

My eyes go to Eris who nods as he steps forwards again " It would seem that, although arriving together, Pollux missed out the part where he has sole ownership of Gwyn's voice. For some reason his leader thought it best for her to be without one to infiltrate our Court." Both sets of golden eyes turn to regard Pollux shrewdly, Beron's light with surprise and anger " Is that so?"

Pollux swallows as he removes the necklace from around his neck and holds it in his hand that I'm so ready to snatch but before I can, Beron takes it in his own hands.

"Rigelus, my master swore upon it to hold her voice so that I could complete my mission, to bring forth an army to your world that would give the most powerful High Lord a kingdom to match, without interference. To take the crown and rule over this land, with his own armies help ."

My brows raise as my worst fears become reality, Rigelus double crossed me by using me as a pawn in his own games, his own agenda. He doesn't want his brother returned, he wants to take another kingdom, another world. He wants to use Beron as an excuse!

My jaw clenches so tightly I'm sure everyone can hear it grinding as I struggle to gain control of my rising rage, hurt and rage. How could I have been so stupid.

Eris sees the moment I question why I'm still behaving and grabs my arm to stop me from attacking Pollux then and there, the small shake of his head telling me, later.

The scent of campfire smoke and chestnuts fills my nose as I breathe through my growing anger, one, two, three, I count to ten thinking of the ocean and the waves. It had been a long time I've had to use this technique to calm myself but it worked, that and the warmth of Eris's hand sinking through my sleeve. I wasn't alone.

Beron looks at the non-descript chain, the small delicate rose hanging from it amusing him before he dangles it infront of me. I itch to grab it and he sees the greedy glint in my eyes, his own narrowing as his head tilts, curious. Watching.

" However much I believe your words Antonius, I am even more intrigued to see if your stories match, let's see what dear little granddaughter says shall we?" Asks Beron as he lifts the necklace and places the cool metal against my skin and over my bowed head.

The surge of something lights inside me, as if my very being is being restored to itself, I breathe In deep as I look up from my chest and I know it's back.

My voice is back.

My eyes find these of Beron's, dark almost brown amber, his gaze asking me an important question and one I have to get right on the first try.

"My name is Gwyneth Berdara" Beron smiles with annoyance but the intrigue in his eyes is present "Yes we know that already"

"Forgive me my Lord, my voice was stripped from me as I was drugged and beaten by Pollux and his unit"

Pollux goes to take Beron's arm but his sons surround the angel before he can, Eris smiles behind his father's back as Beron ignores Pollux's pleading.

"Go on"...

"I was given strict instructions before the fall to Prythian." I take another breath as I try to slow down " Rigelus the leader, he had told me to keep my mission a secret from Pollux." I can feel the daggers Pollux's eyes shoot my way as I speak, " he told me to bring his brother, Koschei, back to him, to Midgard... I was also given the mission of finding and killing Bryce Quinlan."

Pollux struts forwards " We both were given that mission, to find the one who'd bring the end of Autumn." As if that would make Beron sway more in his favour.

"Ah but Pollux you forget, it seems as though your leader was being disingenuous with his offer to accompany my path to Kinghood? No?" Beron rounded to Pollux as the angel dared to quiver a feather, " This Rigelus seems to have played you both, but which one of you do I require more?" Beron asks twisting the end of his short beard. "Who is Bryce Quinlan? I know of no-one with that name"

I hated myself for it but I stepped closer before Beron, Eris watching carefully over his shoulder. "If I can be so bold Father, Gwyneth is of great importance to this Court, no matter her genetics"

"How so? You do think highly of yourself boy! Because your blood runs through her sullied veins? I can kill her and the bird now and nothing would change a thing." Beron chuckled as he spoke to Eris.

But Eris, knowing how to entice his father's greed for power promised him a guarantee, one we had previously agreed on if his father became unaltered in his stance.

" Not at all. My blood is not what makes Gwyneth so precious, she is my granddaughter yes, but she is a daughter of Spring, concieved during Fire Night...", Beron's eyes flick to Eris's and they share the strangest of looks between them,..." a strong ally of ours, of the Night Court as well as the others, she has ties to this new world, access to this great source of power...think father, of the possibilities...If you harm Gwyneth you are to insight war. War with Spring, war with Night...ending allegiance with those two Courts will end allegiance with all of them. Autumn will be standing alone on a battlefield full of enemies...we would be defeated and powerless..." Eris held his father's shoulder then and let the fox out in his eyes "But, if we use Gwyneth's connections to our advantage, the possibilities are endless and you WILL become High King of Prythian just as you wish"

Beron, mulling over this news considers this while Pollux stares at me in disbelief.

"An ally of Night Court you say?" Asks Beron, warming up to the idea suddenly.

"Yes, my Lord, I lived there for a time" I answer curtly.

Don't give up too much but just enough.

"I see. And so you are familiar with its High Lord?...tell me, where is this Bryce person? Or shall I give a well educated guess?"...

I try to control myself as to not give too much away. I know how much Rhysand needed to keep Velaris a secret, I wasn't about to go and give it all up and make innocent people pay for petty politics.

" Yes, and the High Lady, I'd see them on occasion"...

Pollux jumps in the conversation all too eager to get back on Beron's good side, " Gwyn told us, told Rigelus of how she worked there as a Priestess alongside Bryce at the Night Court, a few months before she arrived in Midgard. It was the only reason Rigelus spared her after Gwyn mentioned his brothers name... It's probably why Gwyn was allowed back"

A devious smile erupts on Beron's face as he barks with deep laughter making the Lady of Autumn jump in her seat as the sconces flames grow taller.

"Eris I have to say you have redeemed yourself with this! What a turn of events!" Beron claps his hands together with unbound glee, " This is splendid!, A gift you are indeed" Beron declares as his other sons join in the laughter.

"What about what I'd said, about Koschei?... Bryce?" Asks Pollux sending the laughter dying suddenly.

Beron turns to Pollux with a sour sneer of indifference on his face "You can rot in the dungeons until you are needed, no, actually that is far too easy and I quite like knowing where you'll be at all times from now on. An angel from the future is an asset for my Court of course but, I still need you I suppose as well as a contingency plan...YOU shall do whatever I ask when I ask of it, is that understood?" At Pollux's bowed head and drooping wings Beron walks passed him to whisper into his sons ears.

Two sets of hands grab Pollux by his wings which sends him twisting in pain as he's dragged abruptly across the room, his voice cracking as he shouts to Beron " What is the meaning of this?"

Beron smiles and furrows his brows as if Pollux had asked him the most obvious of questions " Why, you are to be given a sample of Autumn hospitality you fool. And be quick to learn our ways if you want to keep those hideous wings attached to your spineless back".

With a flick of his wrist Pollux was removed from the room, demanding to be let go, his demands going unheard and ignored as I stood by watching happily.

I wasn't going to feel an ounce of pity for that male. Not ever, for what he did to Lidia and probably countless others too small or too defenceless to protect themselves. He deserves everything he gets and I'm not going to stand in the way of fate as far as his punishments go.

Beron stalked towards me then, his hands grabbing the rose at my neck with a vice like grip, snapping the chain right off me with a quick tug.

I fell forwards holding the empty space at my neck, unable to utter a word as Beron stepped a few feet away and threw the chain and the pendant onto the ground, the sound of the metal bouncing against the floor ringing through my entire being as my voice was taken once again.

"Father!"... shouted Eris, Beron smiled like a cat before smashing the pendant with the heel of his boot " Fear not, Gwyneth, if you are to be my eyes and ears you'll need your voice back"... "Call it a gift for a gift" mirth filled Beron's eyes as he chuckled loudly, walking without the company of his wife out of the Grand Hall as my voice returned to me.

I was whole once again, so why did it feel as if another part of me had just been taken?

So I'm trying to get as much writing done as I'm in pain with rotator cuff injury soooo when the pain relief kicks in I can carry on lol 🤣 anywhoo, enjoy and feel free to leave feedback! X

#gwynriel #pro gwynriel #pro gwyneth berdara #gwynriel supremacy #gwyneth x azriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel berdara #azriel x gwyn #gwyn berdara #acosf #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra #beron vanserra #high lord beron #gwynriel fic #myfic #my fanfiction

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sim-ply-lilacs · 10 months

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My dearest friend Irene,

In the months that have passed since my wedding, I have been surprised time and again by what it is to be a wife.

To my unending delight, I have discovered that what the bitter old gossips said is not true. My husband not only tolerates, but actively enjoys my company. Dear Josef would be outraged, I think, to hear I'd once been told that I would do well to find a deaf husband, so I could chatter on without driving him to distraction. Many days, we find ourselves distracted from work in the fields by our own good humor. I must confess—I find a great deal of enjoyment in making him laugh!

Lest you think us to be a lazy bunch, I must tell you we work quite hard on the farm! Mother and I have set ourselves to learning many new skills, so we might be useful to the running of things. There is no room for the lazy here! After all, when most of one's income is dependent on infrequent harvests, one must find ways to supplement one's income in the interim.

Josef has taken to helping the local fishermen with their catch in exchange for a few coins to keep us in ribbons and shoe polish, and I am proudly selling some of our milk and eggs every day to the general store. The grocer is kind enough to charge less interest on our account in exchange, and his wife and I get on nicely.

Mother, however, has made the most surprising shift of all! She has always done her little fancy things—she used to win those blue ribbons for her embroidery, you know. Lately, however, she has become a student of woodworking! Her knife blocks and little figures take in tidy sums at the market we travel to in neighboring Henford once a week to sell our wares, and I'm thrilled to see her getting recognition. At the least, it keeps her mind off of Father's passing. That is hard to do most days.

As for me, you'll be pleased to know that I am no longer the sad little wretch who could not boil an egg that I was when we met on Papa's business trip to San Myshuno. I am learning to cook! I have baked bread without poisoning Mother and Josef several times now, scrambled eggs without dropping in their shells, and stumbled my way through a passable stew or two that my dear man ate without complaint.

He never intended to be a farmer, my Josef. Before his father died, he'd intended to be a professor of music in Austria, but to care for his mother and brother, he took over farming the land from his father. When his mother also passed, he came here. As I understand it, an uncle of his and his brother Franz operate the property now. He still regrets not finishing his education, but he is a marvelous farmer. As if it were knowledge granted to him from God, he plants things together that grow better than they would apart. Some may say it's because we are blessed to have good soil, but I know it's more than that.

I am impressed watching his keen mind at work most especially in the quiet moments. Sometimes, we fish together in Henford when we go to market, and he tells me all about the composers he studied.

Papa took me to the opera, once. Did I ever tell you that? I thought there could be nothing more beautiful this side of heaven. Nothing was—until I listened to my love tell me about Schubert, about Bach, and of Mozart. Sometimes, he will sing to me. Josef has a beautiful baritone. It is rich like the honey our bees make and just as sweet. I am convinced I must cajole him to join the church choir, but for now I am content to keep him to myself. Perhaps that is selfish of me, but is it not a wife's prerogative to keep her husband to herself?

Even more than our fishing and our singing, I enjoy our time alone in the evenings—not in that way, you cad (though I do now enjoy that quite a lot, thank you very much. Your advice on the subject was invaluable).

Every night, we sit by the fire in our little parlor area after we eat a dinner whose quality varies by the day, and talk about any and everything we desire. Mother retires early in her grief. I am saddened by this, but choose to be optimistic. You see, friend o' mine, this means we are free to be true newlyweds and sigh and dream over the future, whispering our sweet nothings, or merely gazing at each other like cow-eyed courting youths at the parish picnic. Having done so little of that in my own schooldays, I like to think I'm making up for lost time. It is so much more delicious to be silly and love struck when one no longer requires a chaperone!

Oh, how I love this man! He loves every bit of me, even the absurd little bits that I should discard as the respectable matron of Idyllwind Farm (the fanciful name I have christened our patch of earth with), and together we love this life of ours. Do write back, and tell me you and your family will move out here to Brindleton. You must! Leave that horrid city behind and come work this good land. I swear to you, I have never been so happy in my whole life as I am right now. You and yours must come and share in my joy. Only one, small blessing could make me any happier.

(I pray we shall be blessed with one soon.)

Yours, Mrs. Beatrice Moody

Prev ~ Next ~ Beginning

#decades challenge #moody legacy #simblr #sims 4 #decades challenge gen 1 #sims 4 decades challenge #new simblr

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legallybrunettedotcom · 5 months

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What did you think of Saltburn?😊 I‘m waiting for it to get uploaded to my usual pirating website I use lol but idk if I‘d like it because I‘ve heard some people say it lacks substance or some sort of critique. But maybe that‘s just not what it was intended for in the first place? Love you xx sorry if this is random but I trust ur taste😚

probably better to wait for an hd version, i was too impatient and i don't see it getting a wider release, but i might revisit once hd version is uploaded. it is very much style over substance and i think it's a matter of preference like if that is something you enjoy in your movies or not. there has already been a ton of commentary and criticism about its main problems so i don't want to needlessly repeat. out of all these eat the rich movies it does the poorest in terms of us actually wanting to eat the said rich. there is a twist in the movie, which i obviously won't reveal, that i'm not sure does what it wants to do. the thing that bothered me the most is director emerald fennell saying yeah we make fun of the rich but we also make fun of people wanting to get in. like what? 🧐 that doesn't sit right with me. if i had a friend with a similar background to hers and they said that to me, i'd deck them. rude and classist. i'm ultimately not sure what her aim and point was with the movie. the movie is provocative and debauched but her attempts at that provocation are kinda lazy. anyway, others have already said it all better than me.

now for everything else, great performances all around, i was on the fence about jacob elordi, i didn't really get the hype, but he's quite alright, and of course barry keoghan brilliant as always. visually stunning, the movie gives you everything you expect to see from such a movie. you're expecting stereotypical (dark) academia, talented mr ripley, sort of james ivory-esque vibes, maybe a bit of skins uk if they were aristocrats and that's exactly what you get so in those terms it feels quite satisfying. i know pinterest girlies are having a blast with this one. there were a few scenes that made me gasp. obviously there's that one scene everyone is talking about, but there's a few others that made me say oh my god out loud. and i thought the soundtrack was great. also the final scene was very fun. all in all, it's entertaining, it's crazy, i definitely enjoyed it more than some of my personal highly anticipated 2023 releases, but it ultimately fails to say anything meaningful.

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 10 months

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Day 4- New PBs

This poll is for which fic you want to see updated on July 16th as part of my 7 day birthday gifts to the fans! If you are unfamiliar with my works or need a reminder, check out the links and summaries below the "read more" before you vote. Other poll information for this week can be found here.

And any fics that don't win but still collect a substantial amount of votes are eligible for a Redemption Vote on June 24th! Otherwise, thank you for your participation! 😍😁

Missed out on a chance to vote in a previous poll? Shoot me an ask or comment on the poll and I'll factor your vote in! Voting officially ends for all polls on June 26th.

Just Out of Reach- Ladyhawk AU; Bilbo and Thorin were getting married in Laketown in secret when a curse was placed upon them. Now Thorin becomes a raven by day and Bilbo a raccoon by night so that they can never be together as hobbit and dwarf again unless they fulfill the catastrophic wishes of the curse bearer, whoever he may be...

Oakenshield: Prince or Thief?- Robin Hood AU; Everyone knows the story: After King Thrain took his best warriors, including Crown Prince Thorin, only to be slain by the orc forces in Khazad-dum, his advisor, Lord Smaug, was placed in charge and all the lands of Erebor suffered. Fortunately, rising past the oppressive tyranny was the one and only Oakenshield, to rob from the rich and give to the poor. In reality though...that's not quite accurate. For one thing, there are actually two beings claiming to be 'Oakenshield' with vastly different objectives, and then there's the small problem of them not being aware of the other until Bilbo comes across a rather interesting Company of dwarves in Mirkwood.

The Raven Prince- Swan Princess AU; Thorin never gave much thought to his fiancé past how much he didn't want to have a fiancé, especially not this hobbit. However, after the mysterious death of the Shire Kingdom's monarchs and Bilbo's disappearance, Erebor is approached by a sorcerer who flexes his power and influence on Thorin. Now he's a raven and he must somehow save Bilbo, save his kingdom, and get his father's blessing before it's too late.

To Spoon Feed You Comfort- Accidental Marriage AU; Marriage in the Shire is a relatively easy process. All you have to do is get your intended to eat from your hand crafted Love Spoon, and return the gesture. Bilbo was already displeased by his unexpected house guests but when the newest arrival used his Love Spoon to eat from...well none could blame the hobbit for fainting if they knew the circumstances.

An Unexpected Gift on a Journey to You- Dwobbit Frodo; Bilbo went back to the Shire, and Thorin couldn't necessarily blame him. However, eight years later, he starts to miss what once was and what could be and decides to journey to the Shire to plead forgiveness. Only problem, Bilbo supposedly had left for Erebor months before. Why had he not made it? Where was their former burglar? And what was with this little hobbit child who supposedly had been living with Bilbo?

#birthday plot bunnies #the hobbit #bagginshield #new plot bunnies #you choose which fics you want to see updated

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auntie-venom · 1 year

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Will of Fate

Chapter Four

Fandom: Star Wars: The Mandalorian

Story Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Mature

Characters: Din Djarin x Original Female Character

Summary: There hasn’t been an unidentified spacecraft in the stratosphere of Arkadia in over two decades, let alone three in one day. Those skilled or mad enough to venture into the Chaos unguided were few and far between. That means no one has ever made it to Arkadia who wasn’t intending to be here.

Until today.

Din Djarin finds an unmapped planet filled with beings who have the same powers as the Child, but know nothing of the force or the Jedi.

Chapter Summary: Din, Eziriel, and The Child make their way towards civilization. Din asks Eziriel a question that has been on his mind all day.

Word Count - 4,614

Chapter Warnings: Language

Will of Fate Masterlist

Read on Ao3

A/N: A day late, but here it is! Thank you to those who have commented and given feedback, it has been very helpful and encouraging.

Feedback and critique is welcome, I am trying to get better. Reminder this is unbeta-ed. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter four

Din can already hear the woman, Eziriel, puttering around and humming to herself in the common space when he wakes up. The sun is coming brightly around the curtains of the window indicating it is later in the morning than he would have liked to wake.

He rises from the bunk and slips his helmet off momentarily to wipe the sleep that gathered in his eyes. While he appreciates Eziriel’s courtesy in giving him a secured room to sleep, Din did not feel comfortable shedding his armor in a relatively unknown location.

He goes through his morning stretches taking note to check on the various recovering injuries on his body. The bacta injection did wonders for the surface damage but there was still healing time with bruised ribs and concussion. Luckily, the more extreme symptoms of his concussion are gone and the pain reliever is keeping his rib pain to a moderate level.

He opens the pram to check on the kid and sees him still sound asleep, recovering from using his powers. Similar powers that Din witnessed Eziriel casually use last night.

Was she one of the Jedi he needed to find? It would make sense that they would inhabit a planet—Arkadia he reminds himself—that isolated itself as thoroughly as this one did. It would also explain how difficult it has been to get a lead on any of them.

Our secret keeps Arkadia alive.

That sentiment resonated with Din far deeper than she probably realized. He fully understood the need to protect one’s society. He knows what it means when secrecy is survival. The Armorer’s words ring in an echo to Eziriel’s, “Our secrecy is our survival, our survival is our strength.”

His helmet picks up Eziriel opening the outer door and stepping outside. He uses the opportunity to make his way to the refresher but when he opens the archaic hinged door of the bunk room he is greeted by the chair he was sitting in last night in the doorway with a steaming mug of caf and another ration pack on top of it. He feels his brow relax from its usual heavy weight at the kind gesture.

She is thoughtful.

He takes care of his business in the refresher and eats his meal in his usual quickness before following the soft humming from outside.

The sun is still low in the sky and it illuminates the vast canyon with its red rocky walls and the pillars that were topped with vegetation that he attempted to navigate yesterday. The trees that surround him are towering gnarled beasts with rich green leaves and house colorful chittering avians. Din admits to himself that it is quite a peaceful view.

“There’s my lovely Lori!” Eziriel chirps from his left and the sigh is through the vocoder before he can stop it.

She is a menace.

“Did you sleep well Mando?” The way she says his name is teasing and full of mirth. It’s irritating. He turns towards her and he finally sees his savior in the full light of day.

She is petite and the way her baggy green overalls hung on her only served to make her seem shorter. Her fair skin contrasted against the vibrant copper hair that was escaping the large braid in curly tresses. Her thick expressive brows arch regally over warm blue eyes and amongst the constellation of tan freckles scattered across her face lay a small brown mole on the apex of her left cheek right beneath the corner of her eye. He notices her ears were the normal size of most humanoids, but with the tips pointed and slightly elongated which was something he hadn’t seen before on a seemingly full human individual. The small laugh lines in the corner of her eyes and the scattering of white strands that resides in the hairline around her face tells him she is older than he originally thought. She wears a smirk in the corner of her full lips like it was a permanent fixture, and if Din had to guess it probably was.

“I appreciate the meal, thank you.” He dips his head towards her.

Her smirk softens to something more genuine, “You’re very welcome. I need you well fed for the journey. We have a two day ride through the beautiful Forest of Ga’ladora before we make it back to Helix.”

Din looks to the woods and asks, “Is it very dangerous?”

“Not dangerous, but it has dangers if you are ill prepared.” She goes to finish tying up her supplies to the speeder bike as she falls back into her teasing tone, “You are blessed enough to be in the company of an experienced guide.”

He feels his lips twitch upward at her levity. He doesn’t verbally respond to her but instead goes to help where he can in loading the speeder. Together they secure all the satchels and the pram with little fuss. With the pram taking up space on the back of the speeder it is going to be a tight squeeze for the two of them.

Din realizes that she hasn’t once asked about the pram. She has referred to his companion, but hasn’t invaded his privacy about it. Even when she was questioning him about his intentions last night she never once gave it a curious glance.

She is respectful.

She does one more walkthrough of the beacon station before closing the hinged door without locking it.

“I can't imagine how someone snuck tech into your system with all that security,” he says dryly.

She snorts at his jab. “The panels to the hardware are extremely locked down, but the beacon stations remain open to the public for those out in the wilderness. Citizens enjoy venturing into the woods for pleasure, so having a place to sleep safely and a cache of supplies lowers the amount of search and rescue adventures,” she says.

In other parts of the galaxy people live in the wilderness because they have nowhere else to go, and Arkadians have leisurely trips in the wilderness for sport. Din thinks it’s a very generous solution to a privileged problem.

He watches her tap on the brass colored device circled around her right ear and that violet holographic visor comes across her eyes. He watches her eyes scan it quickly before meeting his eyes through her visor. For a brief moment he wonders if she can see his face with how accurate she was in making eye contact.

“Your vitals have improved! Though I do read an influx of endorphins so I imagine you still have some pain.”

She is invasive.

“You could have just asked,” Din says.

“Sorry,” she says with an embarrassed look of genuine remorse. “I’m so used to just getting answers myself rather than being given them.” She dismisses her visor with a flick of her wrist and grins up at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Bruised ribs. Minor headache.” She stares at him with a raised brow like she expects him to continue. He doesn’t.

“Maker, what an informative assessment you delivered,” she snarks back with a laugh.

“What more do you need to know?” He asks flatly and she chuckles.

“You’re right, that is all I need to know.” She smiles at him as she mounts the speeder and pats the seat behind her in invitation. “Efficiency is the name of your game, isn’t it?”

“If you’re gonna be anything, be efficient,” Din replies as he swings his leg over the bike. He is so close he can feel her giggle in response and he feels his lips twitch again at her joy as she takes off into the woods.

She is droll.

════════════════════════════════════

Din isn’t sure how she is weaving through the massive forest at the speed they travel, but it is nerve wracking. Her reflexes must be honed sharply because he barely has time to register an obstacle before she has already plotted her path around it. At some points it is dizzying to see where they go but that could be due to the lingering concussion.

They travel for hours this way, winding through the maze of trees navigating toward a mountain range. He feels Eziriel’s voice rumble where he is pressed to her back ever so often but it’s never directed at him and his helmet can’t pick it up over the rumble of the speeder. He figured she was talking to whoever was at the other end of her comms last night.

About an hour past midday he watches as her head cants to the side like she is listening to something and she slows the speeder down down.

He feels her laugh and barely hears her say something before her chuckling voice rings clearly in his helmet, “Your companion is awake and they are hungry.”

His body startles at her voice without his permission before muttering, “Dank farrik, woman.”

He listens to her laugh harder at his reaction as she steers the speeder bike to a clearing near a flowing stream. He notes her visor isn’t activated and it makes him curious how she knew the child was awake and hungry.

Eziriel parks them in the sun dappled shade of a weeping tree and the peaceful sounds of a steady stream fill the air once the speeder engine is cut. She knocks twice on the armor covering his thigh with her knuckles before standing and swinging her leg over the handlebars to dismount.

“C’mon, it was time to stretch anyway.”

Din watches as she goes onto her toes, stretches her arms high above her head, and lets out a high pitched groan of relief. He twists off the seat and goes to adjust the ropes on the pram so he will be able to open it without untying it from the speeder.

He feels a small rise of nervousness at revealing the child to Eziriel. He didn’t think she would do anything bad, but it was always nerve wracking to expose the child. He presses the release button quickly before he overthinks it too much.

“Hey kid,” he greets once the large eyes lock onto him. The child gives him a toothy grin and makes a curious noise at his surroundings as Din picks him up.

The child leans to look around Din at Eziriel, “Ehhh?”

“Well, hello little…Lad? Lass?” She questions towards Din as he turns around.

“Boy.”

“Wonderful to meet you little laddie,” she says as she holds two fingers out for him to grasp and she gives him a light hand shake. “How do you fit those ears in the helmet, Mando?”

“He isn’t my blood,” Din says, rolling his eyes at the joke he has heard dozens of variations of over the last few months and her continued teasing tone of his moniker.

“Doesn’t make him any less yours,” she says sincerely, looking up to meet his gaze accurately once again. The sentiment warms his chest with affection and she smiles at him with kind eyes. “Do I get to know his name?”

“I don’t know it,” Din says with a shrug. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“What? Like you’ve forgotten it? That concussion must've been more serious than I thought,” she remarks, going to her bag to pull out the ration bars. The child's ears perk up at her finds.

“No,” he scoffs and sets the child down when he starts trying to wiggle free. “I found him a few months back and he has been with me ever since. He's not verbal enough to tell me his name.”

The little green toddler waddles over to the woman and she plops down to the grass to greet him after tossing a ration bar to Din. She smiles and opens a ration to give to him, but he just crawls onto her legs and makes himself comfortable in her lap before reaching for the nutrition brick. She releases a mirthful giggle at his audacity and Din can’t help but lift the corner of his mouth a little.

“So he is your—what do Mandalorians call it—“

“Foundling.”

“—Foundling!” She snaps her fingers and points at Din with a grin. “What do you call him then? ‘Hey you’?”

“Kid, mostly.”

“Maker’s tits, Mando.” She dramatically rolls her eyes as she digs into her own ration, “Your naming habits leave much to be desired.”

“I’ve been quested to return him to his kind,” he says soberly. She gives him a sympathetic look of understanding.

“And you didn’t want to give him a name when he might have someone who knows his true one,” she says with a tone of compassion.

Time passes with the sounds of whispering wind and trickling water as she and the child finish eating their meal. She fishes out her canteen and offers it to the toddler and he messily accepts while she snickers.

“Well, I’ve never met anyone that looks anything like little laddie over here,” she says as she takes his hands and bobs him back and forth as he giggles. “But I’ve barely left Arkadia, so maybe someone in Helix will have a lead for you.”

The child slides off her lap and starts exploring the grass next to the stream. He starts pointing at things and babbling back at Eziriel and Din, the former of which nods and responds enthusiastically like he is telling her the most important information.

“You not going to eat? I can turn around or you can go into the woods and I’ll watch the kid,” she offers.

“Thank you, but no,” he states and she scrunches her eyebrows at him. “Please don’t take offense, you’ve been very accommodating, but it's just that I don’t know you enough to trust you in that way.”

“You could get to know me,” she says with a grin and an arch of her eyebrow. He tilts his head at her and she starts digging through her bag for something.

“What do you do?” He finally asks awkwardly.

“I am an electrical engineer by trade, but I am the head of a division in the technical operations of the Arkadian government.” She pulls out a case from her bag before continuing, “It’s a little more bureaucratic than I’d prefer, but I get access to tech I’d not normally. What about you?”

“I’m a bounty hunter.”

“Oh wow!” Her eyes wide as she smiles at him. “That is so wizard, it must be a life filled with travel and adventure.”

“That is one way to look at it,” he nods to her as his eyes track the kid chasing a bug.

“Which has been the worst planet you’ve had to chase a bounty?” She asks as she pulls out a thick tube with a device on one end out of the case. Din takes a moment to mentally go through the catalog of planets he has visited.

“Coruscant. Everyone is just stacked on top of each other, absolutely no space to breathe. Bounties think it is a good hiding spot because of that; and it would be if they were smart, but they usually aren’t.” Din leans against the speeder and watches the kid look at the bug he finally caught. Hooking his thumbs into his belt he continues, “They have a lifestyle they try to keep that involves being social and anyone will sell you out for the right price.”

She hums in interest as she twists off the device at the end of the tube. She takes the tube and puts it into her canteen. She smiles triumphantly at him as she stands up and walks up to him holding the canteen out which now featured a straw.

“You should stay hydrated in this heat, at least,” she says, pushing the canteen into his hand.

“You just had a straw handy?”

“It’s a filtering device for drinking from a body of water with unknown sources.” She shakes, what he assumes, the filtration system at him and leans against the bike next to him and turns her gaze to the toddler.

He is, once again, taken aback by her thoughtfulness. He is unmoving, just looking at her, and before he realizes it he has pressed the helmet’s button that releases the seal with a pneumatic hiss and slides the straw under. He tries not to over-analyze the act of trust he is giving a woman he met only a day ago as he drinks.

“In vids, Coruscant always looked way too crowded for me. It gives me anxiety,” she says with a shudder. He hums in agreement and looks at her. “Just all the buildings alo—NO! NO! NO!”

He drops the canteen and grabs his blaster as she is suddenly sprinting towards the kid and that’s when he notices a wriggling frog is now floating in the air above the pouting toddler.

She scoops the child up and says, “You are a troublemaker, little laddie, I can tell.” The kid giggles at her. “Mando, your kid was trying to eat a live frog.” Said frog was being lowered into the stream as Eziriel walked back towards him.

“He does that.” Din holsters the blaster and bends down to pick up the fallen canteen.

She did it again, using those powers that were so similar to the child’s. When the kid used the powers it took all his effort to concentrate while she just nonchalantly used them with barely any physical indication. Was it a different power or was it simply because she was an adult?

After she hands the kid to him with a slightly appalled but mostly amused face they each take a private relief break and load back up onto the speeder bike. The kid was secure in his pram once again and given an extra ration pack by Eziriel before they continued their way towards their destination.

════════════════════════════════════

By the time the sun was getting low in the sky they were climbing through the mountains at a steady pace. The temperature was falling the deeper into the mountains they went, not enough to be biting but enough that Din notices goosebumps on Eziriel’s arms and for her to stop momentarily to pull out a dark plum cloak.

She started slowing down when they came across a river. Diverting from the direction they’ve been heading all day, she instead followed the flowing river. The river becomes wider and a mild roar of water becomes louder until they reach a deep pool of calmer water that is being fed by a plunging waterfall. She pulls under the overcrop of the cliff far enough away from the spray of the waterfall and kills the engine.

She stretches her arms above her head, bowing her back with a groan before dismounting. He follows and opens the pram to a grumpy face surrounded by crumbs of a ration. The child must be over being stuck in his pram all day.

“I’m getting too old for long rides,” she says, twisting her back in more stretches.

“Come on, you look like you are barely an adult,” Din comments with a teasing tone deliberately towering over her and looking down.

She gives him a look of faux outrage. “Sir! Don’t let my height fool you. I may have the stature of pubescent youngling but I am halfway through my thirties and my back feels every year.”

Din sets the child down as the last beams of sunlight punch through the trees to the west. He watches as the child goes waddling toward the water and picks up stones to start clacking together.

He senses Eziriel’s presence before a hand touches the armorless space on his elbow and he glances down at her. She slides her hand down his arm to flip it palm up and places a ration meal pack and an eating utensil in his hand. She grins up at him before pointing behind them to a dark cave in the cliffside.

“You can eat in there while keeping an eye on me and the lad,” she says. “It goes straight back so you can go pretty far back in the darkness while still being able to see us.”

“Why are you so concerned with my eating habits?” He asks.

“I swore to your safety and taking care of your needs is a part of making sure you’re safe.” She shrugs like it’s an obvious answer.

Right, the oath she swore in order to reassure him that she meant no harm. He didn’t know what the full scope of it entailed, but it sounded like it was broad. He was curious to know if that was normal or if Eziriel was manipulating him.

She holds out her canteen and he takes a moment to scan the surroundings before accepting it with a nod of thanks. He makes his way into the cave hesitantly, keeping vigilant for any wildlife that might be lurking. He hears Eziriel call the child over and ask him about which ration he would like to eat; to which he gives some sort of babbling answer that she agrees with.

Once he is far enough into the dark cave he leans against the wall and looks at the scene framed by the mouth of the cave. Eziriel is sitting by the water with the child on a rock next to her. They both keep their attention on the water pointing at different things only turning towards each other whenever the kid demands a bite of food. She eats while he makes comments in his toddler language. She nods and responds to him like she understands him.

Din removes his helmet and begins his meal as he wonders if she is a mother. The maternal side of her that he has witnessed seemed very organic, and if he was honest with himself, very charming. Seeing a pretty woman doting lovingly on his foundling makes his neck heat up in a way he doesn’t want to think about.

By the time he has finished his meal the sun is gone completely. He steps to the mouth of the cave just in time to hear the child coo in amazement and he has to agree with the assessment.

All around them a kaleidoscopic display of bioluminescent organic life begins to fill the darkness with light. Lichen paints glowing pink hues onto the rocks and trees; pulsing green comes from the scattered fungal formations; the trees themselves illuminate purple in the cracks of the bark; and the water glows a bright shade of blue from the algae along the rocks of the river with the churning waterfall emitting the most light.

Din steps up behind the pair glancing into the water they are looking at to see dozens of fish of all colors illuminating in the glowing pool. He watches as Eziriel drags her fingers through the water creating a swirling bright light in her wake.

“The algae-infused water temporarily reacts to an exposure of oxygen,” she explains to the child. “Here, you try.”

She picks the child up and tips him over the water so he can drag his tiny hands through. When it doesn’t work for his slow movement she easily calms his frustrations.

“You have to create a little more of a disturbance in the water for it to light up. Just go a little faster,” she suggests calmly. The child listens to the instruction, inadvertently splashing her, and coos in wonderment at his achievement. Din has never seen the kid take instruction this well before and is impressed with Eziriel’s patience.

He takes a moment to appreciate the calm moment where the kid can just be a kid. No Empire chasing him. No mystery powers. Just a boy in the arms of a woman who wants to show him the beauty of her planet.

With her kind smile gracing her delicate features and the blue phosphorescent light of the water reflecting against her skin, she looks like a celestial being that his mother used to tell stories of. Protectors from the stars who want to show people the woven threads of the universe and the beautiful tapestry it creates. It gives him a momentary sense of awe just looking at her.

She holds out a hand and a couple dozen of the smaller pebbles around them lift slowly off the ground. They float over the pond and she rains them into the water creating shimmering sparks of light as the pebbles breach the water. The child pointed to where the rocks hit the water and gave her an inquisitive noise.

“Are you a Jedi?” Din asks abruptly. Smooth.

“A what?” Her brow furrows in confusion as she glances up at him. The child lets out a high pitched squeal that catches both of their attention as he holds up his hand and a pebble flies into the water far less gracefully.

She cheers with a clap of her hands. “Your will is very strong buddy!”

“I was told his people are the Jedi. Warriors who use that—“ he gestures to the rocks “—power.”

“Power? Do you mean my Will?” She asks and he finally catches the way she says it. She’s mentioned her “Will” before, but it seems he just didn’t grasp its true meaning.

“Is that what you use to make things move without touching?”

“Well, yeah.” She shrugs nonchalantly before continuing, “But it’s not a power. Everyone has a Will.”

“I can’t do that,” he states matter-of-factly.

She gives him a considered look and says, “We just assumed adult offworlders didn’t have control of their Will because their cultures didn’t nurture the skill when they were younglings.”

“I was told that this power is called the Force.” He explains and her eyes go distant in thought.

“I’ve not heard it called that, but history and sociology weren’t really my favorite focus in my education.” She scrunches her nose at the statement.

Din sighs at another dead end and tips his helmet down in frustration. So on her planet everyone has these powers, but they aren’t the Jedi he was searching for. He wonders if anyone here would even know anything about Jedi since the planet has been isolated for so long.

“Hey CHI-CHI,” she says, breaking the silence. “Can you pull any information regarding Jedi and the Force and put it on my home terminal?”

“Of course I can, I am not an imbecile,'' a voice says coming out of her bracer.

She waits a beat before sighing. “Will you please gather the information for me?” She begs.

“From just our archives or would you like me to retrieve more from the holonet?”

“Access whatever you can, so long as you remain hidden,” she tells the voice.

“Obviously,” the voice says sarcastically.

“Thank you CHI, darling.”

“You are most welcome mother, dearest.”

She gives a dramatic eye roll before looking at Din. “We should have a plethora of information waiting for us when we get in. You are more than welcome to it.”

“Anything you find will be more than I have now,” Din says. “I am truly in your debt.”

“Nah,” she says with a wave of her hand. Before he knows what he is doing he kneels down and places his hand on her shoulder gently.

“Really.” He squeezes her shoulder. “I am very grateful for all that you’ve done for us,” he says with a soft voice looking directly into her eyes.

She grips the splashing child tighter and a look fills her eyes that he can't place. “You are very welcome,” she says before a mischievous smirk curls up her lips. “Anything for my lovely Lori”

His sigh is eclipsed by her chuckle.

<< Chapter Three

Chapter Five >>

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rhaenella · 1 year

Text

You & Me - Rhys Montrose x Reader - Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Violence, murder, immoral sociopathic behaviour, mentions of alcoholism, drug abuse and neglect, (eventual) smut

Word count: 2.8k

A/N at the end.

Song: Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene – Hozier

“Fuck the rich,” you groaned, frustrated as you kicked over two empty Chinese takeout containers.

It had been six hours since you came home from your meeting with your employer. Leaving the smug bastard behind in that 18th century abandoned building falling apart at its seams. He didn’t own you – you were your own person. Accepting jobs or refusing them as you wished, but damn it had really felt like he controlled you. And you didn’t like the feeling one bit.

Power is a dangerous thing. Something to be desired and wars fought over. You would never admit that you longed for it yourself. You just wanted the autonomy to decide your own path, your own life and future. And to make sure your sisters could do the same regardless of your shit start in life.

Yet, you didn’t feel an ounce of autonomy right now scrolling once more through the endless online hits on one Rhys Montrose. Your next victim. A man who had to be dead and vanished without a trace within 42 hours. Pity, considering the man wasn’t entirely unattractive.

But ultimately you didn’t care for the man, good looks or not. Sure, he seemed decent in his political stance and you could even find some similarities in your upbringing. Apparently, Montrose had a rather shit start in life as well. Raised in poverty by an unstable single mother. However, he got a chance in life you never did. Turned out his father was some loaded duke who actually recognised Montrose as his legitimate son and heir. From there on his life started taking off, even being able to attend Oxford. Montrose wrote one of the most critically acclaimed memoirs in — well, history. He rose in the elitist ranks and became active in politics. Now there were rumours he would take a shot at the mayor candidacy in London.

Again, you didn’t care about any of this. It was all just part of your normal vetting process. In order to get close to someone without anyone else noticing, one must get to know said person. The preparations of a kill were usually quite thrilling. Yes, you were a gun for hire but the knowledge that you were planning another person’s demise and about to carry it out without any of the victims being none the wiser was exciting.

Did that make you a sociopath? Probably. You never intended to officially label it as it would require you sharing your secrets with a shrink. Which was never going to happen.

But you knew you also had a heart and feelings. It kept you grounded in your beliefs that you were still somewhat of a normal person. Your feelings tied you to your humanity and to your sisters. You would do anything to protect them. Doing brutal things like killing possibly innocent people for money? If it meant keeping a roof over your sisters’ heads and making sure they got an education, and also not unimportant, preventing your little sister from becoming more sick and likely dying, then yes — fuck it all. You really would do anything. And you already were. But a tiny part of you also acknowledged that besides all of that, you also relished the feeling of besting someone. Watching the light go out in their eyes. And if those people also happened to be privileged assholes – well, you weren’t afraid to admit you enjoyed it just a tad bit more.

You rubbed your tired eyes and got up from the carpet where you had spread out your little research station, a dozen printed-out news articles on Montrose lying scattered around. You sighed. “First coffee,” you muttered to yourself as the early rays of sunlight entered through your almost see-through curtains. You bent down to pick up the takeout containers and walked the small distance to your tiny kitchen, throwing them away.

You had your own small apartment in central London, decorated mostly with thrifted furniture and the little you owned that you brought with you when you escaped your mother’s house. You filled the kettle with water and waited for it to start boiling, grabbing the container of instant coffee from the top shelf, generously adding three scoops of the bitter stuff.

The ringing of your phone made you pause as you set the container of coffee on your counter. Briefly glancing at your clock that hung above your stove — it read 06.32 — you fished your phone out of your pocket and picked it up, already knowing who it must be.

“You’re up early,” you heard the familiar voice of your sister Zoe along with some background noise, most likely she was preparing her breakfast.

“I could say the same thing to you,” you chuckled, moving to lean back against the counter.

“I have an early morning class in—” she paused, probably checking the time. “In two hours,” she sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replied instantly. “It’s just, well, I’m supposed to have finished up on my notes on Poe’s Man of the Crowd and—”

“You haven’t yet,” you supplied, a smile finding its way to your lips.

You heard a huff followed by a laugh. “Yeah.”

You were silent for a minute, listening to the birds waking up outside.

“But it’s fine, you know. My professor — Jonathan Moore — he’s nice and all. He’s a little hung up on his American literature, but he’s helping me out with my own short story so I can’t complain too much.”

“Professor Moore? I haven’t heard you mention him before.”

“Well, I’ve been busy,” your sister answered reasonably. “And by the way, so have you. How was Canada?”

“It was fine,” you commented, turning around when you heard the little click that indicated the water was boiling.

“Just fine? Jeez, sis, you can tell me if you shagged a hot Canadian bloke. I promise it won’t be a commentary on your character.”

You laughed as you picked up the kettle to pour the boiling water into your cup, the smell of coffee filling your nostrils almost making you groan.

“Unfortunately, there was no hot Canadian bloke,” you replied amused. There was however quite an attractive woman that now rested — peacefully? — six feet down in Glendon Forest, Ontario. At least you buried her deep enough so the moose wouldn’t be able to feast off of her remains. That would seem to qualify as peace as far as you were concerned.

“However, I did get you some real Canadian maple syrup.”

“The answer to all my problems,” Zoe remarked dryly.

“Exactly.”

Your sister was quiet for a moment as you stirred your cup of coffee, picking it up to tentatively take a sip of the hot drink. Now you really did almost groan if it wasn’t for the shaky inhale of breath you heard through your phone’s receiver. You were about to ask what was wrong — what truly bothered her, but your sister beat you to the punch.

“Have you heard?” She asked quietly.

“Heard what, love?”

“About the possible serial killer running around London.”

Ah, the infamous Eat The Rich Killer as the media had dubbed him. A little prematurely you thought as there were so far only two confirmed kills, meaning he wasn’t technically a serial killer yet or deserving of a fancy nickname.

You had been reading up on it about three hours ago because the victims had been part of a tight group of social elitists. People who were close to your target, Rhys Montrose. It briefly crossed your mind how well-timed it would be if Montrose would be killed by the presumable serial killer within your time span of killing the man. It would surely be an easy pay day.

“Yeah, I heard. Did you know that professor? Harding, right?”

Your sister hummed affirmatively. “Malcolm Harding. He was a bad professor, never prepared his classes, but he didn’t deserve this. No one does.”

It made you smile thinking of your sister’s big heart. She sympathised with every person that walked this earth, even the ones who didn’t deserve it. Some would call it naive, and maybe it was a little naive, but you also admired that trait in her. It was a level of sympathy you’d never experienced or would ever be able to experience.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” you offered.

“It’s okay. I just hope they catch whoever’s responsible for these crimes. Did you know the killer took… things,” she trailed off, doubtlessly horrified at the idea of cutting up a body.

“Professor Harding’s finger was sent to The London Dispatch.” You could almost hear her shudder through the phone. “And they haven’t retrieved Simon Soo’s ear yet. How appalling — can you imagine cutting off someone’s ear?”

Yes, you could.

“No, the thought of it alone, it’s too awful to think about.”

“Truly horrible,” she agreed.

“But I really need to get going. I still have to finish up on my notes for Moore’s class.”

“You do that, sweetie. And please don’t trouble yourself too much with this Eat The Rich Killer stuff, just focus on yourself and your studies. Okay?”

“I will try,” your sister promised.

You exchanged your I love you’s and goodbye’s, promising to bring her the maple syrup later today. When you hung up the phone and placed it back in your pocket, you picked up your coffee and lazily walked back towards your living room. You sighed as you took in the mess of articles and your hastily scribbled-down notes on Montrose’s movements of the past few weeks.

Plumping down on the soft carpet once more, you took two deep breaths. You can do this. You’d done it countless times before. So what that he was some famous politician, being watched by the entire city, possibly the entire country. You could make this work. This was what you did best.

You grabbed a clean sheet of paper and wrote down the address of Montrose’s townhouse in Primrose Hill. That is where you would start.

The sound of the alert you had installed on your phone when a new article on Montrose would be posted, interrupted your train of thought. You quickly snatched your phone and couldn’t help but smirk as you read the headline now displayed on your screen.

Rhys Montrose Press Interview This Afternoon in Regent’s Park.

Perfect timing, you relished. Now you didn’t have to sneakily stay within the practically non-existent blindspots at his residence where you had counted at least 12 different cameras through looking up his house on Google Maps. The man was either paranoid or brilliant. Or both.

You quickly skimmed through the news article. He would be there answering questions regarding the Eat The Rich situation, as well as raise some awareness for a charity run he’s apparently organising.

You grinned, putting down your phone and eagerly grabbing your laptop to look up Regent’s Park online to examine all the different access (and escape) routes.

Finally you felt like an opportunity had presented itself, the contours of a plan starting to formulate itself in your mind.

As you scribbled down your ideas onto another fresh piece of paper in your notebook, you darkly chuckled, “You better get ready for our first date, Mr. Montrose.”

––

The sun was high up in the sky when Rhys Montrose stood in front of at least two dozen journalists and photographers that afternoon. With cameras zoomed in on his face and microphones and recorders all pointed his way, he had to carefully choose his words answering the media’s questions. Luckily, Rhys was a good talker, and if he didn’t want to provide any upfront comment he would charmingly deflect. It always worked. Handling people came naturally to him — being able to play them like a conductor who is in perfect control of his symphony.

After a few questions on his charity run coming up in two weeks, the media quickly switched tracks to bombard him with questions on the Eat The Rich Killer.

Are you aware of any possible suspects?

Do you fear for your own life?

Are you joining your friends in retreating to Lady Phoebe’s country estate for shelter?

His mind immediately zeroed in on that last question some 20-year-old newbie had shouted from the back of the pack.

Friends, he inwardly scoffed. But they had indeed invited him to come. None of them being aware that they had just voluntarily invited the killer into their little shelter.

The groupchat had exploded after the news broke of Malcolm’s murder. Lady Phoebe calling for a retreat to the safety of the countryside, away from the prying eyes of the media and other dangers that lingered in the shadows of the city of London.

Rhys was way too busy with his extensive plans that needed tending on his road to becoming mayor to accept this ridiculous offer. Besides, he had been more than a little annoyed at this pathetic attempt of outrunning, in his eyes, the inevitable — their deaths.

He was in the middle of formulating a text stating he wouldn’t attend before he paused at a new incoming text by Lady Phoebe. Jonathan would also join them. Why he was admitted to their inner circle of snobbery was beyond him, but Jonathan had intrigued him from the start. His sixth sense when it came to murder and violence kicking in. Rhys had taken a gamble when he’d placed a freshly murdered Malcolm on Jonathan’s kitchen table, but he had been impressed with the way Jonathan had handled the situation. He had been right about him. And now Rhys couldn’t resist playing with Jonathan a little more, rearranging his plans to include the faux professor in his murderous schemes.

Was it just for his own entertainment? Possibly. Would he tire of him eventually? Very likely. But Rhys would deal with that fallout when the time came. For now, Jonathan served his purpose perfectly.

Maybe Rhys would attend after all.

Rhys cleared his throat and placed a befitting, empathetic smile on his face as he turned towards the newbie journalist who was nearly crushing his pencil as he waited for Rhys to answer.

Rhys knew that he could never look weak in the public’s eye, but he did need to convey a sense of compassion towards the situation.

“I am indeed planning to travel to Hampsbridge House later today. We collectively decided to take a moment for ourselves to mourn the loss of our friends whom we’ve known since our days at Oxford,” Rhys answered, deliberately squashing any mentions of sheltering. A word that in his mind equalled pathetic and weak.

“We very much appreciate your understanding of our wish to take some time away from the bustling of the city. Lady Phoebe suggested that the calm and serenity of the countryside may aid in our challenge to make some sense of all that has happened recently. And I wholeheartedly agreed with her assessment.”

Rhys looked around, focusing on the cameras.

“And when I get back in a couple of days, I will be ready to resume my work with a clearer head and a renewed devotion to fight for what’s right in this city. To ensure the safety of all. Not just the social elite, but also the working class,” he concluded.

The journalists and photographers took it as their cue to finish up and started packing up their gear. Rhys’ security walked up to him and informed him they were set to drive him to Hampsie. He nodded affirmatively at his head of security, relaying his instructions for the stay in the country. His security would remain at the outermost perimeter of the property. There would be no need for them inside the walls of the manor anyway. Likely they would only hinder what he had now planned for the other guests.

He was discussing his final instructions whilst they left through the entrance gates of the park when someone forcefully bumped into his right shoulder. Rhys turned around swiftly, regaining his composure and stared at the back of a woman who was wearing head phones. He could clearly hear the blasting music even as she kept on walking farther away from him without apologising, completely ignoring who she had just rather rudely bumped into.

“Sir, are you all right?” His security gathered around him like a protective shield. As if the woman had been any real threat. He chuckled, looking back at his men.

“It’s fine. Let’s not waste any more time.”

The sleek black car that would take him to Hampsie rounded the corner and Rhys slid graciously into the back seat as his chauffeur held open the door for him.

Whilst they drove through the busy London traffic, Rhys rested two fingers to his temple. The next phase of his plan was coming to fruition sooner than he had anticipated. But he was prepared. He always had to be.

At last, they left the hectic city behind them and the smile that slowly made its way onto Rhys’ face was both wicked and dangerous, like a predator ready to stalk its prey.

––––

A/N: and that’s part 2!! Next part will be reader going on her mission to assassinate our favourite politician/serial killer, oh my...

ALSO, it’s the first time ever that I’ve been adding these soundtrack-esque songs at the beginning of the chapters. These are really just songs that I thought about (or listened to) during writing that would, in my opinion, really fit the vibe of the chapter. Feel free to play them as you read or perhaps listen to them afterwards

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