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pineconepie · 7 hours ago

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CHARACTERS: Cassian, Winslow, You/Reader

WARNINGS/TAGS: Nagas/snakes, hypnosis, parental yanderes, kidnapping, infantilization, failed escape attempt, gender neutral reader

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Two writings posted in one day? Perhaps I felt generous. I've changed up my original plans for them a tiny bit, but not by much. I hope you like it!

The air in the forest is cool, but there's an unnatural stillness that unsettles you as you walk through it. It makes sense that you haven't seen another hiker, the place just feels... off.

It doesn't matter, though. You got several good photos of some plants, and a beautiful waterfall and lake with pristine blue water; probably the bluest natural water you've ever seen.

You have what you came for, but you want to get some more photos.

It started off as just a hobby, but when a local nature organization noticed your photos posted on social media, they were really interested in hiring you to take pictures for them. It was more comparable to a gig or freelance work, since all your pay is done by commission, but it's fun and makes you enough extra money that you don't mind keeping at it.

After snapping some photos of some mushrooms growing from a rotting log, you hear the sound of talking.

Maybe there are hikers, after all.

You see two people in the distance.

"Is the fresh air helping at all, my love?" a slightly deep voice asks. He has short black hair, and strangely bright yellow eyes. He has a scar across his left eye, rendering it milky white, likely blind.

Eyes that you know you've never seen on anyone else before.

Next to him, is a much more sullen-looking taller man. Taller by quite a bit, though they look the same age. He has longer white-blond hair tied into a loose ponytail, blue eyes, and... black scleras?

Surely you must be seeing things wrong. You use your camera to zoom in on them.

"I told you, fresh air does nothing," a more soft voice hisses, though there's no true anger in it. It sounds more... sad. Exhausted.

Zooming in on them doesn't help. You truly realize how tall they are—even the shorter one could still tower over you.

And then you realize the other part about them both that is unnatural.

They have tails. Tails like a snake, to be exact. The shorter man has a brown-gold tail, and the other has a light-brown tail, with darker brown-black markings.

That doesn't make sense. No way you aren't hallucinating. There isn't any poisonous fungi around here, right?

It's impossible, yet you keep looking through the lens at those two men.

You accidentally snap a photo of the pair, both of them whipping their heads in your direction immediately.

In a moment of sheer panic, you start sprinting away. Your heart races in your chest so hard it might just break out as you force yourself to run faster than you ever have in your life.

You look back after some time, and you're too distracted to notice the raised tree root, tripping over it and hitting the ground with a thud.

To make matters worse, you tumble down a hill and roll onto the cold rocky shore of the lake. Your head is throbbing, and you try to sit up only to get dizzy. You press the palm of your hand to your forehead, pulling it back and seeing red. With a wince, you notice the small scrape on your arm that's also bleeding, plus your knee hurts from when you landed on the rocks.

The voices come back from a distance, but still close enough for you to hear them.

"What do you think it was?" the softer voice asks. The one from the taller man you assume was melancholic—based on his slumped posture—though now you can clearly detect curiosity. "A deer?"

"I can smell its blood," the other voice murmurs. "Doesn't smell like deer. Whatever it is, I'm hungry," he states excitedly.

Oh god. You feel even dizzier than before, and not from your fall, either. You manage to stand, ignoring how unbalanced you are as you run towards a large boulder sitting near the shore of the lake. You hide behind it, praying they don't find you.

Your luck quickly runs out.

A hand grabs your ankle and drags you out of your hiding place, so quickly you don't even have time to react.

They both gasp. You look up at them both in fear, trembling underneath their gazes. You glance towards your camera; it didn't take a beating from the fall, somehow.

Not like it now matters. This is where you meet your death, you're sure of it. So you shut your eyes, and await the inevitable.

"A human," the taller one whispers. "Oh, Winslow, look at them...!" He coos, scooping you up into his arms with a scary amount of ease. His gaze softens. "A baby. Aren't they precious? They look so perfect... Look how little they are..." He sounds adoring, talking to you as if you're an animal who can't understand him.

But wait. Does he know you can?

"You're right, Cassian," the other one chuckles, running one of his claws gently across your face.

"My hatchling," Cassian shakily says. His grip on you somehow tightens. "I won't let anything happen to you... not like..." His voice cracks, like he might cry.

"Cassian," Winslow chides gently. "This time we won't lose them. I promise you." He looks down at you, smiling, but... it looks strange.

"Right. It'll be different this time," Cassian agrees, blinking tears away. They both seem to have this inside conversation, and your presence seems to have slipped their mind. Until the attention shifts back to you, anyway. "Our baby must be so scared," Cassian coos sadly, petting your head. "That was such a tumble you took..."

You continue to pretend to not understand them. Maybe if they realize you aren't comprehending their words, they'll leave you be.

"They probably have no idea what's happening! Poor thing..." Winslow sighs.

Cassian hums. You crack open one eye to see him staring at you fondly. When you first met gazes, he looked depressed; exhausted. Now he looks content and at peace, even.

You start to wriggle, trying to escape his hold. You manage to get yourself out, but your injuries don't allow you to run anywhere.

Winslow acts faster, grabbing you again into his arms this time, which are more thick and muscular. "No no no, sweetheart, don't hurt yourself!" Winslow exclaims. "It's okay, don't cry! Papa's here!" He bounces you in his arms, like soothing a crying baby.

And unfortunately, you realize he's not lying, because you can feel the tears streaming down your cheeks, burning the cut by your mouth as you sob.

They're much larger than you. There's no escape. Not right now, anyway. So you lay limp in Winslow's arms, sniffling, knowing it will help nothing.

"We're taking them," Cassian mumbles, but his tone leaves no room for argument.

Winslow pecks the side of your head. "Of course we are."

The exhaustion from the past hours suddenly catches up with you.

...

When you wake up, you hear the sound of humming, accompanied by a fire. You're wrapped in something that doesn't feel quite like a blanket... or any fabric, for that matter.

You struggle to move at first, feeling dizzy, until your vision finally focuses and you can see where you are.

The cave is somewhat dark, but there's a large hole showing sunlight, a large tree beneath the sunlight, roots reaching through the top.

Vines cover the ceiling and most of the walls, making for a very natural yet cozy-looking place.

You look down and realize the 'blanket' isn't a blanket at all. It's... a tail, leading up to reveal who you remember as Winslow. The memories from earlier flood back into your brain, causing you to shrink under his touch.

He's laying next to you, asleep. One of his arms is underneath your head like a pillow, and his tail has curled itself around you.

There's a fire crackling. You lift your head to see Cassian tending to it, cooking something in the flames. The heat from it warms the cave nicely. Your head starts to pound as soon as you've raised it too far off the makeshift pillow that is Winslow's arm.

Suddenly Cassian whips around at the sound of your slight whimper, moving faster than you would have ever guessed possible.

"Good morning, my little one," he whispers, brushing some hair off of your face, examining your forehead. "Poor dear," he sighs sympathetically. "Papa and Baba will take good care of you."

"Baba?" you repeat. You panic for a moment when you see Cassian blink in shock.

"Oh, Cass! They said 'Baba'!" Winslow gasps.

Oh, thank goodness. They both still have no clue you can truly understand them. You try your hardest to play up the innocent act. Winslow hugs you, cuddling you close to him and kissing your cheeks repeatedly, making kissy noises.

You get the impression these two have no experience with humans. If they did, they would likely notice your skin crawling at the interaction.

Then you're scooped up again into Cassian's arms. You squirm, kicking your legs against him, which makes his smile grow wider.

"So lively!" he chuckles. He holds you by tucking you into his arm as he feeds the fire more wood with his free hand.

"Are they acting fussy, love?" Winslow asks, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he gets up. He makes grabby hands towards you.

"I guess you could say that," Cassian replies, handing you over to Winslow. "I think it's simply normal, though. Maybe this is a sign they are hungry. Don't worry, sweetheart, food is almost done."

Food. You're unsure how your stomach feels about that.

After the events that occurred, you feel... hollowed out. Like all your energy is sapped from you. Maybe it actually is. You're a bit achy all over after you went tumbling down the hill.

What a horrible day. But you wonder, what did they mean before? About this time it would be different? What happened?

Maybe you don't want to know. In all honesty, you shouldn't care. You just want to get out of here.

Cassian stands near the fire, seemingly cooking meat of some sort, with vegetables on sticks. It smells heavenly, despite your nerves and lack of appetite.

"Look at what we're having for dinner, hatchling!" Cassian coos. "Doesn't it look so yummy?"

Well... it does.

Winslow hugs you tight, his chin resting on your head. You squirm uncomfortably in his hold again, but it does absolutely nothing except cause Winslow to pull you impossibly closer. It makes sense why you're unable to escape from him, considering he could probably crush a tree trunk with just his arms. He seems stronger than Cassian despite being shorter.

But not short compared to you in the slightest.

Eventually, Cassian pulls away the fire-roasted vegetables from the fire and sets them aside on some makeshift plates made out of bark from birch trees.

Then he turns to the meat skewered on a large stick.

"Food is served!" Cassian announces.

Cassian scoops you up from Winslow's arms again. He gently sets you on a cushion made of moss, and sits down beside you. "Dinner," he says. He smiles when you don't reply, assuming it's because you don't understand him.

Or at least that's what you hope he assumes.

He basically hand-feeds you, delicately placing bites of vegetable in your mouth. It's surprisingly tasty and well-seasoned. Maybe it's your hunger making everything taste better.

Winslow eats his much less elegantly than his partner, finishing it all relatively quickly. Only after does he look at you, his smile soft, but almost sad. "I'm so glad we can be a family again."

Family?

"Me too," Cassian smiles, but it seems melancholic, his eyebrows turning downwards as if reminiscing about something.

"What's wrong?" Winslow frowns, tilting his head. He knows exactly what's wrong.

"I should've protected them all better," Cassian sniffles. His blue eyes begin to gloss over. "It never should have happened."

"It wasn't your fault," Winslow soothes. "Don't ever believe that for even a second, darling."

"If I was stronger—"

"No, don't blame yourself." Winslow scoots over to hold his mate. "Please don't. You know we couldn't do anything."

Cassian nods solemnly. "Thank you..." He sighs sadly. "It doesn't make me miss our other babies any less. But this time, it'll be different." He then looks over at you. "Won't it, little one?" You feel a spike of embarrassment when he wipes your cheek with the pad of his thumb, catching a crumb left over. "Messy, messy," he tuts, but his tone is somewhat playful.

Winslow kisses your forehead. "They certainly eat like a hatchling."

You'd be more insulted if you weren't so focused on their previous conversation.

It's obvious they've had past children, though you can assume they were likely still eggs when they lost them. But who—or what—hurt them?

Whoever it was, you're sure either of them showed no mercy.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Cassian gently grasps your arm, lifting it up and squinting. You realize most of the injured parts of your body are wrapped neatly with makeshift bandages.

"These will need to be rewrapped later," Cassian murmurs. "Luckily they'll heal fast, considering how young you are... Humans scar much easier than our kind does, it seems."

Cassian shifts behind you. A tail comes slithering forward and wraps around you loosely, yet securely.

His tail is much softer and smoother than Winslow's, less scaly. You guess he's some kind of constrictor snake. You squeak when his soft tail squeezes you slightly, like an affectionate embrace.

As you sit there, stuck in the coils of a creature that can easily kill you, all you feel is dazed, exhausted, and confused.

Winslow places the leftovers into a pot, then moves it near the entrance to the cave. Next, he takes the dirty bark plates, exiting the cave presumably to clean them outside.

"Come here, baby," Cassian whispers, pulling you backwards until your back is pressed against his chest. "Baba's got you." It's a possessive hold. You try to squirm away, but it only causes him to hold you tighter. He's careful with where he touches, being mindful of your injuries. You bite your tongue to distract yourself from the stinging pain in your head.

He continues to speak lovingly to you as his grip gradually tightens around your form, like a snake would coil around its prey. It hurts, but not nearly as bad as some of the wounds you have.

Eventually he loosens his grip, letting you catch your breath as he cradles you instead. It makes your stomach twist with guilt when you realize he's crying.

"You won't leave us," he mumbles softly. He's so delicate and gentle; like he's afraid you'll break.

It's hard to imagine that someone who can handle you with such tenderness could snap you like a twig if he wanted to.

"We love you so much already," he sobs. His arms come up around you again, clutching you protectively, desperately. As if you could leave at any given moment.

Even if you wanted to (which you very much do), his tail's grip on you is strong enough to keep you in place.

...

You don't know how long its been since you were taken away. The sun is rising through the top of the cave opening when you wake up in the morning, but that doesn't tell you how many days you've been here.

A few, you've deduced. At least three, but possibly more.

Cassian tends to the wound on your head multiple times a day. It has a constant bandage over it now. Your sprained knee and scraped-up arm aren't wrapped anymore, since they've healed nicely according to him.

You hate to admit you're now a bit curious about these two nagas.

More specifically, what happened to their past children? Were they like humans? Naga hybrids, or full nagas?

Why did they take you?

These questions—and many more—swirl through your head while you eat another plate is prepared by Cassian. It's starting to drive you crazy, how curious you are. You want to ask them. You need to know, like an itch begging to be scratched. The only reason you haven't, is because you hope to still give them the impression you're just the dumb human (child?) they believe you to be.

Once breakfast is over, you've finished eating all Winslow has fed you, so he lays on a mattress made of moss and vines that hangs between two trees in the cave. It's basically a hammock.

Winslow seems more emotional, openly clingy, but more scary, despite being the smaller naga.

Meanwhile Cassian has the aura of a stern but caring mother. He's patient and nurturing, and clearly devoted. Terrifyingly devoted.

What makes your chances of escape worse, much to your dread, is the fact you've gathered Cassian is mostly nocturnal, while Winslow is mostly awake during the day.

Most of the time, Winslow likes sleeping on the ground, while Cassian prefers the tree or hammock.

It's hard to have them both sleep at the same time unless its a short nap. Not to mention, Cassian seems to rouse easily.

So you continue playing along with the child role. Hopefully they'll grow careless as you gain their trust and let you go do your own things.

You'll escape one way or another. You don't intend to stay and play house with them forever.

Something to your advantage you have noticed, is Cassian is much slower than his mate, probably about a similar speed to your own if you were to break out into a sprint.

Winslow, however, is quick and fast. From what you've seen, at least.

Hopefully you won't have to test those odds.

For that reason, you've decided the smartest course of action would be to attempt escaping during the night rather than day, since that's when Winslow will be sleeping. Yet that still comes with the next challenge; Cassian keeps his eye on you just as often as Winslow does, sometimes even more. He spends a lot of the time curled around you, watching you closely as you play with twigs or leaves he hands you.

He thinks it's adorable, seeing you play around with them like a baby with building blocks, or something to that effect.

At first you didn't even bother wasting energy trying to entertain yourself, but with Cassian's expectant gaze boring holes into you, you figured doing something wouldn't hurt.

Playing around with various objects helps the time pass, too. It's not much, but better than nothing.

Soon enough, nightfall falls upon the forest once more.

One thing you have learned during the small handful of nights spent in captivity is that Winslow has a habit of sleep-cuddling, clinging, and often mumbling in his sleep. Sometimes you can understand his sleepy speech, other times it sounds like a bunch of slurred mumbles.

Your sleep schedule has become pretty unpredictable, having two "parents" who only spend a few hours awake at the same time normally.

Regardless, you think this might help your potential plan. If Winslow is holding you tightly, all you have to do is somehow wriggle out of his arms and tiptoe around Cassian in order to get to the opening of the cave.

And then hope you make it out without being caught, considering you'll be traversing the forest in almost complete darkness.

You toss and turn in Winslow's grip, which makes his grasp on you tighten even further. It's less suffocating than Cassian's, but still not pleasant. You let out a frustrated sigh. If you can get him to loosen his hold, you can crawl out.

With enough shifting and shimmying around in his grasp, it works.

His arms slip away from you, leaving you free. Somehow. It must be fate granting you this luck. A chance opportunity you'd be crazy not to take advantage of.

Your feet hit the cold stone floor quietly. It doesn't stir Winslow from his slumber at all. Just as you expected, though. He's a heavy sleeper.

The challenge is going to be sneaking past his husband, who you know is wide awake and probably outside now. At night he usually is hunting or collecting resources.

Or keeping watch.

If your luck is consistent, maybe he'll be off doing something else and your chances of successfully escaping will grow significantly.

All you know is you have to at least try.

You make your way to the entrance, pausing every time the leaves rustle or twigs crack under your feet.

Walking slowly is painful. All you want to do is run. Run out and never return.

The air becomes more crisp and cool as you approach the front of the cave. With a last glance behind you to ensure Winslow hasn't stirred, you inch yourself forward through the last stretch of tunnel leading into the wilderness. Moonlight shines through the leaves above you. Crickets chirp softly. Your eyes begin to adjust to the dim light of the forest.

There's a path. You're positive this trail leads back to the road that passes through the woods.

The faster you walk, the louder your movements become, snapping branches and crunching leaves under you. And still, you continue to push forward until you're practically sprinting through the foliage.

Your lungs burn, your limbs ache, and your muscles feel weak, but adrenaline pumps through your veins as you fight against the pain to reach your goal.

Finally, you spot a small sign marking where the path splits off into two directions; one leading to town, the other going deeper into the forest towards who knows where.

And then...

"I smell them," Cassian's voice rasps. He doesn't sound far away at all. "Sweetheart?! Where are you?!" he calls. "Oh, they must be so scared..."

Then, Winslow's voice. "We'll find them, darling. I won't let them get far."

You panic, diving into the nearest bush to hide. Its thorns dig into your skin painfully. You have to bite your hand in order to not cry out in pain. Tears stream down your face, but you dare not make a single noise. Your breathing slows to almost nothing as you struggle to contain sobs.

"How could this happen?" Cassian whispers. Just from the sound of his voice, you can tell he's been crying, too. "I can't lose another one, Winslow..."

"We won't, love. We won't. It'll be okay."

You can hear Cassian's choked sobbing now. They both must be nearby. Very nearby. Too close for comfort, that's for sure.

But if they're comforting each other, that means you can possibly sneak around them while they're distracted.

It's worth a shot. Maybe the only one you'll have.

As silently as possible, you crawl on your hands and knees away from the voices, making sure to avoid stepping anywhere near them in case they hear movement. They don't seem to notice, so you move faster, hoping to put distance between you.

Unfortunately, with how dark it is out here, you stumble upon a rock and fall face-first onto the ground with a loud thud.

Cassian's tearful sobbing stops suddenly.

Your heart pounds wildly.

"Oh, honey! B-Baba is coming, stay where you are," Cassian cries, followed by a deep inhale, no doubt to scent you out, now that he knows the general direction you're in.

The way he says it makes you wonder if he even thinks you purposefully tried escaping. Does he truly believe you think of them as your family?

Of course, you don't listen. You take off as fast as you can, climbing over fallen logs and weaving through the dense underbrush. Anything to get farther and farther away from where you are now. However, the more you move, the louder you become. More twigs and dry leaves crunching beneath you, no doubt leading them to you even more.

But what else are you supposed to do? It's not like you have many options at this point.

You need to escape.

Even though Cassian isn't quick, Winslow is.

And boy does he live up to that observation.

In a flash of golden scales, you're thrown to the ground. The dirt cakes onto you, and before you can fully react, Winslow scoops you up into his arms, holding you as tight as possible without crushing you. You thrash and kick as much as you can, trying desperately to break free from his iron-like grip.

"Don't worry! Papa's here! Ssh ssh ssh!" Winslow hushes, kissing your forehead frantically, like a worried parent. He's looking over your body, checking for new injuries or cuts you could've obtained.

Cassian catches up, much more out of breath. You can tell from the tremble in his tone how angry he is, how concerned, how hurt and betrayed he feels. He kneels down to meet you and Winslow's crouched position, hugging you both so tight you wheeze.

"Let me go!" you yell. At this point, you don't care about being silent to them anymore. "I'm not your kid!"

That startles them both. They stare at you with wide eyes, jaws slackened.

"You can... speak?" Winslow gawks. His pupils shrink into tiny slits.

"Did you think all humans couldn't speak, or did you just assume I couldn't?" You shake your head. "It doesn't matter. Let me go!" You try escaping with even more fervor, trying to claw your way out, anything.

"Honey," Cassian whispers, trembling. It's as if you've broken him, and part of you hates it. "This entire time you understood us...?"

"Yes! And I have my own family! Please, let me see my family!" you wail. This isn't fair. You didn't do anything wrong. "They probably think I died..." The thought alone makes you choke up with tears.

Winslow frowns, turning his face to bury himself into your hair. "You are home," he croaks. His hug on you gets stronger.

"No I'm not!" you protest. You bite down on Winslow's arm, hard enough to draw blood. He recoils, which gives you a brief window of opportunity, allowing you to slip through their hands momentarily.

Cassian wastes no time in recapturing you. "Stop, please stop! You'll get yourself hurt!" he pleads. It's not long before you're completely trapped by his tail wrapping around you snugly once more.

"No! You stole me from my life! I can't stay here!" you cry, struggling harder against his coils. "Please!"

Cassian frowns, exchanging glances with Winslow, who looks more equally frustrated and hurt. His hand holds the bleeding bitemark. You refuse to feel guilty for it. Winslow looks ready to scold you, but Cassian puts his free hand on his forearm.

"They don't know any better, sweetheart," Cassian tells him, expression strained. "They're just frightened and overwhelmed."

Winslow's anger wanes a little bit.

"But, we saved them! Why don't they understand that?" Winslow asks desperately, as if you still can't communicate. He runs his fingers through his hair nervously, looking down at you like he needs validation from you that he's done a good job taking care of you.

You don't want to give that to him.

"I don't belong here," you protest, squirming around angrily in your cocoon of Cassian's tail.

"You do belong here," Cassian argues. His expression turns upset to worried when he notices how hard you're breathing. "Breathe, dear. You're going to hyperventilate."

When your breathing only gets worse, he cups your cheeks and guides your head to tilt upwards, looking him directly in the eyes.

His eyes are glowing, colors swirling inside of them.

"Breath slow," he commands. "Follow Baba."

As Cassian counts up and down, demonstrating to you with exaggerated breaths, Winslow rubs your back soothingly with the hand that isn't injured, making shushing noises in hopes of calming you down.

And unfortunately, it works. You feel tired, so much so that even thinking is hard.

"Calm now, sweetie? No more fussing?" he coos hopefully. The strange swirls in his irises are gone now.

"...Mhm..." you murmur reluctantly, barely audible. Your eyelids flutter open and closed, feeling weighed down as if lead is tied to them. Drowsiness settles deep within your bones. There's no use in fighting against it. Not right now, anyway. Sleep wins over escape, apparently. You rest your head against his shoulder defeatedly.

"There we are..." Cassian whispers. "No more running."

Winslow looks around. "We should start heading home. I can carry them back, you look tired." Winslow holds out his arms expectantly.

Cassian hesitates briefly before handing you off to Winslow's embrace, where he proceeds to snuggle you closer into his chest.

"Are you sure? I did wake you up early..."

"I'll be okay, love," Winslow smiles tiredly. "Besides, I'd feel better having them in my arms right now. I'm still processing that they could understand us this whole time..." he sighs.

Cassian frowns sadly, brushing the hair off of your forehead. "Me too... but that's a conversation for tomorrow. Let's go home"

#parental yandere #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #platonic yandere #hypnosis #familial yandere #gn reader #gender neutral reader #cassian oc #winslow oc #yandere oc #yandere naga #multiple yanderes

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xechu · 2 days ago

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[Honor & Vengeance] S. Geto - 夏油傑

Pairing: general!suguru x fem!reader Word Count: 11.6k Series Warnings: please read my blog rules before interacting. 18+ mdni, explicit sexual content, depiction of gore and violence, mature themes Chapter Warnings: mature themes, emotional angst, description of violence, childhood emotional abuse and trauma, suicidal thoughts, death, grief, description of injuries - please read with care Tags: historical au, non-curse au, marriage of convenience, slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut, angst, hurt/comfort Summary: Yu Haibara—Suguru’s right-hand man and childhood best friend—recounts the rise and fall of House Geto, and the oath that bound them together. Suguru's ambitions are revealed, and King Sato had summoned him in private to task him with a secret mission. While all seems calm within the Geto Estate, unresolved issues from the Eastern Campsite continue to fester. a/n: I really enjoyed writing this chapter, even though it's a bit emotionally heavy. I never expected to write a whole chapter in (mostly) Haibara's POV, but he's easily becoming one of my favorite characters in this series. Also, for clarification in this chapter "sworn kin" = godchild. I hope you enjoy and thank you so much for reading! x

Master List: << chapter 5 || chapter 7 (tbc) >>

[Chapter 6]: All-Seeing Advisor

Yu Haibara was the official advisor of House Geto and Suguru’s right-hand man.

One would think that he was constantly shadowed by the Conqueror of Stars, but fear not! For the All-Seeing Advisor was brilliant in his own ways, and a palace court favorite too, particularly among the female servants.

Ah. The tragedy of being the keeper of many beautiful women’s hearts, and by beautiful, he meant the kind who smiled freely and laughed with their whole heart. And if they didn’t? Well, there’s beauty in the quiet mystique as well. And dare he say, even more alluring?

But by no means was he a womanizer!

No. Never.

More like a painting if he might humbly suggest. Destined to only be admired from afar. After all, being his best friend’s right-hand man was already enough—his life’s purpose.

The two arrived at the palace earlier this morning to relay further details of the incident at the Eastern Campsite. It was an unusual request, though not entirely unheard of, but Sato had asked for a private audience with Suguru. There was a special task that he needed to assign to his general, which was how Haibara currently found himself waiting alone in an empty corridor.

In the silence, Haibara couldn’t help but reflect on the current predicament back home.

On the surface, everything at the Geto Estate seemed status quo, but underneath, it was anything but—like a simmering volcano ready to erupt without warning. The silence was more deafening than any scream.

It had been two weeks since everyone returned, but ever since, you had confined yourself in the guest house. Yumi was the only connection between you and the rest of the world.

“How is she?” Haibara asked Yumi in passing.

“Our Lady is recovering steadily.”

As usual, Yumi’s answers were always short and lacked explanation. Of course, he was relieved to hear you were recovering. But her words were underspoken, because he knew the wound on your hand wasn't the only wound that required tending to: it was the one inside your heart, undoubtedly still bleeding and perhaps even more severe.

Everyone had seen it that day, how Suguru leapt to Ayaka’s defense. It may have seemed noble, even loyal. But it was also revealing. Because if a man truly loved his wife the way Suguru so convincingly appeared to, his first instinct would have been to protect you. Even if it meant treason. Even if it meant death.

Lord Shinjiro would have protected Lady Sumire—even at the cost of the King.

“Master Haibara… if I may,” Yumi said softly. “I know it is not in my place to say such things, but it pains me to watch my Lady wither away like this…”

She didn’t even have to explain the details for dread to weigh in the pit of his stomach.

“I hope Geto-sama can understand how much this cost her. My Lady is beloved by many, and also has many hobbies. She can no longer write to her father, nor ride a horse properly—and most of all, she may never pick up a sword again.

“Surely, Geto-sama must understand as a soldier himself—that this is akin to a death sentence. Does your lord not think he should at least grant some decency and visit her?”

Haibara swallowed the lump in his throat. Truth be told, he completely agreed with Yumi. How could he not? Since the first day they had gotten back to the estate, he had tried to convince Suguru several times to go see you, but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

He knew that this time Suguru didn’t dare to visit, not because he was too proud, but because he didn’t think he deserved to face you.

And Haibara understood the feeling of guilt and shame better than anyone else—it eats you alive.

It was like that day all over again.

The one person Suguru refused to see a final time before the cremation…

Was Sayuri.

It may come as a surprise to most, but Suguru wasn’t just some cold, calculated warlord from birth. He used to be a boy filled with hopes and dreams just like anyone else. He laughed, smiled, teased, and could even be a little mischievous. On the other hand, Haibara—believe it or not, was the complete opposite. He was quiet, observant, and even a bit distant.

By the age of eight, Haibara was already well-accustomed to shame and embarrassment, and worse yet, how to smile through it.

Now, why would such emotions be placed on a boy who was far too young, far too unequipped, to navigate such feelings?

It was all because of his father: Akito Haibara.

Akito was best described as a sly fox. A social climber. An opportunist. His ambitions outweighed his morals. Though he was intelligent and competent when he needed to be, his achievements had never been through merit, but rather through the connections he had sunk his claws in. He was a senior finance clerk within the royal palace, another administration role among the hundreds within its golden walls, but the only reason such an opportunity was even afforded to him in the first place, was because his wife was a minor lord’s daughter. Otherwise, as a person of common birth, he couldn’t even dream of stepping through the palace gates.

As a senior clerk, Akito was tasked with low-level treasury duties but still made a decent salary, yet, fortune on its own was not good enough. He wanted prestige. Status. Legacy. His dream was to become the Chief of Treasury.

And so, whenever he could, he would try to rub shoulders with whoever he deemed may be useful in catapulting his career, while blatantly ignoring anyone who didn’t serve his ambitions. In hindsight, Haibara was sure that his father saw everyone as chess pieces—quite literally and figuratively.

But sometimes, the universe seemed to favor the cruel, because very soon Akito struck an opportunity of a lifetime: Shinjiro Geto.

Shinjiro came into the House of Revenue one quiet afternoon while Akito was alone at the front desk. And right away, he recognized who the imposing figure was—the famed General of the Nine Suns, the embodiment of good character and integrity, a man that was almost more regal than King Sato himself. In fact, if he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought Shinjiro was the king.

Akito, being the conniving fox he was, was already scheming, thinking of what sweet and enticing words to say and make an impression on the unassuming general.

“General Geto, what a pleasant surprise.” He put on his best smile.

“Ah, yes. You are…”

Of course the general—up on his high horse—wouldn’t have known a lowly clerk like himself.

“Forgive my impoliteness. I am Akito Haibara, the senior finance clerk here,” he lightly bowed.

“Akito, a pleasure. And, please, there is no need for such formalities. We are all civil servants here,” Shinjiro chuckled.

Indeed, Akito was a great opportunist. Too cunning for his own good.

That one introduction sparked a string of conversations, and soon, he somehow secured himself an invitation to the Geto Estate.

“I have a son who’s just a year older than Yu, perhaps, if it’s not too much to ask—you can bring him to our home some time,” Shinjiro smiled earnestly.

“How could I ever burden you like that, General Geto?”

“Please, Akito, you can call me Shinjiro. I insist… besides,” the general let out a small weary sigh. “Suguru needs more friends. He spends too much time between books and the sword—I worry for him.”

“Ah, but I’m sure it’s only because he wants to live up to his father’s legacy.”

Shinjiro hummed, but there was a slight sadness in his eyes. “I often wished it weren’t so.”

“I understand your sentiment, Shinjiro. We only ever hope for our children’s happiness.”

“Precisely, I’m glad you understand. Sometimes... I wish my boy wasn’t so hard on himself.”

“And sometimes I wish my boy was more disciplined!”

The two men paused and exchanged an amused look. And then broke out into laughter.

“Then it’s settled—Suguru and Yu could learn from each other.” Shinjiro let out a sigh of relief.

“If it is for our children’s future, then allow me to be a shameless father.” Akito agreed heartily.

—

Confusion washed over Haibara as his father abruptly woke him up. Before his vision could even focus—before he had a chance to understand what was going on—his father had already begun yelling at him for being slow, muttering something about a place they had to visit. The Geto Estate—wherever that was.

Akito screamed for his wife, who bolted into the room, flustered. He barked out the order as he walked away: “Change him into his best clothes, so he doesn’t embarrass me.”

Haibara watched as his mother fumbled to the wardrobe, a familiar feeling bubbled in his chest once again. He had only recently learned the name of this feeling through a book he’d read by chance. Whenever he saw his mother, the name of that feeling was pity.

It was confusing, he didn’t know why his father was so awful to his mother, and he didn’t understand why his father seemed to hate him. He had never said it out loud, but it was evident in his eyes. His father always gave him a mean look. But in front of others, he was timid, soft-spoken—like a kind man.

So which one was his real father?

He wasn’t sure.

He had only hoped it was the kind man.

But he knew, deep down, it probably wasn’t.

…

Haibara found himself standing beside his father in front of the large wooden doors of the Geto Estate. It was enormous! He was certain the door alone could fit twenty of him.

Excitement washed over him as he admired the sheer size of the doors, but it faded quickly as his father let out a harsh grunt. The small boy immediately froze—a warning that he recognized all too well. It usually came before his father lost his temper.

As the doors swung open, he watched his father’s expression shift instantly. The kind-man face was back.

Hand-in-hand, the father and son crossed the threshold and into the front garden. Haibara had never seen such splendor before. The landscape was spectacular—well-manicured greenery, a serene zen garden, vibrant trees, and a few groundskeepers tending to the yard. If the Geto Estate was already this beautiful, he could only imagine what the palace must look like.

“Quit ogling like you’re some low-class commoner,” Akito hissed under his breath.

But he was a hypocrite. Green with envy, his own eyes scanned the yard and the immaculate estate.

If only he hadn’t been born a commoner.

If only his wife weren’t a minor lord’s daughter.

If only his son wasn’t such a weak, fragile thing.

He was competent. Intelligent. Handsome. He had all the makings of nobility. So why did the universe deal him such a lowly hand?

Why couldn’t he live Shinjiro Geto’s life?

As they continued toward the estate entrance, Akito couldn’t help the jealousy simmering inside him. It only deepened when he saw the Geto family standing there—waiting to greet them.

The whispers about Sumire Geto were true. Even after two children, she was still exquisite. A woman whom kings would go to war and tear down kingdoms for. It was a surprise that King Sato did not take her for himself.

A beautiful, picturesque family.

The envy of all men.

“Father, you’re holding my hand too tight!” Haibara squirmed under his grip.

Akito clicked his tongue and glared down at his son. Weak. His boy was so infuriatingly weak.

The day hadn't even begun, and Haibara was already wracked with anxiety. Were the Getos going to be nicer than Father? Or do they also have their kind-man faces?

“Akito, I’m so glad you could make it!” A welcoming voice called out.

“Shinjiro, thank you for your generous invitation.” Akito bowed.

Haibara timidly followed, “Thank you for the invitation, Lord Shinjiro, Lady Sumire.” Mimicking his father’s movements.

“My, you are a polite boy!” Shinjiro smiled, kneeling down on one knee to meet the small child in the eyes.

Lord Shinjiro indeed had a kind-man face, but it was different. His smile felt like the sun, and the slight crinkles around his eyes reminded him of the rays. All Haibara could do was stare at him in awe and slowly nod.

“This is my boy, Suguru, the two of you are around the same age,” he gently pulled Suguru to his side.

Haibara’s first impression of Suguru was that he was rather intimidating. He may have only been a year older, but he was already a few inches taller. He was also handsome like his father, but unlike Lord Shinjiro, Suguru felt like the winter snow. Cold, yet there was also a certain gentleness to him. His voice was rather soft, but his words were unwavering and precise. Sayuri, who was only four, was already a lot livelier than her older brother. And though she looked like Lady Sumire, Sayuri, too, felt like the sun.

But among all of them, if Haibara had to be honest, he couldn’t take his eyes off of Lady Sumire. If Lord Shinjiro and Sayuri were the sun, Suguru the winter snow; Lady Sumire reminded him of sun glitter—the shimmering light on water. He never knew it was possible for someone to be so radiant, and her voice was like a soothing lullaby.

For the first time, Haibara experienced the uncomfortable pangs of jealousy.

Because when he looked at Lord Shinjiro and Lady Sumire, he wished his father could feel like the warm sun too—and his mother could sparkle like sun glitter.

“Suguru, why don’t you go show Yu around? Perhaps you two can get to know each other more.” Lady Sumire smiled.

Suguru nodded and turned to Haibara. “What would you like to do? I can show you the training field or my study.”

“Oh yes. My boy has a variety of interests! He’s very keen on books and the sword as well!” Akito exclaimed.

Haibara shot a nervous look at his father. The sword? That wasn’t true. He had never even touched a wooden sword in his life! He wanted to tell them that his father made a mistake. Perhaps he remembered wrong. He loved books, yes, but never the sword—

“Is that right?” Shinjiro seemed amused. “Then it seems our two boys have a lot in common!”

Nervousness settled in Haibara’s chest as he followed Suguru’s lead. He quietly hoped they'd go to the study instead, and forget all about the training field. But of course, just as luck would have it, Suguru led him straight to the field.

“Here.” Suguru gave a small smile as he handed him a wooden practice sword, a slight interest glimmering in his eyes—unlike Haibara’s, which probably looked like those of a scared deer.

Especially with his father and the Getos watching from afar, he already dreaded how this would unfold.

Why did his father have to lie?

Why did he always put him in these kinds of predicaments?

“Are… you ready?” Suguru asked, but there was a bit of uncertainty in his voice. As if he’d caught on his pretense.

Haibara only nodded. Perhaps he’d just block a few of Suguru’s strikes and then it would be over. Surely, it wasn’t that difficult… right?

Wrong.

It was a lot more difficult than he had imagined.

Thanks to beginner’s luck, Haibara barely managed to block his first strike. Suguru’s wooden sword grazed his shoulder from the way he deflected the sword, and it stung, but Haibara endured it. On the second strike, he completely missed the block with his sword, and blocked it with his wrist instead. By the third strike, Suguru nearly hit his head but immediately stopped when Lord Shinjiro gave him a stern warning that he was being too rough.

Immediately after the warning, Suguru completely deflated—letting out a small huff, and returned the sparring swords to the rack.

“Why did you agree to spar when you didn’t want to?” he asked. There was an unamused look on his face.

“I… don’t know how to,” Haibara murmured, staring down at his feet.

“But your father said you were interested in the sword.”

“No… not really,” Haibara quietly confessed.

“So is your father a liar then?”

Heat rose to Haibara’s ears. He wanted to tell Suguru that his father was indeed a liar... a very good one, too. But what if the truth was relayed to Lord Shinjiro and Lady Sumire—and they never invited Father back?

Father would be angry.

He wished he could tell the truth, but the fear of his father's wrath gripped him like an icy vice.

“N-No…” Haibara lied.

“Then if your father isn’t a liar, then you must be a liar.” Suguru let out a breath of disbelief.

“I’m not!” His voice came out louder, more desperate, than he intended.

All heads turned toward the commotion, and when Haibara met his father’s scornful gaze, the blood drained from his face. The world began to spin, and it felt as though the sky was falling on him.

Everything was too overwhelming.

Tears welled in his eyes, and the more desperately he tried to hold them back, the more they threatened to spill. Father always hated it when he cried. Said that tears were for the weak-willed. Said that emotions were weak.

But he couldn’t stop it this time.

He burst into tears.

Everyone crowded around him, their faces etched with concern. All but Suguru, who stood behind his parents and watched everything unfold with a cold stare. Yet in a moment of vulnerability, Haibara's arms flew around Lady Sumire instead of his own father, seeking comfort and refuge. It caught everyone by surprise—except Lady Sumire, who cradled him without hesitation, as if he were her own child.

“I apologize, Lady Sumire!” Akito said, flustered, as he tried to pry his son off. “The boy must miss his mother.”

“It’s fine, Lord Akito,” she smiled gracefully. But her hands tightened around Haibara. “Let him stay.”

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in her warm embrace, but she never let him go. Her hand moved in soft, comforting circles along his back as she cooed to him gently. In between sobs he would mutter apologies, though he wasn’t even sure what he was apologizing for. But among the muffled sniffles and hiccups, Lady Sumire’s voice rang clear: It’s not your fault, Yu.

After that embarrassing debacle, Haibara was certain he would be reprimanded once he got home. Lady Sumire’s beautiful garment was a mess from all his tears, which his father profusely apologized for. The day dragged on, as he prepared for his impending doom. Suguru also became extremely quiet afterwards, retreating to his study room and then pulling out a book to read. Uncertain, Haibara trailed behind him hesitantly.

“Aren’t you going to join me, or are you just going to stand there?” Suguru murmured.

Something in his tone, and in how he avoided Haibara’s gaze, it reminded him of the way he avoided his father’s gaze whenever he thought he’d done something wrong.

Was it possible… that Suguru was feeling sorry?

Haibara nodded and quickly pulled a seat beside Suguru.

“What books do you like? I have many,” he said, flipping through his own book, but it was clear that he was not actually reading.

“I like all kinds of books—poetry, literature, fiction,” Haibara listed.

Suguru sighed, and reluctantly handed him the book he was currently holding, “How about this one? Your father said you liked books too. I am… a little confused about this one.”

Haibara’s eyes widened and he nodded, gingerly taking the book from Suguru’s hands. As he flipped through the pages, he enthusiastically explained each paragraph while Suguru quietly nodded along.

Little did he know, Suguru had already read the same fiction book five times. It was his favorite novel, but he just felt bad for making Haibara cry.

And just like that, a new brotherhood began.

…

“You have done wonderfully today, my boy!” Akito could barely contain his excitement as he stepped inside their home.

It was surprising, he thought he would be reprimanded after his outburst back at the Geto Estate. Instead, his father picked him up and gave him a few spins, chanting praises for being smart and brilliant.

For a moment, it felt good—that his father was finally pleased with him.

Haibara looked up to his father, as he was set back on his feet. Akito was grinning from ear to ear, and the boy couldn’t help but return the smile. But very soon, his father's features subtly twisted into something dark.

“It’s all because you tugged at that woman’s heartstrings,” he practically snickered.

That woman? Was he talking about Lady Sumire?

Haibara’s heart sank at the thought. An unfamiliar feeling coiled in his chest. He didn’t understand it, but all he knew was it didn’t feel so good anymore.

Still, he kept smiling.

“Perhaps your weakness can finally be your strength.”

Did his father mean his tears?

“Just cry a few more times and she might even make you her sworn kin!”

His smile immediately dropped as he watched his father hum happily and retreat into his office.

Ever since that day, Haibara never cried again.

Even from the young age of eight, he realized…

He never wanted to break Lady Sumire’s heart.

He never wanted to abuse her kindness.

—

Since that fateful day, on the twelfth of every month, Akito Haibara would bring his son to the Geto Estate without fail, until his son was the ripe age of fifteen, when he was old enough to travel on his own.

As soon as Haibara gained his independence to travel solo, he would make frequent visits to the Geto Estate, a place that had felt more like a home than his own home. Lord Shinjiro and Lady Sumire would always welcome him with open arms. His and Suguru’s bond continued to deepen. Meanwhile, everyone watched Sayuri blossom into a spirited young girl—a mirror image of Lady Sumire. Haibara treated her like a precious younger sister, though sometimes, the way she bossed him around and teased him, it felt more like she was the older one. It was amusing and strangely endearing.

But even in those warm years, guilt and shame still clung to Haibara like a phantom—an inescapable fate. It was all because of who his father was, and how all this only came to be through his manipulation.

Surely, there was no way someone like Lord Shinjiro couldn’t see through Akito’s deceit…

So then why? Why did he still maintain a relationship with his father? Why did he still help Akito get what he wanted?

Why did he still welcome the likes of Haibara?

He didn't understand it. And a small part of him wasn't sure if he ever wanted to find out.

—

Thanks to Shinjiro’s good word, Akito quickly ascended through the ranks and became the Chief of Treasury. Who would have guessed that a single general had so much sway in the palace? But perhaps, it wasn’t just his simple title—it was the prestige behind the Geto family name.

By then, Akito had also learned to tame his temper—he had an important image to uphold now, and high society (finally) had its eyes on him. Even so, Haibara’s mother eventually divorced him. She cried when she walked out of their home for the last time, but neither Haibara nor his father shed a tear. His father didn’t cry because he was glad to be rid of her. Haibara, on the other hand, did not shed a single tear—not because he was cold, but because he was happy. He no longer had to feel pity every time he saw her. His mother was free. Free from a wrath she never deserved.

It wasn’t a time for mourning.

It was a liberation worth celebrating.

But of course, for a leech like Akito, the satisfaction of his newfound status and fortune quickly faded. After all, human greed was a parasite.

He hungered for more. He wanted his son to be more.

Haibara had always irritated Akito. His son was too soft. Too moral. He may have inherited his intelligence, but he had his useless mother’s judgment. He’d never succeed Akito’s legacy.

Not like Suguru.

Suguru would become the next great general—arguably even greater than the General of the Nine Suns. Everyone could see it and had high hopes for him. Shinjiro Geto’s legacy would live on, whereas Akito’s hard work would be all for naught. The Haibara name would never be remembered. So if Akito couldn’t make his son into something great, then he’d tie him to greatness another way.

Sayuri.

Yes. She would be the key.

She would be his son’s wife.

…

Haibara had just returned home from the Geto Estate. Since his father’s new promotion, they now upgraded to an estate—just like the Getos. The only reason why he appreciated their new living conditions was because of the space, which meant there was more distance to avoid his father.

It always irked him… how his father seemed to be at some odd competition with Lord Shinjiro, except he was the only one entertaining his own delusions. When they first moved, his father immediately hired workers and groundskeepers to bring out his vision for the front yard. And it turned out to be a near replica of the one at the Geto Estate. Thankfully, Akito never extended the Getos an invitation to their new home, because quite frankly, it would have been embarrassing.

Regardless, Haibara kept his mouth shut, because he knew there would be no point. If his father was even reasonable in the first place, his mother would still be here, he would still be a senior clerk, they would still be living in their modest home, but at least they would be happy.

As he quickly made his way through the front of the estate, Akito emerged from his office and pulled him aside for a private word.

“My son, you are at the age where you ought to start considering a wife,” Akito said out of the blue.

“Why the sudden thought, Father?”

“It is not sudden. You will be eighteen soon. I also married your mother when I was that age.”

“I will consider it another time—I am not eighteen yet.” He tried to shut down the conversation.

“Don’t be foolish, son! Surely, you must have met a suitable woman already. Is there anyone who has caught your eye?”

Haibara sighed. “No, Father.”

He had already dreaded this conversation. Akito never spoke to anyone without an agenda, including his own son. He knew his father wasn’t asking out of genuine concern; he was trying to gauge him for something. Whatever scheme he was trying to orchestrate this time, Haibara knew he wanted no part of it. Still, he would at least pretend to hear him out.

Akito leaned in, his voice disturbingly lighthearted. “How about Sayuri?”

Bile rose in his throat, the pit of his stomach churning with disgust. Not because Sayuri disgusted him, but the fact that his vile father had set his dirty sights on her.

“No,” he replied firmly.

“Why not? She is growing up to be just like her mother—you will be the luckiest man in the country!”

“I will not consider her, Father. She is like a sister to me.” Haibara tried to contain the fury swirling inside him like a storm.

“But she isn’t your sister! Think about it—”

“There is no thinking about it. I will not entertain this conversation any longer,” Haibara snapped, beginning to walk away. His body trembled with rage and repulsion.

His father was a lecherous fiend, who only saw women for two things: status and pleasure. And for the first time ever, Haibara finally admitted… he hated his father.

Before he could take more than a few steps, Akito yelled after him. “Have you become so shortsighted?! Sure, you go visit them all the time—but do you think they really consider you as their family?”

Haibara gritted his teeth, ignoring his father and marching straight to his room.

It’s not that what his father said wasn’t true. Even now, he wasn’t sure if the Getos truly saw him as family. But if he must admit, a part of him felt it was for the better that they didn’t, because to this day, Haibara still felt like an outsider among them. He was unworthy. And he never wanted to sully the Geto’s good name.

They could never be family, because he was Akito Haibara’s filthy kin.

Ever since his father had gotten what he wanted, he had even stopped visiting the Geto Estate—stopped visiting Lord Shinjiro altogether.

It was shameless.

How he made it so obvious.

How he couldn’t even pretend.

Every time Haibara visited, Lord Shinjiro would ask him how his father had been doing, and all Haibara could do was come up with the same feeble excuses—that he was busy because of work, or busy entertaining other officials for work. When in reality his disgraceful father would just spend his days gallivanting around town and visiting tea houses… which were fancy fronts for brothels.

At this point, he was quite certain Lord Shinjiro knew he was lying. Yet, after every feeble excuse, he would give the same warm smile, and remind Haibara to tell his good friend Akito that family and health should come before work. Haibara would return a polite smile and promise him to relay the message to his father.

But he never would.

His father didn’t deserve Lord Shinjiro’s kindness.

He himself didn’t deserve Lord Shinjiro’s kindness.

All these years… Haibara felt like a fraud.

Because no matter what, they were cut from the same cloth.

Like father, like son.

And the thought made him sick.

—

Akito’s marriage conversation replayed in Haibara’s mind over and over again. The more he thought about it, the more disgust churned in his stomach. Normally, he was pretty good at hiding his turmoil, but recently, the mask was too suffocating, too heavy to keep on. And he wasn't sure how much longer he could pretend.

“You’re spacing out again, Haibara,” Suguru mused.

“What’s wrong with him today, nii-sama?”

Suguru turned to Sayuri and shrugged.

“It’s nothing… I fell off my horse on the way here, so my back is sore,” Haibara absently lied.

“I don’t believe it,” Suguru gave him a half-amused, half-skeptical look. “You’ve always been a steady rider.”

“Happens to the best of us,” Haibara casually countered, but his gaze was still fixed outside to the courtyard. There was nothing interesting about the courtyard, but his guilt kept him from meeting them in the eyes—especially Sayuri’s.

Sayuri gave Suguru a puzzled look, which he returned with a knowing nod. “Could you bring Haibara an herbal patch?”

She was tempted to protest, but held back from doing so.

“...Fine,” she relented, understanding her brother’s tacit request: a boys’ talk.

She quietly left and slid the room door shut. Suguru stayed silent, carefully listening to her retreating footsteps, until he was confident she was far enough from eavesdropping.

“What’s on your mind?” He began.

It was inconvenient how perceptive Suguru was, nothing ever escaped his keen eyes. And for someone like Haibara, it was uncomfortable, because there were too many shameful things he couldn’t say out loud.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Then why are you sulking?”

“I am not—” Haibara clicked his tongue. “I do not sulk.”

“I beg to differ,” Suguru returned, a small lilt in his voice.

“It’s nothing, Suguru. Stop asking.” He rolled his eyes.

A brief stillness fell over the two boys.

“...is it your father?”

Haibara paused, and turned his head slowly to meet his friend’s gaze.

“How would you know?”

“You’re not upset unless it’s him.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Suguru hummed. “Not really.”

It was true, Haibara hid his emotions well. But Suguru also knew his best friend better than anyone else, and it was something he took great pride in. After all, he would be a terrible friend if he didn’t notice.

Haibara let out a deep sigh—a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world. He was utterly ashamed, terrified Suguru might see his father’s cruelty as a reflection of him.

But now that he was here, confronted by his best friend, it felt wrong not to confess the truth… when he’s been lying to them for so long.

“My father is a monster.” The words spilled from his lips before he even had time to properly articulate them.

There was a look of surprise in Suguru’s eyes, and immediately, regret surged in Haibara's chest.

He had already started this conversation wrong.

From here on out, his best friend would never be able to see him the same way again.

“Why is he a monster?”

“He… he’s not a good man. He doesn’t see anyone as an actual human—just a pawn for his gains. Whether it’s his own family or anyone else… I’m sorry I lied to you and your family.”

Heavy silence filled the room. Every second felt suffocating, every breath felt harder and harder to take. Haibara didn’t dare to look into Suguru's eyes.

The shame. The guilt. The remorse. It was all too much to bear.

“I’m sorry, Haibara.”

Was this it?

Was this the end of their friendship—?

“I should have asked you sooner.”

Haibara looked at his best friend, eyes wide in shock, and for once, words failed him. This wasn’t the outcome he expected. He thought Suguru would be angry. Disgusted by him—or at the very least, disappointed. But instead, he was apologizing. Accepting him.

He didn’t know what to say. What to think of this situation.

Because Haibara had only ever prepared for the friendship to be doomed, once the truth of his father’s nature came to light.

Suguru let out a small sigh and narrowed his eyes. Now he was the one who avoided Haibara’s gaze. “I had a feeling—he hadn’t been kind to you. I should have said something.”

“It’s fine…” Haibara quietly said, blinking out the sting in his eyes.

On one hand, he was relieved that Suguru still wanted to be his friend. But on the other hand, he couldn’t help but feel exposed and embarrassed.

“He is my father. He’s not your problem, Suguru. I just feel remorseful that he used your family as well.”

Suguru let out a small scoff. “You think my family would easily be tricked by someone—even like your father—into using them? You think too lowly of Geto.”

“Lord Shinjiro helped my father become Chief! That was all he wanted from him this whole time!”

“And what of it?” Suguru crossed his arms, and leaned back into his chair.

In this light, Haibara realized—Suguru had truly grown into a formidable young man. He was almost the spitting image of Lord Shinjiro, but he had Lady Sumire’s smile and calm demeanor.

“Your father may be insufferable, but he’s competent,” Suguru continued, “And as you said, it is thanks to my father he is where he is now, which means he owes my father.”

“Still, Lord Shinjiro is far too kind. He always wishes my father well and asks how he’s doing, when my father doesn’t even care to visit anymore!”

“Well, have you relayed my father’s messages to him?”

“O-Of course, not! He doesn’t deserve it—”

“You should have delivered my father’s messages.”

Haibara shot him a frustrated glance, but Suguru’s gaze only softened.

“Haibara, I can assure you—his well-wishes were never intended for Lord Akito...

“They were for you.”

Haibara blinked, unsure if he’d misheard. He struggled to draw the connection. He didn’t understand how those kind words were for his sake.

A small, understanding smile graced Suguru’s lips. “That was my father’s way of warning him… that he was watching over you.”

His breath caught. The revelation knocked the air out of his lungs.

He had always known Lord Shinjiro was sharp. His level of perceptiveness was a rarity even among other like-minded individuals. Yet he never understood why he continued to treat Akito with such patience, with such… grace.

But now, it made sense.

Because Lord Shinjiro wasn’t showing kindness to a man who deserved it.

He was showing kindness to protect someone else.

To protect him.

A sense of remorse and unworthiness washed over him. All this time, he felt isolated, like a stranger looking through a window. But he realized it was not his father, it was not his circumstances, it was him—his own insecurities and resentment towards Akito that kept him from being close. That kept him from truly accepting the Getos.

No more.

He cannot hide behind self-pity and play victim like his father.

That would be an insult to Lord Shinjiro, to Lady Sumire, to his mother.

Still, one question lingered.

“When… did he know?” Haibara’s voice shook.

There was a brief pause that followed, only the delicate songbirds cutting into the silence of the study room.

And then, Suguru smiled at him—truly smiled. His eyes carried that same warmth as Lord Shinjiro’s, which was rare.

“It was my mother who noticed it first.”

Lady Sumire?

But how?

“That day,” he said softly. “When you ran to her instead of your own father.”

On that quiet spring day, its gentle warmth thawed the cold vice that had always gripped his conscience. Between two sworn brothers, a liberating realization took shape, lifting the weight Haibara had carried for what felt like a lifetime. He never realized how good freedom could feel—like he could soar through the sky and take on the world.

Did his mother feel the same when she left?

Probably not.

Because Haibara understood that she loved him. And no loving mother would have wanted to leave their child behind.

When Haibara finds his own footing in this world—he will visit her, not as the son of Akito Haibara. But as a worthy, capable man in his own right. A man she could be proud of.

Alas, life always takes the opposite turn when one least expects it.

—

Haibara felt as though the world was ending. Silence drowned beneath a deafening buzz ringing in his ears. His breathing became erratic. He clutched his chest—his heart pounding so rapidly, so harshly, he thought he was having a heart attack.

In fact, it was better that he did and just passed away.

Because what the hell did his father mean that the Geto Family had just been massacred?

Suguru.

Sayuri.

Lady Sumire.

Lord Shinjiro…

“Did you hear me, Yu?” Akito asked, irritation creeping into his voice. He hated repeating himself.

He looked up at his father, who was completely unmoved by the news. Without a flicker of sympathy or sadness, he tossed the scroll aside—a message from the royal court announcing their tragic death.

How could this bastard be so cruel?

Lord Shinjiro welcomed them to his home. Helped Akito rise to power. And this was how he delivered the news? Without even a shred of sympathy? Treating it like it’s an annoyance?

For the first time in his life, Haibara felt something dangerous snap inside him.

A violent, burning rage surged through his veins.

He wanted to kill his father.

Without another word, Haibara rose, grabbed his sword, and secured it at his hip. It was a precious item that was gifted to him by Lord Shinjiro last year. He had always abhorred violence. Mostly because his father had glorified it in such a twisted, hollow way. But over the years, after training with Suguru and Lord Shinjiro, Haibara had learned there could be honor in the sword. And sometimes, it was even a necessity—to protect the ones you cherish.

“Where are you going?” his father asked, irritated.

“I’m riding to the Geto Estate,” Haibara replied, voice unfaltering.

“Are you out of your mind?!” Akito shot up from his seat, his cup of wine spilling all over the desk.

“I should ask you the same,” Haibara snapped, his glare sharp as a blade. “Do you have any honor? Any decency? After all they’ve done for you—this is how you thank them?”

“You really are stupid, just like your mother! What makes you think going there will change anything?! They’re dead—”

Haibara drew his sword, the tip pressing against his father’s throat.

“If you don’t hold your vile tongue, I’ll send another soul to the afterlife tonight,” he said coldly. “Though I doubt even hell would open their gates for you.”

Akito trembled. For the first time, he had seen something foreign in his son's eyes, there was no doubt, no fear, no emotions. He no longer looked weak. Even one more breath, and Akito knew he would certainly be dead.

For all his boasting about power and strength, he folded quickly when faced with the real thing.

Haibara scoffed, sheathing his sword.

If only he had found his strength sooner. If only he could have protected his own mother.

If only he hadn’t been so afraid of this coward.

Without another word, he disappeared into the night. Praying for a miracle, Haibara rode full speed toward the estate, focusing on the pounding of his horse’s hooves—anything to drown out the dark voices in his mind

Because he didn’t know if he could live on, if Suguru was dead.

—

It was dawn by the time Haibara made it to the estate. The sky was painted in hues of blue, purple, and pink—Sayuri’s favorite colors. As if the universe was sending a message, that their souls had found peace.

Standing before the grand doors of the Geto Estate brought back a rush of nostalgia—like the very first time he arrived with his father at eight years old. But now, the wood was splintered, blood stained the entrance.

Haibara had never seen the effects of war or violence, he had only read about them in books. But he could already imagine the gruesome sight he would encounter beyond the doors, because he could already smell it—the acrid tang of putrefaction. Like a rancid meat odor, but a hundred times more pungent.

For the first time, he had come to learn the smell of death, and they say that once you’ve smelt it, you could never forget it. No books, no theory, could prepare him for what’s to come.

Despite it all, he must persevere.

And so, he took a deep breath and marched through the front doors, determined to face the truth, no matter how much it may break him.

There were already royal guards diligently patrolling the premises. Lines of bodies had been covered by white cotton sheets—presumably the servants and in-house workers. Even the horses and chickens were not spared. He made it only a few steps into the front garden before being abruptly stopped by one of the soldiers.

“Halt! What are you doing here?”

“I have come to pay my respects.”

“Does this look like the appropriate time to pay your respect?! Leave now before—”

“I do not think you understand your position,” Haibara snapped. “I am Yu Haibara, son of Lord Akito Haibara, Chief of Treasury—and I am also the sworn kin of Lord Shinjiro and Lady Sumire Geto.”

Using his father’s name felt like swallowing glass, but perhaps Akito was no longer the only one in the family well-versed in manipulation and deceit. At least this once, his name had served some purpose.

Haibara drew his sword—the steel glimmered under dawn's first light—and presented it to the guard, who assessed it with a discerining eye. The pommel bore the crest of House Geto, while the blade was engraved with his name: Yu Haibara. The guard immediately stiffened, casting a glance toward his superior.

“Now that we are in understanding,” Haibara said coldly. “Do not stand in my way. I’ve come to mourn my family.”

“Our apologies, Lord Haibara. You have our deepest condolences,” the soldiers nodded, and without another word gave him a slight bow—gesturing to him to proceed.

As Haibara made his way through the familiar corridors, every step was bogged by the weight of grief, regret, and sorrow. He should have been here. Not that he would have been useful if even Lord Shinjiro had been felled. But at least he could have been with them to the very end.

Each step brought him closer to the brink, brought him closer to a truth he wasn’t sure if he could survive. How much more could he endure?

Should he just end it here, and be with them?

No.

He had sworn not to be a coward. At the very least, he should see all of them—see it with his own eyes. And then he can decide what to do next…

“I need a report on the bodies recovered,” Haibara demanded, stopping one of the soldiers in the corridor.

“Y-Yes, Lord Haibara,” one of the soldiers replied. But his wavering gaze and unsteady breath were enough to tell Haibara that the brutality of this massacre shook even the strongest of men.

As the soldier listed the names one by one, Haibara sank further and further into despair. Lord Shinjiro died a gruesome death—countless stab wounds and arrows to his back. He was found shielding Lady Sumire and Sayuri until the very end. Both Lady Sumire and Sayuri died swiftly. Apparently the killer gave them quick deaths—a merciful kill they said. But there was nothing merciful about this. They had done nothing to incur this heinous atrocity. Haibara couldn’t stomach the details and told the soldier to stop. He didn’t want the images of their final moment engraved in his mind—especially not Sayuri’s death. He just wanted to know if they had suffered or not. And as the soldier finished up the list he realized: Suguru’s body had yet to be discovered.

Call it instinct, or a brotherly bond, but he felt it in his very core: Suguru was still alive, somewhere. And he needed to find him quick, before anyone else did. Without wasting another second, Haibara began to walk towards a secluded area of the estate, his heart beating rapidly.

Logically speaking, by now, the entirety of the estate should be swept—so if they hadn’t found Suguru yet, it was safe to assume that he had gone somewhere obscure.

Somewhere easy to miss.

Like Sayuri’s hidden tea garden.

It was a small area that she had cleared in the courtyard—hidden behind bushes. Her safe haven, as she liked to call it. For when she wanted to hide herself away from the world, read her books, and enjoy sweet treats. It was a secret that she had only revealed to Suguru and Haibara, as her most trusted confidants.

Please be there, Suguru, he silently begged.

As Haibara approached the area, he noticed two unfamiliar bodies.

Were they servants of House Geto?

But as he looked closer at their uniform, he realized they couldn’t be—because he didn’t recognize the all-black attire.

Perhaps they were the assassins?

Did Suguru take them down?

As Haibara continued to track behind the vibrant patches of green, he noticed the blood streaks trailing into the bush.

There was no doubt. Suguru was there.

He quickly wove his way through the bushes, and there he was laying face down on the ground with deep wounds. His blade was still clutched in his hands.

He never yielded, even when his body broke down.

With trembling hands, Haibara reached out, searching for breath.

Please, live, he chanted over and over again like a silent prayer.

You must live, Suguru.

And then he felt it.

It was shallow, to a point where it could have easily been swept with the gentle breeze of the wind. But there was no denying it, he was still alive.

Haibara nearly broke down right there and then, but there was no time. Each second was precious. Each second dragged him closer to the edge of death.

“Suguru,” he whispered.

He remained unresponsive.

Immediately springing into action, he tore the fabric of his clothes—trying to wrap up any large injuries. As he was tying up one of the wounds, a hand reached out to him, nearly causing him to yell.

“They…” Suguru said with a strained breath. “They can’t… be trusted…”

They?

What was he talking about?

Was he perhaps delirious from losing too much blood?

“I’ll get you out of here, I swear it, Suguru.”

“Do not let them… see you…”

Then, he fell out of consciousness.

…

After Suguru’s warning, Haibara somehow managed to slip through the Geto Estate undetected, and returned home.

Akito’s face drained of color when he saw Haibara carrying a battered, barely recognizable Suguru through the entrance.

“What are you doing, Yu?!”

Haibara ignored his father and rushed to his room with Suguru still on his back

“Call the physician—now.” He commanded, desperation bleeding through his voice.

“No! I will not! Why didn’t you just leave him there?!” Akito protested, urgently trailing behind his son. “This is clearly an omen! Surely, the Geto family must have incurred the gods’ wrath!”

Time and time again, Akito proved himself a heartless bastard. Yet, he shouldn’t have expected any less from this bottom-feeding scum. However, now wasn’t the time for arguments—Haibara needed his father’s cooperation.

“Don’t be so short-sighted, Father,” Haibara said, sliding open the bedroom door with urgency and carefully setting Suguru on his bed.

“Think about it—he’s now the sole survivor of House Geto.” He locked eyes with his father.

“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into! What if the assassins come for us?!” Akito was hysterical. His hands trembled, fear finally breaking through his usual conceited demeanor.

He was scared.

Good. Now, he would prey on that fear, the same way his father always had.

This would be the last time. Like father, like son he shall be.

“Have you grown complacent after becoming Chief?”

“That’s not true—”

“I thought better of you, Father. I never expected your ambitions to be so… shallow.”

Akito grumbled. His ambitions were shallow? Never!

“This is different! You don't know what you're getting all of us into!”

“Do you think you would be safe after all this, Father? Think about it, now that Lord Shinjiro—the man who vouched for your current position—is gone. What’s not to say that your position as Chief would soon be given to someone else?”

There was a brief pause, and as much as Akito loathed to admit it, his son had brought up a valid point. When had he become so cowardly and short-sighted?!

“Then what do you suggest?”

Haibara smirked, spotting the greed glinting in his father’s eyes. A glow Akito couldn’t hide even if he tried.

“We make him owe us—owe you, father. He has no family, no one to turn to—so naturally, he will turn to you, his savior.”

Akito began to nod, the gears already turning before the words had even fully settled. In the face of opportunity, he never hesitated. Covetousness flowed through him like blood—vital, instinctive, endless.

“If he survives this, you will have all of House Geto under your thumb. And you will be revered among the court as a man of integrity. Lord Shinjiro’s trusted friend, the savior of his only kin. And that House Geto was only able to survive, because of Akito Haibara, the honorable Chief of Treasury.”

There was a moment of silence, but Haibara already knew he had his father right where he wanted. As wicked as his father was, at least he was predictable. His greed and selfishness made him ironically easy to manipulate.

“My son…” Akito’s eyes glimmered, as he gave him a strong pat on the arm. “You have grown to be a brilliant man! I see you are indeed intelligent and wise, just like your old man!”

The compliment felt more like an insult. And his smile only made the rage inside him simmer.

“Of course, Father. I only learn from the greatest of minds,” he smiled and leaned in. “But we must make sure this does not get out. Otherwise, others will try to steal your glory like vultures.”

Akito grinned and nodded with grotesque enthusiasm. Only a man like him could still manage to find gold among bones. He wasted no time and sprang into action. He ordered the servants to tend to Suguru, stationed guards outside his room, and summoned only the best physicians.

“I want to make sure not even a strand of this boy’s hair is lost!” He barked with urgency.

“Prepare the warmest and healthiest meals with haste!”

“Summon Physician Masashi immediately!”

“I want two guards stationed by the door at all times, and one guard standing watch inside!”

“Be sure not a single word gets out that the head of House Geto is here, or I’ll have your tongues!”

Servants all scrambled as Akito took matters into his own hands.

It was always the heartless ones that could act so convincingly.

He had never understood why Lord Shinjiro had decided to help elevate his father’s career. But now, seeing him take charge so efficiently, Haibara grudgingly admitted his father could be competent when it suited him.

Regardless, Haibara harbored no resentment at this moment, because he had gained what he needed out of this: a second wind for Suguru.

—

3 days later…

Everything was cold and dark.

He was sinking into an endless black sea. All he could hear was the burbling of water. He wasn’t sure how long he had been freefalling. Time and space seemed to warp in this realm, but as time passed, he slowly grew accustomed to the perpetual darkness. It became oddly comfortable, even.

Is this what the afterlife looked like?

Just an endless abyss of nothingness?

Or was he being condemned for making his sister cry?

He was supposed to apologize to her. In fact, he was about to—he didn’t want her to go to bed misunderstanding him. It had never been his intention to say something so callous.

The more he thought about his sister’s words, the more he realized that she was just… scared.

And there was no sin, no shame in fear.

Because that night, he too had been afraid.

Fear gripped him when he heard the blood curdling scream from outside his study room.

Terror washed over him when he armed his sword to his hips and stepped outside to find the courtyard already painted in crimson and gore.

Anxiety coiled around his body when he tried to make his way to his family and protect them.

Dread loomed over when a group of assassins intercepted him and he finally had to arm himself to kill.

Horror devastated him when he sunk his blade into two of them, but was dealt a fatal blow from behind.

Despair consumed him when his world began to fade to black… because he knew he’d never have a chance to properly reconcile.

He was scared that she would never forgive him.

Suddenly, a harsh light ripped him from the black sea. And that was when he realized…

He had survived.

He’s awake. Someone call the physician immediately! A muffled voice said.

He still felt a bit disoriented. But he soon realized it was Haibara’s voice.

“Suguru!” His good friend called.

Yet in this moment, he couldn’t think of anything except for Sayuri, Mother, Father.

“Haibara.” His voice rasped as he mustered the strength to grab his friend. “Where is my family?”

Haibara didn’t need to say anything for Suguru to understand—the look of despair on his friend’s face said it all: they were gone.

Damn it.

Why didn’t he go with them?!

Why was he the only one to live?!

Why must the universe be so cruel?!

He laid there, numb and devoid of emotions, Haibara explained to him what had happened. How he immediately rode to his residence when he heard of his family’s demise. How he had miraculously found him in Sayuri’s tea garden. How he had been in a coma for three days.

What will he ever do now—now that all he’s ever known and cherished is gone?

How could he move on?

It was impossible.

The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt before, so much so that it became numb.

And then that numbness eventually prickled.

And then it turned hot.

And then it became scorching rage.

A heaviness settled in the room. Haibara had sent everyone out.

“It was King Sato,” Suguru finally muttered.

Haibara’s eyes widened. “King Sato—why? A-are you sure?”

Suguru nodded. His eyes were hollow, but rimmed with unshed tears.

All these years, Haibara had never seen Suguru cry. Even now, his best friend was stubbornly holding onto his tears. Nobody would have blamed him for crying, his entire family had just been murdered in cold blood.

“There were talks of a rebellion,” he let out a shaky breath. “I heard it in passing a few nights ago... before the attack.

“They wanted to make my father king—but he didn’t want it! He never asked for it!” Suguru’s voice cracked. “Even if they handed my father the crown, he would have never taken it!”

The dam within Suguru broke. He faltered, and agonizing sobs filled the room. The pain, the grievance, the injustice—it was all palpable.

The revelation was earthshattering.

Haibara’s entire body trembled with rage, sorrow, but also… with fear. Because if it were true, then this was no simple agenda.

This wasn’t the work of mere enemies.

This was an execution order from the crown itself.

He had heard of rumors and read in some historical texts that every monarch throughout history had something called a Shadow Division. As the name implies, those among this covert group lived in the shadow of the king who appointed them. And their duties ran anywhere between espionage to assassinations—essentially, anything the crown wanted hidden from the world.

Like specters, nobody knows who they are, what they looked like, how they were recruited. Apparently, even among the group itself, it was entirely possible that they didn't know who their fellow members were. They were all discreetly enlisted by the king—and they died with their king.

That would explain two of the unidentified bodies wearing unrecognizable uniforms, found near Suguru.

Surely, there will be repercussions.

Surely, King Sato would not sit idly by while the heir of House Geto remained undiscovered.

No… there must be a way to survive all this. Because fate—although cruel—had allowed Suguru to live.

“I’ll kill that bastard who took my family—who took everything from me!” Suguru seethed.

Haibara’s heart beat violently in his chest. Suguru was not just pointing his sword at anyone, he was pointing it at the crown.

It was utter suicide.

This would not be what his family had wanted.

But the unyielding look in Suguru’s eyes said it all: there was no stopping him. There was only vengeance. Only pure hatred. It was an inferno that could never be extinguished. And perhaps, the only thing fueling him at this very moment to live.

There was no doubt, if Haibara left Suguru in his current state, he would have just marched straight through the palace and gotten killed by the royal guards before he even had a chance of touching King Sato.

Suguru needed a voice of reason, someone to steady his feet, someone to ground him.

Or how else was he going to exact his revenge?

A part of Haibara, too, wanted revenge.

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Trying to think of the next move on the board.

Together, they will endure this.

Together, they will survive this.

There were no guarantees, but he will have to roll the dice and leave the rest up to fate. And should it be the universe's will to have the two die in the process? Then so be it. At least the five of them can reunite again then, which wouldn’t be so terrible.

There was nothing to lose at this point.

“We will hold a funeral for your family first—a funeral of the century,” Haibara said steadily.

“What would that change? It wouldn’t bring them back, Haibara!” Suguru looked up at him, fury in his eyes. “And you want to have their deaths paraded among the very ones who wished for their demise?!”

“I implore you to think, Suguru,” Haibara gritted his teeth. “I loathe the thought just as much. But if King Sato, and whoever else, truly wants your family gone—it means they’re still after you. They will want your silence. They will want you cowering in fear.”

Suguru’s fists balled so tightly it drew blood.

But Haibara was right.

If they remained in hiding, they would be playing right into their hands. It would only be a matter of time before King Sato sent assassins his way again, and he was certain, this time they would finish the job without issues.

He must solidify his stance. He must make it so he becomes hard to ignore, and that his absence would be noticed, questioned, and could even cause a revolt.

He must swallow it all down. He must prevail.

He must display courage.

He shall walk through hellfire to ensure Sato’s inglorious death.

Suguru looked up, voice tremoring with wrath. “Then let’s give my family the honor and glory of a lifetime.”

Haibara gave a firm nod. Their wills refortified.

“Then from this moment on, Geto-sama, let me—Yu Haibara—be your first ally.

Your eyes, where you cannot see.

Your ears, where you cannot hear.

Your voice, when you cannot speak.

Your mind and heart, when you cannot judge.

My allegiance shall be to House Geto, before all else.”

Without hesitation, Suguru accepts.

“Yu Haibara, you honor me with your allegiance. From here on out, I shall entrust you with my life. You shall become my brother in arms, my All-Seeing Advisor.”

Henceforth, Haibara shall no longer be shackled by the shadow of his father. His intelligence and blade shall be sharp, but with grace. It would be used for good—to protect. Just as Lord Shinjiro had done for him many years ago.

Suguru will never be alone again. He will be his watcher.

—

The day of the funeral processions commenced, Suguru did not shed a single tear and stood there, unmoving, like a soldier on guard. There was no anger, no sorrow, only a numbness accompanied by slight paranoia. Across the sea of mourners, he couldn’t help but try to discern who were the ones that were secretly rejoicing at his family’s demise, and who were genuinely mourning their deaths.

Akito Haibara shamelessly pushed to the front, weeping on his knees like the fraud he was, loudly professing how beloved a friend Shinjiro had been. His acts were so grossly performative, that Haibara couldn’t stand another second, and waved to a guard to usher him away. And as they plucked Akito off the ground, he continued to hold steadfast onto his performance to the very end, wailing, sobbing, and calling out Shinjiro’s name.

Don’t trust any of them. They all wanted your family dead. The thoughts wound through Suguru’s mind, threatening to corrupt like poisoned tendrils.

It was all too overwhelming. He just wanted this to be over soon.

How he managed to keep a blank face when King Sato approached him was beyond Suguru’s comprehension. Perhaps he had already disassociated. Nevertheless, it was something he would need to master if he wanted to exact his revenge.

And then, just for a fleeting moment, something unexpected happened.

His eyes found a father and daughter standing quietly at the far end of the crowd. If it hadn’t been for his naturally keen eyes, he might have missed it. But as soon as his eyes landed on you, the intrusive whispers vanished in an instant.

How strange.

Though he didn’t know then how your fates would intertwine, and he would have long forgotten this moment by the time the two of you met again. At the time, he silently thanked you for giving him a moment of reprieve.

A chance to breathe again.

—

A year later…

Shortly after the funeral, Haibara abandoned Akito overnight and began his new life serving under House Geto. During this time, Suguru and Haibara worked tirelessly to revitalize the Geto Estate, and vetted out loyal servants.

Their first political gamble had been successful; there had been no further assassination attempts since the funeral. Perhaps, it was Lord Shinjiro, Lady Sumire, and Sayuri’s way of watching over them. Whatever it may be, they had to stay vigilant. There was no room for complacency.

It may surprise some that Suguru chose to remain on the very grounds where his family had been massacred. But for Haibara, who had been there from the beginning and had become a part of their family, he too, wouldn’t have abandoned this place.

The Geto Estate was a sacred place that should be remembered and celebrated, not reduced to a haunted ground of tragedy.

Of all that had been destroyed, the cherry blossom tree that Lord Shinjiro gifted to his beloved wife survived. That alone stood as a testament to their enduring legacy.

One afternoon, a royal messenger came knocking on the front gates of the Geto Estate.

“A letter to the kin of Akito Haibara,” the messenger said, handing the scroll to Haibara, who received it with both hands.

And as he returned to Suguru’s office and read its contents, he couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh.

The universe truly had its strange sense of justice.

To the kin of Akito Haibara, It is the Royal Palace’s utmost regret to inform you that your father, Akito Haibara, has passed. According to the palace physician, he contracted multiple brothel illnesses and was found deceased in his estate. In light of this disgrace, His Majesty has seen fit to posthumously revoke your father’s title as Chief of Treasury. Furthermore, it has been decreed that his next of kin shall not be granted the privilege of serving within the palace. Akito’s ashes are currently held at the Royal Crematory Hall. Should they remain unclaimed within seven days’ time, they shall be discarded. House of Civil Affairs By Royal Decree of His Majesty, King Sato

“What’s so amusing?” Suguru asked, an eyebrow arched.

Haibara handed him the letter. As Suguru’s eyes trailed the words, he let out a scoff.

“What do you intend to do?” He passed the letter back.

Haibara shrugged and threw the parchment into the brazier.

“Nothing.”

Life indeed worked in mysterious ways. For all the pain, suffering, and chaos that Akito Haibara had wrought, this quiet ending seemed the most befitting way for him to go. One where he would not be remembered, honored, or mourned…

Reduced to nothing but dust, and blown away with time.

Present Day

Over the years, the two sailed through turbulent waves, and faced countless trials and tribulations. But through it all, their bond remained strong. It goes without saying that Haibara would lay down his life for Suguru without hesitation. Yet it’d also be a lie to say that there weren’t moments of doubt.

Was their path to vengeance reasonable?

Would they ever succeed?

It had been exactly ten years since they began working within the shadows—trying to find an opportunity to overthrow King Sato. Still, there was a final piece missing. Haibara could see that Suguru was growing impatient. But something had shifted lately—an undercurrent in the air, as if revolution was nigh.

Suguru didn’t need many allies, but he needed someone who was powerful in their own right. Someone who would not bow down to the crown so easily. Someone who will not cower in fear. Someone who could turn the tides of war.

Someone like you.

Haibara let out a small sigh as he glanced toward the palace courtyard. A few servant girls passing by giggled and waved. He returned his signature smile and politely nodded, garnering timid gasps and gushes. Even amid the beauty, unease still churned quietly within him. Suguru may have successfully evaded a war, but the chasm between you and him had only widened.

It was going to be a long road ahead. He feared that the path to reconciliation would not be an easy one. But it was during these trying times that it was Haibara’s time to shine.

He had full confidence that you, Lady Geto, would not crumble so easily. And that Suguru will make things right—he always had.

And as the All-Seeing Advisor, whose allegiance is to House Geto, Haibara will not falter. Suguru may not have realized it yet, but Haibara knew from the very beginning: you were his perfect match. He had known it since the day you stepped off the carriage and took your first steps through the front doors of the Geto Estate. The way you were nervous, but your eyes still glimmered with hope. The way you remained dignified and determined, even in the face of injustice and obstacles. The way you were strong and intelligent, but used it to protect and not to gain.

Courageous. Honorable. Indomitable.

They were all qualities that House Geto represented. There was no doubt that Lord Shinjiro, Lady Sumire, and Sayuri would have welcomed you with open arms, adoring you as their own.

Haibara may serve as Suguru’s right hand until the day he dies, but his loyalty had always begun with Lady Sumire.

The woman who showed him safety.

The woman who showed him kindness.

The woman who showed him unconditional love.

The woman who helped him realize…

It’s not your fault, Yu.

Writing © xechu - please do not redistribute, translate, or repost any of my works.

Taglist: @katsukiseyebrows @uzuimirika @saoirses-things @what-just-happened-to-me @exitingmusic @vellichor01 @miacakess @webyueve

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vera-deville · 1 day ago

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I am here with but one simple request, jack with a non-confrontational, socially anxious reader! it’s such a contrast with his own confrontational manner and lone-wolf nature that I think would be quite interesting to explore (๑>ᴗ<๑)

love your writing, keep up the good work ^_^ ♡

Louder Than Words 05/03/2025

Pairing: Jack Howl x Reader Word Count: 1,104 Warnings: N/A Gender: GN Tags: @qaxdea, @katzline Notes: Thank you so much! I really needed to hear that, and I'm so happy you enjoy my writing! Masterlist

You had always known that group projects were simply another nook of purgatory established to make life that much more devious to get through.

The very idea of them gave your stomach leeway to twist into anxious knots, constricting like a boa until you couldn't breathe anymore. It wasn't that you didn't like people (okay, perhaps a little), but it was more so that you didn't know what to do with them. The talking. The awkward "who's doing what" conversation. The silent tug-of-war when nobody wanted to take the lead, and everyone kept glancing around, waiting for someone to volunteer. You'd rather write five essays alone in a cave than do one group project with three strangers who barely remember your name.

So when Professor Trein announced a four-person Herbology research project, you nearly curled up under your desk and died on the spot.

And of course, fate - cruel, ironic fate - put Jack Howl in your group.

Jack, with his gruff voice and stone-faced demeanor. Jack, who didn't care if someone got upset when he said what he really thought. Jack, who had no problem walking straight into confrontation like it was a warm summer breeze.

You were going to die. Or cry. Possibly (most likely) both.

The rest of your group was rounded out by a loudmouth from Savanaclaw named Yulan, who had opinions about everything, and a sleepy Octavinelle student who you were 90% sure was just in it for the grade. That left you, nervous, anxious, and wouldn't-say-boo-to-a-ghost you, trying desperately to keep things from going up in smoke.

The first meeting went about as well as expected.

"I'm just saying, if we're talking about magical soil composition, we have to include the variant growth properties from the Scarabia greenhouse. That stuff is wild."

"Yeah, but that's not what the assignment's asking for," Jack cut in, arms crossed. "It says we need to focus on herbological integration in real-world applications, not theory."

"I am talking about a real-world application!"

"Not if you can't prove it," Jack said flatly.

Yulan slammed a notebook on the table. "You wanna bet?"

You could practically feel your soul saying goodbye to your body.

"Um...maybe we can, uh, do both?" You squeaked, almost whispering.

Neither of them heard you.

"Alright, I'm done arguing," Jack growled, standing up. "If you want to waste your time, go for it. But I'm not failing because someone can't read a prompt."

Yulan bristled. "Who're you calling someone, dog boy?"

You slid a little further down in your seat.

And yet, even after the shouting and the note-slinging and the pure chaos of that first meeting, Jack stayed behind when the others left.

You hadn't said a word in the last fifteen minutes. Just scribbled things in your notebook and tried not to look like you wanted to evaporate.

Jack leaned against the table, arms crossed, looking almost...thoughtful.

"Hey," He said. "You okay?"

You blinked. "Huh?"

He nodded toward your still-white-knuckled grip on your pen. "You looked like you were about to bolt."

You flinched. "I...I don't really do well with conflict. Or people in general."

Jack's ears twitched. "I could tell."

You braced yourself for the judgement. The teasing. The "well, toughen up" speech.

But it never came.

Jack looked away, scratching the back of his neck. "Didn't mean to snap like that. I just hate when people don't listen. It's not personal."

You blinked again. Slowly. "You...weren't mad at me?"

He snorted. "You didn't do anything."

That shouldn't have made you tear up the way it did.

"Thanks," You said softly. "I, um...I wanted to say something, but I didn't want to make it worse."

He looked down at you, golden eyes narrowing slightly. Not in judgement. In...curiosity?

"You always like this with people?" He asked.

You nodded mutely.

Jack grunted. "Then I'll talk to them."

"What?"

"I'll keep the loud ones off your back. You focus on the research stuff. You're good at that, right?"

"I-I guess so. I mean, I like organizing and writing..."

"Good," Jack said simply. "Then you do that. And if Yulan tries to start another debate, I'll shut it down."

You blinked. "Just like that?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You want me to not help you?"

"No! I just...I'm not used to people being that direct."

"Guess that's why I'm here," Jack muttered. "Balance."

From then on, Jack didn't just participate in the project - he managed it. Not in the way most people would simply take over, but rather by smoothing out the chaos so that you never had to. If Yulan got too loud, Jack would glare at him until he quieted down. If the Octavinelle student slacked off, Jack growled until he did something useful. And whenever it came time to present your findings to the professor, Jack always, always deferred to you to start the presentation.

"You did most of the writing," He'd shrug. "It's only fair."

You couldn't remember the last time someone had made you feel...capable. Protected, even. But never belittled.

It wasn't just about the project anymore.

Jack started walking with you to class after your meetings. He'd slow his pace to match yours, quietly adjusting his long strides so you didn't feel like you were trying to keep up. When he asked you questions, he actually listened - ears twitching every so often as you spoke, tail swishing thoughtfully behind him.

"You talk quiet," He once said, "But you say smart things."

You flushed all the way to your ears.

Eventually, you even got comfortable enough to sit with him at lunch. Jack didn't talk much, but you didn't feel like you had to either. He liked the silence. He thrived in it. And now, so did you.

"Can I ask you something?" You mumbled one afternoon as you sat underneath a tree, papers spread between you.

Jack nodded.

Why do you go out of your way to help me? I mean, I'm not...strong. Or brave. Not like you."

Jack looked at you for a long moment, then snorted.

"You ever try doing something when your heart's about to leap outta your chest? Walking into a room full of people, talking even when your throat locks up?" He shook his head. "That's strength, too. Just a different kind."

You stared at him.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Don't look at me like I said something poetic."

You laughed. "Sorry. You just surprise me sometimes."

He shrugged. "I like people who are real. You don't put on a front. You just...are."

Your chest swelled with something warm and unsure and a little fluttery.

Maybe group projects weren't all bad.

Author's Note: I've been in a bit of a rut lately, which I was really sad about, because a couple of months ago, I had a really good streak going, and I was churning out fics at a rapid rate. Unfortunately, I just kind of fell off that streak for a while. I'm trying to get back into it, and I also plan on opening commissions soon! Please be on the lookout for more information regarding that, and I hope you enjoyed this fic!

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jack howl #jack howl x reader #jack x reader #group project #comfort #protective #oc - yulan #nrc #reader #you #vera deville

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starkeyvhs · 2 days ago

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EDITH’S 1.2K CELLY! <3

navigation

edith speaks: thank you so so much for this milestone!! 🥹 my blog got really stagnant because of my inactivity, but this summer vacations helped me come back and resume posting!! so this is a small way for me to pay back for all the love I’ve received 🫶🫶 did not add any event for writing because unfortunately I already am working on a lot and would not be able to handle more load 😭

START: 25 june, 2025 / END: 06 july, 2025

𓂃𓏲 EVENTS

.｡.:*✧┊azalea: ask me anything from list a (fic writer asks) and/or from list b (general fun asks)!

.｡.:*✧┊amaryllis: (moots only) send me an ask and I’ll make a 3-pic moodboard based on the vibe I get from you, your name, and your blog && tell you what I associate you with!

.｡.:*✧┊hyacinth: send me any concept with any character I write for, and I will make a 9-pic moodboard!

.｡.:*✧┊bluebell: send me a profile picture and I’ll give you matching navigation post pics, headers, and dividers!

.｡.:*✧┊snowdrop: send me your thoughts or headcanons on any of the characters I write for, or about any of your own fics, or mine and I'll let you know my own thoughts on it!

.｡.:*✧┊zinnia: send me this ask and I will share one of my favorite drew (+ characters) edits off pinterest or instagram! (you can specify if you need one of a certain person! :))

.｡.:*✧┊edelweiss: recommend me something! recommend me any of your favorite movies, shows, albums, artists, books etc, and in turn I’ll recommend you one from my collection of favs!

𓂃𓏲 BASIC RULES

.｡.:*✧┊please be patient with me as I get to all the asks.

.｡.:*✧┊do check my request guidelines first, so you have a general idea on what kind of content you can request/expect from me to post.

.｡.:*✧┊and please only send one request per ask, but you can send as many asks as you feel like!

.｡.:*✧┊requests on anon are more than welcome!

.｡.:*✧┊and as always, be respectful and be kind :)

𓂃𓏲 TAGGING

below I am tagging my taglist and some of my moots, but please know no one is obliged to interact!

@oxpogues4lifexo / @inthelibrarybtw / @mccaffreyswifey / @chenslucy / @totalswag / @wearemadeofstardust0 / @percysley / @superswaggycooch / @kaileashiftz / @weirdowithnobeardo / @chimchimjiminie16 / @ursovaine / @mariamadison6-blog / @snowtargaryen / @htlkira / @hrtshapedblg / @cherrys-muses / @mattyskies / @alexxavicry / @superlegend216 / @runningfrom2am / @ilyrafe / @zyafics / @nemesyaaa / @ladyinbl00d / @jjsbank444 / @b1mb0slvt / @maddsxfall / @congratsloserr / @starkeyszn / @memoirofasparklemuff1n / @7-deadly-cats / @illumoria / @rafesteddy / @appleciderlove / @maybejj / @itneverendshere / @aliyahwritings / @lacyydollette

#𓂃𓏲 ⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ edith's 1.2k celly! ꒷ ᵎᵎ #𓂃𓏲 ⋆˙ ₊˚⊹ edith's milestones ꒷ ᵎᵎ #dividers are not by me!!

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archiji · 2 days ago

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Welcome to the world of the undead.

╋━ hello. my name is thorne or vincent. I am a guitar and violin player, I have a band so if you see me nerding out about music, don’t question it,

𓄃 I am not new to editing, you probably seen my previous account: @/neroticbf, but if not, hello!

Also: please read this. If you had read about someone pretending to be me before I deactivated; that post I linked is about that and would really like if people read what I had to say.

݁ᛪ༙ What I do: themepacks, layouts, icons, replyicons, banners, resources, rentry graphics, dividers, rentry layouts (specific)

༒ Media I won’t edit: anything generally bad 😭 or with a bad rep (minus a few Genshin characters that I like), gore, anything Roblox related (unless it’s regretevator), games that I don’t find appealing or don’t have much media. (I’ll let u know if I don’t wanna edit anything lol)

The living dead, babe, that’s you and me.

Tags for reach: @dwevilliette @wovened @pwrinc @pueriled @hwizou @selysie @velcrucis + anyone who wants to reblog (I genuinely didn’t know who to tag bru 🥀) dm/ask to remove !!

#࣪ ִֶָ☾. kiss me with your eyes closed.#╋━ set fire to the grave.#𒌐 savor my rotting corpse.

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fishyaudio · 3 days ago

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Raz, who's been your favourite design you've made for your anthro au? I have a feeling it's Saint lol

Your feeling is not wrong, she's a favourite to draw!

But if I had to choose one, favourite design ever out of the ten, it would be the one for Shine (aka Monk, I really need to start using the names I gave them all for the AU here as well, gahh)

It's a surprising choice for me, because when it came to in-game depiction + popular fandom interpretations of Monk, I never really liked the guy (not disliked, just didn't think about the character a lot and found others more interesting). I don't usually dig the "peaceful, kind, happy" archetype characters in media in general, it's just not my thing, and most "fanmade character extensions" of Monk I've seen just expanded on that alone. It's not that they're anyhow wrong! They're just really not my thing and it always itches me to introduce more contrast or flavor in personalities of that sort. It's suprisingly hard to write a character who is mainly just really pure and avoids conflict, at least for me. Unhinged beasts with weird morals are sometimes just easier to grasp bwahaha

And with that, since it's "character design" and not just "design" - that initially made me feel like designing and creating the anthro AU equivalent for Monk would be a neccessary struggle and when I'm done, I won't ever pay much attention to a character I'd consider a bit more flat in comparison to what I had planned for others. But the longer I sketched, more "what ifs" came to mind and I ended up with Shine - still the younger sibling, just taller and bigger than the scrawny, troublemaking, older one. Took advantage of Share (Gourmand) being his parent, so he takes after him in size and personality a bit more. That opened a really fun path to explore with him.

I've decided to link his pacifist mentality and kindness not to being childish and bit unwise, but to idealism, stronger sense of justice and an overall aspiration to be reliable and responsible. He's still young and naive, but it doesn't come from being childish and having a "kill them with kindness, no other options allowed" mentality, but rather from being an inexperienced, future leader with a lot of potential. One that's often being very harsh on himself when his mistakes or faulty judgement causes a slip-up or a situation escalated in a way he couldn't predict. Sometimes, things just happen and there was no way to foresee the consequences or avoid confrontation, despite how hard everyone tried, and that's also a part of life - that's something Shine would struggle to accept. He's naive, but not dumb. Even with that - it doesn't stop him from being a very trustworthy and quick-thinking individual. I like that about him!

And this is also what's reflected in the design - he's on the taller side, with a more blocky build. Flowy, loose clothes both make him look really comfortable and chill, visually suggesting that he's more laid-back, not active, not used to fights and messy situations, while also pushing the silhouette to be a one, sturdy shape even more. That just yells "you can approach and trust this guy easily" by looks alone. From smaller details - he has the monk symbol in a visible place on his belt -> wants to signal to others that he's not a threat and is always willing to talk things out or settle for a compromise. He doesn't have much more accessories -> doesn't like showing off and isn't desperate for attention. The only striking, busy pattern he has on him is the striped sleeve to match his sib - he values Ways (Survivor) a lot!

From other designs for the AU - March, Ways and Steps (Spearmaster, Survivor and Rivulet) are also my favourites for various reasons, but this post is already a yap session. Maybe next time, if anyone's curious.

Thanks for the ask! Gave me an excuse to draw them more!!

AU tag here!

#rwrof au #fishyaudio art #rain world #rain world au #rw au #rain world anthro #rw anthro au #rw monk #rw survivor #rw rivulet #rw spearmaster #rw headcanons

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transfemme-shelterdog · 1 day ago

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adding my two cents to the pdb situation. this got really long, im very sorry about that but it makes me extremely upset.

even if being cis wasn't relevant (which it is) he was still talking down to trans men of color about racism, as a white man. like,,, isn't it being progressive 101 that white people shouldn't do that? race gets read before gender. i think people of color probably know how that works better than white cis baby does.

ok actually it's turned into three cents while writing this. he posted an answer to an ask about being a white cis man speaking down to/over tmoc and said "the most i did is point out that Black transfems experience a lot more oppression than either white transfems and Black transmascs."

incorrect actually!! the original post that people are talking about is specifically addressed to tmoc and he specifically said that, in regards to tmoc speaking up about their unique axes of oppression, "i swear so many of you are just forgetting that there's trans women who experience all the same stuff you do but worse and more, including Black transfems. [reblog] yes you're treated like shit compared to white transmascs, yes you're treated like shit compared to cis Black people, but... you can not just forget that Black trans women are treated as uniquely predatory and violent."

white cis baby these are two similar but different sentiments, which are both still speaking over tmoc. one person saying they experience unique oppression does not invalidate another person's unique oppression. keywords that pdb himself said: "yes you're treated like shit compared to white transmascs, yes you're treated like shit compared to cis Black people" okay so why aren't tmoc allowed to talk about that without people claiming that they're transmisogynistic?? so many tmoc in the tag are talking about their own experiences without bringing up transmisogyny at all. since im white that's all i'll say about it, because people should go read those posts instead of hearing me paraphrase them.

i know everyone here knows this but i just have to reiterate. all trans men are asking for is space to talk about our issues. we do not want to stop talking about transmisogyny. we do not want to stop talking about transmisogynoir. we just want a place to discuss our theory and experiences without being told that it's worthless. these discussions can and should exist in tandem with discussions about transmisogyny, and so should discussions about exorsexism.

again, sorry for the length and general attitude of this. i try not to be visibly upset when discussing things but this one has been building for a while. sick and tired of the vocal minority putting their fingers in their ears. thank you for reading.

Completely agree Anon, I appreciate your input.

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yennefer-of-vengerbergs · 2 days ago

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OC Layers Tag Game

Thank you for the tags @andromedaancunin @bhaal-battle-beer-bard ❤️

LAYER ONE: THE OUTSIDE

Name: Syanna (eventually Ancunin 🥰)

Eye Color: Green

Hair Style/Color: Red hair, which she usually wears in a bun, braid or ponytail. Occasionally she will leave it down, or keep it in a half up, half down style too.

Height: 165 cm

Clothing Style: Practical but with a bit of elegance and flair at the same time

Best Physical Feature(s): I’m biased, but everything, if you ask me 😅

LAYER TWO: THE INSIDE

Fears: That the urges will come back, losing her memories again, being abandoned/alone

Guilty Pleasure: Lazy moments in bed with Astarion🥰 Do they have to be up and get things done? Yes. Do they WANT to be up and getting things done? No. Do they stay there until the last possible second? Also yes.

Biggest Pet Peeve: Judgemental people

Ambition for the Future: Finding a way for Astarion to go out during the day again. Besides that, she just wants to enjoy her life🥰

LAYER THREE: THOUGHTS

First Thoughts Waking Up: "Five more minutes..." and some variation of wanting to cuddle with, or smooch Astarion, and playing with Scratch and the owlbear 🥰

What They Think About the Most: Hers and Astarion's plans for the day/night, where to travel next

What They Think About Before Bed: The day's highlights, whatever else of note that happened, how she wants to get comfortable and cuddle up to pookie 🤭

What They Think Their Best Quality Is: Her planning abilities and how open minded she is

LAYER FOUR: WHAT’S BETTER?

Dogs or Cats? (and owlbears!)

Single or Group Dates?

To be Loved or Respected?

Beauty or Brains?

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?

Lie: Yes, when needed (but she won’t lie to her friends and Astarion)

Believe in Yourself: Mostly, though she does have plenty of moments of self-doubt

Believe in Love: She does now 🥰

Want Someone: Yes (spoiler alert, it’s Astarion🤭)

LAYER SIX: HAVE YOU EVER?

Been on Stage: No

Done Drugs: No

Changed Who You Were to Fit In: No

LAYER SEVEN: WHAT’S THEIR…

Favorite colors: Dark green is her favorite, but she's also partial to rich, jewel tones in general

Favorite animal: Cats, dogs, owlbears (coincidence? I think not 🤭)

Favorite book: She really enjoys adventure novels

Favorite game: Card games

LAYER EIGHT: AGE

DOB: She doesn't know it, so she just thinks of the day she rejected Bhaal, and Withers brought her back as a more symbolic birthday

How Old Will You Be: Same as the above, she doesn't know how old she is

Does Age Matter: Depends on the context and situation

LAYER NINE: FINISH THE SENTENCE

I love: 'Astarion, and Scratch, and the owlbear cub, and Myshka'

I feel: 'happy, finally'

I hide: 'my struggles'

I miss: 'my friends'

I wish: 'that we continue being happy together’

No pressure tags: @saucy-scribbler @iizven @astarioffsimpmain @serenbriar

#tag game #bg3 durge #bg3 oc #bg3 #my oc: syanna

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mythals-whore · 3 days ago

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WIP Wednesday

Thank you @sugar-peanut-cat & @gingervitus for the tags!

I don't know if this is an actual WIP (I'm not sure it'll become a long project I'm actually working on) but here is a little something that sprouted out of my Love Island AU idea.

I am tagging @basedonconjecture @flowersforthemachines @thedissonantverses @biowaredisasterbisexual @glitteringdust @cute-ellyna

Her lips curve around the edge of the glass, trying and failing to hide her smile. The bitterness of the wine hits her mouth, and she can't help thinking how beautiful he looks—smug smile and all.

"So," Cyri says, setting the wine glass back on the table, though her fingers remain delicately on the stem, twisting it deftly between her fingers, "What brings you to Love Island?"

Davrin smiles, looks down at the table and gives s shake of his head. when he raises his eyes again, his expression has transformed into something quite serious.

"I got a cat."

Cyri blinks at him, and the new smile that unfurls on her mouth it's entirely of her own volition. Davrin just looks at her, expression still quite serious as she tries to puzzle out how exactly that answers the question. The glint in those dark brown eyes only makes her more curious.

"You got a cat?" she repeats, amused.

"Assan." he agrees solemnly.

She's grinning openly at him now.

"And he needs a mother." Cyri infers, the arch of her eyebrow indicating the question in her words.

Davrin looks down again st the table cloth. His plush lips press together, twisting to one side like he's trying not to smile. "More like…" when he looks up, warm eyes pouring into hers he says, "I realized that maybe "I wasn’t as alright being on my own as I thought." she blinks and he shrugs, "Not that I'm sure Assan wouldn’t love someone else to dote on him."

Cyri smiles at him, shaking her head. It shouldn't be allowed, she thinks, for someone to be quite so charming. But here he is. She lifts the glass again to her lips, ignoring the swell in her chest, leaning back in her chair once more.

"Who’s taking care of him while you’re in here?" she asks.

"Couple friends of mine, Lancit and Remy." and it's the way he says it wistfully that clues her in.

"You miss him."

Davrin gives a bit of a self-depricating smile before he leans in over the table, encouraging her to do the same. for a moment she feels a little like a sixteen year old girl sharing gossip over a lunch hour.

"I tried to negotiate his coming with me." Davrin confides, and then jerks his chin in the general direction of the villa, "They wouldn’t go for it."

The giggle that bubbles out of Cyri's mouth isn't entirely her own, though she quite enjoys the way Davrin's eyes dart from her eyes to her mouth, like it's an achievement.

Then he asks, "What about you?"

Cyri shrugs, "No animals here." she admits, and then amends, "But I'm not opposed."

"Good to know." He smiles warmly and she ignores the way her heart swoops low into her stomach, "But I did mean: what brought you to love island?"

She busies her mouth with a sip of wine to hide her surprise. Truth is, she doesn't really know how to answer. But Davrin waits, expectantly.

Cyri allows a small smile to curl her lips, one that's the perfect mix of honest and dishonest before she says with a half-hearted shrug, "Just a bit of fun really."

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow, the one with the scar carved right through. And then does something that surprises her even more—he doesn't press.

Instead, a sultry smile to mirror her own graces his beautiful face as he leans over the table again, somewhat conspiratorial, "Should we have a bit of fun, then?"

#wip wednesday #davrilla #my writing #davrook #modern au #love island VG au #<- in case I write more of this at some point #this may actually just wind up as my writing warm up doc #the idea has since evolved to #Cyri is coupled with Ashur #when Casa Amor happens and then she meets Davrin #and ofc our best noncommittal girlie twists #I just think #Love island au has max drama potential #esp because Cyri is messy #she would be messy #and she'd couple with someone else and then makeout with Davrin on the terrace #and I want that for them

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pink-sparkly-witch · 15 hours ago

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Sauvage, Part Five (FINALE)

Summary: Jensen finally meets Y/N, the woman Jared and Gen say is perfect for him. Just as they think they have their happily ever after, opportunity knocks taking Jensen halfway across the world. He’s determined to make their relationship work from an ocean apart, but it’s a lot harder than either of them bargained for.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Rating: General

Bingo Square: Reunion for @jacklesversebingo

Triggers / Warnings / Tags: fluff, reunion, heart-to-heart, kissing, happily ever after

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Please consider leaving feedback, a comment or a keyboard smash. Interaction really fuels a creative’s muse. If you’re too shy or don’t want people to know you read fanfic and don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

Jensen made sure to arrive twenty minutes early. The last thing he wanted to do was be late—or worse, for Y/N to arrive before him. It also meant he could partake in a little Dutch courage to try and settle his nerves a bit. Not until he arrived at the bar did he realise just how much this meeting meant to him. She said it herself; they lived in the same city again and they couldn’t keep avoiding each other every time the Padalecki’s had a party. It wasn’t fair on either of them, or on Jared, Gen, and the kids.

“Scotch, neat, and can you make it a double?” he requested from the bartender as he sat in a barstool facing the entrance so he could see Y/N come in without looking like a meerkat at every flash of movement that caught his eye. “Thanks,” he nodded, handing twenty dollars over when the crystal tumbler was placed in front of him.

“Do you need change?” he asked.

“No,” Jensen shook his head. “It’s all good, thanks.”

He sipped his whisky slowly trying to practice their conversation in his head, but it didn’t do any good. Everything he thought to say sounded too forced, too desperate, or too nosy.

As he finished his whisky, Y/N walked through the door, and his mind went completely blank, forgetting every topic of conversation and every question he’d thought to ask. She looked stunning in the most understated way. A white V-neck shirt tucked into dark wash jeans, a smart black blazer, and a pair of heels. Her make-up was done in the way he’d always preferred on women: natural and minimal, to the extent she looked like she wasn’t wearing any at all.

She was perfect, and not for the first time, he cursed himself for ever letting her go. For not fighting harder. For breaking her heart and letting her down.

Y/N’s eyes casually scanned the bar and when they reached him, he raised his hand in a wave so she would see him. The way her shoulders relaxed when she saw him made him smile, and he wondered if she’d been just as nervous as he was about being stood up.

As she walked towards him, Jensen stood from the barstool to greet her. It took everything he had not to kiss her cheek when she stopped in front of him, but instead, he settled on a warm smile.

“I’m glad you came,” he chuckled softly.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” Y/N smirked, watching as he nervously ran his hand through his hair.

“Kinda!” he chuckled. “I put you on the spot earlier when I asked you how you’d been. I don’t have the right to ask, and I don’t have the right to know. I’d have understood if you stood me up.”

Y/N frowned at Jensen’s choice of words. This wasn’t a date, no matter how much she wanted it to be, so she tried not to dwell on it or any hidden meaning that might have been behind them.

“So,” she cleared her throat, “are we getting a table or do you want to sit at the bar?”

“I’d like to get a table, but if you’d be more comfortable at the bar, I’m fine with that,” Jensen answered.

“A table would be great,” she replied, smiling that he was still as chivalrous as she remembered.

“Okay, great!”

Jensen held his arm out for her to take and she quickly linked hers with it. He led them to a quiet, intimate table for two at the back of the bar where they wouldn’t be disturbed by patrons queuing for drinks or people coming and going from the restrooms.

He pulled her chair out for her and once again, she found herself enamoured by his gentlemanly manners. “Thank you, Jensen.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” Jensen’s smile was wide and contagious, and the sparkle in his green eyes was brighter than she ever remembered seeing it. She couldn’t help wondering if it was the low, atmospheric lighting, or if their spark was reigniting.

As they settled into their seats, the silence and tension between them grew to an unbearable level. Y/N was about to bite the bullet and tell him that this was a bad idea when a waiter approached to take their drinks order.

Jensen ordered a beer with an ease that instantly diffused some of the tension she was feeling, making her wonder if it was only her that felt the awkward air surrounding and suffocating her.

“Merlot,” she blurted when the waiter asked her what drink she wanted for the second time. “A really large glass of Merlot, please.”

“Of course,” the waiter nodded and left them to their awkwardness once again.

“What?” Y/N frowned at hearing Jensen’s chuckle.

“Nervous?” he smirked and she narrowed her eyes.

“You’re not?”

“I am. But you look like you’re plotting a prison break!” Y/N laughed, breaking the remaining tension between her and Jensen. “There she is!” he chuckled. “You had me worried for a second!”

“I’m sorry. This is…” Y/N gestured wildly with her hands trying to find a word that wouldn’t offend him.

“Awkward?” Jensen offered. “Yeah, it is.” he agreed and took a swig of his beer, watching as she took a long swallow of her wine.

“But it doesn’t have to be,” he added, putting his bottle back on the table and making himself comfortable on the faux leather armchair. “So, since I asked you here, it’s only fair that my interrogation is first.”

“Interrogation?” she chuckled. “Why so serious!” Jensen threw his head back in laughter and she grinned. She’d missed his laugh.

“Maybe that was a little strong!” he smirked.

“You think? I’m about ready to get a cab home!” she laughed.

“Okay, how about reacquainting? Is that better?”

“Much,” Y/N grinned. “So, tell me about Paris.”

Jensen spent over an hour talking about himself, his time in Paris that led to him getting a dream position in a very successful New York restaurant, and his latest venture into owning his own place.

“Sauvage. I like it. It suits you,” Y/N grinned as he finished his story. “I’m so happy everything worked out for you, Jensen. Truly.”

“Thank you. It came at the sacrifice of any kind of personal life, but I’m hoping it pays off,” he chuckled.

“I have no doubt it will. Everything you’ve worked so hard towards will be worth it when you see your restaurant full of happy diners.” Y/N swallowed the last mouthful of her wine and gestured to the waiter for another round of drinks.

“So, I guess it’s your turn,” Jensen said.

“I guess so,” she cleared her throat and thanked the waiter for her second glass of wine. “What do you want to know?”

“How’s work?” Jensen started with the perfect icebreaker. She loved her job when they were dating, and he was pretty sure she’d still love it now.

“Great!” Y/N’s smile lit up her face and made her eyes sparkle. “I have my own family practice and see patients part time. The rest of the time is paperwork and the day-to-day running of things. I have an amazing office manager though, who helps with a lot of the admin.”

“Wow! Your own practice? Looks like I’m not the only one living their dream!” Jensen smiled.

“Yeah, well, you worked hard for yours. Mine kinda just fell into my lap!” she chuckled, and he tilted his head in a silent question.

“I’d been out for drinks with a group of friends and I ran into Eddie Simpson. We both specialised in family medicine at Harvard and shared classes together there. He was working in a practice and told me they were looking for a new pediatrician.

“Long story short, I got the job, and when the original owner, Dr Reynolds retired, Eddie and I bought him out, and I’ve been there ever since,” Y/N explained.

“Is Eddie still your business partner?” Jensen asked.

“Ah, now that brings us to the personal part of my life!” she chuckled sadly.

“I’m listening,” he said softly, and she smiled wearily.

“Not long after I started working at the practice, Eddie and I started dating. He’s a really great guy and he treated me well. We got married,” she sighed and paused, her memories making her smile slightly, making Jensen curious as to why things didn’t work between them.

“But we shouldn’t have,” she continued. “I had my doubts that accepting his proposal was the right thing to do, but I wanted what everyone else had. I wanted a partner and a best friend. Someone who’d always have my back.” Y/N paused again to take a long sip of wine.

“I got all of it from him, but I didn’t love him. I mean, I loved him… I still love him. I’m just not in love with him. I’m not sure that I ever was.

“He met someone else,” she smiled softly at Jensen’s scathing expression. “He never cheated on me. But when he met Laura, he realised the way he felt about her should have been the way he felt about me.”

It hadn’t been as heartbreaking as she imagined the news would’ve been had she been in love with Eddie. In fact, it’d been a relief. It meant they could part ways amicably and without anyone getting hurt. They loved each other, they just weren’t in love, and they’d managed to get through their separation and subsequent divorce and still be friends.

“When we separated, Eddie decided to move to Houston. It’s where Laura is from originally. When we sold our house, I offered to buy Eddie out of the practice and become its sole owner. He agreed and… here we are,” Y/N picked up her wine glass with a shrug, and took another healthy swallow from it.

“What about you?” She cleared her throat and placed her glass back on the table. There was no need to elaborate because they both knew she was referring to his love life.

“Do you want the truth or the polite answer?” Jensen chuckled.

“The polite answer, obviously,” she grinned.

“Alright, but remember you asked for it!” he laughed and took a long drag of his beer.

“I tried to date after… but no one ever came close to you. So, I threw myself into work and dated casually. Even that wasn’t… it didn’t feel right. It always felt like I was cheating.

“I know we weren’t together very long,” Jensen drained the rest of his beer. “But what we had was intense and all consuming. It was the real deal. I have no doubt whatsoever about that.”

Y/N may have managed to move on and get married, but he never could. It had only ever been her. It still was and it always would be. He knew that now just as much as he’d known it back then.

But back then, he couldn’t see the wood for the trees, and he thought it’d be easier for both of them — no, him — and his feelings to end it. Part of him held onto the hope that she’d wait for him. That she’d still be there when he came back from Paris, but she wasn’t. And it was only then that he realised just how big of a mistake he’d made because he knew her. And he knew that if they’d separated before he went to Paris, she would have waited for him. But he fucked up in so many ways, the first being his insistence that they stay together.

“I’m so sorry,” Jensen sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I just wish I’d tried harder—fought harder for you.”

“No, you don’t, Jensen. You wouldn’t be where you are now if we’d stayed together.” He knew she was right, but the shame and the guilt of what he’d put them both through was still as raw as it was then.

“I don’t care. None of it makes up for the future I could’ve had with you,” he fumed. “One where both of us would’ve been happy.”

“Maybe not. But neither of us would be who we are or where we are now, and everything happens for a reason. If I didn’t believe that, I’d never have survived us breaking up.”

“I still love you,” Jensen bravely admitted. If he didn’t do it now, he knew he’d let her walk out of here without telling her. “I never stopped.”

“Me either,” she replied.

“Can I kiss you?” He didn’t know where it came from, but it was out now and he couldn’t take it back.

“You better!” Y/N giggled, leaning forward to meet Jensen’s plump, perfect lips with hers.

The kiss was everything and more. Y/N felt the butterflies swarming the second their lips touched. Her heart skipped a beat before hammering twofold when Jensen’s tongue traced across her bottom lip.

She opened her mouth, whimpering as their tongues grazed. It was warm and passionate, familiar and comforting all at the same time. It was perfect. He was perfect. And Y/N finally felt like she was home.

“Can we, uhm,” Y/N murmured against his lips having had to pull away for some much needed oxygen. “Can we get out of here?”

Jensen smirked at Y/N’s red and swollen lips, proud that he’d been the one to make them that way.

“Together?” he asked, hoping it was but not wanting to assume.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice raspy with arousal.

“Your place or mine?”

The End

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