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rizzmura · 2 days ago

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under your skin; the first impression

enemy!niki x fem!reader

warnings: strong language, mild sexual tension, suggestive themes, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, light teasing/flirting, angst, heated banter, emotionally charged moments

w.c.: 2.5k

chapter one synopsis: niki walks into your life like he owns the place. he’s cocky, self-assured, and somehow always knows how to push your buttons. what starts as harmless teasing soon escalates into a rivalry that neither of you can escape. but there’s a thin line between hate and something else you’re trying hard not to acknowledge.

you had heard about him before you met him. everyone had something to say about nishimura niki, and none of it was particularly glowing to you. he was the kind of guy that had a reputation for being difficult, cocky, and loud. he had this charm, a swagger about him that you couldn’t ignore. his confidence radiated from every word, every action. and if you were being honest, it annoyed you. everyone had their limits, and niki seemed determined to find yours.

before he even stepped into the lecture hall, you had already made up your mind: you were going to keep your distance. college wasn’t supposed to be about dealing with someone like him. it was supposed to be a place to focus on your future, to get your degree, and leave. you weren’t here for any distractions.

but of course, niki didn’t seem to understand the concept of “quiet.”

he burst into the lecture hall like a hurricane, his loud voice announcing his entrance before his body even fully filled the doorway. he was talking to a friend, animated and expressive, as usual. his presence immediately drew attention, and you could feel the collective sigh of the room when he took the seat right next to you, without even a glance in your direction.

you tried to ignore him, but it was impossible. everything about him was distracting. his too-loud laugh, his exaggerated gestures, the way his energy seemed to fill every inch of space in the room. you could almost feel the way his presence pushed against your own, like an electric current you couldn’t escape.

niki seemed to have no concept of personal space. or maybe he just didn’t care.

“hey,” he said casually, looking at the papers in front of you. “you look like you’re actually paying attention. i should’ve sat next to you.”

you shot him a quick, disinterested glance, silently wishing he’d just leave you alone. “great,” you replied flatly, focusing your gaze on your notes, trying to ignore the way his eyes followed you as if he was trying to figure out who you were, like it was some kind of game to him.

he wasn’t deterred. of course, he wasn’t. “you know, i heard this lecture is a waste of time. i only came because the syllabus said there’s a quiz later this week.”

you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “how convenient for you,” you muttered, still not looking at him, but you could already feel a little tickle of irritation creeping up your spine.

niki grinned, completely unfazed by your flat response. “i take it you’re not a fan of this place, huh? you’re a bit too serious for college.” his tone was playful, but there was an edge to it, a hint that maybe he wasn’t entirely joking. or maybe he was, and you were just reading too much into it.

you glanced at him, your annoyance rising. “i’m here for the degree. not here to entertain you.”

he raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your sharp response. “oh, come on, you’re no fun. you gotta lighten up sometimes, y’know? college is all about enjoying the ride.”

you frowned, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “well, maybe i like my ride with fewer distractions. ever think about that?”

his smile only widened, clearly enjoying this little back-and-forth. “you know, i like a challenge.”

you didn’t know why, but you felt your temper rising. maybe it was the fact that he seemed so effortlessly charming. maybe it was the fact that he didn’t seem to care at all about your attempts to ignore him. either way, you couldn’t stop the sharp edge in your voice when you snapped back.

“well, good for you,” you gritted out. “i don’t need your advice.”

niki’s eyes lit up as if he’d won some small victory. “oh, come on,” he said with a mock pout. “i’m just trying to be helpful.”

“keep your ‘helpfulness’ to yourself,” you snapped, doing your best to ignore the rapid beat of your heart. “i don’t need your advice.”

but he was relentless, and you could feel his presence grow closer. he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping low as though it were a secret only meant for you.

“wow. that’s intense. i didn’t realize you hated me so much.”

“i don’t hate you,” you gritted out, your tone tight with restrained frustration. “i just wish you would leave me alone.”

niki leaned forward, his eyes glinting with amusement. “if i left you alone, how would i have any fun?”

you stared at him, incredulous. “seriously? you think this is fun?”

he shrugged, his carefree attitude only serving to irritate you further. “maybe for me. definitely for you.”

you clenched your jaw, already regretting the decision to sit next to him. this wasn’t the first time you’d encountered someone like him—people who thought they could talk circles around you just to get under your skin—but niki seemed to have a particular talent for it. and what bothered you the most was that, despite how much you hated it, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

as the lecture droned on, niki kept up his quiet commentary. at first, it was just casual comments—little jokes that no one but you could hear, the occasional nudge of his elbow against yours. you tried to stay focused, but every time your mind started to wander, niki was there, right next to you, almost like he was baiting you into conversation. it was as though he knew exactly how to push your buttons. how to make you uncomfortable.

you weren’t sure how to handle him. on one hand, you resented the way he seemed to have this easy, effortless charm that made people laugh and draw attention. on the other hand, there was something strangely magnetic about him. something that made you feel like you wanted to get to know him. despite yourself, you couldn’t seem to shake the pull. it frustrated you, made you angry, and left you feeling confused.

by the time the lecture was over, you were beyond frustrated. you had never been more relieved to hear the bell ring. gathering your things in a hurry, you stood up, ready to get out of the room and away from niki. he didn’t even seem to notice the way you were practically rushing to leave.

but as you turned to walk out of the lecture hall, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder. you spun around, fully prepared to tell him off again, to let him know that you weren’t interested in whatever game he was playing.

“hey,” niki said with a grin, standing in front of you with an annoying cockiness that made your blood boil. “don’t be mad, okay? i was just messing with you. no need to look so pissed.”

you tried to push past him, but he stepped in your way. “seriously, you’re not even going to talk to me after what i said? i thought we were bonding.”

you stared at him, incredulous. “bonding? no, we were arguing. and i don’t plan on bonding with you anytime soon.”

niki just laughed, a sound that only grated on your nerves further. “that’s a shame. i think we could make a pretty good team if you didn’t hate me so much.”

you just shook your head and walked away, trying to ignore the sudden flicker of something in your chest. it wasn’t attraction, you told yourself. it was just... irritation. the guy was infuriating, but you couldn’t deny that you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

you sat alone in the cafeteria, poking at your food with a fork, lost in thought. niki's words echoed in your mind, his smirk haunting your every thought. you hated how easily he got under your skin. you hated even more that you couldn't seem to shake the way he made you feel.

as you sat there, lost in your frustration, niki appeared once again. he slid into the seat across from you, his presence immediately overwhelming. you looked up, ready to snap at him, but the words died in your throat when you saw the look in his eyes. this time, his expression was different, still cocky but with an edge of curiosity.

"so, what's your deal?" he asked, leaning forward with genuine interest.

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in his demeanor. "my deal?"

"yeah," he said, tilting his head slightly. "you seem like you've got it all figured out. what's your story?"

you hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "i'm just here to study. get my degree and move on."

niki raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your answer. "come on, there's gotta be more to it than that."

you sighed, feeling the weight of his gaze. "fine. i'm here to get my degree and hopefully land a good job. that's it. nothing more, nothing less."

he nodded, seeming to consider your words. "fair enough. but you know, college isn't just about the degree. it's about the experiences, the people you meet, the things you learn outside of the classroom."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his clichéd response. "thanks for the lecture, but i've heard it all before."

he smirked, clearly enjoying your sarcasm. "just thought i'd give you my two cents."

you shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. "you're something else, niki."

he leaned back, crossing his arms with a satisfied grin. "oh, by the way, i'm having a party at my place tonight. you should come."

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden invitation. "a party?"

"yeah," he said, nonchalantly. "it's going to be fun. a good way to take a break from all the studying."

you hesitated, your mind racing. the last thing you wanted was to spend more time with niki, especially in a social setting where he would undoubtedly be the center of attention. but something in his gaze made it hard to refuse. "i don't know…"

"come on," he urged, leaning forward again. "it'll be fun. besides, you need to lighten up, remember?"

you couldn't help but roll your eyes at his persistence. "i'll think about it."

"that's all i ask," he said with a wink, standing up from the table. "party starts at eight. don't be late."

with that, he turned and walked away, leaving you sitting there, your thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. why had you even considered going to his party? you had no reason to. yet, a small part of you was curious. what was it about niki that made it so hard to stay away?

as the day went on, you found it increasingly difficult to focus on your studies. niki's invitation lingered in your mind, a constant distraction. you couldn't deny that there was a part of you that wanted to go, to see what he was like outside of the lecture hall. but another part of you was wary, hesitant to let your guard down around him.

by the time the evening rolled around, you still hadn't made up your mind. you stood in front of your mirror, staring at your reflection, trying to decide what to do. finally, with a frustrated sigh, you grabbed your jacket and headed out the door. maybe it was a mistake, but there was only one way to find out.

when you arrived at niki's house, you could hear the music thumping from the street. the party was already in full swing, people milling about in the front yard, laughing and talking. you took a deep breath, steeling yourself, and walked up to the door.

niki was there to greet you, a wide grin spreading across his face when he saw you. "you made it!"

you nodded, feeling a bit out of place. "yeah, i did."

"come on in," he said, gesturing for you to follow him. "let me introduce you to some people."

you followed him into the house, the noise and energy of the party washing over you. niki led you through the crowd, introducing you to his friends, making sure you felt included. despite your initial reservations, you found yourself relaxing, enjoying the atmosphere.

as the night went on, you noticed that you were the center of attention for many of the guys at the party. they approached you, striking up conversations, complimenting you, and vying for your attention. you couldn't help but feel a bit flattered, even as you tried to keep your focus on the casual conversations.

niki, meanwhile, seemed to be watching you from a distance. though he continued to laugh and joke with his friends, you couldn't help but notice the way his eyes flickered in your direction, observing every interaction you had with the other guys. his expression remained unchanged, but there was an intensity in his gaze that you couldn't quite decipher.

at one point, you found yourself talking to a guy named taeyong. he was charming and funny, and you enjoyed his company. you laughed at one of his jokes, and he took the opportunity to move a little closer, his hand lightly brushing against your arm. out of the corner of your eye, you saw niki stiffen, his jaw clenching ever so slightly.

you glanced over at niki, catching his eye. for a brief moment, you thought you saw a flicker of something—jealousy, perhaps? but just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by his usual cocky smile. he raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "enjoying yourself?"

you turned your attention back to taeyong, but you couldn't shake the feeling that niki's eyes were still on you. as the night went on, you noticed other guys approaching you, each one trying to win your attention. niki continued to watch from a distance, his presence a constant reminder that he was never far away.

eventually, you excused yourself from the group and stepped outside for some fresh air. the cool breeze was a welcome relief from the heat and noise of the party. you leaned against the porch railing, taking a moment to collect your thoughts.

"you seem to be quite the hit tonight," a familiar voice said, breaking the silence. you turned to see niki standing there, his eyes fixed on you.

you shrugged, trying to play it cool. "just making new friends."

"looks like you made a lot of them," he said, his tone casual but with an undercurrent of something more.

you couldn't help but smile at his comment. "jealous?"

niki laughed, a genuine sound that made your heart skip a beat. "me? jealous? please."

"good," you said, meeting his gaze. "because there's no reason to be."

he stepped closer, the distance between you shrinking. "maybe not. but it's hard not to notice when every guy in the room wants to talk to you."

"maybe they're just being friendly," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"maybe," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. "but i can't help but think it's more than that."

the air between you was charged with tension, the unspoken words hanging in the balance. you wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence, but the intensity of his gaze left you speechless.

after a moment, niki reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face. the simple touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but lean into his hand, craving more of the contact.

"i'm glad you came tonight," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"me too," you replied, your voice just as quiet.

as you stood there, lost in the moment, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held for you and niki. he was still as infuriating as ever, but there was something about him that made it impossible to stay away. you didn't know what would happen next, but one thing was certain: your life had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

the weeks after the party felt like a strange blur. there was a shift in the way you saw niki, but it wasn’t one you had the luxury of making sense of. every encounter with him only made it more complicated. you hated how much he occupied your thoughts, how he made you feel things you weren't prepared to feel. but the tension between you was undeniable, a pressure that lingered like a storm waiting to burst.

it wasn’t long before you saw him again, this time outside of class. you were walking across campus, lost in your own world, when you saw him—niki, leaning against a tree, arms crossed, looking entirely too comfortable in a way that made your blood boil. you didn’t want to deal with him, not today, not after everything that had happened at the party. the memory of his smirk, his casual disregard for your boundaries, had lingered longer than you cared to admit.

but niki was impossible to ignore. he spotted you immediately, and his trademark grin spread across his face.

“hey, there you are,” he called out, voice loud enough to make a few passersby glance in your direction. he pushed off the tree and walked toward you, his confident swagger somehow grating on your nerves.

you stopped in your tracks, your heart beating a little faster, a mix of irritation and something else you weren’t ready to acknowledge. “what do you want, niki?”

“just wanted to talk,” he said with a casual shrug, but there was something in his eyes—a glint of mischief, maybe even challenge. “you know, we didn’t get to finish our conversation last time.”

your stomach dropped, remembering how that last conversation had gone. the anger, the frustration, the way you’d tried so hard to ignore him because of what you were feeling. it hadn't worked. it still didn’t.

“there’s nothing left to say,” you snapped, taking a step back, trying to keep your distance.

he stopped in front of you, not backing down. “really? feels like there’s plenty to say.” his voice was still playful, but there was an edge to it now, like he was daring you to say something. to do something.

you clenched your fists at your sides, the urge to snap at him overwhelming. “you think this is all some kind of joke, don’t you?”

niki’s expression shifted slightly, his grin faltering for just a second. “i don’t think it’s a joke. but you sure act like you think i’m some kind of joke.”

the words stung more than they should have. you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he continued.

“you think i’m just some cocky guy who doesn't take anything seriously,” he said, voice low now, more intense than before. “maybe you're right. but you’re not exactly making this easy, are you?”

your chest tightened, and a sharp retort slipped from your lips before you could stop it. “maybe i wouldn’t be so ‘difficult’ if you’d just stop messing with me. if you’d just leave me alone for once.”

niki’s eyes flickered, just for a moment, with something—hurt? disappointment? you weren’t sure, but it made your breath catch in your throat. you couldn’t afford to feel bad for him. not now. not after everything.

he took a step closer, narrowing the space between you. “you think i enjoy this? the back-and-forth? the constant tension between us?” his voice was quieter now, almost hushed. “you think i want this?”

“i don’t know what you want, niki,” you retorted, your voice cracking with the rawness of the frustration you’d been holding in for weeks. “you don’t make any sense. one minute you’re annoying the hell out of me, and the next, you’re acting like you actually care. it’s impossible to figure you out!”

his face hardened, his eyes darkening. “and maybe it’s impossible for you to admit that you care too.”

the words hit you like a slap, leaving you breathless. you wanted to argue, to say something that would push him away, but the truth lingered in the space between you. you did care, in some twisted way, and that terrified you.

“i don’t care about you,” you snapped, more forcefully than you intended. “i don’t want you in my life. all you do is make everything harder.”

niki’s jaw clenched, his expression tightening. “is that what you really think of me?” he took another step forward, invading your space, the air between you crackling with tension. “that i’m just a problem for you? that i’m just some guy you can push away whenever it suits you?”

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words got stuck in your throat. he was too close. his presence was overwhelming, suffocating even. and there was something in his eyes, something that made you question everything you thought you knew about him.

“i don’t know what you want from me,” you finally said, your voice shaking with the effort to keep it steady. “you don’t make any sense, niki. you think this is some game, but it’s not.”

“fine?” niki laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. it was bitter, frustrated. “you think i’m the one treating you like shit? you think i’m the one making this miserable?”

you stepped back, your mind reeling from the realization that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did—caught in this endless cycle of misunderstanding, of playing games neither of you were willing to admit.

“i don’t know what you want from me,” you repeated, feeling your emotions slip out of control. “i just want to be left alone.”

there was a long, painful silence. then niki’s voice broke through the tension, rough and raw. “i want you to stop pretending like you don’t care. i want you to stop pretending that i’m the problem when you’re just as much a part of this mess as i am.”

his words were like a punch to the gut, and you couldn’t stop the way your chest tightened, your heart racing as everything you’d been trying to suppress came bubbling to the surface.

“i don’t need you, niki,” you choked out, every word feeling like it was ripping itself from you. “i don’t need this. i don’t need you messing with my life, making everything harder than it needs to be.”

“you think i’m the one messing with your life?” his voice rose, a mixture of anger and hurt in his words. “you think i’m the one making this hard? i’m not the one pushing you away every time you start feeling something.”

your eyes burned, the anger and hurt so strong that it made you dizzy. “i’m pushing you away because you don’t respect me. you don’t respect my boundaries, niki. you think this is some game, but it’s not.”

the words were out before you could stop them. and as they hung in the air, something in niki seemed to snap. his eyes darkened, his mouth tightening into a thin line.

“i’m not some game to you?” his voice was barely above a whisper, but it was filled with a fury you hadn’t expected. “well, i’m not some toy for you to just push around either.”

the fight had exploded, raw and brutal, and neither of you could stop it. the emotions were too strong, too tangled, and now you were both caught in a moment where there was no turning back.

《》

tag list (if your name is crossed that means i cant find your blog)

@ramenoil @strawberrynull @si3rren @rikidaze @yangjungwonnie @hehabi @ijustreallylike2read

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corazondebeskar-reads · 18 hours ago

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of rage and ruin - chapter ten

chapter ten

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 5.6k

summary: joel faces his inability to protect you.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, p in v, oral, torture

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tommy Miller is a changed man.

Four and a half years of scouring the midwest will do that to someone.

So will being bitten by a toddler.

Well. Probably not just any toddler.

After Tommy had cajoled DJ into sinking his tiny teeth into Tommy’s bicep, Laura hadn’t spoken to him for three months. She refused his company at the door.

“I have spent years—years, Miller—teaching that boy that he cannot, under any circumstances, bite someone. Do you know how hard it is to convince a toddler not to bite? Do you?” Laura had berated him thoroughly, and shut the door in his face.

She’d forgiven him, after some nudging from Tess, and a couple special deals with Bill for some new shoes for the boys.

Even so, he’d never felt quite so alone before. There was a pull behind his ribs, an ache that said he could not give up.

“You really don’t feel any different?” Tess said cautiously, one night when all three adults were lounged on the worn leather couches in Laura’s cottage, passing a bottle of whiskey.

“Nah,” Tommy says. “Well, I do, but I can’t explain it. But I think I’m getting closer. I’ve got this feeling.”

Tess crooked a brow at him. “You got me brokering deals across the goddamn half of the country based on a feeling?”

“Ain’t like you’re getting nothin’ out of it,” he grumbled.

“I know what you mean,” Laura admitted. “I— when Peter died—” she, with a kindness he feels sick for accepting, doesn’t say 'when you shot my husband.' “I knew.”

“That’s freaky,” Tess says bluntly. “But alright. I’ll keep pressin’em for info.”

It was hard, though, to get real information out of anyone, when you can’t explain that the missing person in question may also be an 8-foot-tall fairytale monster.

There were rumors, though. Most of them turned out about as well as if he were looking for Bigfoot.

Tess spent less and less time in Boston, taking up Laura’s sofa. Tommy spent less and less time at Joel’s cabin, instead roaming the country for any sign of his brother. Sometimes, Tess would go with him, usually if she had secured a good trade at the same time.

But there was no sign of Joel.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight. He refuses to go out, even when they bring him to the ground with the shock collar.

“She goes with me,” he snarls.

Jim throws his hands in the air in frustration. They’ve tried… well, they’ve tried a lot of horrible things. You wish he would just go and stop getting hurt.

“Joel,” you plead for the nth time.

“Look at it this way,” Jim leers. “You either go and risk her getting hurt. Or you refuse and guarantee it.”

Joel wolfs out for the nth time, and horribly, you share a look with Cheryl.

“For fuck’s sake,” she says, finally breaking her uncharacteristic silence. “He wants to bring the girl? Fine. We’ll bring her.”

Her words are not a comfort. There is no promise of safety. But truth be told, not that you’ll voice it after all this, not that you’d ever disagree with Joel in front of them, but the verdict is a tightening noose.

To you, the threat is gone. You helped him pick the threat out of his teeth. The two brothers were an anomaly; none of these people have any loyalty to one another. The status quo works right now, but at the slightest tip of the ship, that ends. No one is coming after you because of Mike.

Joel had furrowed his brows, shaking his head with a glower. “That’s what we thought about Mike. Ain’t riskin’ it, darlin’. And that’s final.”

He hadn’t used his alpha voice, but you had felt compelled to shut up anyway. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was the way his jaw was set tight. You reached up, one hand against his cheek, thumb brushing his beard. “Okay,” you capitulate.

He almost bristles at the coddling, but the rigidity leaves him in a heaving sigh, and he allows himself a moment to lean into your gentle touch. His hand covers yours, trapping it there.

“Atta girl,” he mumbled, drawing your palm to his lips for a kiss.

Now that it was happening, though? He smells the acrid citrus disinfectant of your fear as it curls into guilt in his lungs.

Not that he can do anything to help. He stands, hands through the bars, as they shackle him. He waits, brow twitching, as they fit the muzzle around his snout. Two of the lackeys push him against the cinder block wall outside your room, twin prongs jabbing against the furry expanse of his chest. It heaves with his heavy pants, eyes darting between his would-be guards and where you’re similarly being bound.

Jim bitches. Of course he does. He bitches the whole time they begin the march to the surface, to the wild.

They shove you in the van behind Joel, and he uses his great, hairy body to catch you, huffing and nudging until you manage to sit on his lap. Your hands are bound tight behind your back, tense lines of your body perched precariously, but the only other option is the floor.

The raiders are piled in around you. Well, most of them. Cheryl and her favored lackeys are in a pick-up truck following behind. Jim drives, ruling this operation as he does every other—with rigid, unwavering control. The others trapped with you in the cargo hull have guns or tasers, so clearly uncomfortable with sharing an enclosed tin can with the most dangerous creature they’ve ever known.

None of them look at you. It’s too careful to be coincidence. He’s made his point.

The Wolf doesn’t think it’s enough, so he growls every time someone so much as shifts in their seat.

It speaks to the danger that you don’t even think of making a Little Red Riding Hood or Three Little Pigs joke, though they do come to you later.

The raid is anticlimactic. The raiders mow down most of the other group. Joel disposes of the rest with neither pomp nor circumstance, just swift swipes of sharp claws.

They work methodically through the small house, loading the back of the pickup with their spoils. That takes far longer than the slaughter.

“Can I sit down?” you eventually ask Cheryl. Jim’s made her your keeper, since she made the call to drag you along.

“What the fuck do I care?” she snaps, examining a nail under the light of the moon.

So you sit on the porch and wait, hoping you don’t get a splinter in your ass.

Later, under the illusion of safety, you nestle into the circle of him, as you had in those earlier days. You tip your head back and bury your fingers in his fur, one hand petting and the other holding tight. He makes a sort of snuffly sound, inquisitive and wary.

“I’m still not scared of you,” you say, splitting the silent night. “I watched you eat a dude. Today was nothing.”

He rolls his eyes but settles back down, head resting on his misshapen arms.

When you wake, he’s more man than wolf. It’s been that way more and more often, now.

Joel cradles you the way he always does, like a child at the beach whose fistfuls of sand keep retreating with the waves. There’s a tender desperation to it that makes you ache. You can’t take it, pulling yourself close to him with his shoulders beneath your grasp, pressing your lips together as if the sweet sedative of his saliva could fix the rabbity seizing of your heart.

A twinge near your hip gives you pause, a creeping reminder of something that shouldn’t have been forgotten.

“Hey Joel,” you say slowly, drawing his eyebrows up, “you said the heats are for…”

He hears the word you can’t force from your mouth. As his fingers continue their steady rhythm, the soothing back-and-forth against your temple, he douses your worry.

“‘m shootin’ blanks, darlin’,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, not pursuing anything, but luxuriating in the moment.

You shouldn’t laugh, but you snort anyway. “You’re telling me that you’re… fixed ?” you tease. Any self-control you had before doesn’t seem to have survived him.

He pulls away from his lazy kisses to scowl at you. “Shut up,” he grumbles, though there’s no mistaking the twitch of his lips as you grin.

“I’m right,” you say, squealing as he nips at your neck in retaliation.

“Ha ha,” he says, deadpan with a wry twist of his lips. “I get it. Like a dog. You gotta get some new jokes.”

“No, I’m good; these are still funny,” you say, wrapping one hand around the nape of his neck and trying to tug him back to his affections.

“I’m serious, though,” he says, somehow settling the little bubbles that crept up your throat. “Got snipped a long time ago.”

It’s an answer that asks questions. You don’t give them a voice. Not why, not when. You’re haunted by the thought of his past. My daughter loved that shit. It’s been weeks since he dropped that little tidbit, and neither of you have dug it back up. He sees the questions blooming in your eyes even as you snip them at the root, and shakes his head, so you follow a safer path of curiosity.

“What about the healing? What if it undid it? That’s a thing, right? Undoing vasectomies?”

“Thought about that, too. But none of my other scars or injuries from before went away. Why would that?”

He sounds so casually confident, and you can’t really disagree. “So you’re saying I won myself a sweepstakes from Little Debbie?”

He closes his eyes for a moment before looking skyward. “What’re you on about now?”

“A lifetime supply of creampies,” you say seriously, but it doesn’t hold, and you bury your laughter in his arm.

“You’re an idiot,” he says flatly, shaking his head. “And those are oatmeal cream pies, you pervert.”

It just makes you laugh harder. “I’m your little toaster strudel.”

He groans. “Wrong. Icin’ goes on the top of those.”

“Says the man who literally rubbed his jizz over my tits.”

“Alright, time for you to be quiet,” he says, covering your mouth with his hand only to snatch it back when you bite. “Now who’s the fuckin’ dog?” he mutters.

“Aw, giving up?” you say as he rises on his haunches, still looming over you.

“Nope,” he pops the p as his smirk grows. “Got a better way t’shut you up.”

The thing about him being nude all the time is that you’re hyper-aware of the status of his cock, like, all the time. It’s been half-mast for the last hour, but it’s paying full attention now.

“Guess I’m just as much of a dog as you. Got me over here like Pavlov.”

“Pavlov was the scientist,” Joel says absently, stroking his cock and scooting closer to where you’re sitting up in anticipation.

“S’there a way to shut you up?” But you don’t need to ask. You cut off his retort by taking the tip of his cock between your lips and sucking hard.

His words become a strangled whimper and you pull off with a lewd pop. “Oh yeah,” you say, “like that.”

Before he can muster up another snarky comment, you take his balls in one hand, rubbing your thumb over them to make his hips jerk a little. His hands don’t stay off you for long, but he doesn’t try to push you around or rush you.

A sweet kiss to each, and he knows this’ll be over a lot sooner than he’d like.

But goddamn, will it be worth it.

You groan at the velvety feel of his wrinkled sac, which grows more and more taut as you adorn it with little kitten licks, nuzzling your cheek against it. His oaky bourbon musk has a sharp edge to it that makes you a little dizzy. With a single-minded focus, your hands curl around the backs of his thighs, a soft sigh ruffling the coarse hair.

You pause to pick one of said hairs from your teeth and go back in for more.

His hand rests on your head, and he gazes down at you, his eyes dark like the underbelly of a cloud grown heavy with a brewing storm. The wiry tuft of his pubes copies his scruffy beard, though the former is far less salt than salt-and-pepper. The hard line of his cock presses against your cheek, the slip of his foreskin smooth. It leaves a trail behind when you pull away, though you can’t help but lean back in and kiss the rest from the tip.

He does the unthinkable in that moment.

He steps back.

You look up sharply, catching yourself with an oof. “Wha—”

He doesn’t even let you finish wondering. He grabs you, both palms smothering your hips, and rolls you onto your stomach. It’s not a display of his brute strength, but instead of the thrall you don’t like to admit to being under. The slightest pressure from his urging has you rolling over.

“Need t’be inside you,” he grunts.

“You were, ” you protest with no protest.

He shuts you up much more efficiently by the intensity of his grip on your hips as he pushes into you. His impatience finds his cock buried in the depths of your cunt and his teeth buried in the shallows of your shoulder. He rests on his elbows with your upper body trapped between them.

The breath leaves you in a whine, air forced from your lungs under the pressure of his bulk on you.

“Oh,” is all you can muster.

He nips at your ear in response, laving his kisses and tongue down your neck, bringing his teeth back up to the line of your jaw.

It’s so much. You’re overwhelmed by him, by the way something in you sings at the weight pinning you to the cold floor, sweater rucked up about your waist. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to turn that isn’t Joel, and it’s bliss. White static and the pounding of his hips against your ass consume you. Your gasps and grunts and moans come from somewhere in the distance, not quite underwater, but only because his are rough in your ear, keeping you afloat.

He runs hot, hotter than any man you’ve lain with before, and it’s not long before sweat slicks between your bodies, dripping down from his brow. You’ve given up all illusion of being an active participant, instead laying your cheek against the cool ground and letting your eyes close.

The angle is divine. Each rock of his hips grants you the tiniest bit of friction, but it ends up being all you need. He makes you come once, twice, three exhausting times before he allows himself to take what he needs, fucking down into you mercilessly.

You only get to delight in the sensation of his cock twitching, of the bursts of his cum inside, for a moment before he’s pulling out to spill the rest across your ass.

When he pulls out, he slides off you to the side, but keeps you pinned with a leg and arm over you. If you weren’t so sated, floating your way down from the exquisite high, you’d roll your eyes. He’s letting it dry; of course he is.

He nudges you with his nose, and you turn your head to catch his eyes. They’re as tired and pleased as yours, but something cheeky lurks there. He doesn’t make you wait long for it.

“There," he says with a slap to your ass. "Now You’re a cream pie Toaster Strudel. Happy?” He's deadpan with flat brows and a scowl.

You laugh, lighter than you’ve been in a long time. It almost sobers you—the realization that you are. You may not be happy with your living conditions and dangerous circumstances. But you’re… you’re happy with him.

“Oh, you’re a pastry chef now?” You tease before pressing a kiss to his prickly cheek. “Yeah. M’happy.”

He stiffens at the way your voice goes so soft. So fond. It’s undeniable—the very thing he feared the most coming to full bloom before his eyes.

But what was he to do? This wretched world that always takes, always, never gives, it had given him you. And he’s too damn selfish to care anymore. There’s the imprint of concern, a triplicate carbon copy—barely indented, barely visible.

But more than that, it’s a facsimile. It’s the only thing that remains of the cautious voice warning him to keep a distance. To protect you from being hurt. To protect you from himself.

He can’t protect you from himself anymore. His hold on you turns, tightens like a corset around your ribs, and he watches in disbelief as you simply melt into it.

No fear. No flight. No fight. Just you, and him, here. Any energy he had earlier is sapped seems to leak out from his sigh, unfurling from the look in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have called it fond.

Joel, though? Joel’d've called it something else.

The trips outdoors happen weekly. At least, you think so. Not that you know much about the passage of time beyond the phases of the moon. They skip the new moon since the Man isn’t useful. Everything is by-the-book, if there was such an awful thing, until the second full moon.

The Wolf Moon rises above the glittering snow, and all hell breaks loose in her glow.

The heavy, languid body sits huge on the horizon, commanding control. It’s hypnotic. You can’t really quite look away from the cold yellow, bigger than the sun and twice as potent.

You don’t even notice that you’ve started to move when she catches you.

Cheryl’s nails make little crescents in your shoulder, her face so close that her hot breath puffs into your ear. It’s an awful sensation, and you want no part of her in or on your body. But here you are, too afraid to do anything but take it.

“You’re just as mindless as he is,” she says with a breathless laugh.

You consider protesting, but she beats you to it.

“He doesn’t even know who he is. He’s got no control. Only obeys his master,” she says. Her fingers curl under your chin, grinding the soft flesh against your teeth as she forces you to look at Jim.

He’s got a girl by the throat. She can’t be more than fifteen. His gun sits in his hip holster, knife in his pocket. He doesn’t need a weapon. He has the Wolf.

A man who can’t be anyone but her father is pleading on his knees. You can’t hear anything, don’t know his crimes against Jim. But Jim kicks the man back with a boot against his chest and drops the girl unceremoniously to the ground.

He snaps his fingers and points. And the wolf lunges, teeth catching in the moonlight.

You don’t realize you’ve screamed until the whole clearing goes silent. He’s frozen, inches from the girl, but all his attention is on you.

“Don’t,” you whisper, and he recoils from her, standing on his warped legs and howling.

“You little bitch,” Cheryl hisses, her fingers dropping your chin in favor of your throat. There’s a fraction of a moment where the world pauses before the cacophony erupts.

Joel snarls, lunging for Cheryl. Jim hits the shock collar’s trigger. Joel stumbles, falls, and keeps moving.

It earns him a bullet to the leg. Jim never lets go of the button, and you scream as he convulses, bleeding profusely on the thick patch of grass.

It’s the last thing you see before everything goes dark.

When you wake up, you’re in the cage.

Outside the room.

Joel paces in front of the barred door, eyes never leaving you. A sigh billows out when he sees that you’re awake. He drops to his knees, reaches, and just barely grabs the bars before he pulls. The metal screeches something awful against the tile, but he can reach you now.

“Hey,” he urges, voice low and a little wrecked. “Tell me you’re okay. C’mon.”

“I’m okay,” you groan, but make no effort to sit up. You stare up at him, inverted as he is, half-obscured by the bars. “I miss Excedrin.”

He frowns, brows furrowed, but disregards your complaint. “Y’ain’t bleeding,” he says by way of comfort, though more for his benefit.

“No, just fuckin’... hurts,” you say, closing your eyes against the sickening flicker of the nearly-burnt bulb.

“That was real stupid,” he says. It lacks real bite, but it’s bloated with something worse than anger.

“We both lived. And that girl.”

Joel winces and looks away.

“No,” you say weakly.

“They shot ‘em all,” he says, the gravity of their fate dragging you down. “They never leave anyone alive.”

“No,” you repeat quietly. His words are the swing of an axe to your sternum.

He looks away. He’s always known you’re too soft, too good. Somehow free of dried blood under your fingernails all your life. He’s never asked, may never ask, how you ended up here. It’s not the thing to do.

Nobody talks about before.

“I know that ain’t what you want to hear,” he tries, but it’s disingenuous, placations like packing peanuts in their unwanted staticity and general ineffectiveness. The sound grates in his ears about the same, too.

“Sweetheart, listen t’me. Y’can’t interfere. They brought you here to get me to cooperate. If they think you’re a problem, they’re going to shoot you.”

It’s a sobering truth. “But—“ you whisper.

Joel isn’t having it. “I told you. I ain’t the man you think I am.” He swallows hard, and something shifts, his eyes gone cold and the set of his jaw hardening into a plaster mask. “I kill people. All the time, darlin’. Even before I got bit. It’s what a man like me has to do to survive and protect people I—” a pause, a catch in his throat—”my people. Do you understand?”

He hates the way apprehension settles your teeth into the soft bed of your lower lip. The way your gaze is unwavering, though the ache wafts like citronella, as if that could keep him at bay.

“I said, do you understand?” He repeats firmly. His words aren’t harsh, but they cut anyway. His hands on the bars rattle you a little, as if your dizzy brain needs more centrifugal motion.

“I don’t want to,” you hear yourself say as if underwater. You’ve never heard yourself sound quite so small.

“Goddamnit,” he growls, dropping his hands from you and rising to his feet in one smooth motion. “Goddamnit, can’t you see I’m tryin’? For fucks sake, just shut your eyes and don’t watch if that’s what you gotta do. But if you pull a stunt like that again, I can’t protect you. They will kill you.”

You draw your knees to your chest, tucked up against the corner. “I—I just—“

“You just nothing,” he snaps. “You need to listen t’me. Do what you’re told so I can keep you safe. Don’t you understand? Don’t you get it? I am not gonna let you get yourself killed because you can’t stomach what has to be done.”

Your throat closes, eyes squeezed shut tight.

He heaves a loud, grating sigh and covers his face with both hands, head tipping back.

A minute drags into five, and the only sound in the cell is your matching measured breaths. The thrum of his heartbeat from across the room. The silence fills with the buzz of your brain seeping out to your ears, the crackle of tinnitus, and just when you think you’re going to crack, he moves.

Joel crouches in front of you. “Hey,” he says gruffly, but with less bite. “Look at me,” he coaxes gently.

You want to bristle at being treated like a skittish horse, but instead, you acquiesce, taking in the lumbering shadow of him. You swallow hard, your heart lodged in your throat like gravel.

He sighs again, and closes his eyes for a moment before looking at you. Really, really looking. And he doesn’t like what he sees. As if your scent didn’t give it away. It’s different, somehow, seeing the fear stiffen your shoulders and pull you back from him like a hooked fish.

“It can’t be any other way,” he says. “I’m… I’m a bad man, a shitty person, and that’s mine to bear. I can’t shield you from it. I tried.” His voice croaks a little on the tail end. “And…” he makes sure you’re looking at him still, his hand slipping between the bars, catching your chin. His thumb brushes your lip as if he can rub the bite marks out. “And I ain’t sorry. Not if it keeps us alive.”

It’s strange, the way his words turn you inside out, and his touch puts you back. But you’re properly distracted from reading too much into it by footsteps clomping down the stairs.

The cage turns out to have been for dramatics. A red-headed man you’ve not seen before has shown up to haul you from it and dump you back in the room across the hall.

This time, Joel is quiet. He wants to snarl, to yell, to threaten. But he bites his tongue and lets it happen. It’s this or a bullet in your skull.

Instead, he paces the cell, near-sleepless. You can hear him at all hours of the day, the padding of his bare feet akin to the beat of his heart that usually lulls you to sleep. It’s a poor substitute, but you’ve learned to accept scraps.

They keep up their end of the bargain, though, and ten days later, they pull you from the locker room to ride along on the latest outing. This time, though, you’re stuck in the truck with Cheryl.

She turns sideways to regard you down the petite line of her nose. “Do I need to gag you?”

The question is drawled lazily, but her hand holding the switchblade as she cleans under her nails is anything but. The knife catches in the moonlight, the silver gleam a steady promise.

“No,” you mumble.

Nothing happens. She locks you in the truck, still bound. Sure, you might be able to reach the locks, but getting the door open is another story. And surely you’d fall on your face in the mud.

For a moment, Joel protests, but gives in. You’re safe in the truck, and he can still see you, still smell you, still hear your heart pulse through his eardrums as if it were his own.

You don’t watch, but you have to listen.

Nobody pays you any mind, which means you risk peeking into the bed of the truck. There are the expected supplies—rope, tools, and old sheets. But more importantly, much more importantly, a line of filled backpacks are tucked against the cab. Go bags. They have to be. There’s a bedroll on each, and you’d bet your sweater they’re full of supplies.

Oh, Jesus. Has your life really come to that? The only meaningful thing you have to wager against yourself is a sweater?

Fuck.

The bags live in the back of your mind, scurried away with the tidbits you’re collecting and trying to sweep into a pile vaguely resembling a plan.

It’s not going great, because Joel isn’t cooperating.

“You have to eat,” you plead.

His hands grip your shoulders, seizing onto you like it’ll make any damn difference. “I can't fucking take it anymore. Can't fuckin' sit by letting it happen,” he hisses.

“Joel,” you murmur, bringing your hands up to cup his warm, scruffy face. “Please. When the time is right, we’ll stop. But for now, please.”

He crumples, as he always does when you beg so sweetly. And he has to admit you’re right. This is not the way. There will be a time, but the new moon isn’t it. He can’t put you in danger by being weaker than ever.

He heaves a sigh and picks up a flank, rending the meat from the bone like he’s sectioning an orange. It should be disgusting, watching him eat raw, bloody flesh.

It should be.

Right?

You’re not sure anymore.

You’ve never been one for gratuitous displays of strength, but this… isn’t that. This is primal. It stirs behind your sternum, a possessive rumble that has him look up at you with an eyebrow raised. You shake your head and scrub at your face with both hands until it settles.

He gives a huff of approval, and then, capitulating to his belly that seemed to respond in kind to your growl, he shifts and does his magic trick, turning a huge stack of meat into a bloody tray.

When he stalks over to you after, he raises one thick, sharp-tipped finger in your face. “Don’t say it,” he warns.

You stifle a laugh. “Don’t say what?” you ask, all fluttering lashes and saccharine innocence.

“Don’t,” he says, but the sternness of his voice falters.

“Don’t ask if you’re ready for dessert?”

He groans, head dropping to your shoulder before sitting back on his haunches. “You’re not a very good listener,” he says. “Maybe we’ll skip dessert.” His eyes roll.

“What? No,” you say.

“Bad girls don’t get rewards,” he says, and to your mortification, you burn and squirm where he has you pinned with his hips.

He chuckles. “Aw, ya gonna pout now?”

“C’mon,” you whine. “It was just a joke. You wouldn’t be that mean.”

“I’m fixin’ to leave you high n’ dry.”

“ Joooooel,” you whine, and fix him with your best pleading eyes. “You’re not gonna take care of me?”

He twitches. “That ain’t fair.”

“But alpha—”

He cuts you off with a growl, yanking you by the hips and diving in. He holds you to the mattress with ease as you squirm and savor each stroke of his tongue, and doesn’t let go until he’s had his fill.

The days trickle, but it’s harder to abide them. You had taken this tentative peace for granted, before, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to see the veil. It’s still there, now, but you’re hyperaware of the shroud.

Gone are the lazy days of lounging and fucking and sucking. Gone are the luxurious cat-naps (dog-naps? wolf-naps? freak-of-nature-naps?), and you struggle to remember that you’re supposed to be figuring out a plan.

Joel doesn’t forget, though. Despite your argument, he’s eating less and less. He can’t stand the haze, can’t stand the complacency that stole nearly five years of his life.

At night, he broods and schemes.

“Next time, I want you to run,” he says.

“We’re not ready.”

“We’re gonna get you ready.”

You sit up in the darkness, your eyes as sharp as in the sunlight. “I’m not going without you.”

He growls. “Darlin’, you ain’t got a choice. You hear me? You get a chance? Take it. Swear to me.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

He shakes you a little roughly. “You will if you have to. Understand me? Swear it, omega.”

He knows you’re pissed. And maybe you’ll never forgive him, never trust him again after he’s done what he swore he’d never do. But you’ll be free.

“Yes, alpha, ” you grit out, teeth creaking with the strength of your clenched jaw. Your hands ball into fists, but there’s nowhere to direct your anger.

His mouth drags blunt teeth down your neck, and you snarl. He’s reminded just how much you’ve changed. How every day with him turns you more and more into the animal he makes you.

How much his bite has cost you.

“Tell me again,” he says gruffly as you give in to the insistent pressure of his claim and relax against him. He hates it, hates doing this to you when he knows on the inside you’re frothing and raging and burning.

But he holds you to him with that same fire and makes you repeat it. Over and over. Coordinates he could say in his sleep. The location of the key, the way to jimmy the back window loose if it’s gone.

And the name. Tommy. Tommy. Tommy.

Find Tommy.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

This was just a test run. An experiment to see if your newly-cleared brains (and viciously empty stomachs) welcomed back your sharp senses and survival skills. It wasn’t supposed to be the run.

You’re not ready. You have no supplies, no direction, no plan.

But it’s happening. It’s your chance, and you must take it. You hesitate long enough that the Wolf tips his head back and howls, urging you, and even though he speaks no words, your body must listen.

There’s no command, no compulsion. No, the howl is worse because it’s a plea.

You must run.

So you do.

Your heart pounds in sync with the beats of your bare feet against the forest floor. You don’t know where you’re going. You don’t know where you’ve been. The world blurs, not because you’re going fast enough but because of the unbidden tears pricking at your eyes, the pulse of fear and foreboding familiar.

Crack. Bark shatters to your right.

Crack. Dirt upturned inches from your left foot.

Crack. A yelp.

No. No.

They wouldn’t. They need him.

It becomes your mantra.

Each thud of your foot against the rotting leaves and hard-packed soil pounds with it. They wouldn’t. They need him. They wouldn’t. They need him.

The bullets stop; there’s no pursuit. You’re disposable.

Find Tommy.

Everything narrows to your path. To your feet and the way they carry you in turn, away from the angry yelling and howling and screams. Away from your prison and its guards. Away from your alpha— no. You can’t think like that. You’ll see him again.

You will.

Right?

dearest beloved readers, our story is coming to an end soon. it may be 2-3 more chapters including an epilogue. this particular chapter is one i'm v nervous about sharing since it's been our destination from the start. pls be niceys to me and i love you all, thank you so so much for reading.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #alpha!joel miller #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #omegaverse fic #a/b/o fic #werewolf!joel #dead dove fic #fic: of rage and ruin #tlou fic #joel miller fic

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flutterclouds · 3 days ago

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This was such an amazing chapter, Tesh! I really loved the rush of emotions Nia experiences throughout the chapter. She’s scared and alone, but she’s also angry at both Tobias and herself. She hates that he was rash enough to go down to the mines in the dead of night with basically no backup, and she went along with it. Then, during her frustrated and isolated wander through the tunnel system, she sees the being that’s being following her for weeks: Giratina. I loved the imagery of a fragmented Giratina staring at Nia from the mirrorstone cave wall. I also loved the transition of Nia’s state of horror into one of incredulous disbelief as the god in the fragmented stone wishes for her to follow him. I thought it was really funny when Giratina’s furrowed brow and body language betrayed he was frustrated that Nia would not follow him. It really gave some fun insight into Giratina’s less eldritch and stoic side.

I also really loved reading about how Nia and Giratina’s relationship got fleshed out in this chapter. Given their history, she clearly doesn’t trust him at the start. This clearly starts to change a bit after the Steelix dodge scene. Giratina wants her alive for the moment, but I do have to wonder for what reasons. I also have to wonder if Giratina has tried to get into connect with other transformed humans over the years, or just with Nia. I recall in one of your animatics that Will has some connection to Giratina, but at this point I’m not sure whether they’re working together or have some other dynamic.

I really loved getting to see how Nia has gotten closer to Samir during their time in Asra. As previously established, Samir has been lonely for quite a while after their former partner left them. I can only imagine how much it means for Samir to open up to another person again. I think that really goes to show at her core, Nia is a person capable of forming connections with others most Pokemon would have given up on. Tobias and Samir are good examples of this. I only just realized that particular parallel between Toby and Samir, and I love it so much.

Finally, I want to say how much I adored the fight scene with Eddy and the Steelix. The fight against Eddy was so fun, with Team Scarlet and Samir being able to take him down after all he’s done to Asra. The fight against the Steelix is another beast entirely. Steelixs as a species are known for their vast size and ability to drill through solid sheets of ground. In addition, Steelixs are some of the largest non-legendary Pokemon. Steelix is an entirely new foe compared to the likes of Panpour, the Sevipers, or even Eddy. The stakes of this fight are terrifying in a very new way at this point in the story. Toby and Samir have type advantages, but that isn’t enough to win the fight. Steelix uses the cave environment against the team, burying Toby and Rubble and smacking down Samir with his tail. At this point, Nia is on her own and Giratina can only watch from his fractured vantage point on the cave wall. I loved seeing how even in the midst of such a bleak fight, Nia’s love for her friends gives her the determination to fight on against seemingly impossible odds. It’s such a great moment, and it’s honestly such a good embodiment of the themes of PMD as a series. I think Seekers of Soul works so well because you take the themes and charm of PMD and expand on it in the written format, where you aren’t limited by code, character models or sprites. It’s been such a joy reading this story, and I look forward to reading a chapter every month. Recently I’ve been drawn to stories about confronting loss, such as Final Fantasy 7, Persona 3 Portable, and Night in the Woods. I think Seekers of Soul is one of those stories, one about experiencing loss but still finding the will to live on, whether it be related to the loss of a loved one, finding oneself in some strange new environment, or simply dealing with the world changing. Like the aforementioned games, Seekers of Soul really captures the feeling of somehow finding the strength to go on despite dealing with hardship, and I think that’s a theme the world really needs right now.

Overall, I just want to say thank you for writing such an amazing story. I always appreciate reading your work, and it’s always fun gushing about what I enjoyed in any given chapter. As always, I’m looking forward to seeing what Team Scarlet get up to next time.

Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Seekers of Soul

[Chapter 45]

<< First | < Previous | Next >

Nia, Tobias and Samir are trapped in the tunnels beneath Asra with two dangerous outlaws. Can they defeat them and escape?

The earth is crumbling beneath Nia’s feet, and she struggles to stay upright despite the solid press of Samir against her side. She sees the floor open up beneath Tobias, and he falls into the blackness without a sound.

Her stomach drops with him. “Tobias!”

She pushes away from Samir—to what? To dive after her partner? But the ground finally cracks apart beneath Nia’s feet as well.

She falls with a breathless shriek. For a beat, weightlessness. Then the ground slams into her all at once, rocky and uneven, knocking the breath out of her. She keeps her eyes squeezed shut as she rolls deeper and deeper, the satchel alternating between cushioning her movements and slapping her in the face.

It’s not until she finally slows to a stop, skin blossoming with painful new bruises, that everything starts to register. That Pokemon—a steelix?—attacked them. Tobias fell. She fell too.

She pushes herself up with a groan, looking around. She’s in a long tunnel similar to the caverns above. The glowing crystals down here seem less gentle, more a blaring red than a cozy rose tone. Mirrorstone still lines the walls in patches, and Nia can tell by her reflection that she looks as roughed up as she feels from that fall.

She’s also entirely alone.

Nia inhales, sharp, and staggers to her feet, looking one way and then the other. “Tobias? Samir?”

No luck, and no sign of either of them. Is it possible the steelix manipulated where they would fall to separate them? Nia glances up, but the earth above her has closed up once again, a few faint cracks and uneven slabs of rock the only sign of its shifting.

A distant, faint vibration makes Nia jump. Fear rolls through her gut, and she stumbles in a random direction. She doesn’t know where she’s going but she feels like a sitting duck here, dropped in the middle of a maze of tunnels that their enemy dug himself. Running feels like a hopeless effort, but what else is there to do? Her best bet right now is to move, to try and find Tobias and Samir and get out of here to find some help.

She knew they shouldn’t have come down here on their own. But she didn’t want to disappoint Tobias because she’s a stupid, stupid people-pleaser and now they’re all in danger. She hasn’t been this angry at her partner in a long while. Probably not since Afon’s Cap.

She swipes tears from her eyes as she jogs down tunnel after tunnel. Her reflection follows her in bits and pieces out of the corner of her eye.

She hits a fork in the road, and glances frantically between the two paths. Which one will lead her back up to the surface? Will either one lead her to her companions? They look exactly the same, identical tunnels of packed dirt walls and cracked patches of crystal.

“C’mon, c’mon!” She whines, bouncing in place. “Make a decision!”

The rumbling in the earth had drifted away a minute ago, but that doesn’t mean the steelix won’t be back soon. Or that he isn’t currently chasing down Tobias or Samir.

Nia goes right on impulse. For a moment she thinks she sees movement out of the corner of her eye that doesn’t match her own, and hopes that it’s Tobias or Samir. But when she looks, it’s nothing. Just her own reflection and the low light playing tricks on her frazzled mind.

Nia slows to a stop at another fork in the road, her fear sharpening to frustration. She feels like a rat in a maze, running around until her eventual demise. Is there even an exit? What if there isn’t?

Nia thinks of the way they usually escape mystery dungeons—which this underground labyrinth probably isn’t, even if she’s bad at telling—and suddenly recalls their rescue badges. She digs through their satchel, pulling out her own badge as well as Tobias’ and clutching them in her hands like lifelines.

But slowly, her mind catches up to her relief.

Even if she did send out a signal to the psychics at the guild to teleport her to safety, Tobias’ badge is with her (stupid, stupid, stupid—why don’t they wear them?!), and she doesn’t have a guarantee that Samir would think to use theirs. She can’t risk just leaving the two of them down here alone.

Besides, the psychics could only teleport her and Tobias so far away from the Lexym guild for their journey. They probably have a limited radius that they can pick them up from, too, and Nia is sure they’re outside of that range. Even the nearest guild, where Samir came from, is likely too far away to pick up their signal out here in the desert. Asra is a small, secluded town, with little authority to help protect it.

A perfect target, really.

With a frustrated little growl, Nia throws her badge down. It bounces with a metallic ping before stopping, wobbling in the dirt as it settles. Very unsatisfying, really.

Nia wipes at her eyes, then bends to pick the badge up. She brushes it off almost apologetically before tucking it away into her satchel again.

She looks up, intent on continuing forward, only to come face-to-face with Giratina.

Nia yelps, falling onto her tail and scrambling back. Giratina stares down at her from bits and pieces of reflected stone, the titan a fractured mosaic of red and black and gold.

Nia holds her breath, heart slamming in her chest as she stares back. She expects Giratina to react in some way. Maybe try to reach through the stone, or beckon her closer. Heck, she half-expects him try bashing through the barrier between their worlds, probably bringing the caves down on all of them in the process.

But no. Giratina just…waits, body and wings swaying behind him against the backdrop of whatever strange void he lives in. His glowing red eyes are as cold as distant satellites, giving no hint as to what he’s thinking.

She imagines this is what it feels like to be a cornered mouse, staring into the eyes of a hungry cat. Except he still hasn't done anything. Is he just playing with her? Or can he physically not do anything? She supposes that might confirm what they’d thought—that Giratina can’t actually touch her unless she makes contact with the reflection too.

Slowly, Nia gathers her shaking legs beneath herself, body still poised to run. Or fight. She doesn’t look away from Giratina.

Giratina nods, once. Approving. Then jerks his head to the right tunnel and slithers through the reflections like a snake through water, down the wall of the tunnel and away from her.

Stunned, Nia blinks after him.

After a moment, the titan slides back into view in front of her, head crest lowered in distinct irritation. Nia's a bit distracted by the fact that his head is larger than her whole body. Giratina jerks his chin to the right again. Insistent.

It suddenly dawns on Nia what Giratina is doing. She barks a hysterical laugh. Maybe there’s a gas leak down here.

“Are you telling me to follow you?”

Giratina gives her a nod, like this is a completely normal thing to be happening.

“And why in the world would I do that?!” Nia asks, throwing her arms up. “Will warned me about you! Plus, all you’ve done is stalk me and try to yank me into your world when I was taking a bath!”

Giratina gives her a flat, unamused look. Well, good—she’s not exactly in a good mood herself.

Nia shakes her head. “Nope, nuh-uh. If anything you’re probably leading me right into a death trap. Not happening.”

Before she can say anything else, the earth around her shakes, a bit harder than before. Nia has to crouch to keep her footing, glancing over her shoulder. She's dreading the thought of seeing that steelix’s terrible face rushing up behind her.

When she looks forward again, Giratina is still glaring down at her, clearly frustrated despite how inflexible his face plates are. His centipede-like legs are moving in an impatient wave down his body. It’s as mesmerizing as it is unsettling. Nia grimaces and takes a step back.

She has to make a decision, here and now. Does she take the advice of an eldritch horror monster who literally every scary story in this world has warned her about, or—

Okay, yeah, this one’s obvious.

Nia marches down the left tunnel. Giratina flickers into being in the reflections at her side, body taking up the whole length of the tunnel. He glares at her silently.

Nia sticks her tongue out at him. He feels a lot less scary when she knows he can’t touch her.

The tunnels rumble distantly with more movement, and Nia picks up her pace a bit. Unfortunately, she still doesn’t know where she’s going. She doesn’t come across another fork in the road over the next few minutes, but the rumbling grows slightly closer and more powerful before dying away again.

Nia wonders how many tunnels there are down here beneath the town, heavy with stale air and danger. If they've made the foundations of the land unstable. If the steelix uses too many ground moves he could probably level the whole town, not to mention bury all of them alive.

She really hopes her friends are all right.

The path has been curving for a little while, but Nia's having trouble figuring out if it’s going up or down. Logic says she wants to go up to get closer to the surface, but…

The distant rumbling of the steelix grows more prominent.

Nia speeds up, glancing over her shoulder. She can't do much else, other than hope that the steelix will change direction and the shaking will die down again.

Instead, the rumbling grows stronger second by second, shaking the ground under her feet and making her stagger. She hears a low, distant roar.

He’s coming this way.

Nia takes off, sprinting and hoping for a fork in the path or—she doesn’t know. A miracle.

She didn’t really see the steelix in motion before, but knowing how large he is, seeing the tunnels he’s dug, knowing how effortlessly he’s been destroying the town above…

She knows she’s done for if she’s caught by him down here. He’s in his element.

Nia feels numb with panic, panting as she runs and runs down the neverending cave. Giratina speeds through the reflections at her side, but for the first time since appearing he isn’t staring her down. He’s looking intently ahead as he spirals through reflections with ease.

The shaking grows stronger, and Nia's steps start to stumble as she tries to run and finds that she can’t keep her footing. She falls into the wall with a gasp. She squints against the almost painful shaking as the steelix grows ever closer.

Giratina catches her eye. He’s flaring his spidery wings out in the mirrorstone a few yards ahead of her. Once he sees her looking, he gestures his head down with urgency, towards a large chunk of glowing red stone.

Nia doesn’t know what he’s suggesting, but right now the banished legendary seems a lot less threatening than the steelix literally about to flatten her into the dirt. She scrambles for the spot Giratina pointed out, crawling through the increasingly powerful jerking of the earth.

When she reaches the crystal, gripping its warm, smooth surface, she’s surprised to see a sizable dip in the cave wall behind it. It's small, just a natural crevice in the dirt. But still…

It looks just big enough for Nia to squeeze into. She hurries to do so, yanking her satchel in with her after it gets caught on the gemstones. Her knees are jammed into her chest and her head is ducked at an uncomfortable angle, breaths puffing hot and humid into her chest.

The shaking gets louder and stronger, and she feels her brain rattle around in her head. She wonders with a pang of terror if Giratina lured her back here to get smashed like a bug under a rock.

Then, with all the force and sound of a subway train, the steelix rushes past her hiding spot. He’s a blur of silver segments, just visible through a gap in the gemstones. One second, two, and then his long body is burrowing down the tunnel and away. The shaking slowly recedes.

Nia gives it a minute. At least until the shaking is nearly gone. Then the space feels too tight, too cramped, like she’ll be crushed if she doesn’t get out. She thrashes and finally manages to squeeze an arm out of the cubby. The rest of her body follows, and she collapses onto the tunnel floor on her back. The dirt under her is smooth and packed, almost hot with the speed in which the steelix moved through.

She would’ve been dead if she’d been caught up in that.

The thought sends a fresh bolt of panic through her. She looks up, still trying to catch her breath, only to see Giratina staring back down at her from the mirrorstone in the ceiling.

“You saved me,” she rasps, somewhere between a statement and a question.

Giratina nods. Then he gestures towards the direction they came from.

For the first time, Nia considers the possibility that Giratina might genuinely be trying to help. But why? Will was very clear that the banished legendary was not to be trusted. And it’s not like he has a stellar reputation even outside of Will’s words. He tried to yank her into the distortion world, for God’s sake!

…But he did just save her life. So he at least wants her alive, for whatever reason. Maybe a nefarious plan where he later steals her soul to destroy the world or something. Chances are he isn’t working with these goons who are only in it for the money, so that means he might actually be leading her to safety.

“This is such a bad idea,” she murmurs, still shaky as she sits up. Giratina flickers out of view only to reappear in the wall, closer to eye level.

Nia raises her voice just loud enough to be heard. “O-Okay. Okay. You’ve got my attention. Um…thank you.”

Giratina makes an insistent gesture with his tail for her to turn around and go back the way they came.

Nia gets to her feet, brushing dirt off her fur, and takes a deep breath. “All right. Lead the way.”

Giratina wastes no time, silently slipping away in a blur of muted color. Nia breaks into a run to follow him back the way they came, the satchel bouncing along with each stride.

Giratina leads her through tunnel after tunnel, clearly reluctant to pause and let her catch her breath or stretch out the painful stitch in her side. When he does finally slow to a stop, Nia takes the break gratefully, gasping for air as she rests her hands on her knees.

“W-What is it?”

Giratina doesn’t answer her, looking off into the distance and narrowing his eyes, as if hearing something. Then he flickers out of sight entirely.

Nia yelps. “Giratina?”

Nothing. She’s alone again.

She looks around uneasily, suddenly back on-guard. Was he leading her into a trap? She knows she shouldn’t trust him but she doesn’t exactly have a lot of options right now. Should she go back the way she came? Keep moving forward?

Nia bites her lip. Then, almost hearing Tobias scolding her for trusting too easily, she tentatively continues forward in the direction Giratina had been leading her. She jogs lightly, trying to keep her ears open and her body ready.

To her relief, while she occasionally feels and hears the steelix roaming around, he doesn't comes barreling her way again.

Still, she slows to a stop when she hears something new and out of place. A faint tap-tap, tap-tap. Like a gallop. The steps sound too sharp to be Eddy or Tobias’ softer feet, more like…hooves?

Samir!

Nia runs forward again. She bounds around the next corner and sure enough, nearly slams right into the skiddo.

“Samir!” She cries, thrilled to see at least one of her friends unharmed.

The grass type is clearly relieved to see her too, posture relaxing even as they pant hard to catch their breath. Giratina flickers back into sight beside both of them. Samir jumps, but otherwise looks a little too familiar with the presence for this to be the first time they’ve ran into one another.

Nia blinks, looking between the two. “Was he…guiding you too?” That would explain why he disappeared on her.

Samir nods, looking warily at the legendary. Giratina stares down at the both of them, impassive.

Huh. Another point for Giratina not being a total jerk, then. Good to know.

Another rumble sounds off in the distance, and everyone tenses, looking down the tunnels. When the vibrations settle, Giratina catches their attention with a jerk of his head, gesturing back the way Samir had come from.

“Can you lead us to Tobias?” Nia asks.

Giratina nods, then zips away. Nia and Samir exchange a look and follow as fast as their legs can carry them, since they don’t really have the time to mistrust Giratina right now.

Nia can’t tell the tunnels apart at all, so all she can do is follow and hope Giratina is leading them in the right direction. They all look the same to her: rosy red light like a warning sign and flashes of reflections set into rocky walls and soil. She thinks there might be a slight incline to the path now, making the burn in her legs more pronounced, but she can’t be sure. All she knows is the constant rhythm of her panting breaths, the pain in her lungs, the tingling exhaustion in her legs, and the sound of her and Samir’s footfalls.

Finally, she hears a distant sound. She can’t pinpoint what it is right away, but it isn’t the rumble of the steelix. It almost sounds like…battling. The faint noise of attacks being used.

Nia’s heart jumps hopefully. She follows the sound to the tunnel’s end, where it opens up to the same large cavern where they first saw Eddy with the steelix. Inside, a familiar flash of fire catches her eye immediately.

Tobias is fighting Eddy, barely dodging the otter's weapon: a shell acting like a hilt for a short blade of bright blue water. Tobias is breathing hard, clearly scuffed up. Blood runs down his leg where the wound he’d gotten on the way to Asra has been reopened, but he’s still keeping Eddy on his toes. Considering the charmander is fighting an older, more experienced water type all on his own, he’s doing considerably well.

Still, Tobias' fierce expression and tense shoulders drop when he glances their way, clearly relieved to see them too.

Eddy looks much less pleased. He spits blood into the dirt, lip curling to bare sharp teeth. “You’re kidding me. He didn’t get either of you? That useless lump of steel—“

Tobias cuts him off by smacking him in the face with his tail. He follows up with a one-two swipe of metallic claws.

Samir bounds into action, beelining for Eddy. They swing their head forward as they run, launching razor-sharp leaves at the water type. Eddy flinches and hisses as they hit their mark.

Nia follows right behind. As physically tired as she is, she’s glad she hasn’t used much aura today. She draws on that energy, forming an aura staff between her paws. She slips behind Eddy and sweeps her weapon low to catch his feet. He stumbles but doesn’t go down, sending a spare water attack behind him that nips Nia’s side and sends her skittering back.

Tobias takes the distraction, lunging forward to slash at Eddy again with his claws. The otter grunts with pain, but kicks Tobias away.

Samir shoots forward to take the charmander’s place, lowering their head to tackle the water type directly in the gut. Nia hears the wind whoosh from Eddy’s lungs. The otter doubles over, the bright blue water around his shell falling to the dirt with a splash.

Nia takes the opening. She hauls her staff back like a baseball bat before slamming the otter in the back. Eddy staggers forward from the blow.

Tobias jumps in next, knocking the otter’s shell from his grasp and slamming him with his tail on the backstep.

Samir finishes it, locking their legs and launching a volley of razor leaves at Eddy. The water type covers his face, trying to stand his ground as they rip at his skin. But as soon as the bright green glow of the attack fades, Eddy falls onto his front and lies still.

For a moment, the three of them stare down at their opponent, attack stances still in place.

When Eddy still doesn’t move, Tobias finally inches forward. He uses a foot to roll the otter over. Eddy groans, still alive but clearly down for the count.

Nia relaxes, and shares a triumphant grin with Tobias and Samir.

It’s Giratina, flickering into view on the far wall and flaring his wings to catch her attention, that makes Nia take notice of the slight vibrations under her feet.

Right. They’re not done here yet.

The now-familiar shaking of the earth picks up as the steelix approaches, making all of them crouch to stay on their feet. Tobias in particular looks pained by the motion. They don't have the time to make a run for it, Nia knows. Not if the steelix is this close.

Nia takes a deep breath and tries to reign in her fear. They’re together again, and they already defeated Eddy. The steelix is a terrifying foe, but together they should be able to figure something out.

She looks to the tunnel her and Samir arrived from, hoping that the steelix won’t appear from underground or something. Luckily, she catches a distant glimpse of silver as the steelix rounds the far bend, metal flashing in the warm glow of the crystals.

Unluckily, the steelix barreling towards them looks furious, segments churning as he charges forward with the speed of a semi. He ducks his head as he enters the cavern, and Nia suddenly realizes that he’s not slowing down. They won’t be fast enough to dodge that. Tobias especially. They're going to be smashed like bugs on a windshield.

She feels like she’s back in Ghatha, watching that wreckage come hurtling down to bury her and Junie. She has the distant feeling she's looking death in the face, and something in her desperately wants to cower in terror.

But her aura saved them last time, right?

Nia shoves herself in front of Tobias and Samir. She braces her feet and grits her teeth and hopes that her self-preservation instincts will be enough to trigger—

Blue filters across her vision. Just quick enough for the steelix to crash headfirst into her shield like a train against a mountain.

Nia’s shield breaks. She cries out as a horrible pain lances through her head, vision spotting and quickly going black. Her legs buckle beneath her, and she barely registers a pair of warm arms catching her.

It feels like an instant later that Nia starts to regain consciousness. She catches flashes of sensation as she comes back to herself, trying to work through the cotton-like pain stuffed inside her skull. Tobias’ muffled voice is saying something near her, tone sharp and worried. The leafy scent of Samir has drifted away. The earth jolts in short, harsh movements, like a giant is wrestling nearby.

Nia tries to pry her eyes open, squinting against the rosy light. The ringing pain in her skull has died down, and clearer sound starts to filter back in. Tobias, yelling something. The angry snarls of the steelix. The crumbling and cracking of stone and earth. Samir’s quick hoofsteps.

Nia finally looks up. She’s been shuffled back to sit against the cave wall. Tobias is running defense from a few paces in front of her while he and Samir battle against the steelix.

Samir is using nimble leaps to weave over and under the steelix’s flailing weapon of a tail. Occasionally they even leap off the side of the cave or the steelix itself, sure-footed and nimble as they shoot off razor leaf attacks between strides.

Tobias has stayed closer by, probably in case the steelix tried to take her out while she was incapacitated. He yells distracting insults at the steelix, occasionally shooting bursts of flame that make the giant flinch.

Both types of attacks seem to be dealing heavy damage to the steelix. Tobias’ fire even makes the serpent’s metallic hide glow like molten metal when he lands a direct hit. The outlaw is definitely a steel type Pokemon, but what else could he be? Rock? Ground, maybe?

Either way, fighting type moves would be super-effective if Nia could just use them.

Nia grits her teeth and rises to wobbly feet. She has to help. Even if she can’t use many moves, she still can’t let them handle this guy alone. He’s twenty times their size and willing to kill. If he gets in one good hit they’re done for.

While she steadies her spotty vision, Nia scans the walls for a sign of Giratina. Surely he wouldn’t abandon them now, right? Even if he can’t do anything, surely he’d stick around to see their fates?

She realizes then that most of the mirrorstone in this cavern—the largest chunks at least—have been cracked by the steelix’s rampage. Nia thinks she sees fragmented glimpses of black and gold and gray flitting between stones, but it’s hard to tell what Giratina is doing or thinking.

Nia’s attention jumps back to the fight as the steelix lunges for Tobias, snapping blocky jaws down with enough force to crush a car. Tobias barely steps back in time. He lashes out with his claws in retaliation and scratches the steelix right below the eye.

Nia doesn’t expect the weak move to do much, but the steelix roars, clearly pained, as he rears back. Tobias falters, clearly as confused as she feels. It’s not until the steelix’s face tilts down again, his left eye squeezed shut and furrowed with pain, that Nia thinks she understands.

The steelix’s scar. The long, deep furrow cutting through his face like a canyon must be more vulnerable than the rest of his steely hide.

“His scar!” Nia calls, still trying to gather herself enough to push away from the wall and help. “I think it’s a weak point!”

Tobias and Samir look back at her, clearly surprised that she’s up. But then Samir nods, shooting off another razor leaf attack to get the steelix’s attention. Tobias follows them now that Nia is conscious, attacking the opposite side with his fire to keep the beast busy.

Nia takes a deep breath and stumbles away from the wall. She needs to get in there and help somehow. She can feel her aura settling again, even if it’s nearly depleted after using protect. The ache in her skull has died down, at least.

Nia staggers forward, pulling her hands apart to form her aura into a staff. She manages to get it nearly full-sized, solid and thrumming with quiet energy. Good.

While the steelix is distracted, Nia runs forward and hauls her staff back in a batter’s swing, then slams her aura into the steelix’s side with all her strength.

Her aura splinters out of existence beneath her palms. The steelix doesn’t even seem to notice her, too busy chasing down Samir and Tobias.

Nia steps back, heart dropping. That did nothing. She should’ve guessed as much—a normal type move like that, without any fighting type energy behind it? No way that would even leave a scratch on a metallic tank like this.

She’s useless in this fight.

Nia steps back and looks around, desperate to help.

She’s watching at just the right time to see Samir slip. The skiddo is bouncing off the wall to give themself some height, when a chunk of stone gives way under their hoof. Nia sees their eyes widen. Sees the sudden loss of grace as they scramble to catch themselves.

She also sees the steelix notice, a nasty grin spreading across his face. He turns, heavy tail swinging around like a wrecking ball, and slams it into Samir. The hit sends the little goat flying across the cavern.

Samir hits the far wall hard enough to send cracks webbing outward, then drops lifelessly to the dirt. They don’t get back up again, and Nia can’t tell if they’re still breathing from this far away. She stares at them, willing them to get back up. To be okay. She feels numb, suddenly, caught between terror and nausea and—

"Nia!" Tobias yells.

She snaps to attention, just in time to drop and flatten herself to the ground. The steelix’s tail swings by right overhead, a wind buffeting her from the momentum.

Shaking, Nia sits up. She looks to Tobias, only to see the charmander trying to inch his way around the cavern to Samir. He’s still dodging and attacking, but he keeps glancing towards the downed skiddo.

The steelix roars and slams his tail into the earth, but Nia can tell that this motion is different than before. She senses something—move energy, maybe. The dirt fissures in a line, shooting under Tobias’ feet like lightning. It continues past him and up the wall of the cavern.

A sickening crack is the only warning before the wall behind Tobias shifts and buckles. A wave of rock and dirt slides down quick as an avalanche. Nia sees Tobias go pale. Then the wave swallows him whole, burying him alive in a mountain of earth.

“Tobias!” Nia shrieks.

Before she can even think—can even doubt or hope or grieve or try to help either of her friends—the steelix turns to her. He’s not smiling, but there’s something satisfied in his expression that feels even worse. Like he’s an exterminator wiping out pesky vermin.

And Nia, with nothing but normal type energy to her name, is left alone to fight him.

Terror and grief makes her stumble back. Her attack earlier did nothing, and she’s sure that a quick attack would be equally unhelpful. She can feel her chest squeeze with panic.

Her teary gaze flicks to the nearest wall, to Giratina scattered and broken in abstract bits, but the legendary seems equally frazzled, moving in erratic movements. He almost looks like he’s trying to ram his way through the reflections, to no avail.

Somehow, that only makes her feel worse.

The steelix lunges for her, and Nia dives under his head to dodge. Panicked, she finds her aura and pumps it into her paw, lashing up with a desperate, sloppy punch mimicking Val’s power-packed moves.

(Wait—mimic?)

But her move bounces harmlessly off the steelix’s hard coat, and her fist blooms with a painful bruise from the hit. Nia bites back a cry and scrabbles out from under the steelix before she’s smushed.

Mimic. Right! She’s been trying to learn mimic. If she could just use one of Tobias’ fire type moves, or Samir’s razor leaf, she might have a chance.

The steelix swings his tail at her, gouging a furrow into the dirt. She nearly trips running out of the way. Then, panting, Nia scrambles over to Samir. The goat is still unnervingly still, but when Nia gets closer she can see the faint rise and fall of their side.

Oh, thank God.

Nia couldn’t figure out how to use mimic on a good day, let alone in the heat of a life-threatening battle. She hasn't even really asked Val how to do it yet, but it’s the only thing she can think of. She’s desperate.

Nia puts her hand on Samir’s leafy mane, where his razor leaf attack seemed to come from. Then, with no better idea of how she could even go about “borrowing” a move, she shoots her aura down her arm until it brushes against Samir’s.

Samir’s aura is…silver. She doesn’t try to look, really, but it flashes into her mind before she thinks to look away. Their soul is silver like steel, ironically. Solid and unyielding. Silver like a mirror, reflective and quiet. Silver like a sword and shield, sharp but protective, hard and seemingly cold. But steel makes tools, steel means safety and strength and durability and—

Focus, Nia! You’re not here to read Samir’s soul. You’re here to grab the last move they used, their razor leaf attack.

…Except Nia has no idea how to do that. Does it even have anything to do with the skiddo’s aura? Surely it does since aura is the basis for move energy, but how can she mold her own aura to match it? How can she even single out an attack from who Samir is, from the lifeblood running through them?

Nia realizes with a pang that she can’t. She simply doesn’t know how. And her instincts as a riolu are apparently not enough to learn on the spot.

Nia’s eyes snap open, breath catching as she sees the steelix’s tail bearing down on them again. Nia loops her arms around Samir’s body and lunges as far as possible.

The steelix’s tail slams down not a foot away from both of them, making their bodies jump off the ground. The attack leaves an indent like a trench in the dirt, and Nia’s heart jumps into her throat.

She needs to move this fight away from here. Samir and Tobias are unconscious, and the steelix is after her now. Her partners are in the line of fire as long as the fight continues in this cavern.

Nia shoves away from Samir and bolts for the nearest opening, the one leading down into the tunnel system. She hears the steelix let out a booming laugh far behind her. She’s confused until she realizes he must think she’s trying to run.

For the first time since this fight started, she feels angry rather than afraid. He thinks this is funny? Thinks it’s hilarious to bury her partner alive and slam Samir into the wall like a doll? Thinks it's funny to hurt them, terrorize them, endanger the whole town?

It feels easier to think, suddenly, with her terror sharpening to fury. She understands why Tobias chooses anger now, instead of losing himself to despair. It feels more like she's in control. Like she can use this fire under her skin.

The rumble of the steelix following her into the tunnels makes her stumble. She picks herself up and runs harder, gasping for breath. Giratina flickers into view at her side, whole again.

When Nia reaches the first fork in the path, she hesitates. She just—she needs a second to breathe. To think. She needs a plan. Her lungs are on fire and she tastes metal in her mouth. Her emotions are a frayed knot of fear and grief and anger. But that doesn’t mean anything to the creature trying to kill her.

The shaking of the earth grows stronger, almost shaking her off her feet. On a whim, Nia staggers down the right path and around the bend until she can hunker down against the wall.

All she’s working with at this point is luck. Hoping that by pure chance, the steelix won’t pick this path. That’s what their lives are depending on.

Luckily, some kind of deity must decide that her fortune has been bad enough today, because she feels and hears the steelix rumble down the left path, his movements slowly fading away.

Nia breathes out a shuddery breath, sliding down the wall to the ground. That stroke of luck bought her a minute, maybe, before he turns around. She has to think.

She has to get them all out of here, but even if she turns around now, grabs Samir, and manages to haul the two of them up the ladder and to safety before the steelix can stop her (which is unlikely), she’s not just going to leave Tobias down here, buried under a mountain of rubble.

Giratina flickers into view across the tunnel. Nia looks up at him as she slows her breathing, knowing her emotions are clear as day on her face.

Giratina looks irritated.

And Nia feels angry in return.

“What?!” She hisses, careful to keep her voice down. “You have some great idea?! It’s a little hard to feel optimistic when I have no way to fight that thing!”

Giratina’s eyes narrow, moving around as if trying to think of something. Finally, they settle on the satchel still looped over her shoulder.

Nia, teetering violently between despair and fury, rips it off and throws it down. She yanks it open and turns it over so their meager collection of items spill out.

“There’s nothing here!" She says, voice breaking. She swallows hard and gestures at the mess. “What? What’s going to miraculously beat him for us? Berries? Half a flask of water? Badges that won’t even work? Blast seeds?“

Nia pauses, panting, and stares at the unassuming little yellow seeds sitting on the ground. The ones they’d gotten as a reward from their last client.

“Blast seeds,” she breathes.

With something like hope blossoming in her chest, Nia stuffs the rest of their items back into the satchel and pulls it back over her shoulder. Then, delicately, as if handling precious jewels, she scoops the little seeds into her hands. There are only three of them, small and unassuming. But she recalls Tobias’ words about them.

If she ate one, it would give her a short burst of flames to attack with, even without any move energy. And that would hurt even the steelix, right?

But there are only three. And even if they’re strong, what if they’re still not strong enough? Tobias’ flames clearly hurt the steelix earlier, left his hard hide soft as molten metal. But she needs a surefire way to take him down for good. A weak point, maybe—

A weak point exactly like that scar of his.

Nia laughs a wet, weak laugh, and wipes at her eyes. A plan is unfolding in her mind, and she can only desperately hope she can pull it off.

The steelix’s rumbling had faded away, but it’s starting to strengthen again as he returns. Nia gives Giratina a nod of thanks before hurrying back to the main cavern where Tobias, Samir, and Eddy are lying unconscious.

When she arrives, none of them have moved. That’s worrying on its own, but Nia doesn’t have time to fret over them, not until the steelix is dealt with.

Nia puts two of the blast seeds back in the satchel. The third she clutches in her paw, before moving to stand off to the side of the cave entrance.

Then, she waits.

The steelix rumbles back to the fork in the path, his cursing audible even from where she is. She hears him check out the other cave, but he doesn’t go far before turning around. He moves closer and closer to where she is, the ground shaking under her feet while she clings to the wall for stability.

Nia holds the blast seed up to her mouth. As soon as that giant silver face emerges from the cavern, she takes a note from Tobias' book and shouts, “Hey, ugly!”

The steelix’s head swings around to look at her.

Nia cracks the blast seed between her teeth, swallowing.

And immediately she feels an unfamiliar flare of energy erupt in her stomach, hot and powerful. It pushes up into her throat and out through her mouth and—

The explosive blast of fire nearly blinds her. But the pained roar of the steelix tells her she hit her target head-on.

A great thrashing follows. She feels more than sees the steelix’s tail swing dangerously close to her head as he roars with pain. Coughing up smoke and an unfamiliar sense of heat in her airways, Nia stumbles away from the blast zone. She blinks hard, squinting, until she can see the steelix writhing on the ground, churning up the dirt. The left side of his face is glowing white-hot with lingering heat.

Nia feels a thrill of victory, but hurriedly pulls out the second blast seed. Without giving the steelix time to recover, she runs straight at his face and cracks the second blast seed between her teeth.

He must hear her coming, because he pulls away just in time, dodging the majority of the seed’s explosion as he twists upright. Wavering, but once again stories above her head.

Nia curses, biting back a stab of panic. Only one seed left. She can’t afford to mess up with this one, and since he’s upright again, she’s going to need some leverage to use it.

Nia picks up a nearby rock loosened by the hubbub and launches it at his side. It pings uselessly against his armored body, but catches his attention. He squints down at her, clearly still blinking the explosions out of his vision and battling the pain.

Nia sticks her tongue out at him, then turns tail and sprints for the first cave, where the rope ladder leading outside hangs.

The steelix follows, slamming into walls in his dazed state and making it even harder for her to stay on her feet. She stumbles, but manages to stay ahead of him until she hits the cave. The bottom of the rope ladder is just visible in the little alcove off to the side. Nia ducks inside and jumps onto the rope ladder just in time.

The steelix slams into the wall separating the little space from the main cavern. The vertical tunnel around her shakes, and dirt powders her fur like snow.

Nia climbs higher, up and up as the steelix batters the wall with mindless fury. He must think she’s trying to escape. The rope ladder swings slightly under the onslaught. The wall behind her cracks ominously under the steelix’s weight.

Finally, Nia thinks she’s high enough. She turns around, facing the wall and the steelix behind it. She rummages in her satchel until she finds the last blast seed, then places it between her teeth.

The steelix is still roaring, slamming into the wall of the alcove over and over again. Nia clings to the rope ladder, locking her arms and praying this will work.

Finally, the layer of rock between the two of them begins to crack and crumble. It falls away in noisy chunks that plummet to the ground far below. The steelix’s face becomes visible, right at her level. He tears away the last chunk of rock between them, looking like a frenzied animal after its prey. Once she’s in sight, mere feet away from his giant maw, he goes for her.

And Nia swallows the blast seed.

Like the two times before, the seed immediately erupts. Flames explode in a cloud of biting heat. The steelix’s agonized roar only barely registers over the ringing in her ears. She remembers to close her eyes this time.

When she opens them, her heart skips a beat. The steelix is still upright. Rearing back with his face a molten hue, clearly hurting, but not unconscious.

One more final push. That’s all she needs. The heat should’ve softened the metal a bit, so—

Nia snaps her arm out and summons a staff of aura, feeling her reserves run low. Then, she pushes off the back wall of the alcove and leaps. For an instant, she feels like she’s flying. It’d be enjoyable if she weren’t flinging herself directly at the mouth of a monster.

Then she swings her aura staff up, and brings it down with all the strength left in her body.

The makeshift weapon hits true. It meets the softened split of the steelix’s scar with a crack like a gunshot. Nia isn’t sure if the sound is from the force of the blow, from the steelix’s shell splitting open further, or from her aura snapping to pieces in her hands.

Whatever it is, it seems to be enough.

The steelix doesn’t roar, or cry out, or rear back. Instead, he drops. Nia, who had landed on his head, struggles to hang on to the metal surface as the huge Pokemon topples. When he hits the ground, the earth itself shakes, throwing up a plume of dirt and dust that has Nia hacking.

An unnerving quiet falls over the cavern. The only sounds are her panting breaths, the quiet settling of dirt and earth, and the heavy puffs of the steelix passed out like a derailed train below her.

Giratina flickers into view off to the side, looking solemn as ever. He meets her eyes, then flicks his head back the way they came, to the other cavern.

She feels a cocktail of emotions building in her chest, but tries to stuff them away. At least for now. Relief and exhaustion make her limbs feel like jelly, but she’s not done yet. She has to get to her friends.

Nia slides down the hulking mass of the steelix. She staggers through the cavern, still coughing up smoke. She feels like her throat has first degree burns.

Finally, she finally makes it back to the cavern where Tobias, Samir, and Eddy lie knocked out.

She’s relieved to see Samir is waking up, dragging themself into a sitting position. They’re grimacing, one eye squeezed shut with pain, but they look coordinated enough.

“Samir!” She gasps, hurrying to their side.

The skiddo jumps, looking first at her, then around the cavern. Their anxious expression melts into confusion.

“The steelix is down,” Nia says, kneeling at the skiddo’s side and peering into their eyes to see if they have a concussion or anything. She doesn’t even know what she’s supposed to be looking for. “How do you feel?”

Samir blinks at her, clearly bewildered by the easy dismissal. Their gaze flicks over Nia’s shoulder, as if not quite believing her.

“I’ll tell you later,” she says, too tired to deal with this right now. “Seriously, are you okay? You got thrown into a wall and I thought…”

Samir must hear the way her throat closes up, because they finally soften and focus on Nia’s questions. Hesitantly, they nod. Their eyes flick down Nia’s form as they tilt their head with a furrowed brow.

“I-I think I’m okay?” Nia answers. She stumbles back to her feet, helping Samir up after. “But we need to find Tobias.”

Samir’s eyes widen. The skiddo went down first so they’re probably wanting to know what exactly happened, but Nia doesn’t have time to explain. Now that her adrenaline is fading, the fear is returning tenfold.

She really, really hopes Tobias is okay.

“This way,” she says, hurrying as fast as she can to the mountain of earth and rock that buried the charmander. The closer she gets, the more her distant panic surfaces.

This is…a huge mountain of dirt and rock. And while she saw Tobias get buried, she’d been too focused on his face to notice where exactly he would end up by the end of it. But she needs to get him out of there. What if he’s seriously hurt? What if he’s—

Fear spiking, Nia kneels in the dirt at a random spot and starts digging with her hands. She was hoping it would be easy to move, but the rocks and chunks of earth make it painful and clunky to handle, and the clay-like soil sticks everything together.

Nia feels her eyes sting with tears. She digs harder. Faster. Samir tugs on her satchel, but she doesn’t stop to look at them.

She doesn’t know where Tobias is. What if he dies because she can’t find him? What if he’s suffocating?

Her eyes blur with tears as she chokes. Desperately, Nia looks up at the nearest cave wall to find Giratina. The titan is still there, fragmented and a bit hard to see in the broken chunks of mirrorstone. He shakes his head. Nia isn’t sure if that means that he didn’t see where Tobias ended up either, or—

Samir is tugging at Nia’s satchel with their teeth again, hard enough to disrupt her work.

She finally turns to them, snapping, “What?!”

Samir looks concerned, but their gaze darts nervously to where Eddy is lying on the ground across the cave. They jerk their head towards the tunnel leading out of here.

Nia shoves the goat away, panic making her movements and words sharper than usual. “I’m not leaving him down here! W-What if he’s suffocating?!”

The thought only makes everything worse, and Nia’s breath hitches with a sob as she gets up, skittering around the cave-in, pawing small handfuls of rubble free before moving again to a new spot. Where is he? Where is he?!

Samir doesn’t argue again. Just staggers over to her side and starts trying to dig with their own hooves. After only a few seconds they stop, looking over at her with clear conflicted feelings.

She knows. She knows. It’s going to be impossible to find the charmander in this mess since neither of them know exactly where Tobias is. But she can’t just leave him down here! What if he dies because they take too long to get help digging him out? What if Eddy or the steelix wake up and find him first? What if the whole tunnel system caves in?

Nia is crying openly now. She ignores the pain of rocks and dirt straining and scraping at her desperate hands. She can hardly see in front of her through her tears, and swipes a frustrated, dirty arm across her face.

She can’t let Tobias die here. He’s her partner! Her friend! She can’t just let him go!

A small flash from her chest startles her and Samir alike. Nia sniffles, looking down at herself. She’s not surprised to find her body outlined with blue, the tired remnants of her aura manifesting with her rising emotions. Another spark flashes off her body.

Frustrated, she takes a moment to ball her fists against her temples and shriek into her inner arms. She supposedly has this great power, this ability to use her energy like no other species of Pokemon, and still she’s useless when people really need her.

Would one of her moves help if she could actually use them? She feels as powerless as she did in that fire in Ghatha. Or in the fight against the seviper. Or when she was grabbed by Giratina. When she was first transported to this world, scared out of her wits. When her and Tobias were trying to find that tropius calf, trying to see an enemy ambushing them from beneath the earth and Nia had tried and failed to—

Nia’s breath catches, tears and snot and grief making her cough. But wait, wait. That time in the cave dungeon, she’d tried something with her aura. Tried to find that burrowing enemy by sending out a pulse of her aura, like radar.

She didn’t even get close to succeeding then. And she hasn’t tried anything like it since. Her attempt at using mimic earlier was a total failure. But…

What other option does she have?

Nia’s aura flares, making her flinch as it pulses through her like a rush of energy. Nearby pebbles rattle and roll away. Distantly, she registers Samir stepping back out of the corner of her eye.

This is dangerous. She can’t control this yet. She could make the rock slide worse, could unsettle the precarious stability of the earth. They could all be buried alive.

But if she does nothing, Tobias could die. And it’s worth the risk if it might save him.

“Samir, step back,” Nia whispers, widening the arms she has braced against the dirt and rock. She hears the skiddo follow her order without complaint, scrabbling away.

Then, Nia takes a deep, shuddering breath. Tries to imagine her aura coursing through her body. Tries to remember what Val told her, long ago, about casting her aura out not as a solid stream, but as a veil. A wave.

Her first attempt erupts from her hands with an earth-rumbling burst. Nia flinches, gritting her teeth. Too strong. Too much, all at once.

She tries to slow the flow of her aura, less like a faucet full-blast, and more like barely nudging it on. Lets her aura trickle out at a much smaller, much steadier pace.

Like this, it’s easier to control how the aura disperses. She can hold the contents of that gentle flow, then scatter it like water drops from cupped hands. Like a fine mist, rather than a stream.

She tries it. The energy disperses, and for a moment Nia fears nothing has happened. Did she still not get it right? Val said she should be able to sense any aura hers bumps into.

Could Tobias already be..?

Nia whimpers and tries the technique again, struggling to keep her emotions from getting out of control. She can’t let them get out of control. She has to do this. She has to help Tobias!

She just…she just wants him to be safe.

The second try is better than the first one. Less a net with gaping holes in it and more a…pulse. A wave, gently passing through the earth beneath her.

For an instant, there’s nothing.

Then, a new color flashes in her mind, there and gone in an instant. Red. Not the bright blood red of Xander or their scarves, but a deep, maroon red.

Nia’s breath catches.

“Tobias..?” She murmurs. Desperately, she sends out another pulse. The second time her aura brushes against another’s makes her choke out a sob.

There’s life there. And despite the fact that Nia has never seen Tobias’ aura before, despite the fact that she’s trying not to look too deeply into it, she knows it’s him. She can feel it’s him, almost as clearly as she knows her own soul.

And he’s still alive.

Nia sends another pulse of aura into the earth, hands shaking. Then another. Tries to pinpoint with her aura exactly where he is in this mess of rubble. It’s hard, when she isn’t familiar navigating this disconnected part of herself. But after a few more times, it starts to make sense. It’s like…sonar. Like a radar. Like a beacon.

“I found him,” she says, breathless. Her heart pounds in her ears. Her eyes snap open, blue still outlining the edges of her vision, and she slides clumsily down from the top of the rubble.

Samir trots to her side, wide-eyed but looking to her for direction. Nia hurries to the edge of the debris, biting her lip and sending another pulse of aura into the pile. She swallows down a cry when she “sees” that same flash of red, only a few feet forward.

“Here,” she says, getting to work. “Just ahead!”

Samir nods, then immediately joins her in digging. After a minute or two, Nia’s bloodied hands have made a sizeable dent in the earth. Samir has adjusted their strategy to start moving the discarded dirt further away, and they stabilize the gap Nia is creating. Nia wants to use her aura and blast the rubble away, or ask Samir to use one of their own attacks, but she knows they risk hurting Tobias if they do.

Still, it seems like it takes forever to dig deeper and deeper into the loose rock and earth. Nia sends the occasional pulse of aura out to make sure they’re still on the right track.

Finally, Nia pulls away a small slab of rock to reveal a dusty orange arm.

“Tobias!” She gasps, fresh tears flooding her eyes. She frantically digs more, using her aura to help fling away the larger chunks.

Once they uncover half of Tobias’ body, Samir helps to drag him free completely, trying to be mindful of any injuries.

The charmander's face is bruised and slack, eyes closed, but his tail flame is like a breath of fresh air. Small, but bright.

Nia gathers him into her lap, hugging his warm body close. She knew he was her friend, she knew she cared about him, but she didn’t realize how much the thought of losing him hurt until she nearly did.

“Gh…Nia?”

The throaty whisper makes Nia pull back, looking down at Tobias through a blurry watercolor of tears.

He squints up at her, wincing and lifting a hand to his head. “What happened? Feels like I got hit by a mountain.”

“More or less,” Nia says, voice aiming for joking but coming out strangled.

Tobias blinks up at her, frowning, probably about to ask more questions, but Nia can’t resist. She leans down and wraps him up in another tight hug, crying into his dusty scarf.

“N-Nia! Hey!”

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“I think so? What—“

That’s all Nia needed to hear. She ignores Tobias weak protests and flailing limbs, hugging him tighter. After a few moments, he seems to give in, grumbling something and letting his arms fall heavily around her back.

Samir is the one to interrupt the emotional reunion. They tug at Nia’s scarf, tied around her bicep. When she looks up, wiping at her eyes, the goat gives her an apologetic but nervous look, glancing once again at Eddy. The otter Pokemon is still knocked out for now, but Nia heard him groan earlier. He could wake up at any moment, and none of them are in any condition to fight.

“R-Right. We need to get out of here and grab Calder.”

Samir nods, helping Nia to her feet. Then they lean into Tobias’ other side to force the charmander to use them as a crutch.

“‘M up, I’m up,” Tobias grumbles half-heartedly. Nia can tell he’s exhausted by how little he protests their help.

“Let’s go,” she says, looping his free arm over her shoulder.

Slowly, the three of them hobble past Eddy, back through the tunnel and into the first cave with the rope ladder. Both Tobias and Samir stop sharply when they see the downed steelix surrounded by rubble.

“How..?” Tobias chokes. She feels him turn his head to look at her. “Did you—“

“Later,” Nia insists, too on-edge to feel flustered.

When they finally make it to the ladder, Nia has to spend a full minute convincing Samir to go first. She knows they’re the slowest climber, that’s why she wants them to go first! She doesn’t want to have to worry about accidentally leaving them behind.

The skiddo looks bitter at that, but finally acquiesces when Nia gives them a pleading look and reminds them that it’s really not a good time to be arguing.

Nia sends Tobias up between them, to give the charmander someone to follow but to allow her to try to catch him if he slips. She can tell that almost starts another argument, but Samir, thank God, starts climbing and Nia puts on her I’m Serious About This face so Tobias finally starts climbing himself. Slower than Nia would like, but it’ll have to do. Nia shoots nervous glances over her shoulder at the steelix and towards the tunnel where Eddy lies unconscious.

When Tobias’ tail flame is high up in the tunnel, he calls down, “Nia!”

“Coming!” She whisper-yells back, finally scrambling after the two of them. Her tense muscles are sore and heavy with exhaustion, but she doesn’t think she’s ever climbed so fast in her life, leftover terror giving her energy.

She catches up to Tobias just as Samir is hauling him over the edge and into the surface cave of the old mine. When she’s out too, Nia takes a moment to catch her breath. Tobias looks seconds away from passing out, and Nia is tempted to let him, but…

Samir tap-taps in the dirt. They jerk their head towards the mouth of the tunnel, in the direction of Asra. Their brown eyes are tired and sympathetic, but unyielding.

“I know, I know,” Nia groans, pushing herself to her feet. Tobias hisses a weak protest when she drags him up too, slinging his arm over her shoulders again.

Slowly, the three of them trudge back to the opening of the cave. Nia sees the dim gray light of early morning, dawn just starting to touch the horizon, and tears flood her eyes again. The cold desert breeze brushing against her face is the sweetest air she’s ever tasted.

When they step outside, Nia can see the vague mass of Fort Asra in the distance, and she wants to cry for another reason entirely. It’s so, so far. She’s not sure they can actually make it.

A quiet sound behind Nia makes her instincts jolt. She sees Samir tense at the same time, ears swiveling back.

Nia spins, Tobias stumbling without her support. But she’s just in time to put up a weak screen of aura, a poor imitation of her earlier protect.

Bright blue slices of water hammer against her shield, cracking it. Nia grunts and stumbles back from the blow. Tobias catches her, nearly falling himself. Samir steps in front of both of them.

Eddy is at the mouth of the cave, leaning heavily against the wall. He sneers at them with bared, bloody teeth and wild eyes. If they were at full strength, Nia is sure they would be able to handle him as easily as they did earlier. But after that Steelix..?

Nia can barely get her legs under her again. She and Tobias are holding each other up like a wobbly tower of cards. Samir’s legs are visibly trembling with fatigue.

Eddy snarls, lunging forward with his shells drawn. Nia tenses, and she sees Samir do the same.

A familiar jet of water shoots past her shoulder, slamming into Eddy and sniping him out of the air.

Nia blinks, then whips her head around to see none other than Calder rushing up to them. Behind the inteleon, Nia is even more surprised to see Takeo and Granite hauling themselves up the rocks.

“Calder?” She asks, bewildered. She must be hallucinating.

But the inteleon runs past them without a word, tackling Eddy to the dirt and pinning him easily. The dewott snarls but can barely put up a fight.

A light touch to Nia’s back makes her jump, but when she looks it’s just Granite, reaching out with his trunk to get her attention. The donphan scans her and then Tobias with serious eyes.

“You three all right?”

Tobias snorts weakly into her neck, clearly thinking a sarcastic retort but too fatigued to verbalize it.

“Tired,” Nia manages.

Granite nods. “I’m guessing ol’ Ed here was up to no good to have you three looking like that?”

“Caused the quakes,” Tobias says, words half-slurred as he struggles to stay conscious.

Takeo, who had crouched in front of Samir to check them over, matches Granite’s surprised expression. The two of them openly stare at the charmander.

“Eddy can’t use ground moves,” Granite finally says, dumbfounded.

“He's working with an, um…a steelix,” Nia says, struggling to recall the species. “He’s knocked out, but he’s still down there.”

Calder, with Eddy’s unconscious body tucked under his arm like an unruly toddler, steps back over to them. He frowns. “There’s someone else involved?”

Nia waits a beat, before realizing that Tobias is legitimately passing out as they speak and Samir is almost there as well, swaying on their hooves. Not to mention mute.

She rubs at her eyes. “There’s a tunnel leading under the mines. Beneath the mine cart. Leads to a tunnel system. A steelix was causing the quakes. Eddy was making it rain so much to increase the damage.”

Nia can see all the adults taking that in with furrowed brows. Calder’s grip on Eddy grows tighter. Takeo narrows his eyes and glances at the otter with a dark expression. Granite curses under his breath, steadying Tobias when he starts to to tilt.

Finally, Calder nods, handing Eddy off to Takeo. The spidops wordlessly gets to work bundling the smaller Pokemon up with…silk? He skillfully twines it around and around the otter with his long arms weaving like a loom. Nia watches the motion as if in a trance, blinking sluggishly.

“Should we call for backup as soon as we get back?” Granite gruffs.

Calder nods again. “Yes. Send Lara and Cody for sure. We need a sleep powder and a heavy hitter to make sure we can keep the steelix controlled until authorities arrive. Send Jay to the guild. He’ll need to grab some psychics to take these two in.”

Nia barely registers the words of the three Asra ‘mon as she fights to stay standing. Tobias is leaning more and more heavily into her as he slowly slides to the ground. She eventually gives up and goes with him, sitting down in the dirt.

She must start to doze, because she’s woken up by Tobias’ weight being shifted off her shoulder. She looks up, bleary-eyed, to find Takeo securing the unconscious charmander to Granite’s broad back with some of that same silk. A string shot attack, maybe? Samir is already tied down as well, their head up as they fight to stay awake. Their eyes are lidded with exhaustion.

“Wh’re we going?” Nia mumbles.

Takeo effortlessly scoops Nia up to hold her in his arms. She doesn’t have it in her to feel embarrassed about being carried like a child. At least she’s not swaddled up in a cocoon and strapped to the bug type’s back like Eddy is.

“Taking you kids back to town,” Takeo grunts, starting to carefully pick his way down the rocks. Granite follows with a clumsy slide that sends pebbles raining down after him.

Nia blinks up at the slowly-brightening sky framing Takeo’s chin. The air is still cool with night air, but the dawn is turning from gray to blue, clear and lovely.

Her eyes slide to the side, until she catches a glimpse of orange and green atop Granite’s gray back.

“Are they gonna be okay?” She asks.

Takeo hums. “They should be fine. You kids are tough, and smarter than we gave you credit for. Dumber, too.”

Nia huffs something like a laugh as she closes her eyes. She can’t really argue with that.

#pokemon mystery dungeon #riolu #charmander #skiddo #dewott #steelix #giratina #inteleon #donphan #spidops #friend art #friend writing #fanfic rec #cloudicqueue

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untitledrockstar-if · 9 hours ago

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Q: WHAT ARE THE CONTENT WARNINGS?

substance abuse, allusions to abuse, sexual content, mental health struggles and infidelity. this game is intended for mature audiences and depicts dark themes that are sadly normal in the entertainment industry.

Q: WHAT IS MC’S ROLE/JOB?

they’re currently the partner of a rockstar and are considered an It boy/girl. you can choose a career later on and pursue dreams outside of the band.

Q: WHAT ARE THE CAREERS WE CAN CHOOSE FROM?

actor/actress, artist, musician and model for now.

Q: HOW OLD IS EVERY CHARACTER?

mc: 27, ronan/roxanne: 29 about to turn 30 in game, charles/colette: 40/41, scarlett/samuel: 28, milan/margo: 23 and ????: 28

Q: WHO CAN YOU ROMANCE?

ronan/roxanne, samuel/scarlett, charles/colette, milan/margo and ????

Q: WHO IS ????

that will be revealed in game and I won’t spoil it now.

Q: ARE DRUGS REQUIRED TO BE TAKEN?

at the beginning, yes. mc has fully immersed themself in the lifestyle of the band and does drugs and drinks.

Q: WHY IS MC SO MEAN TO RANDOM CHARACTERS/THE REST OF THE CAST?

because they’ve been living this lifestyle for 3 years and the industry oftentimes changes people for the worse.

Q: WILL THE INFIDELITY TAKE PLACE BETWEEN R AND MC?

Q: IS THE CHEATING GOING TO HAPPEN REGARDLESS OF OUR CHOICES?

yes.

Q: DOES R REALLY LOVE MC?

yes, it’s an important plot point later on.

Q: CAN WE CHEAT ON R IN RETURN?

yes, you can.

they do! people still do stupid shit to people they love however.

Q: CAN WE BREAK UP WITH R?

yes, but not at the start.

Q: DO WE HAVE TO BREAK UP WITH R?

no, you don't have to.

Q: CAN WE GET BACK TOGETHER WITH R?

yes, but that will take some time.

Q: WILL R CHANGE IF/WHEN MC LEAVES THEM?

they might try to get better.

Q: WHAT HAPPENS WHEN (X)?

I won’t spoil anything. let’s just wait and see.

Q: HOW WILL R REACT WHEN (X)?

that will be discussed in game.

Q: CAN YOU TELL US WHAT WILL HAPPEN WHEN THEY BREAK UP?

no, as we are at the beginning and I want to leave at least some things as a surprise.

Q: CAN WE LEAVE R AFTER CHAPTER ONE?

no. mc and R are going to be together happily until the end of the first third of the game.

Q: ARE SEX SCENES MANDATORY?

yes. R and mc communicate through sex a lot and this game relies on romance and sex will be part of it.

Q: CAN MC BE ON TOP TOO/MORE DOMINANT?

yes, but seeing as there’ll be 4 different variations of every sex scene based on the gender of your RO and the mc themself, I won’t offer too much input in terms of choices who will be on top when. the scenes play out the way I feel are best and you can’t be a strict top/bottom this time around.

Q: CAN YOU ADD (X) TO THE STORY?

no. I plotted this game already and want it to play out the way I envision.

Q: WHY DIDN’T YOU WRITE R AND MC LIKE (X)?

because I didn’t.

Q: WHAT INSPIRED THIS IF?

general gossip I’ve read, shows and movies depicting the reality of what being a star entails. certain books like tshoeh and djats.

Q: HOW LONG WILL IT BE WORD COUNT AND CHAPTER WISE?

around 9/10 chapters are planned but I’m not sure about a wc yet.

Q: DID R LOVE THEIR EX?

yes, in their own way.

Q: WILL BE EXPLORE HOW MC AND R MET?

yes, mc’s and R’s past will be depicated and discussed at length.

#m.txt #the faq page I created on desktop won't show up so until then a mobile version #**faq #long post

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mister0ctopus · 16 hours ago

Text

We Are All Sinners 02

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: You left Jungkook and this town behind, but every visit pulls you back into his arms, chasing a high you can never leave behind.

Au/Genre: Smut, Exes, Angst

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents, themes of strained relationship with parents, mentions of divorce, mentions of alcohol dependency, mental health struggles, angst, but this ch is full of fluff hehe

Ratings: 18+ ONLY!!! MDNI!

Word Count: 4.3K

a/n: this chapter is all about jungkook and yn’s story when they were younger, kinda exploring how things started between them. hope you like it :)

masterlist

SERIES CHAPTERS:

01: We Are All Sinners

02: We Were Holy Once

03: ???

04: ???

Jungkook loves the way you roll your eyes when he says something stupid.

He’s not actually stupid.

He’s actually on the honor roll (if that's how you measure intelligence, whatever that means).

BUT! If acting like an idiot gets a reaction out of you, then so be it.

He nudges Jimin to say something even dumber just so he can top it with an even more ridiculous response. And from the corner of his eye, he catches it—a huff . The most expression you’ve shown since you transferred in his school two months ago.

He’s been doing this since you came here. Being silly, acting stupid, acting smart, being quiet, being loud, everything…

Just to get anything from you.

You’re the new student from the big city and it shows. The way you dress, the way you speak, the way you act, it’s different from the rest of the kids in this small, quiet town.

Jungkook hopes you’ll grow to like it here. The mountains, the beaches, how the town feels cozy and warm even when it always rains.

But you don’t smile. You don’t talk to anyone.

He figures you’re just shy, just overwhelmed by everything new around you. It makes sense. You’re sixteen, and moving to a completely different place can’t be easy.

You seem lonely, and all he wants is for you to feel at home.

In his home.

This town.

Small towns have small-town habits, and people talk. He knows more about you than he probably should.

That you moved here with your mom after your parents' messy divorce.

That your mom grew up in this town but left young, built a life somewhere bigger.

That she married rich, and then came the divorce.

That she ran back here with you after the divorce. She works in an office now, at a local firm, or something like that…

Jungkook used to hate how fast gossip traveled here. But now? Now, he’s kind of grateful, because it means he knows about you. And one day, when you’re ready, he hopes you’ll tell him your story in your own words.

It was raining the day you finally spoke to him. Well, answered him.

You were standing under the shed after school, waiting. For something. Maybe for the rain to stop. He was passing by, carrying the ridiculously oversized red umbrella his mom insisted he bring. He stopped beside you, tilting his head.

“You waiting for someone?”

You hesitated for a second before answering. “No.”

Oh.

Your voice. It sounded so much nicer when directed at him.

He played it cool, pretending his heart wasn’t thumping like crazy. “You can share my umbrella if you want.”

You hesitated again, and Jungkook sent a silent prayer to the universe.

And maybe the gods were feeling generous that day because you nodded. “Okay.”

Okay.

He stepped closer, holding the umbrella over both of you, and you started walking.

“So where do you live?” He tried to sound casual but his heart! He feels like it's about to jump out of his chest.

“The street after the big hardware store.”

He already knew this information. Of course it’s a small town. Still, he gasped, “Really? That’s great!”

You blinked up at him, confused.

Crap. He overdid it. It sounded so fake.

“Well, I mean… I live on the next street after yours, so that means… uh, we get to share my umbrella until we both get home. So we don't get wet.” He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck.

You just hummed and nodded.

“So, what do you think of here?” he asked, curious of what you really feel in this town.

“I don’t know… I’m still getting situated,” you say with a small sigh, and Jungkook feels the weight of it.

He doesn’t know much about you yet, aside from the stories or rumors that he heard.

All he really knows is that you’re new here, that you don’t know anyone, and that there’s sadness when you speak that he doesn't like. Not one bit.

So he makes a quiet promise to himself, right then and there: he’s going to make sure you like it here. That you don’t feel so alone.

“So, you came here with your mom?” he asks, keeping his voice light.

You paused, barely looking at him. “Yeah.”

Your answer is hesitant, a little distant. He gets it. Maybe you’re not ready to talk about your life? And that’s okay.

He shifts the topic immediately. “You can join us during lunch breaks, you know? Jimin and I, and our friends, we’re super nice. If you, uh, if you like… you can sit with us. If you like.”

His voice stumbles, just a little, and he wants to kick himself. Why is he nervous? Why is he like this? God, what if you think he’s an idiot? What if—

You smile.

You smile at him.

God.

And suddenly, the rain feels like summer, and Jungkook forgets every single thought he was just having because…

God. You are so beautiful.

It’s small, just a tiny lift of your lips, but—

You look up at him and he can see your eyes catching the faint silver light of the gloomy sky, and the way the light catches on your lashes—

Prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.

A little sad, a little guarded, but soft.

“Okay,” you say simply, turning your gaze back to the sidewalk as you keep walking.

Jungkook blinks. That’s a yes. You’re going to sit with him.

His heart physically hurts.

He presses his lips together, fighting back the smile threatening to take over his entire face.

A few minutes later, you stop in front of a white house with a blue gate. “Well, this is me.”

Now he hates that his school is so close to his house. He doesn’t want this walk to end.

He tugs at the strap of his backpack, rocking on his heels before saying, “I’ll walk you to the door, so you don’t get wet.”

You shake your head, and what happens next, he wasn’t prepared.

You laugh, no—more like, a giggle, soft and breathy and so melodic, like you’re genuinely amused. “No, it’s okay, silly! It’s just a short walk.”

Oh.

He stands there like an idiot, staring, watching as you jog lightly up to your front door, hoodie sleeves flopping over your hands, your hair bouncing with each step.

Then, you turn back. And then you lift your hand in a small, timid wave before disappearing inside.

You wave.

Him. You wave at him.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t even blink.

He exhales, like he just remembered to breathe, head tilting back as he stares at the sky, still standing there in front of your house like some fool.

Fuck.

Jungkook swore he was the luckiest guy on earth tonight.

You said yes. You actually said yes when he asked if you wanted to come watch his band perform at the school’s music festival.

It still felt surreal.

His band, originally a garage band started by his older brother, Jin, and his friends, Yoongi and Namjoon, had been gaining attention since performing at the town’s sports festival. Now that Jungkook and Jimin had joined, they were getting gigs at bigger festivals… and tonight, they were playing for the school.

And you were coming to see them.

He was waiting by the main gate, feeling a little nervous. You were ten minutes late. Their performance was up next.

Then—

“Jungkook!”

His heart nearly leaped out of his chest.

He turned, and there you were—in denim shorts, high-top red Chucks, an oversized maroon hoodie. Hair slightly tousled, a little out of breath, like you’d rushed to get here.

So beautiful.

“Hey! You made it!” He couldn’t hide his excitement.

You nodded, still catching your breath.

“We’re on next,” he grinned. “Shall we?” He reached for your hand without thinking. And—oh.

You took it.

Another first.

Jungkook could barely contain his smile as he led you backstage.

“Do you mind if I introduce you to the guys first?” He sounded a little sheepish now.

You raised a brow.

“Well…” He scratched the back of his neck. “They didn’t believe you’d come. I just… I wanted to prove them wrong.” He laughed lightly, nose scrunching.

Your lips twitched. “Oh, so you wanted me here just to settle a bet?”

Jungkook panicked. “No! No, not at all! I mean…of course I wanted you here! I just also… kinda…want to show you around? To my friends, I mean.. If that’s ok…”

You hummed, tilting your head playfully.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “That came out wrong—”

Your giggle interrupted him, and God, he almost melted.

“I’m kidding, Jungkook,” you rolled your eyes. And then you grinned. “Sure, I’d like to meet them.”

He lit up like a firework.

He navigated the messy backstage hallway, weaving through cables and equipment, and led you to a door with a sign that read Tiger Lilly—their band’s name.

“They gave us our own room,” he grins proudly before pushing the door open.

Inside, the guys were buzzing with last-minute prep.

"Jungkook! Finally, we’ve been looking for you!" A tall guy with a buzz cut turned toward him.

Jungkook barely heard him. He turned to you, practically bouncing on his feet. "YN's here!"

The tall guy’s eyes flickered to you, and he broke into a dimpled smile.

Jungkook nudged you forward. "This is Namjoon-hyung. He’s on drums."

"Hi," you said softly. "Nice to meet you." You reached out a hand, and Namjoon shook it warmly.

Jungkook beamed, then turned toward Jimin. You had started hanging out with him since joining Jungkook’s friends during lunch breaks.

"And you already know Jimin, our main guitarist."

Jimin, busy fixing his newly dyed blonde hair, turned when he heard his name. When he saw you, his eyes widened for a second before he grinned.

"YN? Hey! You actually came!"

Jungkook grinned smugly. "Told you."

Before Jimin could say anything else, Jungkook was already dragging you toward two other guys.

"Hyung!" he called out, and two men looked up.

One of them—pale, platinum blond—nodded in greeting.

"This is Yoongi-hyung, our bassist. Best of the best. Hyung, this is YN!"

Yoongi looked intimidating at first, but when smiled— a gummy smile, his entire face softened. "Jungkook talks about you a lot."

You blinked, a little surprised. "Oh. Uh… thanks?" You glanced at Jungkook.

Jungkook didn’t even have time to panic over that before another voice chimed in.

"Finally, our golden vocalist returns."

Jin, who you knew was Jungkook's older brother since he talked about him nonstop, looked like a model with his purple hair as he tinkered with a keyboard. He glanced at Jungkook expectantly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes. "I was waiting for YN. She’s still getting used to the school."

Jin smirked. "Ah, so you’re YN. Jungkook talks about you nonstop. You should see him in rehear—"

"Hyung, stop! Ugh." Jungkook groaned, touching his ears, which were now turning red.

Jin just laughed and reached for your hand. "Hey, I’m Jin."

You shook his hand and gave him a soft "Hi, nice to meet you."

And you smiled again. You found Jin’s laugh funny. But you smiled again.

You’d been smiling a lot these past few days.

Jungkook swore his heart had never been this full.

"This was Tiger Lilly! Thank you for coming!"

Jungkook’s voice filled the venue—slightly breathless—and the crowd erupted.

It was unbelievable. The cheers, the signs with their band’s name, the how people chanted for them. For him.

You knew they were good, but seeing them live, how they commanded the stage, made you realize just how talented they were. How talented he was.

Jungkook was a natural.

And the pride swelling in your chest caught you completely off guard.

As soon as they ended their performance, Jungkook practically flung his guitar aside, jumping down from the stage. Still glistening with sweat, he ran toward you, as he aggressively dabbed at his damp skin.

He was glowing. Smiling so wide. His hair is a mess from all the movement, sticking to his forehead.

He looked…

Happy.

And it made your stomach flip because he was running to you.

“Hey! We were good, right?” His words came out in an excited rush, chest still rising and falling from the performance.

You nodded, unable to hide your own excitement. “Yeah! You did great! I’m so proud of you!”

The words slipped out before you could overthink them.

Jungkook froze, then… his entire face lit up.

“Really?” His voice was almost disbelieving. His teeth dug into his bottom lip, failing successfully to suppress his grin.

Your heart skipped.

“Of course,” you said, eyes soft. “You were amazing up there.”

Jimin’s voice cut through the moment.

“Kook! YN! Afterparty! Let’s go!”

You turned to see him waving from backstage.

Jungkook perked up immediately. “Oh! Yeah... So we have an afterparty a few blocks from here.” He turned back to you, excited. “It’s just us and some of the other bands that played. It’s by the beach house. Come with me, please?”

Then, he leaned in a little, “There’s gonna be s’mores.”

That sheepish little grin, his toothy grin… He knew exactly how to persuade you.

You laughed, warmth spreading through your chest. “Okay! Yeah!”

But just as quickly as you agreed, reality hit.

Your curfew.

Your mom usually went to bed early, but she checked your room sometimes. If she woke up and you weren’t there—

Jungkook’s face fell immediately.

“What’s wrong?”

You barely had time to be surprised. How did he pick up on that so fast?

“Oh. I just have a curfew,” you admitted, chewing your lip. “Eleven. I mean, my mom’s probably asleep, but she checks my room sometimes."

Jungkook didn’t even hesitate.

“Oh, no worries! I’ll drive you home before eleven. I won’t drink. I mean—” He suddenly scratched his neck, sheepish. “I don’t drink anyway. I’m still a minor—heh.”

His little awkward chuckle. The way he ducked his head.

Why was he so adorable?

Jungkook reached for your hand. Like it was natural. Like he didn’t even have to think twice.

Your fingers curled slightly, your palm warm against his.

And just like that, he led you down the hallway, grinning, buzzing with energy.

Cutest boy you’d ever met.

Jungkook tries to focus on his breathing. Really trying. But it’s impossible when you’re sitting this close.

The beach party roars behind him. The laughter, the music… He has no idea where his hyungs went. Who knows? Who cares?

Because right now, none of it matters.

Not when you're beside him, close enough that he can smell your shampoo—something floral, soft, sweet. Close enough that your leg keeps brushing against his, and holy shit, your skin is so smooth.

You’re both sitting in the back of an old, abandoned pickup truck, slightly away from the chaos. It’s the best spot on the beach whenever people hang out. It’s dim here, only the silver glow of the moon tracing the curves of your face. You look… ethereal. Yeah. That’s the word.

You’ve been talking. About school, about town life. But he hasn’t asked about your mom. He wants to—God, he wants to know everything about you. But he remembers how your shoulders tensed the last time someone mentioned her. He doesn’t want to ruin this, whatever this is. He just wants to keep listening to your voice.

“I like your friends. The ones at school, especially Jimin. And your bandmates. They’re all nice.”

Jungkook swallows.

You like them? That’s good. Great, actually. He wants you to feel welcome here.

He turns his head to look at you, and wow… the way the moonlight makes your eyes gleam, how the ocean breeze plays with your hair…

So beautiful.

“I like that you feel that way here,” he said, quieter this time. “I know it’s a lot… moving and all.”

He hesitates, suddenly nervous.

“I just… I want you to like it here.”

You don’t talk much about your life before coming to this town. You don’t talk about your mom.

Not about the way she started drinking again, how she clings to it after the divorce. Not about how you watch her shift… how, on the good days, she is warmth and laughter and the mother you remember. But when the skies inside your home turn gloomy, when the sadness seeps into the walls, she becomes someone else. Bitter and mean and vile.

And you hate it. Not her, but the way the light inside her dims. She’s hurting. She’s trying to cope. And you feel helpless, and useless, not knowing what to do.

So you don’t talk about it. Because if you say it out loud, people might misunderstand. They might see her only for her worst moments, not the woman who is simply hurting ang trying her best.

You turn to Jungkook.

Only to find him already looking, trying to figure you out by looking at you.

“I hope someday you can just talk to me about what you’re really thinking. When you're ready, I’m here, for whatever you need. I hope someday you'll feel at home here, too."

You smile at him and warmth settles in your chest against the cold sea breeze.

Sweetest boy you’ve ever met.

So good. So pure. And everything harsh and hard around you, every jagged edge, is being softened in his presence. Eroded.

He tells you he hopes you feel at home here. You don’t tell him that you already do. Not in the town, but here, beside him.

“You have the prettiest eyes,” he murmurs, almost absentmindedly.

Under the moonlight, you let yourself truly take him in. The arrogant slope of his nose, the curve of his lips and the mole just below, the faint scar on his cheek, his dark lashes, his round eyes… you take it all in.

And then, slowly, hesitantly, he leans in.

The scent of him hits first—musk and vanilla, and Jungkook.

Then—his lips.

The first touch is barely there, a whisper, a question. His lips graze yours, unsure. You mimic the way he moves, hesitant, careful.

And then everything else fades.

The distant sound of the waves, the laughter from the party, the weight of what you carry—none of it exists.

There is only him.

He exhales softly against your lips, like relief, like finally. Like he has been running toward this moment for so long and has just now arrived.

He breaks the kiss, his hands cupping your face, thumbs gently brushing your cheeks as he studies you.

You smile at him, as if to say, I liked that very much.

He must understand, because he smiles too.

His fingers graze your jawline, his fingertips slightly rough from playing the guitar.

And then, he kisses you again, firmer this time. His lips gently molding into yours, letting your lips part just enough before he tilts his head to savor you more.

To be kissed like this.

Your first kiss.

Only for your phone to vibrate in your back pocket, breaking the trance.

You and Jungkook freeze, breathless, blinking at each other like you’ve just resurfaced from deep water. Then, almost at the same time, you both let out soft, breathless laughs as you scramble for your phone.

Your alarm, 30 minutes until curfew.

Jungkook catches a glimpse of your screen before pushing himself up and effortlessly hopping out of the back of the pickup.

His movements are easy, fluid, and then he turns to you, hand outstretched.

You shift forward, about to take it, but instead, his hands find your waist.

Before you can even process what’s happening, he lifts you off the truck bed like you weigh nothing. His grip is firm but gentle, and your body is pressed against his, and you feel his solid body against yours. Warm enough to seep through your thick hoodie.

When your feet touch the ground, heat creeps up your neck. But before you can dwell on it, his fingers find yours, and you follow him as he leads you to the front of the beach house, where a car is parked.

He catches your questioning look and grins.

“I borrowed Jin’s car,” he smiles, opening the passenger door. He tilts his head toward the seat. “Let's get you home.”

He closes the door behind you once you're in, then jogs to the driver’s side, sliding in effortlessly and buckling his seatbelt.

The moment you start driving into the night, drops of rain hit the windshield.

The drive is quick, and as you pass the big hardware store, you turn to him.

“Hey,” you said, “can you drop me off at the corner?”

Jungkook glances at you, confused. “Why? You’d have to walk past, like, five houses to get home.”

“Yeah, well…” You hesitate, unsure how to say it, “I just don’t want mom seeing me get out of a car. She’s probably asleep, but she’s a light sleeper sometimes, and… I just don’t want to deal with any talks about me going out, you know?.”

Jungkook says nothing as he slows down and stops the car at the corner.

“It’s raining.”

“It’s ok,” you say, reaching for the door handle. “I’ll dry off when I get home.”

But before you can step out, he unbuckles his seatbelt and hops out into the rain.

“What are you—”

And then he’s at the trunk, grabbing something.

His huge, red umbrella.

He pops it open, opens your door, and holds out a hand.

"Come on," he casually says. Without a word, you take his hand, and let him help you out of the car. Rain patters softly against the umbrella as you walk side by side down the wet pavement.

Then, his arm wraps around your waist, his body warm against the cool breeze.

Neither of you says anything. You just walk together, listening to the patter of rain and the rhythm of your unhurried steps.

How you feel safe and content just by being close to him—you don’t know. It is new, but it is not confusing.

When you reach your gate, he exhales and turns to you with a small, lopsided smile. But he doesn’t let go of your waist.

“Thanks for driving me home,” you whisper. “Drive safe. Good night.”

“Good night,” he murmurs back.

You push at the gate gently, careful not to make noise, only to realize it won’t budge. Your stomach drops.

You glance at Jungkook, panic flickering across your face.

“Mom never locks the gate,” you whisper. “I didn’t bring my key to this thing."

He steps forward, inspecting the lock, then glances up at the height of the gate. Without a word, he shifts the umbrella into your hands.

Then—he climbs.

Effortlessly.

You watch him jump in with your mouth slightly open.

And then, within seconds, he’s unlocking it from the inside, pushing it open for you.

The two of you walk silently toward the front door. Once you reach it, you stand there and face him.

You look up at him, eyes searching, heart in your throat.

And then, without thinking—

You tiptoe.

And you kiss him.

At first, it was a soft press of your lips to his, to say thank you.

'Thank you' for making you feel less alone.

He freezes, breath hitching, caught off guard. But the second you part your lips over his—god—

he exhales a shaky breath and kisses you back, as if to say you're welcome.

You are welcome in his mouth. In everything that he has, you are welcome. Come in. Feel at home—it's yours to invade, to take, to make yours.

His hands fly to your waist, gripping, pulling you closer, closer, until there’s no space between you. His mouth parts, catching your lower lip between his, sucking gently, teasing.

A quiet, shaky noise escapes you.

And that sound, it does something to him.

With barely controlled urgency, his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your messy hair as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. His other arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer, closer… until you feel him gently grind into you. Only once. Gently. But you feel it, pressed against his warm, solid body. You feel it.

When his tongue brushes against your lips, silently for permission, you let him in.

Your hands clutch at his hoodie to pull him closer, and he whimpers into your mouth—a soft, wrecked sound. You pull back to catch your breath, and he presses his forehead against yours for a second... but then, as if he can’t wait any longer, as if a second is an eternity, he finds your lips again, capturing them in another deep, long kiss.

He smiles into the kiss, and finally pulls away, lips red, swollen, slick.

His voice is hushed and breathy. “Good night, YN.”

You barely find the breath to respond. “Good night, Jungkook.”

You step back, slipping inside. The door closes between you, but your body still feels like it’s pressed against his.

You quietly climb the stairs, smiling, head spinning, lips swollen, stomach flipping. The house is dark and silent, the only light guiding you is the moonlight from the window at the end of the hallway.

You slip into your room quickly, and just as you reach your window, you see him—standing by your gate, looking back, scanning your house.

When he sees you watching from your window, a wide, boyish grin spreads across his face. He gives you a small wave before jogging back to his car and disappearing into the night.

And you stand there, staring after him, knowing one thing for certain…

Jungkook has your heart.

Your first love.

masterlist / thoughts?questions?

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somefanchick · 2 days ago

Text

-(Yuu)’s Pride and Prejudice-

(This is a part 2 of Leona's Pride and Prejudice, the writing below is from (Yuu)'s perspective. This takes place anytime the events of book three, and it does include mention of the Cloudcalling on the Savanna event. I only know information from the English server story and events so sorry if anything is terribly out of character. This fic can be read platonically or romantically. The insert character is (Yuu) in the story [she/her] [feminine terms]. Hope you enjoy!)

(Triger Warning: cussing, mentions of a drunk individual, and some sexual harassment themes.)

I had a hard time understanding Savanaclaw housewarden. He would watch me whenever I entered the room like I offended him by existing. It was like he was studying me. And then I just had to humiliate myself in town when that drunkard descended on me. Something about the way the drunk man had looked at me, how he cornered me, it sent me spiraling back to a mindspace I had never wanted to return to. Like I was nothing more than a piece of meat for the taking.

Weeks had passed, but it was all I could think about whenever I saw him. I found myself avoiding him. Ace and Deuce seemed to notice something was on my mind, but they hadn’t dared to ask. Grim even seemed to notice that I was a bit off, though all he did about it was give me a little more space.

So here I was, sitting in the woods behind the school while reading the book I had been nursing since my last visit to Père’s bookstore in town. It was a book on the history of the Sunset Savanna. Ironic right?

I got to a chapter on the creation of the Bead Brawl when someone’s voice interrupted me.

“Oi herbivore,” Leona stood over me, “You’ve been avoiding me. What gives? Is it because of that day in town?”

I sighed and closed the book after placing the bookmark in the pages, “I thought we agreed not to talk about it.”

The lion beastman let out a little huff before taking a seat beside me, “Yeah, before you started avoiding me. Now I’m talking about it.”

“Hell,” I leaned back on the tree and opened my book to begin reading again to avoid the topic.

Leona only responded by laying back and putting his head in my lap. Leona always seemed to do whatever he wanted. Most people would see my resting bitch face and never dare to lay on me or act too oddly chummy. I just ignored it.

“Well,” He spoke with his eyes closed, “What is it?”

I didn’t look away from my book, though I couldn't focus on the words on the pages, “Since when did you become so nosey?”

“You are so strange,” He turned his head towards me, “You don’t give me the silent treatment for overbloting. You don’t give me the silent treatment for not wanting to let you stay in the dorm with me. You don’t give me the silent treatment for any of the bullshit that most people would. But you give me the cold shoulder for being decent for once?”

I rolled my eyes, “That’s not what it is.”

“Then what is it?” He opened his eyes, almost glaring in my direction.

I grit my teeth, “Can you back off? I told you it isn’t you. That means it’s none of your business Leona.”

“Well I’m the one you are ignoring,” Leona sat up to get closer to my face, “So it’s my business.”

I sat down my book, “Can’t you tell that I’m uncomfortable?”

“Since when has that stopped either of us from asking the hard questions?” He only smirked.

“Merlin, you're insufferable,�� I laid my head back onto the bark of the tree in full.

Leona readjusted to put his full body on my legs, his face to the sky as his head rested on my lower thigh. I hated how okay I was with the touch.

“Stop whining and just tell me what the fuck is wrong,” he closed his eyes again, “It has to be because of that drunk asshole, but that shouldn’t make you ignore me.”

“It’s not you and it’s not the drunk guy,” I closed my eyes.

“Then what is it?”

I opened my eyes to see him looking at me. I sighed, “It’s me. I’m just being dumb. I’m just being all pissy that you had to come save me. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Only if it’s the truth,” He turned his head.

It was and he knew it. Well it was part of the truth.

“You shut down back there,” It looked like he bit the inside of his cheek for a moment, “Why didn’t you just rip his head off and then move on? I know you can do it. Sevens know you can handle yourself without help.”

I rolled his eyes, “What, you mad you had to step in?”

“No I’m not fucking mad about that,” He took a deep breath to try and calm himself, “I’m confused. Sevens you’re confusing,” he sat up, turning to face me, “You fight people when they insult your freshmen but you just shut down when you’re insulted. Hell, when you are in danger?”

My eyes were wide. At this point, Leona was basically stradling my legs as he almost yelled in my face. I didn’t want to be intimidated by Leona of all people, but I couldn’t help it. My mind began screaming to get out of there. To not make a scene. To push him off. To let him do what he wanted to get it over with. I don’t know. It was the same screaming that filled my mind every time someone got too close and stress built. The same feeling I didn’t want Leona to realize I had felt with the guy in town.

He froze and his voice quieted, “Your eyes are doing the thing again.”

I composed myself, Leona wasn’t going to hurt me. I knew that much, “‘thing’?”

“Like you’re scared or numb, some weird in between,” He backed up a little, “Am I scaring you?”

“Oh please,” I nearly growled at him, “Like I’d be-”

“Don’t lie to me,” He laid back down on my legs, “I told you I only want the truth.”

“Merlin you’re insufferable,” I wanted to leave, but I knew Leona wasn’t going to let me.

His cheek laid against my knee, “And you’re as stubborn as me.”

I turned my face away from the boy, “You just got too loud. Too close.”

He looked up at me, “And you shut down. Just like in town.”

“Can you get off me?” I grit my teeth, “And leave me alone.”

He sighed, but made no effort to move, “Don’t feel like it. It’s a nice napping spot.”

“You’re a dick,” I picked my book up again and kept reading. Leona was asleep on my legs within minutes.

I had no idea how he could be comfortable enough to sleep. My feet had to be in his back. We had just had an odd and tense conversation that will probably keep me awake tonight. But there he was. He laid across my legs as if they were a mattress, letting out the smallest sounds to indicate that he was asleep every ten minutes or so. I tried to ignore him by reading, but it didn’t help that the book was about Leona’s homeland that he himself had shown to me.

I didn’t want him to think I wasn’t grateful. Being grateful for him getting me away from the man went against everything I had ever been taught to do. I had been told to not make a scene. Just to let it happen so it would be over quickly. I had never been in a place where it would go too far. I was trained to wait out the advances. I was trained to not ask for help. I had to be perfect. I couldn’t be weak.

That’s why I was ignoring Leona. Because he had realized I was weak. If he hadn’t before then he had to have by now. ‘Am I scaring you?’ Sevens, I wanted to die. He had to have lost all respect for me. ‘Why didn’t you just rip his head off and then move on?’ Part of me hoped I’d never see him again. I didn’t want to deal with him looking at me like I’m some weakling to pity or baby. I couldn’t take it.

I shut the door to my room. It was times like this that Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts knew better than to bother me. If I wasn't past it by the time Grim wanted to go to bed, he would usually suck it up and sleep in the guest room I made up for Ace and Deuce. Then complain about it to me alone in the morning.

But whatever greater force that put me here was doing it to spite me. And apparently I needed a reminder of that.

“Herbivore,” I could hear Leona at my bedroom door, “Let me in.”

I groaned from my place on the bed, “What could I have possibly done to deserve this?”

I guess he could tell I wasn’t going to answer the door because he opened it and came inside. Without speaking he laid down next to me on the bed, leaving a space in between our bodies.

“What do you want from me, Leona?” I didn’t unbury my face from my pillow.

“Maybe I just want a good place to nap where Ruggie won’t bother me out of fear of pissing you off,” He closed his eyes and laid his hands behind his head.

“Oh please,” I pulled myself up, “As if he’s scared of me after all of that.”

“‘All of that’?” He opened the eye closest to me, “What are you even talking about? Something happen?”

I was going to kill him. The situation from town wasn’t even what threw me into this mood, but it sure as hell was going to keep me in it. Now he was trying to pretend he didn’t remember it?

“Oh don’t play stupid. I know you’re not,” I turned to lay on my back, “You had to have told him about the incident by now. Hell, the only reason the entire school doesn’t know is because you don’t have the patience to talk to that many people.”

I could feel him stiffen, “You think I would tell him about that?”

“Obviously,” I could feel the embarrassment burning me from the inside, “I mean who wouldn’t? The big bad bitch on campus shows you how much of a weak little baby they really are. Anyone would spread the news. Ding dong the bitch is dead and all that.”

Silence. A long, aching silence filled my bedroom.

Finally Leona sighed, “You’re not weak. Not for that. And you’re not a total bitch.”

I turned my head away from him, “Please.”

“I’m serious (Yuu).”

I had never heard him use that tone. It made me turn over to face him.

He was now laying on his side to face me, “I know you’re strong. I’m not stupid. You said that yourself. It’s not that I think you’re weak. I just think it’s stupid that you put so much of yourself into defending others and put nothing into protecting yourself.”

“What are you even talking about Leona?” I glared, but there was no real aggression to it.

“I saw you defend those freshmen of yours from those sophomores at the statues,” He kept going, “I saw you defend me from those Savanaclaw freshmen in the courtyard. I kept waiting for you to tear into that guy like you did those assholes, but you didn’t. Why in the world would you take more effort to defend me of all people than to save yourself?”

I was shaken to say the least, I had never expected him to see me doing all that, “So what? You did that so you didn’t feel indebted to me?”

“No,” Next I knew, Leona had pulled me into his chest, “I’m saying that you shouldn't care so much about me and should care more about yourself. Now shut up and let me sleep.”

He had all but forced me to snuggle into this chest. Within minutes, Leona was once again sleeping. He almost had a smile on his face as he slept. An hour passed, maybe more. But eventually I fell asleep.

…

I had a hard time understanding Savanaclaw housewarden.

Happy Valentines Day! Sorry this is kinda bad. I need to do more Leona romance research lol. 💝

@idkbratemoj

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twst mc #twst x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland drabble #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x yuu #leona x reader #yuu #leona twst

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hello-vampire-kitty · 3 days ago

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Servamp chapter 144 translation "Alicein Mikuni-JUDGEMENT

READ THE CHAPTER ON MANGADEX!

Translation notes:

Page 11

He's most likely referring to his ability “Coppelius Coppelia" from chapter 122 .

Page 16

Perhaps some of you recognize who is talking in the last panel. I assume it must be Mikuni, but I'm not certain...If it might sound familiar to you, please let me know!

Page 22

"I knew that would happen". "To know" was the furigana reading while the other reading was 'to predict/to estimate"

Page 25

Oh boy, I had some trouble understanding what Mikuni was trying to say because of a word that he uses that needs explaining.

If I'm right, he was commenting on what Kuro told him about Germain in regard to turning back time. Mikuni is apparently saying that Germaine failed to rewind time, most likely because he was affected by Kuro's death and perhaps and this is just my speculation, he had to more complicated magic stuff. Perhaps if he didn't revive Kuro as soon as possible, he was going to loose him forever.

Mikuni said the word 渦中 which can be translated as (in the middle of a) scandal; controversy; quarrel; turmoil. It also has the meanings of "maelstrom, vortex."

So yeah, the word is often used metaphorically to describe being caught in the middle of a difficult or chaotic situation.

Last page

Mikuni calls it the 'first round' and here's a fun fact. While looking to see how it could be translated, I found the term used in the context of video games, so it's basically "'first playthrough" and when the kanji for number 2 is used 二周目 it means 'new game plus'.

If Mikuni was known to be a gamer like Kuro, I could have used those terms xD

Lastly, the line at the bottom of the page, "Mikuni's 'world' begins..."

The word to start/to begin is commonly written as 始める (hajimeru) but here it is written as 創める which is used more in literary works and it has the nuance of 'creating, founding, establishing'.

Tanaka-sensei once again chose a word that reflects a theme.

The Book of Genesis in Japanese is written 創世記 and as you can see, the first kanji is the one I explained earlier.

So yeah, hope you liked these notes and let me know your thoughts about the chapter!

#servamp #chapter 144

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pdriesta · 16 hours ago

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CHAPTER EIGHT

“baby, i'm talkin' crazy, i need you right in my space"

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

warnings — sexual tension, toxic relationships, mature themes (minors dni)

word count — 12k

summary — y/n, a rising r&b star, is stuck in toxic situationships, with tabloids constantly overshadowing her music. to fix her image, her team pushes her into a fake relationship with liverpool’s trent alexander-arnold. both reluctant, they soon realize keeping things strictly business isn't so simple. will pretending to be in love stay a game, or turn into something real?

an — the longest chapter yet!

masterlist

the sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting a golden glow across the garden as the rehearsal kicked off. the coordinator’s voice echoed over the light hum of conversation, directing bridesmaids and groomsmen into their pairs. y/n was busy adjusting her dress when a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

“looks like we’re stuck with each other.”

she glanced up to find rome, a cousin of cash’s, standing there, a lazy grin on his face. tall, dark, and effortlessly handsome, he looked like he’d walked straight out of a magazine—clean-cut with broad shoulders and a voice smooth enough to convince anyone to break the rules.

“i’m not so sure you can keep up,” y/n shot back, crossing her arms with a playful smile.

rome chuckled, his dimple flashing. “oh, i can keep up. the real question is whether you can handle me.”

“you’re awfully confident for someone who just met me.”

“i like to live on the edge.” he held out his arm, wiggling his eyebrows. “shall we?”

“we shall,” she said, slipping her arm through his.

they made their way down the makeshift aisle, taking exaggerated, overly dramatic steps just to get a laugh. by the time they reached the end, rome was twirling her in slow motion, earning cheers from the bridal party.

“wow,” y/n said, catching her breath. “that was… something.”

“something great, you mean.” rome tapped his temple. “i’ve got a natural flair for this kind of thing.”

“right,” y/n teased, “because every wedding needs someone to steal the spotlight.”

“exactly,” rome said with a wink. “you and me? we’re the stars of this show.”

the next part of the rehearsal was the reception entrance practice, which gave them even more license to goof around. rome took full advantage, pulling y/n into a ridiculous cha-cha step, then lifting her for a spin like they were in some low-budget rom-com.

“okay, okay, put me down!” she laughed, clutching his shoulders.

“admit it,” he said, finally setting her back on the ground. “we’d be unstoppable on a dance floor.”

“fine,” she said, catching her breath. “you’re not terrible.”

rome placed a hand over his heart, pretending to be wounded. “not terrible? wow, way to humble a man.”

for a moment, she forgot about everything outside of this bubble—the rehearsal, the silly banter, the easy connection with rome. it felt like a rare moment of freedom, something light and uncomplicated.

but as soon as the laughter faded, the thought crept back in. trent.

it was always there, lurking at the edges of her happiness like an unwelcome guest. no matter how much fun she was having, something about rome’s charm couldn’t quite stick. it was like her heart refused to make room for anyone else.

after the rehearsal ended, y/n found herself sitting on a bench with zaia, their heels kicked off and the hum of conversation fading into the background.

“soooo,” zaia said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “rome’s cute.”

“he’s alright,” y/n said, playing it cool.

“girl, alright? he’s fine, and he was all over you. if you don’t lock that down, i just might.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. “he’s fun, but…”

“but what?”

“i don’t know.” she paused, picking at the hem of her dress. “it’s like there’s something holding me back. i keep thinking maybe it’s not about finding the right person—it’s about letting myself feel something for someone who isn’t…”

zaia leaned in, eyebrows raised. “trent?”

y/n pressed her lips together, refusing to confirm or deny it. “we’re not even… anything.”

“yeah, but you’re not nothing, either,” zaia pointed out. “and until you figure out what that means, you’re just gonna keep scaring off every rome that comes your way.”

“ugh, you’re the worst,” y/n muttered, burying her face in her hands.

“i’m the best, and you know it.” zaia grinned, patting her shoulder. “besides, rome’s not going anywhere. he’ll be at the wedding, ready to dance for your heart, if you change your mind”

trent stood at the edge of the training pitch, hands on his hips, trying to focus on the drill in front of him. but his mind wandered—again. his touches were off, passes slightly delayed, the rhythm of the session broken because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

y/n.

it had been over a week since they properly spoke, her texts short and sporadic. busy with the wedding stuff, she said. it wasn’t like her to be so distant, but the wedding preparations were demanding, and he tried not to take it personally. still, the quiet in their usual conversations made him restless, left him craving the way her laugh made everything feel lighter. the way she always knew what to say, even when he didn’t.

now, he missed her in a way that ached more than it should’ve. it wasn’t just the silence that bothered him—it was the feeling of being left on the sidelines, watching her life carry on without him while he waited for her to invite him back in.

“trent, bro, what was that?” dom called from across the pitch, jogging over with a grin that was too knowing for trent’s liking. “you trying to pass to the other team now?”

trent blinked, realizing he’d just misfired an easy pass straight into one of the cones. “shut up, man,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“nah, nah, you don’t get off that easy,” dom teased, nudging him. “what’s going on with you? you’ve been off all morning. you sick? hungover?”

“i’m fine,” trent said, a little too quickly.

dom squinted at him, smirking. “ohhh, i see what this is. it’s girl trouble, isn’t it?”

“it’s not girl trouble.”

“so it is a girl,” dom said, crossing his arms. “let me guess… y/n?”

trent’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t bother denying it. dom was one of the few who knew how close they were.

“mate,” dom said, lowering his voice, “just call her.”

“she’s busy,” trent replied, kicking at the ground. “i don’t wanna be that guy, bothering her while she’s got all this wedding stuff going on.”

“but you’re gonna keep sulking like a lovesick teenager instead?” dom raised an eyebrow. “sounds like a solid plan, bro.”

trent sighed, running a hand through his hair. what was the point in calling if she didn’t want to talk?

he’d thought about it—about picking up the phone and telling her how much he missed her, how weird it felt not to hear from her. but every time, the words got stuck in his throat. because what if it was just him? what if she didn’t miss him the same way?

“just… give her time,” dom said, clapping him on the back. “she’ll come around. she always does, right?”

trent nodded, but the doubt lingered. he could wait, sure—but waiting didn’t make the silence any easier.

and as the session wrapped up, his mind wandered back to her again.

the way her eyes lit up when she was excited.

the sound of her laugh when she thought something was really funny.

the way her presence alone made everything feel warmer, better, more right.

he just wanted that back.

trent tapped his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulled out of the training grounds, freshly showered, the sharp scent of his body wash still lingering in the air. his windows were down just enough to let the breeze slip in, the hum of the city filling the quiet. but none of it drowned out the thoughts spinning in his head.

he had made it through training, barely. dom’s teasing and knowing smirks were still fresh in his mind—he hadn’t even denied it. couldn’t. because, yeah, he was distracted. had been for days now.

and all because of her.

she’d been distant lately, caught up with the wedding preparations. he told himself that was all it was. it’s not like she’s avoiding you, mate. she was busy, and he respected that. but still, the way his phone stayed silent stung more than he liked to admit.

he had missed her before, sure, but this felt different. heavier. like something unspoken was sitting between them, growing wider every day.

trent exhaled sharply as he turned onto the street leading to his house, his phone lighting up on the passenger seat. no new messages. no missed calls. it was enough to make his chest tighten again.

before he could talk himself out of it, he reached for his phone at the next red light, his thumb hovering over her name.

just call her. it’s not that deep.

but it was.

his hand lingered, his pulse racing with something he couldn’t quite name. the urge to call her pressed down on him, hard. the thought of hearing her voice, even for a few seconds, tugged at him like gravity.

he tapped her name, the line connecting as he drove, his grip tightening on the wheel with every ring.

once. twice. his heart inched up his throat.

three. four. he felt it in his chest—how much he wanted her to answer. how much he needed her to know.

five times. no answer.

then came the familiar click, her voicemail greeting, soft and impersonal.

trent stayed silent for a moment, the phone pressed to his ear, the weight of disappointment settling deep in his chest. he could say something. leave a message, trent. say anything.

but no words came.

he ended the call and dropped his phone on the seat beside him, the ache blooming in his chest almost suffocating. the radio played softly, but he didn’t hear it. his mind was elsewhere, replaying the sound of the dial tone like it meant something.

maybe it did. maybe it was telling him what he was too stubborn to admit—that she was slipping through his fingers. that this distance wasn’t something he could fix with a phone call.

or maybe you’re just too late.

he rolled into his driveway, sitting in the car longer than he should have, staring at his phone. part of him wanted to call again. the other part wasn’t sure he could take hearing that dial tone twice in one night.

so he didn’t.

instead, he leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and trying to convince himself that this was for the best. but deep down, he knew that was a lie.

because no matter how much he tried to let her go, it always came back to her. always.

trent arrived at the wedding venue late in the afternoon, his bag slung over his shoulder. he barely took in the grandeur of the place; his only thought was find her.

his steps were quick, his eyes scanning the grounds until they landed on her. y/n stood near one of the arches, clipboard in hand, dressed in sweatpants and a cropped tank, her braids pulled into a loose bun. she was mid-conversation with the wedding planner, her brows furrowed in concentration as she gestured toward a table arrangement.

the castle looked like it had been pulled from the pages of a storybook, perched on a cliff with the ocean stretching endlessly behind it. the late afternoon sun bathed everything in a warm, golden light, casting a soft glow over the cobblestone paths and ivy-covered walls. y/n stood near the entrance archway, clipboard in hand, dressed casually in sweatpants and a tank top, but somehow still managing to look effortlessly beautiful. she was deep in conversation with the wedding planner, her voice calm but determined as she gave instructions, her brows furrowed in focus.

trent stood off to the side, taking her in for a moment longer than he should have. god, how he missed this—the way she got lost in her work, the way she moved with quiet confidence.

he couldn’t help himself. with quick strides, he closed the distance between them, wrapping an arm around her waist and pressing a kiss to the side of her neck.

she jumped, spinning around in surprise. “oh my goodness, trent!”

he chuckled, his arm staying firmly around her waist. “sorry,” he murmured, his lips brushing close to her ear. “couldn’t help it. i missed you.”

she rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “it’s only been a week.”

“a week too long,” he replied, his voice low and warm. “how are you holding up?”

“honestly? overwhelmed,” she admitted, her shoulders sagging just slightly. “i thought a year would be enough time to get everything done, but there’s still so much to do. i just want everything to be perfect for zaia.”

“it will be,” he reassured her, his hand gently rubbing her back. “you’re already the best friend and maid of honor she could ask for. everything’s going to be amazing.”

before she could respond, a voice called from behind them.

“y/n! there you are.”

trent turned to see a tall, dark-skinned man approaching with an iced matcha latte in his hand. he was dressed casually in tailored joggers and a crisp white tee, his confident stride and easy smile making him impossible to miss.

rome stopped in front of them, holding out the drink. “matcha latte—oat milk, light ice, one pump of vanilla. just how you like it.” he winked. “don’t say i never pay attention.”

y/n grinned, taking the drink from him. “thanks, rome.” she turned to trent, gesturing between them. “trent, this is rome, the best man. rome, this is trent.”

rome extended his hand with a charming grin. “ah, trent. finally, we meet. i’ve heard a lot about you.”

trent shook his hand, his grip firm. “all good things, i hope.”

rome chuckled. “mostly. she’s mentioned how you like to be… protective.” his eyes flicked back to y/n. “but don’t worry, mate. i’ve been looking after her.”

trent’s jaw tightened slightly. “appreciate that.”

but rome wasn’t done. he turned back to y/n, his smile widening. “we’ve been partners in crime through this whole wedding prep. i think we make a solid team, don’t you?”

“the best,” y/n agreed with a laugh.

rome nudged her playfully. “though i will say, you’re struggling to keep up with my moves. maybe we need to rehearse that reception dance one more time so you don’t embarrass us both.”

she gasped in mock offense, nudging him back. “me? embarrass you? please. i’m carrying this whole routine.”

“oh, is that right?” rome teased, leaning in just slightly. “guess we’ll see then.”

trent stood silently, watching the interaction, his eyes narrowing. something in his chest twisted, sharp and unwelcome. he didn’t like the way rome was leaning in, the easy familiarity between them.

he tried to tell himself it was nothing. just playful banter. but then rome’s hand brushed lightly against y/n’s arm, and that was it.

he cleared his throat, his voice calm but leaving no room for debate. “y/n, why don’t you show me where our room is? you could use some rest before things get even busier.”

rome’s eyebrows shot up at the emphasis on our room, but he didn’t comment.

y/n glanced between them, sensing the tension. “yeah… you’re probably right.” she turned to rome, giving him a small smile. “i’ll see you later, okay?”

rome winked. “don’t keep me waiting too long, partner.”

trent didn’t glance back as he guided her toward the castle, his hand resting possessively on the small of her back. his mind was racing, heart pounding harder than it should have been.

she glanced up at him as they walked. “everything okay?”

“yeah,” he said, voice tight. but the truth was, it wasn’t. because for the first time in a while, he wasn’t sure where he stood. and he hated that feeling.

the room was quiet except for the soft rustling of fabric and the low hum of the air conditioning. y/n was standing in front of the mirror, adjusting her dress for the rehearsal dinner. it was the first time she’d had a moment to herself all day, but she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off between her and trent. he had been distant, colder than usual, and it was driving her crazy.

she looked up at him, glancing over her shoulder as he struggled to tie his cufflinks. “how do i look?” she asked, her voice casual, but the words came out a little softer than she’d intended. she hoped he’d offer a compliment, anything to break the tension that had been building since they arrived.

trent didn’t immediately respond. instead, he adjusted his cufflinks with a focused expression, his back to her. he looked at himself in the mirror for a moment, then back down at his wrist, fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt. “you look fine,” he said, his tone distant.

y/n blinked, taken aback by how short his answer was. she’d expected more than that. the coldness in his voice stung, even though she tried not to let it show.

“i asked how i look, trent, not just that i look ‘fine,’” she pressed, crossing her arms in the mirror, studying his reflection as she spoke. “are you gonna just ignore me the entire evening, or do you actually want to have a conversation?”

he shifted slightly, his jaw tightening, but still didn’t turn to face her. his voice came out low, irritated. “i don’t feel like talking right now, y/n.”

that was it. she could feel her patience snapping in that moment. he wasn’t being himself, and she didn’t deserve to be brushed off like this—not by him, especially not tonight. not when everything had been so perfect just a few days ago.

“are you serious right now?” y/n asked, her voice rising slightly. “you’ve been acting like this all day. hot and cold, trent. this isn’t me, and it’s sure as hell not you.”

there was a pause before he spoke again, his words clipped. “i don’t want to talk about it, y/n. especially not with you.”

the words landed hard. y/n felt a pang of hurt, quickly smothered by rising anger. the way he dismissed her like that, especially with the way things had been going between them, made her blood boil. she hadn’t expected an easy answer, but the flatness in his voice was more than she could take.

“you don’t want to talk about it especially with me?” she asked, incredulous. “what the hell does that even mean, trent?”

she could see him stiffen in the mirror, his shoulders tense as if he was holding something back. but he still wouldn’t turn to face her, and that only made her frustration build. “this attitude of yours is ridiculous,” she snapped, “you can’t just shut me out and expect me to sit here while you brood in silence. you know better than that.”

there was a brief silence before he spoke again, but this time, his tone wasn’t harsh, just… empty. “i don’t have the energy to for this right now.”

y/n shook her head, her lips pressed together tightly. she had tried to keep it together, but now she was done.

“if you don’t want to talk, fine,” she said, her voice tight with anger. “but i’m not going to sit here and be treated like this.” she grabbed her bag from the bed and turned toward the door. “when you sort your attitude out, maybe we can talk. until then, don’t even bother.”

she paused at the door for a moment, turning back slightly. “and just so we’re clear—you’re not gonna ruin my best friend’s day. i’ve got a million things to do, and i’m not waiting around for you to figure out your feelings.”

with that, she left the room, the sound of her heels clicking sharply against the floor. she didn’t even hear him call out as she walked away, her frustration too heavy to bear any more of this cold silence.

trent stood frozen for a long moment, the weight of her words sinking in. he had wanted to say something, but the words had stuck in his throat, and now it was too late. he felt stupid, frustrated with himself for pushing her away like that. but he couldn’t find the right words—he wasn’t even sure if he could find the right words.

he turned to face the mirror again, his reflection staring back at him. a part of him hated how much he cared, how much he wanted to fix things between them. but all he had managed to do was make things worse.

and now, he was alone in the silence.

the dinner was everything it was meant to be—warm, joyous, filled with love in every corner of the grand hall. fairy lights cascaded from the vaulted ceiling, the golden glow casting everything in a dreamlike haze. the tables were lined with candles and soft floral arrangements, the dance floor already packed with guests swaying to the live band’s melody. laughter rang through the space, glasses clinked in toasts, and at the heart of it all was zaia and cash, glowing with happiness.

but trent wasn’t watching them.

he was watching her.

even though they were seated together at the head table, it felt like he hadn’t had a second with her all night. y/n had been whisked away for maid of honor duties the moment they arrived, moving through the room like she belonged to everyone, not just to him.

and how could she not?

she was magnetic. not because of her fame, not because of who she was to the world, but because of her heart.

he watched as aunties pulled her into hugs, kissing her cheeks like she was their own daughter. she crouched beside a grandma, gently touching up her lipstick with careful hands, whispering something that made the woman laugh and squeeze her wrist in thanks. she adjusted an auntie’s hair, fixed a crooked necklace, dashed back and forth to help zaia, all while making sure cash didn’t have a meltdown about whether or not everything was going smoothly.

she was in her element.

caring for people. pouring into them. making everything easier, softer.

trent knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of that kind of care, and the thought made something tighten in his chest.

the mc took the stage, and the chatter in the hall quieted to murmurs. with a wide grin, he introduced the couple and their respected family, prompting the guests to turn their attention to the middle of the room.

zaia, radiant in her pristine gown, turned to cash as he pulled her close, whispering something in her ear that made her beam.

trent saw the way y/n watched them from the side of the stage, her hands clasped in front of her, likely running over the words to her speech in her head.

but he also saw the way the soft lighting caught in her eyes, the way something tender and aching rested beneath her expression.

he knew what that feeling was. yearning. longing

when it was finally her turn, the mc barely finished saying her name before the entire room erupted into cheers. trent sat forward as she took the mic, rolling her eyes playfully at the crowd before shaking her head.

“alright, alright,” she laughed, glancing at zaia, who was already dabbing at her eyes. “don’t start crying yet, or i’ll never make it through this.”

the guests chuckled, settling in.

y/n exhaled, steadying herself before speaking.

“i don’t really know where to start,” she admitted, eyes flickering between the bride and groom. “i feel like there aren’t enough words to describe how much these two mean to me.”

she paused, letting the weight of her words settle.

y/n took a moment to gather her thoughts, the warmth of the room settling over her as she looked at cash and zaia, both of them smiling up at her. she cleared her throat and smiled softly, a little more at ease now that she had gotten through the emotional part.

“you see, everyone knows me as the third wheel in this dynamic,” y/n started, her tone playful as she gestured to the two of them. “but what most people don’t know is that we didn’t start off this way. no, we met back in school—zaia and i were already seatmates, sharing laughs over the most random things, but then… a boy decided to turn our duo into a trio. i’m sure i can guess what you all are thinking, and yes, he was that boy—cash.”

there were a few chuckles around the room, and y/n winked as she went on. “and let me tell you, our first impression of him wasn’t exactly great.” she paused for dramatic effect, shaking her head with a grin. “he was the quiet kid, always acting like he knew more than us. but little did we know, that boy would change our lives in ways we never imagined.”

she caught cash’s amused expression as he shook his head, and the room laughed along with her. “but seriously, though,” she continued, her voice growing more sincere as she looked between cash and zaia, “there is no feeling quite like watching your best friends fall in love. and for me, i had the privilege to witness it—not just once, but twice. with both of them.”

there was a shift in her tone, soft and thoughtful. “it’s terrifying, honestly. because you don’t want them to get hurt. but in the same breath, you can’t help but be in awe of how effortlessly they love each other, how deeply they care. and that’s something that teaches you so much about what a relationship should look like. it’s not always perfect, but it’s real. and it’s beautiful.”

y/n smiled warmly at zaia, then turned her attention to cash, her voice full of affection. “cash… you are the older brother i always wanted. you’ve been a protector, a safe place, a provider of tough love—sometimes too tough, but i won’t call you out in front of all these people.”

the room filled with laughter, and cash gave her a knowing smile, shaking his head as if he expected that line to come. “but in all seriousness,” y/n added, her tone softening, “the way you love zaia, the way you take care of her… it’s something i’ve always admired. and it doesn’t just stop with her. it extends to all of us. to me.”

y/n took a deep breath, her chest tightening with emotion as she continued. “i can’t count the number of times you’ve reminded me of my worth when i forgot it myself. you’ve always been in my corner, and i’ll never take that for granted.”

cash’s jaw clenched, emotion flashing in his eyes as he nodded at her, his own way of saying i love you too.

y/n took a deep breath, letting the quiet settle over the room before she spoke again, her eyes locking onto zaia. the words that had been swirling in her heart finally found their way out, each one heavier than the last.

“zaia…” she swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling before smiling. “you are my sister. not by blood, but by something even stronger. there’s no one in this world who knows me like you do. you’ve seen every version of me—every mistake, every heartbreak, every high and low—and you’ve never once made me feel like i had to be anything other than myself.”

her chest tightened as she watched zaia’s eyes glisten, and she fought to keep her own tears in check. she had to finish, had to get these words out, because they were real—everything she was saying was real.

“you’ve taught me what it means to love without limits. your love is never conditional. never quiet. it’s fierce. it’s unapologetic. and i’ve seen how that love has shaped you into the incredible woman standing in front of me today. but even more, i’ve seen how that love has shaped me. it’s made me braver. it’s made me stronger. because of you, i believe in myself more than i ever thought i could.”

zaia’s lip quivered, her hand clutching y/n’s as she whispered, “i love you.”

“i love you too, more than you’ll ever know,” y/n whispered back, blinking away the tears that threatened to fall. “and i’ve never told you this enough, but you are my rock. when everything else in my life felt uncertain, you’ve been the one constant. when the world told me i wasn’t enough, you were the one who made me feel like i was. i’ve never met anyone like you, zaia. you are the heart of everything good. you make everyone around you better. stronger. kinder. you’ve taught me that love doesn’t have to be perfect to be real. you are proof of that. every day. in every little thing you do.”

y/n took a breath, trying to steady herself, but her voice broke a little. “and for everything you are… for everything you’ve done for me, and everyone who’s lucky enough to know you… i’ll always be grateful. i’ll always be here, standing by you, just like you’ve stood by me.”

zaia’s hand covered her mouth as she wiped her tears, her emotions so raw it was as if she were hearing these words for the very first time. “thank you,” zaia whispered, voice trembling.

“so this is to you, my sister. my best friend. my family.” meeting zaia’s gaze with a smile. “may you and cash continue to show the world what love really is. the kind that doesn’t need to be perfect to be beautiful, the kind that is always worth fighting for. i’m so proud of you, zaia. i hope you know that.”

the room was silent for a moment, all eyes on the two of them as they held each other in a long, tight embrace. y/n squeezed her best friend, knowing that no matter what came their way, this bond—this love—would always be unbreakable.

zaia sniffled, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe she was about to cry in front of everyone.

“you are love, in every sense of the word. and i am so lucky to have you in my life.”

y/n let out a breathy laugh, clearing her throat.

“together, you two are… proof,” she said softly, her eyes shining. “proof that real love exists. that it’s not perfect, but it’s worth it. that it’s something to fight for, to cherish, to protect. and every day, you remind me that love is possible.”

there was a quiet, meaningful pause as the room fell into a deep silence, and y/n looked up at both zaia and cash, her heart full. “so this is to you both, the couple who has taught me what it means to love fiercely and with no limits. to the couple who makes me believe in the possibility of love every single day.” she raised her glass higher, her eyes shining with sincerity. “may your love always be this strong, this unshakable, and may it inspire everyone around you, just like it’s inspired me.”

the room was silent now, everyone hanging onto her words.

trent was too.

his throat felt tight.

because she wasn’t just talking about them.

she was talking about herself.

y/n blinked quickly, laughing as she shook her head. “okay, i need to stop before i start sobbing, and cash will never let me live it down. to zaia and cash!”

the room erupted into cheers and applause, people clinking their glasses as zaia pulled y/n into a tight hug, whispering something in her ear that made her nod quickly, like she was trying to hold herself together.

trent could only stare.

his head was spinning.

because in that moment, as she stood there—emotional, open, her heart laid bare—he realized something he should’ve known all along.

he was in love with her.

so in love, it scared him.

the rehearsal dinner had been perfect. the kind of night people dream about, full of laughter, love, and overwhelming joy. y/n had given her speech, standing before everyone with a smile that was both proud and sentimental, her voice steady as she spoke about zaia and cash. about their love, their story, their future.

trent had watched her the whole time, barely listening to her words because he was too caught up in the way she made him feel. how, for the first time, something clicked deep in his chest—an understanding he hadn’t quite reached before. he was in love with her. hopelessly, stupidly, entirely in love with her.

but there was also something else, something darker, eating at him. something that had started at the rehearsal and hadn’t let up all night. rome.

rome, who had been at her side. rome, who had made her laugh. rome, who had his hand at the small of her back when they danced, his lips too close to her ear when he whispered something to make her smile. it had been driving trent mad, twisting inside him, tightening like a fist in his chest.

by the time they entered their suite. trent couldn’t shake his feelings of discomfort. not just a rome but his fear of wanting more with y/n. she stood on their shared bathroom in front of the mirror, fingers unclasping her necklace with slow, measured movements. the reception had been everything she hoped for—emotional, beautiful, a perfect night for her best friend. but as she stood here now, in the quiet of the suite, she felt an ache she couldn’t quite name.

trent was somewhere behind her, freshly changed out of his suit, moving around with an energy that felt… restless. he hadn’t spoken much since they got back. not in the car. not when they walked through the grand hallway of the castle. not when she disappeared into the bathroom to wipe off her makeup.

the tension between them had been brewing for weeks, simmering just beneath the surface. and she wasn’t about to be the one to address it.

she reached up to take out her earrings, catching his reflection as he came closer. her fingers stilled.

he was watching her.

his gaze was heavy, dark.

she swallowed, keeping her expression blank as she met his eyes in the mirror. “what?”

trent didn’t answer. he just kept looking, his head tilting slightly, like he was studying her.

y/n exhaled, forcing a small smirk. “you got something to say, or are you just gonna keep staring?”

still, nothing.

he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head with one swift movement, and she hated the way her eyes betrayed her, flickering down over the sharp lines of his torso, the familiar ink that stretched over his skin.

she tore her gaze away quickly, focusing on the clasp of her bracelet instead. “whatever, trent,” she muttered, pretending she wasn’t affected, pretending like she didn’t feel the heat of his stare seep into her skin.

but then he moved.

before she could react, his hands were on her hips, his body pressing against her back, firm and warm. his head dipped, breath fanning against the curve of her neck, and she knew what was coming before his lips even touched her.

“you really wanna act like you don’t want this?” trent murmured, his voice low, rough, dangerous.

her breath caught.

his mouth brushed against the sensitive spot beneath her ear, his fingers tightening at her waist. “you think i don’t see it?” he whispered, trailing soft, maddening kisses down her neck. “the way you look at me when you think i don’t notice? the way you let me get this close, even when you swear you won’t?”

she let out a shaky exhale, hands gripping the vanity. “you’re delusional,” she said, but the words came out weak, breathless.

trent hummed against her skin. “am i?”

his teeth grazed her shoulder, just enough to send a shiver down her spine.

her fingers curled into fists. “trent.”

“say you don’t want me.” he kissed up her neck, slow, deliberate. “say you don’t want this, and i’ll stop.”

her heart pounded. she should say it. she should lie.

but when she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

trent smirked, pressing one last lingering kiss to her jaw before pulling back just enough to look at her reflection in the mirror. “that’s what i thought.”

y/n’s resolve shattered.

she turned in his hold, fisting the fabric of his joggers, yanking him down into a kiss that was all teeth and desperation. trent groaned into her mouth, one hand tangling in her hair, the other gripping her thigh to pull her impossibly closer.

whatever fight she had left was long gone.

she’d deal with the consequences later.

the sex was urgent, desperate—like something they were both trying to prove. she could feel it in the way he touched her, rougher than usual, and she matched it, gripping at him just as hard, taking everything he gave her because she wanted to believe it meant something. she needed to believe it.

but then it was over.

trent pulled away first. he always did. rolled onto his back, running a hand over his face like he was already regretting it, like the fire between them had burned out the second he got what he wanted.

y/n turned onto her side, still catching her breath. she wanted to say something, wanted to reach for him, but then he spoke first.

“so,” trent exhaled, his tone sharp, bitter, “are you gonna run off to rome now?”

she froze, her stomach dropping instantly.“what?” she breathed, turning her head to look at him.

trent scoffed, shaking his head as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. “don’t play dumb, y/n,” he muttered. “you think i don’t see the way he looks at you? the way you look at him?”

her jaw clenched. “what the hell are you talking about?”

he let out a cold laugh, finally meeting her gaze, and there was something in his eyes that made her chest tighten. “you want him, don’t you?”

y/n felt something snap inside her. “you’re insane,” she bit out, sitting up too, gripping the sheets around her. “how the hell did we go from this to whatever delusional shit you’re spewing right now?”

trent leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing. “because it’s obvious,” he said lowly. “you act like this is just some accident every time, but then you turn around and let him all over you? so what is it? am i just a backup? placeholder until you get the next guy you want”

the words stung so deeply she physically flinched.

she shook her head, anger and disbelief swirling inside her. “you’re disgusting,” she whispered, voice shaking. “i don’t know why i keep letting you do this to me.”

he huffed out another humorless laugh, looking away. “yeah?” he muttered, jaw tight. “well, maybe if you stopped opening your legs for me, we wouldn’t have this problem.”

as his words fell, so did the temperature of the room.

silence. thick, suffocating silence.

trent realized it the second the words left his mouth, but it was too late. the damage was done.

y/n just stared at him, her entire body going numb. she felt sick, like all the air had been knocked out of her lungs.

she had no words. nothing to say to that.

slowly, she reached for the silk robe on top of her bridesmaid’s pajamas, slipping it over her shoulders. she wouldn’t cry. not in front of him. not after that.

trent sat up quickly, his expression shifting. “y/n—”

“don’t,” she cut him off, her voice eerily calm. “not this times just don’t.”

he watched helplessly as she slipped on her slippers, grabbing her phone, avoiding his gaze entirely. he felt it—felt her slipping away, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

she walked to the door, gripping the handle so tightly her knuckles turned white. then, without another word, she walked out, leaving him alone in the mess he created.

zaia opened the door almost instantly, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “y/n?” she mumbled, blinking in confusion. “what’s wrong?”

zaia held her tightly as y/n buried her face into her best friend’s shoulder, trying desperately to stifle her sobs, but it was no use. she let out a shaky breath, then another, and before she knew it, she was crying in earnest, her shoulders shaking as she let everything out. zaia didn’t say a word, just held her, offering the comfort that y/n needed but hadn’t known she was craving.

after what felt like an eternity, y/n pulled away, wiping at her eyes and trying to steady her breath. “i’m sorry,” she managed, her voice hoarse. “i shouldn’t be crying about this. it’s your wedding day, i—”

“respectfully, shut up,” zaia cut in, her tone firm but full of love. “any time, any place, any situation. i got you. you’re my sister. and you’re obviously hurt, so don’t you dare apologize for that.” zaia sat down on the bed, pulling y/n with her. “tell me what you need, sis. i’m here, always.”

y/n took a deep breath, trying to hold back more tears, but they came anyway. she wiped at her face and let out a small, bitter laugh. “i don’t even know anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “i feel like i’m losing myself. like, in monaco, everything just changed. i thought i was doing okay. i really did.” her voice trembled as she spoke, and zaia’s heart broke for her best friend.

“monaco?” zaia asked, her voice soft but curious.

y/n took a deep breath, her voice shaking slightly as she finally allowed herself to speak the truth. “zaia, i… i need to tell you something. something i’ve been carrying since monaco. trent and i, we… we slept together for the first time.”

zaia’s eyes widened, but she didn’t interrupt, her focus solely on y/n as she continued.

“i knew i liked him. i always have, but that night in monaco, it felt like everything was finally coming together. i thought it meant something, zaia. i really did. but then, he made it clear it was just… just sex.” y/n’s voice broke as she spoke, the weight of the words crushing her from the inside. “and i’ve never felt more worthless in my life. he made me feel like i didn’t matter at all. like i was just something to pass the time with. i knew, deep down, he didn’t care the way i did. but hearing him say it… it just… it broke me.”

zaia sat up straighter, her face softening with understanding. “y/n,” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “you are loved. don’t you dare let him make you feel otherwise.” she held y/n’s gaze, the warmth of her sincerity radiating from her. “i love you. cash loves you. we all do. you are worth so much more than how he treated you.”

y/n wiped at her eyes, trying to stifle the tears that threatened to spill again. “i know, but it doesn’t stop how he made me feel. like i wasn’t even worthy of being more than a fleeting moment to him.”

zaia took a deep breath, leaning in as she spoke with a quiet conviction. “he can’t wrap his head around his own feelings, y/n. he’s messed up. and the way he treated you, it’s not a reflection of who you are. it’s all on him.”

y/n looked down at her hands, wringing them in her lap as she let zaia’s words sink in. “i tried to move on from it, but i couldn’t. it’s like… no matter how much i wanted to convince myself it didn’t matter, it did. every time he pulls away, every time he acts like it’s nothing… it just feels like a dagger in my chest. i’ve been walking around, pretending to be fine, but it’s eating me up inside.”

zaia’s eyes softened as the realization hit her like a wave. she placed her hand gently on y/n’s shoulder, a quiet understanding passing between them. “that’s why you disappeared after monaco,” zaia murmured, her heart breaking for her best friend. “you isolated yourself because you didn’t know how to deal with all of this. you didn’t want to face it, and you felt like you had no one to turn to. i’m so sorry you went through all of that alone, y/n. i should’ve noticed.”

y/n shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “i didn’t want to burden anyone. it was easier to just pretend everything was okay, even when it wasn’t.”

zaia cupped y/n’s face in her hands, her touch soft but insistent. “you are never a burden. you are not alone in this. you’ve never been alone. and i should’ve been there for you when you needed it the most.” she paused, squeezing y/n’s hands tightly. “i’m here now. you don’t have to hide how you’re feeling anymore. let me be here for you. don’t carry this weight by yourself.”

y/n finally broke down again, the tears falling freely this time. zaia’s heart ached for her, but she didn’t look away, didn’t say anything else. she just held y/n, letting her cry it out, her sobs filled with all the pain she had been hiding for so long.

“don’t ever think that boy is the reason you’re worth anything,” zaia whispered as she gently rubbed y/n’s back, offering her comfort. “he doesn’t know what he has, but we do. you are so much more than he could ever make you feel.”

y/n nodded, the weight in her chest lifting just slightly from the steady comfort zaia provided. “i don’t know how to let him go,” she confessed, her voice quiet but filled with resolve. “but i have to, right? for me. i have to stop letting him control how i feel about myself.”

y/n nodded again, a tear-streaked smile breaking through. “thank you, zaia. for everything. i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

zaia’s brow furrowed as she listened to y/n’s confession. “so, you’re telling me, you two decided to just… have sex, and you thought that would fix everything?”

y/n laughed bitterly, nodding. “i thought it would make things better. but it only made it worse. because after, i felt worse about myself. like i was just another girl to him. and now, i feel like all i am to him is… a body, not someone he cares about. and it hurts. god, it hurts so much, zaia. i thought i could be strong, but every time he pulls away, it’s like he rips the rug out from under me.” she wiped away another tear, but it kept coming. “i hate that i still want him. i hate it so much. i feel like i’m not good enough for him, and i don’t know how to fix it.”

zaia wrapped her arms around her tightly again, holding y/n in a protective embrace. “you don’t have to fix it, baby girl. you are more than enough. he needs to figure out how to treat you the way you deserve.” she pulled back slightly, cupping y/n’s face. “this isn’t on you. you’ve been carrying this weight for months, and i’m so sorry you’ve had to go through it alone. but you’re not alone anymore, okay? i’m here, always.”

y/n nodded, feeling the comfort in her best friend’s words but still feeling the ache of everything she had gone through. “i just feel so foolish. i was so sure we were fine. and then he just… made me feel like nothing. and i can’t even say it to him. i don’t even know how to talk to him anymore.”

zaia didn’t hesitate. “you can talk to me, always. i’ve got you. i’ll be here for you every step of the way.” she paused, thinking for a moment before speaking again. “you deserve someone who sees you, truly sees you. he doesn’t deserve you if he can’t even treat you like you matter. don’t let him make you question your worth, y/n.”

y/n bit her lip, trying to hold it together as the last of her tears fell. “i just… i don’t know how to walk away, though. even after everything, i still want him.” her voice broke as she whispered the truth she’d been keeping buried. “and i hate myself for it.”

“you don’t have to hate yourself for wanting him,” zaia said, her voice firm but soft. “but you do have to remember who you are. you are amazing, y/n. and no man should make you feel like you’re anything less than that. take your time. you don’t need to figure it all out tonight, but promise me you’ll start thinking about what you need, okay?”

y/n nodded, feeling a small sense of relief in the embrace of her best friend. “thank you,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

zaia kissed the top of her head, brushing away her own tears as she whispered, “yes, you do. you have to choose yourself now. you deserve to be loved the way you love, not in fragments and not as an afterthought.”

zaia was silent for a moment before she said, “maybe it’s time to stop.”

y/n let out a breath, staring at the ceiling. “maybe.”

but deep down, she knew. she had to.

because this? this wasn’t love. this was self-destruction, wrapped up in something that felt like love but had never been anything more than a painful illusion.

and she couldn’t do it anymore.

trent woke up early, the tension of the night before still sitting heavy on his chest. he hadn’t expected her to leave, especially after everything had been building up, but when he returned from his morning run and paddle session with cash and a few of the groomsmen, it was clear y/n wasn’t coming back to the room. her things were gone. her absence hit him harder than he anticipated. each quiet moment that passed made him more aware of her absence, and the thought of what had happened between them made his stomach twist.

he couldn’t stop thinking about the fight. the harsh words, the anger, and the painful silence that followed. but what really gnawed at him was the feeling of being so close, yet so far away from her. they’d never really talked about what they were, what they could be. but in that moment, he knew he had lost something precious.

trent had always been good at keeping things under control. in football, on the field, he was disciplined, focused, precise. off the field, it was no different—he didn’t get caught up in emotions, never let anything slip past the walls he’d built around himself. but with y/n? everything was different.

it had been months of tension, of unspoken words and stolen moments. and still, he had never said it. never admitted it aloud. he couldn’t—he wasn’t sure how. the weight of those three words felt like too much, like saying them would shatter everything they had built in their quiet moments. but every time he was near her, it was all he could think about.

the way her laughter filled the space between them, as if it were meant to chase away every shadow. the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her work, her passion for everything she did, whether it was a new song, a project she was excited about, or even a random conversation about the future. y/n wasn’t just driven; she was relentless, her ambition an ever-present force that pulled him in, made him want to do better, be better.

he loved the way her eyes narrowed, the little crease that formed between her eyebrows when she wasn’t pleased with something. it didn’t matter what it was—whether it was a lyric that didn’t feel right or a recording that wasn’t up to her standard. she was determined, stubborn in the best way, refusing to let anything be less than perfect.

he loved the way she cared for the people around her, her quiet, unspoken loyalty. she was always there for her friends, for those who needed her, her strength never faltering. the way she held herself, graceful yet fierce, made everything feel effortless, and that strength, that inner fire, was what drew him to her.

trent had never been one to back down from his feelings before, but with y/n, everything was different. every time he thought about telling her how he felt, doubt clouded his mind. he wasn’t the type of guy to spill his emotions, wasn’t the type to risk making things complicated. but then again, everything about y/n had made him reconsider everything he’d ever known about himself.

he’d caught himself staring at her, the way she moved, how she took up space without even trying. how when she smiled, it was like the entire room lit up, and everything around her became brighter. but it was in the quiet moments, when they weren’t talking, that he saw it the most. the way she leaned into him after a long day, the warmth of her hand brushing against his as they sat together, the subtle way she sought comfort in his presence without needing to say a word.

but now, at the wedding, everything he’d tried to suppress—the love he’d refused to acknowledge—was breaking through.

it had started with her absence. when she left, taking her things without a word, it was like a punch to the gut. the emptiness of the room he’d shared with her felt like a thousand unanswered questions hanging in the air.

and as he watched her walk down the aisle—graceful, breathtaking, completely unaware of how she had just undone him—he felt everything. the pang in his chest, the tightening of his stomach, the overwhelming need to be near her. the emerald dress that hugged her body like it was made just for her, the soft waves of her hair catching the light, the way she looked like she belonged in that moment, in this world, right in front of him—it all hit him like a wave.

he’d spent too many months ignoring the truth, burying it deep, telling himself it was just a fleeting attraction, just the rush of excitement he got from being around her. but in that moment, seeing her, everything became clear.

he loved her.

but the words… they were impossible to say.

he couldn’t do it. not here. not in front of everyone.

but as she walked closer, his heart pounded louder in his chest, and he could feel the weight of the truth pressing against his ribs, suffocating him. he opened his mouth, the words teetering on the edge of his lips, and he couldn’t stop them.

“i love you.”

the confession barely left his lips, a soft whisper, but it shattered the space between them. her eyes flickered toward him, and for a moment, everything stopped. the guests, the ceremony, the world outside—they all faded into the background as he waited for her to process it.

and for just a split second, it was as if time had stood still. y/n’s gaze met his, confusion and surprise dancing in her eyes, but before she could react, she was at the altar, her back now turned to him.

trent’s chest tightened as the reality of what he’d just done settled in. he had said it—he had said the words he’d been holding onto for so long—and now, nothing would ever be the same. the air between them had shifted, and he knew that even if things couldn’t go back to what they were, he couldn’t regret finally saying the truth.

he loved her. and now she knew.

and he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that their relationship would never be the same.

the reception was in full swing, vibrant and alive, the sounds of chatter, laughter, and music weaving together in an almost hypnotic rhythm. guests filled the grand hall, surrounded by sparkling lights and the delicate scent of flowers that seemed to linger in the air, but all trent could do was watch her.

y/n had avoided him all evening, her presence in the room more intoxicating than ever, but every time their eyes threatened to meet, she’d quickly look away. there was something different about her now, something almost… untouchable. he could feel the distance between them grow with each passing moment, the weight of the confession hanging in the air like a cloud he couldn’t shake.

as the night wore on, he watched helplessly as rome, ever the charming groomsman, moved closer to y/n. trent couldn’t even focus on the conversation happening around him, his gaze locked onto them. it wasn’t jealousy that gripped his chest, not entirely. it was a deep ache, a longing, and the bitter taste of regret that had settled on his tongue since he had confessed his feelings.

rome, with his smooth words and easy smile, took y/n by the hand, leading her to the center of the room for the dance. she looked stunning—effortless in her grace, her emerald dress sparkling under the lights, her hair falling around her shoulders like soft waves. she danced with rome, laughing as they moved in perfect harmony, her eyes alight with joy. she seemed so at ease, so free, and trent couldn’t tear his eyes away.

his chest tightened as he watched them twirl, their bodies moving together in sync, rome lifting y/n with ease, spinning her around with a smile that made her laugh, a sound so pure it cut right through him.

he wanted to be the one to make her laugh like that. to hold her, to twirl her around, to make her feel like she belonged with him.

but she was lost in rome’s arms, his hands on her waist, and when he lifted her bridal-style, y/n’s laughter filled the air again, the sound that once brought him so much comfort now only deepening the ache in his chest. her smile was so bright, so carefree, it made his gut twist, the pang of longing gnawing at him.

he hadn’t imagined this. he hadn’t imagined seeing her like this, so happy, so free, with someone else. but in that moment, as rome’s arms wrapped around her, it was impossible to deny. she was so beautiful, so perfect, but she wasn’t his.

trent stood there, frozen, watching them as they shared this intimate moment, and for the first time all evening, he realized just how much he had let slip through his fingers.

the reception buzzed with joy, the kind of happiness that felt almost tangible, spreading like wildfire through the crowd. the vibrant hues of gold and green shimmered under the soft glow of the chandeliers, the music a steady pulse of celebration. but for y/n, it was a blur.

she moved through the festivities mechanically, her smile painted on, her laugh hollow. the ache in her chest had only grown since trent’s declaration during the ceremony, a single moment that unraveled everything she thought she’d understood about their arrangement.

he said he loved me.

the words looped in her head, taunting her, twisting the knife of hurt deeper with every replay. she had to keep moving, keep doing her maid of honor duties, because if she stopped—if she let herself think for even a second—she’d fall apart.

as the night carried on, the time came for her to change into her traditional outfit. she slipped away from the crowd, her steps quick as she entered the quiet room she’d been using earlier. the space was a sanctuary, an escape from the overwhelming noise and the weight of her emotions.

she unzipped the garment bag with trembling hands, the rich gold and green fabric catching the light. slipping into the wrap skirt, she struggled to secure it properly, her fingers fumbling from the tension in her chest. she couldn’t seem to focus, her mind a storm of anger and betrayal.

“need help?”

his voice hit her like a thunderclap, sharp and unexpected. she stiffened, her back to the door as she recognized trent’s familiar tone.

“no,” she said curtly, her voice clipped.

he ignored her, stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind him. “you’ve been avoiding me all night,” he said, his voice low but steady.

“i haven’t,” she snapped, her hands busying themselves with the zipper of her blouse, though it wouldn’t budge.

“y/n, stop lying,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “you won’t even look at me.”

her jaw clenched, and she kept her eyes fixed ahead, pretending to focus on the mirror. “i’ve been busy. it’s a wedding, trent. there’s a lot to do.”

“bullshit,” he said sharply, his patience clearly wearing thin. he moved behind her, his hands brushing against her back as he took the zipper and pulled it up. “there. now you can stop pretending.”

“what do you want, trent?” she asked, her voice hard as she stepped away from him, putting distance between them.

“i want to talk,” he said simply, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. “about what happened.”

“there’s nothing to talk about,” she said quickly, picking up her jewelry and focusing on fastening her bracelet.

“don’t do that,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “don’t shut me out like this.”

“i’m not shutting you out. that would imply i ever let you in,” she shot back, her eyes finally meeting his. “i’m protecting myself.”

trent’s brow furrowed, and he stepped closer. “protecting yourself? from what?”

“from you!” she said, her voice breaking as anger and hurt poured out of her. “from the man who spent weeks treating me like i was nothing more than a convenient arrangement, only to turn around and say he loves me during my best friend’s wedding. do you have any idea what that did to me?”

his face fell, his expression stricken. “y/n, i never meant to hurt you—”

“but you did!” she interrupted, her voice shaking with emotion. “you made me feel like i was just… just some fling to you. like none of this—none of us—meant anything.”

“that’s not true,” he said firmly, stepping closer again. “it meant everything to me. you mean everything to me.”

she laughed bitterly, shaking her head as tears welled in her eyes. “don’t say that. don’t you dare say that now, when it’s too late.”

“it’s not too late,” he insisted, his voice soft but resolute. “i know i messed up. i should’ve told you how i felt sooner, but i was scared, y/n. scared that if i told you, you’d walk away.”

“so you let me believe i was just… temporary?” she said, her voice rising again. “you let me give you parts of myself i’ve never given to anyone, and you couldn’t even be honest with me?”

trent ran a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “i didn’t know how to say it. i didn’t want to mess this up.”

“well, congratulations,” she said bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest. “you managed to do that anyway.”

his jaw tightened, and he took a deep breath, his gaze steady on hers. “i’m not giving up on this. on us.”

“there is no ‘us,’” she said coldly, her tears spilling over now. “you made sure of that.”

he stepped closer, his hands reaching for hers, but she pulled away. “y/n, please,” he said, his voice breaking. “just give me a chance to make this right.”

“i don’t know if you can,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “you broke something in me, trent. and i don’t know if it can be fixed.”

the silence that followed was deafening, the weight of her words hanging heavy between them. for the first time, trent looked uncertain, his confidence faltering as he realized the depth of her pain.

but even then, he wasn’t ready to give up. “i’ll prove it to you,” he said softly. “if you let me, i’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

y/n stared at him, her heart aching, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. she didn’t know if she could trust him again, didn’t know if she could risk her heart once more.

but as she looked into his eyes, she saw something she hadn’t before—genuine regret, vulnerability, and a love so raw it scared her.

and for a moment, just a moment, she let herself hope.

trent’s words hung heavy in the air, his desperation evident in the way his voice trembled, in the way his eyes searched hers for any flicker of hope. but y/n could barely hear him over the pounding in her chest, over the ache clawing its way through her.

he wanted to prove himself? now? after weeks of her pouring herself into something she thought was mutual, only to find out she’d been fooling herself the entire time?

she shook her head, her tears blurring the room around her. “no, trent.”

his brow furrowed, his confusion plain. “no? what do you mean, no?”

“i mean no,” she said firmly, her voice sharper now, anger cutting through her sadness. “the contract is up. you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

trent froze, his hands falling to his sides. “pretend?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “y/n, i wasn’t pretending—”

“oh, really?” she snapped, taking a step back from him. “because that’s all this has ever felt like to me. a performance. something you agreed to because it was convenient, because it helped both of us. but it was never real. not to you.”

“that’s not true,” he said quickly, his voice rising. “it’s never been pretend for me, y/n. never.”

“stop lying!” she yelled, her voice cracking under the weight of her emotions. “stop standing there and telling me it was real when you made me feel like nothing more than an obligation. you want to talk about pretending? the only one pretending here is me!”

trent flinched as if her words had physically struck him, his face contorting with hurt. “y/n, that’s not fair,” he said quietly.

“not fair?” she echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her. “you want to talk about fair? fair is you being honest with me from the start. fair is you not stringing me along, letting me believe that maybe—just maybe—this was something more than an arrangement.”

“it was more,” he insisted, his voice almost pleading. “it is more.”

she shook her head, her tears spilling freely now. “you don’t get to decide that. you don’t get to say you love me after making me feel like I was disposable.”

“you’re not disposable,” he said firmly, taking a step closer. “you never were.”

then, her words echoed in his mind again: “you made me feel disposable.” and as the phrase rang in his head, it hit him like a wave. “this is casual, right?” his own words. words that had haunted her ever since monaco. it wasn’t just that he had hurt her—it was how he had made her feel. like she was nothing more than a temporary fix, a momentary distraction. disposable.

the realization sent a shockwave through him, the guilt flooding his chest as he replayed that night over and over in his mind. this is casual, right? he had said it so easily, without even considering the weight it would carry for her.

he had always thought she could handle it. thought she was strong enough to keep it together, to play along with the arrangement. but the way her eyes had looked at him after that night—the hurt in them, the way she had withdrawn from him after, had never truly registered until now. he had ignored it all because he was too wrapped up in his own insecurities, in his fear of commitment. and now, he was facing the consequences.

“y/n…” his voice was barely audible, his throat tight with emotion.

she didn’t turn around. she just stood there, her back to him, shoulders hunched in defeat.

why couldn’t you just tell me how you felt?

her words sliced through him. why couldn’t you just tell me?

he had been so afraid to lose her, so afraid of letting her in, that he had never given her the chance to truly see him. to see the man he was when he wasn’t running from his own feelings. and now, he was paying the price.

he took a hesitant step forward, his voice cracking as he spoke again. “y/n, i’m sorry. i didn’t realize how much i hurt you. i didn’t understand… how much that night meant to you, how much i made you feel like… like i didn’t care. i never meant to make you feel disposable. i thought i was protecting the both of us, but all i did was hurt you.”

y/n finally turned to face him, her tear-streaked face a painful reminder of everything that had gone wrong. “you don’t get it, do you?” she whispered, her voice trembling. “that night… that was everything to me. and when you said it was just sex—when you made it clear it meant nothing—it broke me. i gave myself to you, trent. i trusted you. and you made me feel like i wasn’t worth anything more than that.”

trent swallowed hard, his throat tight. “just sex.” how could he have been so blind? how could he have let her believe that?

“i’m so sorry,” he repeated, his voice raw with regret. “i never meant to make you feel that way. you’re not disposable, y/n. you’re… you’re the furthest thing from it.”

she shook her head, stepping back as if his words were too much to bear. “you can’t take it back now, trent. you can’t just decide to care when it’s convenient for you. it doesn’t work like that. i can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out. i deserve more than that.”

he felt the finality in her words, the weight of the decision hanging in the air like an unspoken truth. and for the first time, he realized just how badly he had messed up.

“i know i can’t fix this,” he said quietly, the pain in his chest making it hard to breathe. “but i need you to know… i’m sorry. i didn’t know how bad it hurt you. i never meant to make you feel so small, y/n. and i’ll spend the rest of my life trying to prove that to you, if you’ll let me.”

she stared at him for a long moment, her eyes searching his face for sincerity. but as the silence stretched on, it became clear that the damage had already been done.

“then why?” she demanded, her voice rising again. “why couldn’t you just tell me how you felt? why did you wait until now, in the middle of all this, to say something?”

“because I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “i was scared that if i told you, you’d push me away. that you’d tell me you didn’t feel the same, and i’d lose you completely.”

she stared at him, her chest heaving as she tried to process his words. but the anger and hurt were too overwhelming, drowning out any possibility of understanding.

“well, congratulations,” she said bitterly. “you’ve lost me anyway.”

trent’s face fell, his expression crumbling as her words hit him. “y/n, please,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“no,” she said firmly, her voice steadier now. “this is over, trent. the contract, the arrangement, whatever this was—it’s done.”

“it doesn’t have to be,” he said desperately, his hands reaching for hers again. but she stepped back, putting more distance between them.

“it does,” she said, her tone final. “because i can’t keep pretending that this is enough for me. that you’re enough for me when all you’ve done is hurt me.”

and with that, she walked away, leaving him standing in the wreckage of his own making, knowing he might never be able to fix what he had broken.

trent opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. he stood there, frozen, as y/n turned away from him, her shoulders trembling with the weight of everything she’d been holding in.

and for the first time in his life, trent alexander-arnold could finally see all the ways he had broken her.

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tokiro07 · 2 days ago

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Something I alluded to in this week's Ichi review was that while I've been invested up to this point, I haven't been as completely immersed as I had been with Undead Unluck or Cipher Academy, which both captured and held me from ch.1 all the way to the end

I decided to chase that and analyze why Ichi wasn't connecting with me the same way

Looking back at chapter 1, the thing that hooked me was the setting; a world where only women can wield magic, and do so by passing tests posed to them by monsters who embody the individual spells. Even ignoring the premise that a man manages to break the status quo, that core concept alone was enough to spark my curiosity

From there, each chapter continued to expand on that setting - giving examples of the types of monsters we'd see, teasing the process of finding and facing them, showing glimpses of the society built by the women who use magic, their tools and their fashion, but something was still missing

Every week I found myself asking "what are we doing this for?" What was the grander goal, and who was going to stand in the way?

It wasn't until the most recent arc with the introduction of the World Hater that I really got the answer to that question - one of the monsters, moreso than any other, wants to destroy everything. In turn, our protagonist, more than anything, wants to kill it - regardless of whether or not it would save lives, he just knows it would be fun. It's a fairly simple goal, but a compelling one nonetheless, allowing me to not only be invested in the setting, but now also in the plot

But something was still missing

And it was only during this chapter that I realized what it was. Desscaras, The Strongest Witch, faced with a situation that her strength won't help her overcome, chooses to be open and vulnerable, and suddenly that something wasn't missing anymore

I was finally invested in the characters

I thought Ichi was interesting enough, for sure, with how unhinged he was and the themes that his philosophy suggested for the series, but I didn't know what the intentions were for his arc. Desscaras was silly and fun to watch, but I didn't have a good read on how she would contribute to the narrative. Kumugi was the only one I particularly saw thematic potential in from the get, which is why I latched onto her pretty quickly, but it was clear she was meant to be a slow burn and wasn't going to be getting a ton of focus for the foreseeable future

In other words, everyone in the cast had an interesting hook, but no one had shown any real depth yet, at least not to the extent that I wanted

But now I can see it

The flaw in Ichi's philosophy that makes him reckless with the life that he supposedly cherishes so much, the weakness in Desscaras' heart that necessitated she become the Strongest in the first place, and the connection forged between the two of them

Granted, I also said from the beginning that I expected that sort of connection to come up between Ichi and Uroro, so it's not like I couldn't envision how this story would deepen its cast, but just imagining how it would do it and actually seeing it happen are two different things. Now that we're seeing the bonds deepening between two characters, we're likely to start seeing it happen with others more and more often, though likely still fairly slowly

Now that I have a clear picture of how the cast will grow, I can definitively get excited for it rather than just projecting a hypothetical that I hope to see

I think this is also why there are so many manga in Jump that I don't get excited about

I didn't care for Kagurabachi from the beginning because I didn't care about the setting, plot or characters. It was only during the Rakuzaichi Arc, which really started focusing on the characters, that I started feeling invested, but I still don't care about the setting and only slightly care about the plot. In the Samura Arc, though, I'm starting to care a bit more about the plot, and I can see a bit more of interest in the setting, but I'm still not there yet. If it can clinch that, I'll be all in

There are other factors that matter, of course - art style, pacing, themes, etc. all contribute to my enjoyment, but I can look past the art and pacing if everything else works, and I can only care about the themes if I like at least one of the previous factors

By analyzing my experiences like this, I'm getting a clearer picture of my tastes and how I define the quality of a work. Hopefully this framework will help me better articulate my opinions going forward and give me a better approach to appreciating what I read

#ichi the witch #madan no ichi #shonen jump #reader experience

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electronicclowncollector · 1 day ago

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Chapter 23: Prom

(Authors note: Sorry for the delays, had procrastination issues lol)

Rogue couldn’t believe it, it was finally the day of the prom, it felt like it had been like 2 weeks since the meeting with Yukino asking for advice, he wasn’t sure why. He got up out of bed and began to prepare, he wore his dads old suit which surprisingly fitted him, probably because of dragon slayer magic, and he stood waiting at the door for the time to arrive as the clock hit 11am. The prom started at 9pm.

Rogue proceeded to wait there, shaking with excitement until it was time to go. He picked up Fresh by the paw and slung them over his back as he opened the door and left for the prom. He walked down the dark street in his dads navy suit, feeling awesome. The world was his catwalk and he sure as hell was gonna be the catboy of it.

“Hey Rogue! Lookin sharp” a voice behind him said. This was it, Rogue was going to finally see what Sting would look like in a suit, his handsome body and charming smile in formal wear. He turned around and… oh, it was gajeel. “Glad to see we can get people from all corners of the school to attend. I think you’ll really like what we have in store.” Rogue had completely forgotten that Gajeel was the host of the prom, though it never really occurred to Rogue to see who was involved since it didn’t matter all that much. Gajeel looked pretty good in his own gajeel way. He wore a black and white suit that had the sleeves ripped off. Gajeel seemed to notice his gaze upon his arms. “So whose your date for the dance Cheney? Come on, you can tell me” Gajeel said, placing a hand on his shoulder with a grip that was almost painful.

Rogue blushed, “O- oh, I don’t have a date for the dance, I’m going with Sting platonically though… I don’t think he has a date either though…”

“Really? Sting Eucliffe of all people not having a date? I remember seeing girls ask him out to be their prom partner several times but he turned them all down…” he playfully bumped Rogue with his shoulder, almost knocking him onto the road and ending the fanfiction right there. “Maybe you got a chance then.”

Rogue blushed and stuttered and stammered, HOW DID GAJEEL KNOW?!??! “I- I- You- I- nya- How- G- gajeel?”

“Come on, as if it wasn’t incredibly obvious that you like Sting. Well, I should get going, I gotta be there early for preparations. Good luck mate!” he said, before leaping onto a building roof and parkouring his way to the school, like the parkour dragon from Rogue’s book. That was all very embarrassing and Rogue was still tense after it, but he continued walking anyway, for Sting. Eventually he arrived at the academy, and there really wasn’t much to see, they only really decorated the inside so it was basically the same on the outside except for the light coming from the hall, so he went in. It surprised him how many people were there, and he was even more surprised that he recognised a lot of them. But for writing reasons, he couldn’t find sting anymore.

Rogue began to panic but eventually came to the conclusion that Sting would be, as usual, fashionably late. So he decided to try talking to the people he recognised. He started by approaching Lucy, who he saw talking to Minerva, who was drunk and crying. Lucy was taking it well, acting polite and showing no sympathy whatsoever for her tears, simply talking to her like she’s acting normal.

“H- hi Lucy, how are you finding the prom?”

Lucy jumped in surprise and turned to face her ex (?) with a blush on her cheeks, “H- hi Rogue! I’m having fun, Gajeel didn’t like the idea of making it snake themed though, so I’m a bit disappointed about that, but it turned out well… How about you, do you want a date- I- I mean, have you got a date for the dance?”

Rogue blushed and looked down, adjusting his glasses and playing with his hair, “No, not really… but I’m gonna be hanging out with Sting for most of it I think… Have you seen him anywhere?”

Lucy looked down in slight disappointment, “Oh, Sting… No, I don’t think so.” She perked up, “Oh yeah! Maybe he’s at the petminding area. To make life easier for the pet owners attending, Gray thought it would be a good idea to have someone volunteer to mind all the pets while the prom happens. You could go by and leave your cat… frog… thing over there, and maybe you’ll see Sting there.”

“Oh! G- good idea, thanks… Lucy…” he stammered out as she took his hand and brought him through the hall. The act of intimacy caught him off guard immensely, his cheeks were as red as the even redder dragon from the newer dragon book Rogue had back at home. He almost dropped Fresh out of surprise, but instead gripped them harder, causing them to let out a strangled ribbit. Soon enough, they got to the area and Rogue launched Fresh into the sandpit that was available for cats, right next to doug, who was high on catnip.

“Bye Fresh!” Rogue called out to the very dizzy cat. Beside him, Lucy was blushing a bit as Rogue left, wishing she had said something more before he left. Meanwhile Rogue was disappointed that Sting wasn’t there, and his worries began to pile up. He wandered through the hall of chatting students and decided to try to find someone to talk to, someone who would understand him, someone with similar interests… He couldn’t find anyone (despite Lucy’s efforts) and was about to leave when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Milord, such a pleasure to meet a beta male like you at such a prestigious event.”

Rogue turned around and was very surprised to see Mirajane Strauss standing before him, with a smitten Gary Fullbuster clinging to her arm. Mirajane was wearing quite a similar outfit to her usual wear but a bit more formal. She had an extra shiny fedora on and under her ankle length trench coat was a shirt and tie, admittedly it looked pretty good, not as good as sting, not even close, but it was nice. Gray was wearing a cheap 3 piece suit- nevermind, 2 piece now, the jacket had strangely disappeared. Rogue realised he was monologuing in his head too much and spoke up “T- thanks… you two look great together…” he faced Gray. Who was nuzzling his head into Mirajanes shoulder like an affectionate cat. “I thought you and Juvia were in a relationship…”

Gray let out a little growl and held Mirajanes arm tighter, “No… we’re just friends…” he sounded the word ‘friends’ like it was a slur that nobody should ever say. “Janey is the only one for me…”

Mirajane rolled her eyes with a smile and patted his head, “Calm down, be a good boy and let go of your alpha females arm, My Lord.”

Gray immediately let go of Mirajanes arm, looking down at the floor with cheeks as red as something really red, Rogues mind was too boggled to even think of a type of dragon that fit the description of being red so you’ll just have to imagine something really red. Oh, and now Gray’s suit only had one piece, the trousers. Rogue decided that was enough of that conversation and was about to leave as he heard the door to the hall slam open and Rogue turned around right away to see the dragon god in human form himself, Sting Eucliffe.

“WWOOOOOOH HELLO EVERYBODY! THE INCREDIBLY CONFIDENT STING EUCLIFFE IS IN THE HOUSE!” Sting called out. There was silence, then applause, then cheering. It was a standing ovation, probably because nobody was sitting because it was a dance.

Rogue nervously walked over to Sting, who strode over with an aura of pure awesomeness and put an arm around his shoulder, “Ready for the night of your life? These dating fools don’t measure up at all to the 2 legendary bachelors that are us!” Rogue blushed, sting blushed, Stings confident façade was falling apart at the first sign of Rogue’s cuteness. Rogue wondered why Doug was at the petminding area before sting had arrived, but then he chalked it up to Sting being fashionably late and awesome. Once the crowd had settled down, the pair began to chat for a bit, when Gajeel approached the two.

“Hey hey Sting, so glad you could show up dude!” exclaimed Gajeel as he patted Sting on the back. His confidence was matched by Sting, who patted him on the back even harder, “Ah, Gajeel, my man, Gajeel ‘wifehaver’ Redfox, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Rogue felt a sudden pull as he was squeezed up against Sting, it felt like heaven, the softness of the fabric on Sting’s suit and the warmth of his body being so close, his cheeks went so incredibly red, would he feel this every day if Sting and Rogue got married? If Sting’s body felt like this, what would his lips feel like? His mind whirred with thoughts and fantasies, while on the outside he was simply letting out little Meows, which was driving Sting crazy on the inside.

Sting knew he had to keep his composure around Rogue, so he pulled him along to a group of people, most of which were in the Saber Tooth club and a few friends outside the guild. Rogue was snapped out of his haze as he saw the people they were approaching, Bickslow, Laki, Sorano and Minerva. Minerva was more drunk then he had ever seen her, she could barely stand, she had an arm around Laki to keep her up, Laki was of course wearing stiletto heels and was inwardly struggling to keep hold of her.

“Hey Laki, glad to see you and Bickslow are doing well” Sting said to her with a friendly grin, that sparked some jealousy in Rogue.

“Oh yes, he’s a good boy and was the first in my harem, so he gets a bit of special treatment” Laki says, holding up the leash she had that was attached to a collar around Bickslows neck. Rogue… Rogue didn’t like this sight, it made him want to be sick, but one word stuck out to him and it seemed Sting felt the same way…

“Harem..?”

“Oh yes, Sorano was incredibly desperate for a partner that I let her join, she’s very low maintenance, I barely even need to interact with her and she’ll be content. Minerva followed not long after and she’s inseparable from me… though her opinion on me is very different if I have no alcohol on me…”

“Right…” Sting said, feeling very uncomfortable, he turned to Sorano, who was on her phone texting someone, “Hey Sora! Did Yukino not come with her boyfriend for the prom?”

“Nah…” she seemed very focussed on texting, about 80% focussed on her phone, 20% on the conversation, though it seemed that was enough for her to hear what Sting was saying, “Her boyfriend doesn’t go to the academy so he wasn’t allowed to attend, so naturally she didn’t come either, they’re having a little date night back home.”

With a shrug, he seemed to understand the logic. Following the simple gesture, he whispered in Rogue’s ear, “Wanna go to the dance floor for a little platonic dancing? It’ll be fuuun”

Rogue gasped and nodded, “Nyah!” he agreed.

The dance floor was packed as the music slowed down, Sting put his strong right arm and large hand around Rogue’s waist and Rogue looked up at him with a gaze of pure awe. Sting then gracefully placed his foot atop Rogue’s as they attempted to dance, causing pain to shoot up his leg, but Rogue didn’t care, this was so romantic, this was as close as they’d ever be, Rogue knew. Nothing could ruin this night, it was all so perfect.

“Rogue… how do you like my confidence? Or how well I am at being myself?”

“S- So much… Your so cool Sting…”

“Yeah… I know” Sting pulled his other hand out of Rogue’s and gave him a little finger gun while making a clicking sound with his mouth, and it was like he had been shot right through the heart by cupids very own finger guns. As the totally platonic bro dance continued, the two talked and talked and it was so intimate, so heartwarming. That is, until DJ Erza changed the song to Cha Cha slide.

Gajeel then announced to the hall, “Alright lovebirds, it’s time to announce the very first PROM KING AND QUEEN!”

Everyone gathered around, Rogue was so nervous, he knew he wouldn’t be picked for Prom King or Queen, but there was still that hope.

“This prom has been a huge success, and I think that they’ll only get better from here. Tonight will mark the start of a new Academy annual tradition!” Everyone cheered at Gajeels enthusiasm. “Now, for the part you’ve all been waiting for… we’ll start with the prom queen, as you all know the saying, Ladies first, so the very first prom queen for the dragon slaying academy is… Lucy Heartfilia!”

Lucy gasped as she stepped onto the stage in her snake themed dress, she gracefully moved to the middle of the stage and had the Prom Tiara placed on her head (??? I have no idea I haven’t been to a prom before). She had a wide grin on her face, despite not actually having a date for the dance.

“And the prom king is…” Gajeel paused for suspense, “ROGUE CHENEY! We really need to tweak the rules for prom king and queen, we were way too vague with who it could be…” Everyone applauded as Rogue went up and stood next to Lucy, grinning with tears in his eyes and a meow caught in his throat as he felt the heavy crown lowered onto his head, he glanced over at Lucy, both were blushing, Gajeel looked over to Erza and whispered, “What now?”

Erza shrugged “I don’t know, maybe make them walk down the middle of the crowd?”

Gajeel shrugged, “Sounds good to me. Alright! Everybody make way for the King and Queen of Prom!”

Everyone awkwardly made space for the two of them to walk down the middle as some romantic piano music played. Rogue was very confused as to why it couldn’t have been Sting who was prom king with him, 2 kings walking hand in hand, sex with a man, etc. But he walked with Lucy, who linked arms with him, just like they had practised together. He actually kinda enjoyed her company, if it weren’t for Sting she might even be a good partner for him-

“GAJEEL LOOK OUT!” Erza called out, Everyone turned to face the stage and Gajeel lay on the floor, face down with a knife in his back. Gajeel was dead. Things had changed.

To be continued (someday)

(Authors note 2: I still know barely anything about fairy Tail, but I'd like to think that Gajeel and erza are (or would be) total bros with eachother, just the vibe I get. A sort of drinking buddy dynamic but healthier if you get what i mean. If i'm wrong do tell me)

#fairy tail #rogue cheney #sting eucliffe #new characters appearing?#even if its kinda late for that #fanfic

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jo-harrington · 2 days ago

Text

Luminous Beings - Episode 2: Not the Smuggler You're Looking For

Art by @monologichno || Beta Read by @undead-supernova Part of the @eddiemunsonbigbang

Summary: Eddie accepts the new venture presented to him and the new business partners get to know each other over drinks.

Word Count: 6.4k

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Thalia Trieste)

Warnings/Themes: Star Wars AU, Action, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Miscommunication, Distrust, Mention of Alcohol and Substance Use, Minor Canon Inaccuracies/Adaptation, Galactic Politics, Mention of Death, Vague Reference to Order 66 and the Jedi Purge

Note: Thanks to everyone who's reading Luminous Beings so far. I'm so glad you're enjoying. This chapter we're about to dive a little bit more into the politics in the Galaxy Far Far Away. Not in-depth and detailed, but reactions from Eddie's POV.

Once again, you don’t need to know much about Star Wars to read. But if you are not familiar with Star Wars please take this as an additional warning: Star Wars has always been political. The themes have always mirrored real world events and this fic is no different. I don't go into great detail about what is happening because the focus is the characters reactions to it. They aren't really sure what's happening either. And the things that Eddie and the other characters feel in this fantastical world...they mirror what a lot of us feel here in the real world.

Writing this as we keep going headfirst into feelings of overwhelmedness and lack of control and uncertainty in our world …it was honestly very therapeutic to be able to put the feeling to words with a character I love when I oftentimes am unable to verbalize them myself. So thank you for being witness to this and I hope it helps you find some kind of sense of understanding, if only for a moment, too.

Luminous Beings Masterlist - Jo-Harrington's Masterlist

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Thank you for reading. Enjoy!

Nar Shaddaa - 10BBY

The energy at the table was familiar, yet strange.

Familiar in the sense that it definitely felt like something they'd encounter back home on Bracca: sitting in a cantina, chatting, and listening to the DJ spin tunes that were popular in this part of the Outer Rim.

And instead of the ever-present sense of danger that surrounded the visitors and interactions on the Smuggler's Moon, there was a comfort and sense of camaraderie that Mott and Merg Assob brought that made Eddie and his friends feel more at ease entering into a clandestine agreement with Thalia.

It was strange, though, because they were quirky enough that they didn't seem like the type of people to be in the smuggling business.

Merg had been the leather-clad stranger at the Surly Sarlaac the previous night, choosing an otherwise unassuming facade to keep herself safe on-planet. Without her helmet, she was a round-cheeked, lavender-skinned Theelin bombshell with an infectious laugh and, apparently, a singing voice that would insult even the tone-deaf.

"Well, there goes our tradition of drunkenly singing shanties with our associates before we head to the spaceport," Jeff announced with an awkward laugh.

It didn't take long for his friends to realize that he'd developed some kind of attraction for Merg, which was dashed when Mott was introduced as her husband.

Mott was as human as they came, almost painfully so. He looked like the type who'd try to sell you a used speeder, with thinning hair and a highly-stylized mustache, crinkling-eyes and a crooked smile. But he was friendly. More than friendly. He was almost neighborly. He'd greeted the crew of the Dragonborn like you would an old friend, and then offered to buy the first round, especially since they'd all be doing business together.

Then he got right to work regaling everyone with the stories of their most recent travels.

Of course, not without starting off with a cordial greeting. How a friend of Thalia’s was a friend of theirs, and how she'd been one of the most reliable contacts they'd had in the business.

And reliability was comforting to hear.

Especially when the blue-haired flight attendant hadn't bothered to join them yet.

"...And then the bartender asked if I was ready for the creamiest in all the galaxy," Mott held the attention of the table in rapt suspense. "To which I replied, 'That's exactly what I'm looking for.’"

Merg mouthed the words alongside her husband with a playful roll of her eyes.

"Famous last words," they concluded in tandem, earning chuckles from Dayv and G'areth.

Eddie laughed along with slightly less enthusiasm. He kept glancing towards the entrance of the cantina to manifest Thalia's appearance.

Jeff noticed, of course, and leaned in closer.

He whispered into Eddie's ear, "Do you think she's gonna bail?"

"No," Eddie shook his head, but kept his attention towards the front of the cantina. "She's the one who set this all up, I don't think she's gonna disappear on us. Not if she wants her payout."

He felt like an idiot to be left waiting like this, but that was entirely on his shoulders. He had accepted the job and agreed to this meeting without much in the way of being able to contact their new associate. Now he was left wondering where she was, with no way of reaching her, and he knew he'd look stupid in front of his friends—his crew—if he asked the Assobs if they'd heard anything from her.

Eddie had purposely omitted some of the details about his interaction with Thalia and the means by which they'd obtained this new job. He might’ve been a little embarrassed that the attraction he felt towards her was some kind of ruse, sure. But something about their meeting unsettled him after they'd parted ways, and he couldn't quite pin down what exactly it was.

She'd begged him for help and he accepted.

He wasn't entirely sure why he'd done that. He was a nice guy, sure, but he wasn't running a charitable cause. He tried to tell himself that she was paying for their services. In fact, she said she'd pay anything, which was suspicious in and of itself.

But credits were credits…and she begged him...so he accepted.

That was enough explanation for the guys in his opinion. He knew they wouldn't go into the job blind. If they sensed anything awry, they would tell him immediately and he would call the whole deal off.

Jeff, of course, was more in tune to the fact that Eddie was behaving strangely, than anything to do with their new acquaintances.

"Do you think this is some kind of trick?" he questioned Eddie further in concern. "I know these guys trust her but what if this is a chance for the Empire to bust us after that one job on Brentall IV?"

And that was the real conundrum, the real source of Eddie's uneasiness. He was pretty intuitive, but despite his sense of nervousness and uneasiness...he didn't sense any sort of danger around Thalia. The only deceit that she had shown herself capable of was getting him to trust her, maybe even like her, for a split second before she revealed she was only interested in what he could do for her.

And not who he was.

So could this be a trap? Sure.

But was it?

"It's not," Eddie answered definitively. "She'll be here."

He picked up his drink and knocked the whole thing back, before he signaled to the roaming service droid that he wanted another.

"How do you know?" Jeff pressed.

"She'll be here," Eddie repeated with a grunt.

"Who'll be here?" A whispered voice came from beside him.

Eddie turned, startled, to find Thalia sliding into the seat he'd left empty for her.

She was dressed less conspicuously than she had been at the Surly Sarlacc; while her blue curls remained intact, she'd traded her Star Tours uniform for clothes that blended in with the locals—a fitted shirt and jacket, and utility trousers tucked into comfortable boots. There was an obvious lack of a blaster anywhere on her person, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have one. He realized, then, that her tactic to get his attention the night before had worked; he doubted that he'd have honed in on her amidst the crowd if she dressed like she was now.

He grit his teeth as he debated waving down the service droid again, desperate for another drink.

Thalia seemed to read his mind, though, and offered to get the next round as she greeted everyone. Of course that put her in the good grace's of Eddie's friends immediately, and they all clapped at the offer.

"Uh," Thalia observed of the various states of intoxication at the table. "Maybe some snacks, too. Sober everyone up before we head to the spaceport."

"That's a good idea," Merg snickered and pinched at Mott's arm. "This one's been getting everyone drunk on Moof Juice."

"It's so they'll be more captivated by my stories," Mott argued amicably. "Speaking of Moof, we have to tell these boys about that time on Batuu..."

"Why don't," Eddie interjected with a suggestion of his own, "you tell us about how the three of you met? Since you seem to be such good friends."

He felt the fire within him quell as Thalia turned her eyes back to him, as that calm feeling settled over him once again.

He was starting to hate that feeling.

"Business associates," Thalia corrected him coolly. Then, almost as an afterthought she added, "more often than not."

"And when you're not?"

"Then we're drinking buddies."

"It might seem like a big galaxy," Merg interjected. "But it's a lot smaller than you think. Gotta keep the few good people you know close."

"Yeah, well, the only good people we know happen to be sitting at this table," G'areth chuckled and clapped a hand on Mott's shoulder. "You folks count, of course."

"Well, thanks," Mott grinned and returned the gesture, practically pulling G'areth closer to him. "But trusting your crew is a big deal. It's why it's only ever been me and the Mrs. Can't seem to find anyone else who wouldn't sell us out to the Imps."

Four sets of eyes turned on Thalia suspiciously.

"I'm not a part of their crew," she defended herself with a sarcastic smile. "And you can ask your Captain, I'm no fan of the Empire."

The service droid approached the table with fresh drinks and took orders for the next round, which dissolved the tension that had momentarily overtaken them. As it rolled away, the crew of the Dragonborn were treated to a delightful story about a sabaac game gone wrong, a run-in with the Hutts, and a slicer who could get clearance codes to an Imperial freighter.

"Allegedly," Mott, Merg, and Thalia all said as they got to the end of their story.

It was a hard story to follow, so outrageous it had to have been a lie, but having heard one of Mott Assob's drawn out anecdotes prior to it, the boys figured it was true. Or, at least, some of it had to be.

"And what about you boys?" Merg asked then. "Thali said you're from...what was it...Corellia?"

"Bracca," Eddie and Thalia corrected her in tandem. Eddie shot her an annoyed glance.

"Even worse," Merg snorted. "The guilds will screw you over more than any of the Bosses will; I’d start smuggling to avoid them too. So, let's hear it. How'd you get off that scrap-heap?"

The boys all hesitated, eyes darting to one another as they tried to figure out which one of them would start.

If they should start.

Of course, as the Captain, Eddie took the lead.

"It's not as glamorous as your story," he began with the slightest tinge of self-pity in his voice. "But these guys have been my best friends for years. We met back at school…"

He drifted off into the fond memories of him and his friends back home.

Bracca - 19BBY

"Long night, Mister Moonsun?"

Eddie's head snapped up and he shifted in his seat as his classmates snickered around him; he then turned his attention to his instructor, Cal Larke, who stood beside his station and stared at him with gentle concern.

"No, sir," Eddie cleared his throat and shook his head, then looked down to the datapad before him. It showed an extensive engineering diagram that almost made his eyes cross with its complexity.

"Bored?"

"No, sir, sorry."

How could he tell his instructor that he'd been kept up with nightmares and hadn't gotten much sleep? That he felt little bits of anxiety, pains in his heart all night and he was too afraid to close his eyes again.

Instead, he just apologized again and said, "I won't let it happen again."

Larke placed a gentle hand on Eddie's shoulder and then went back to his podium to continue his lesson.

Eddie turned his head towards the next station, where Jeff was seated, and shot him a questioning glare as if to ask "how come you didn't wake me up?"

Jeff just shrugged apologetically and looked back down to his own datapad.

Poodoo Head.

Everyone knew that Eddric Moonsun wasn't the best student at the Training Institute—he wasn't even in the top 50%—but he was curious, good at tinkering, and a quick learner. So this was where he ended up, whether he liked it—or was good at it—or not. The Guilds could always use more manpower, according to his uncle. According to everyone.

Not like there were many other career options on Bracca, unless he wanted to sling bantha hash someplace at the Terrace.

He'd live and work and work and live, until he was an old man and death came for him. It would be a simple life.

A simple life was a good life.

At least, that's what Uncle Wane always said.

Your family, your health, a job that paid well, and a good cup of caf to wake you up in the morning; those were the keys to happiness.

Except...Eddie wasn't sure that was really what he wanted.

He trudged through the rest of the lesson and whooped when class let out for the day.

One of the only good things about Bracca was that it was basically one big playground; that was the way he and his friends looked at the otherwise lackluster planet that they called home. Bracca was dotted with the hulking, rotting skeletons of cruisers and starships dating back as far as anyone could remember.

If Corellia was the shipyard of the Galaxy, Bracca was the junkyard.

And instead of building the next great starship—or warship, as deep as the Republic currently was in the Clone Wars—the engineers on Bracca thought of ways to break down the remnants of star travel past and reuse their parts for something new. Inventions that could benefit lesser-developed or wartorn planets in the Republic.

Everything that was left behind? The husks? The engineers made good use of them too.

Of course, they weren't meant for dumb kids to climb and play in but it happened anyway.

In the outskirts of town, past the Terrace but before the vast shipbreaking yards, Eddie and his idiot friends created a makeshift clubhouse in the remains of a Rendilli corvette. It was an old scrap heap—a relic—that wasn't even worth the time to break down, so of course they thought it was perfect. It was where they wasted time between class and home. They fussed with fantastical make-believe stories and crafted little figurines out of scraps to go along with their games; tales of heroes and villains and myths that they'd only ever dreamed of.

They’d have speeder races through Coruscant, vibrosword fights with bounty hunters on Mandalore, and explored the suncaves of Sedri for treasure.

They'd even found, in a stack of discarded parts, a dusty, old, bin-shaped T7-series astromech droid. It was a relic too, and of course it didn't work, but Jeff and G'areth had started rebuilding it, bit by bit.

Maybe they’d get it to work one day. The droid. And the ship. And they’d all be able to leave Bracca behind and live out their fantasies.

Until then, the most exciting thing they did was listen to the Holonet News.

"Don't know why you kids wanna listen to any of that stuff," his uncle would always grumble while Eddie caught the morning broadcast before they left for the day. "Just propaganda for the Republic. We're in a war no one wanted. They've got to make it seem like we're winning."

But there was another reason why Eddie liked to watch the broadcasts. It's why everyone wanted to.

The Jedi.

The protectors of the galaxy, now tirelessly working to stop the Trade Federation from…

What were they trying to do exactly? Eddie couldn't be too sure; he had been a bit too young to care about the details when the conflict began. It was practically history now, and he was barely passing his galactic history module.

But stories of the heroes of the Republic were endless and exciting; they always had been, even before the war. The mysterious Jedi Masters and their travels and adventures throughout the galaxy. Peace and justice, the ways of the Force.

Aside from the impact of the Clone Wars, nobody on Bracca seemed to care except for Eddie and his friends. Nobody they knew, at least.

It was just another bit of escapism from the mundane future that waited for them and that they—or possibly just Eddie—refused to accept.

"This just in," Eddie shouted, mimicking the HoloNet News anchor's voice, as he and his friends ran towards their clubhouse. "General Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker foiled yet another assassination attempt on the Chancellor's life earlier today above Coruscant."

"The Chancellor thanks his heroic saviors by awarding them with fame and riches beyond belief!" Dayv added excitedly.

"But the Jedi, known for their vows of selflessness, rejected the rewards," G'areth continued. "We were able to get a statement from General Kenobi himself."

Eddie, who'd spent hours practicing his fancy Coruscanti accent just for the fun of make-believe, adjusted his posture to match the Jedi Master.

"It is our duty and privilege to save the Chancellor and ensure democracy thrives."

"He wouldn't say that!" Jeff scoffed and slapped a hand against his shoulder.

"Yes he would! I swear!"

Once their bickering was over, they logged in for the afternoon broadcast of the Holonet news on a datapad and all went about their little hobbies.

Ga'reth and Jeff took out their tools to work on the droid. Eddie fiddled Wane’s old guitar and daydreamed something new for once—starting a band with his friends one day; talk about a dream. And Dayv tapped away on his own datapad, some research for their pretend.

Finally, the much-awaited broadcast began.

"This is Alfwanne Pinngran," the lead anchor greeted.

"I'm Kafra Krint,” came the voice of his co-star. “And this is Holonet News."

The boys all hummed along with the catchy intro jingle.

They expected to hear the repetitive stories that had fed into their imagination for weeks—news of the heroes of the war—but the mood immediately turned somber as Kafra began with breaking news.

"An attack on the Jedi Temple on Coruscant!" All four boys froze. "Smoke has been seen coming from the Temple, but with no official statement given by the Jedi Order, we can only assume the worst."

"And you know what they say about assuming things, Kafra," Alf cut in, his mistimed joke taking on more of a somber tone.

"CSF has told us that the situation is under control and the residents in the surrounding areas should proceed with normal activities. Skylanes around the temple have been diverted and there has been increased security on the ground as Clone Battalions have been seen en masse. Holonet News will report more once we have additional information."

The boys sat in suspense, hoping for more, but the broadcast moved back onto other reports as usual. General galactic news, reports about the Clone Wars, and a one-in-a-lifetime weather event in the atmosphere of Umgul.

They were all shocked.

Eddie was stunned into silence.

They waited and listened, but soon the broadcast was over.

They raced home after that. Escaping from their mundane lives suddenly didn’t seem so important. They couldn't waste another minute on their fantasies and make believe, not as a big part of their world came to a screeching halt.

And it did, indeed, come to a screeching halt.

Especially for Eddie.

He complained of a stomach ache to Wane for days, and Wane—knowing not to question or force his nephew to do something he truly didn't want to do—let him stay home from the Training Institute.

"But only ‘til the end of the week." He pointed at Eddie sternly. "You're getting older now, son. Sixteen. You've gotta have some responsibility. You've gotta finish your classes and make something of yourself. Moping around at home isn't gonna get you there."

"I know, Wane," Eddie sighed.

Wane, ever a man of few words, turned on his heel and was about to depart. But he stopped at the door and looked back.

"Someone at school bothering you?" he asked.

Eddie stiffened for a moment under his uncle’s scrutiny.

He knew he couldn't tell Wane about his worries; Wane kept his head down, and didn't care about the Republic or the Jedi. He didn't care for the war either but what could they do? They couldn’t just up and leave the galaxy; the most they could do was get off-planet. He wouldn't understand why Eddie was so affected by the news he'd heard.

So he just said, "No."

"You get into an argument with your friends?"

"No, everything's fine."

"Well...how about we go down to the Terrace for breakfast on Benduday? You tell me what's bothering you."

Eddie sighed and reluctantly agreed, but felt the guilt churn in his stomach until Wane finally left their flat for his shift.

He immediately hopped out of bed to grab his datapad from his schoolbag; he signed into Holonet News and scrolled articles for anything from Coruscant that would give more details about the attack on the Jedi temple.

And it was silly. He knew that it was silly.

Eddie—well, the whole kriffing Moonsun family—wasn't big on beliefs. Sure, there was the Force, but he didn't see or feel any Force. Most of the galaxy didn't, at least as far as he knew.

But it was nice to believe there was more, wasn't there?

Not just the mystical, but the tangible, too. Dreams and goals and plans.

Wane had been right, he had to think about his future, but to have a future that was a carbonite copy of Wane's life? That's not what he desired.

Wasn't there more out there than that? A whole galaxy to explore and search for happiness.

Eddie's father thought so, that's why he hadn't been back on Bracca for more than a few days at a time since his mother died. But Aldred Moonsun had lost his way thanks to grief. He couldn't care for his son, only for himself. There was nothing ambitious about his abandonment of the status quo.

So, for Eddie, the Holonet truly represented...more.

The stories about other planets, the stories about the Jedi, about heroes and princesses and even the types of foods that could be found if he could only get off Bracca.

Bracca was the only home he'd ever known all his life; how could he tell his uncle that what he really wanted was to be anywhere but here?

How could he tell his uncle that after he'd learned about the Jedi, he'd wished that they might come and take him away to be a hero and save the galaxy one day, just like they were?

A notification at the corner of the screen pulled Eddie back to reality and he pressed it to see the live broadcast of the Galactic Senate.

It started slow, with introductions of delegates from around the galaxy.

He enjoyed seeing their garb; costumery that celebrated the cultures of the planets they represented. It was so different from the purposeful clothing that his uncle wore as an engineer, or his uniform for the Training Institute—even though he'd added his own little bits of flair where he could to feel different. To feel more like himself, whoever he really was.

A scroll of text at the bottom of the screen indicated that this was an emergency convening of the senate, called by the Chancellor himself. There were statements from various senators about their quick trips to Coruscant from afar, and all had statements and well-wishes about the attack on the Jedi Temple, as true politicians would.

Eventually, Chancellor Palpatine took his place at the center of the Galactic Senate and began his speech amidst the applause at his appearance.

Immediately, Eddie could tell that something was wrong. A feeling deep in his gut. The Chancellor's words...they just didn't make sense.

The war was over, the Separatists had lost.

But with the Republic's victory, a new challenge emerged.

Jedi. Betrayal. Rebellion. Assassination.

An uprising against the Galactic Republic on over a thousand worlds, and the Clone Battalions protecting the sanctity and order by slaughtering the traitorous Jedi.

"The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated!" Palpatine declared to the roaring crowd, most of whom seemed to agree thanks to their cheers.

Eddie was horrified as Holonet News began flashing what could only be described as wanted posters across the top of the broadcast. Hundreds of faces of Jedi Knights and Masters.

Yoda. Obi-Wan Kenobi. Quinlan Vos.

And apprentices.

Padawan Jin-Lo Rayce. Padawan Ferus Olin, Padawan Steev Toninghar.

Kids who looked just about as old as he did. Some even younger.

They were going to hunt these younglings down? They were going to kill children?

The list went on and on.

And Eddie continued to watch the address in horror and confusion. In grief.

Everything he knew, the stories he knew and loved...had it all been a lie? The Jedi were heroes; they'd just saved Palpatine. They'd never try to kill him.But why shouldn’t he trust what the Holonet News said? Why shouldn’t he trust the Chancellor when he’d just led the Republic to victory? When he’d just ended the Clone Wars?

Palpatine said one last remark to thunderous applause before his Grand Vizier took over the address—

"In order to ensure our security and continuing stability, the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire, for a safe and secure society."

—and with that Eddie's world began to be torn apart by something so much bigger, so immensely grander than a boy from Bracca could ever fathom.

Nar Shaddaa - 10BBY

"...old Ed here got a job with his uncle down at the shipbreaking yard, and he strong-armed us into starting a band to play down at the Terrace until we were done with school."

Eddie was pulled back into the conversation as Jeff patted him on the back; he straightened in his seat and turned his eyes down towards his drink, a little ashamed that he'd lost himself in the memory of the day everything changed.

Despite this, his friends had done an excellent job of telling the tales. Of Bracca, of their schooling, of their dream of something better. The others sat raptly as the story concluded.

Well, Mott and Merg did.

Thalia was stiff beside him, fingers tapping against the sides of her glass as she seemingly absorbed the story, but looked to be lost in her thoughts. Just like Eddie had been.

It only took a few brief moments of his eyes on her for her to break from her trance; she turned her head to him, and with sad eyes, she gave him a smile.

Once again, he was left confused. He didn't know what to make of that smile. Didn't know what to make of her. Didn't know what to make of this whole kriffing situation that he seemed to have gotten himself into by accepting this job.

He was unsettled by his own recollections; he hadn't really thought of home in years. They'd left and hadn't ever looked back. His uncle had visited them once—just once—at their first flat on Coruscant. It had been a long and tedious journey that Eddie hadn't made him take again. But other than that, it was a holocomm on birthdays and a transfer of credits to hopefully help Wane retire someday.

Credits like the ones he could send once they were done with this job. Credits like the ones Thalia promised. Promised him, Eddie Moonsun of Bracca, the planet he left behind and had barely mentioned to anyone outside of his crew. His friends.

How had she known that fact? And why were they telling her more? What were they doing? Sitting around telling stories, telling secrets, instead of doing the job that would be paid to do?

"Work got pretty lean by the time the rest of us graduated," Dayv continued with a distasteful grunt. "The Engineering Guild turned into the Scrapper Guild. The Empire decided they didn't want recycled ships after the war was over."

"So we all worked on fixing up the old corvette."

"And that's the ship we still use today."

"The Dragonborn," G'areth said with a dramatic flair, hands waving enticingly.

Eddie's friends started to talk about their trip to Coruscant and their first job, but he decided enough was enough. Everyone went silent as he stood from his seat and adjusted his jacket; they all stared at him expectantly.

What were they expecting? What did he expect? He should just call it off once and for all...but for some reason, he couldn't.

He didn’t want to do this. But he knew he had to.

"And the rest," he concluded with an air of finality, "is history. Now, are we gonna sit around here all day? Or are we going to get your cargo off of this blasted planet?"

Eddie leaned against the hull of his ship as he observed the droids that zipped around Deucalon Spaceport.

He was used to a lot of chaos and commotion in the hangars. There were ships guided in and out, and passengers and cargo being loaded and unloaded. Someone a few bays down was arguing with a customs droid and angry Huttese echoed off the durasteel walls; Eddie wasn't much of a betting man but if things didn't cool off soon, he might almost expect blaster fire.

However, the most important thing that he needed to keep his attention on was the cargo being loaded off the Assob's shiny Rendili freighter.

It was an unassuming container, a rectangular cuboid twice as tall as he was, if he could guess. He figured it was the size of his childhood bedroom, which was to say that it didn't look very big at all. It didn't look very suspicious either, or like it contained something that desperately needed to get off-planet.

But that was the whole point of smuggling, wasn't it? To avoid suspicion or detection?

As the singular container was repulsorlifted away from the Assob's ship, Eddie expected more to be unloaded. A second container, maybe a third. But the loading ramp soon shut with a satisfying hiss.

That was it? Must have been one hell of a container.

Thalia walked alongside Dayv, Merg, and the traffic controller that was overseeing the transfer. She stopped beside Eddie as the others loaded the container into the Dragonborn's cargo bay.

"G'areth made a new friend," she told him in an amused tone. "Mott has a whole team of pit droids and G'ar helped one with a stuck clamp. I've never seen a droid with a crush before, but there's a first time for everything."

"You made all this fuss over one measly container," Eddie scoffed and ignored her story. "What's in it?"

Thalia's smile dropped and her eyes hardened.

"Need to know." Her response was curt and sharp, and Eddie could practically feel the phantom jab of a finger against his sternum, even though her hands were clenched around the straps of her bag.

"Well, I'm letting it on my ship," he snarked back at her. "So I need to know."

And he was sure that she would fold. It wasn't an outrageous thing for the captain of the ship you hired to smuggle something onto the capital of the Empire to know just what it was he was about to smuggle. With a container that small, it couldn't be anything outrageous either. Spice, weapons, credits, artifacts...that's really all it could be. Maybe a few speeder bikes? It wasn't even large enough to fit a decently-sized speeder.

Kriff, he'd even settle for knowing who hired Thalia! She'd called herself a freelancer, right? She helped someone get something somewhere. He knew where it was going, he would either like to know the who or the what.

The longer he stared at her and waited for an answer, he should have realized that he wasn't going to get it.

For the second time in the past 24 hours, she looked nervous; her otherwise cool and confident facade faltered. She worried her bottom lip for a moment and her eyes darted to the loading ramp where the container was being lifted in.

Then she looked back at Eddie.

"I'll pay extra," she said. "If you stop asking about what's inside."

Eddie felt a hot annoyance ignite in his chest.

"See," he pushed himself off the hull and took a step closer, "these are all terms that we should have discussed before I agreed to this job. All the little extras you seem to want, how much that'll affect my crew's cut of the payoff, who we're working for—"

"You're working for me," Thalia cut him off to respond.

"Then who are you working for?" Eddie asked sharply, and then sucked a breath in through his teeth. "Oh, sorry, is that 'need to know' too?"

Thalia's mouth snapped shut with a click of her teeth and she exhaled sharply out of her nose.

"As a matter of fact, it is," she replied after a beat.

"And you're gonna pay me not to ask about that either, right?"

"Sure am."

"Fine."

"Alright," Merg clapped her hands, ignorant of the glaring contest Eddie and Thalia were engaged in. "She's all loaded up. All of the forms are in order. That is to say...the forms don't exist."

There was another beat of silence, and an unexpected twitch in the corner of Eddie's eye, then Thalia broke eye contact and turned to the Theelin.

"Thanks for everything," she said gratefully. "You guys know it means the world to me when you help me out in a pinch."

"Thanks for having extra credits when you're in a pinch," Merg winked. She looked over at Eddie. "You take care of our girl, huh Moonsun? I know we're pals now, but I don't want to have to put a bounty on your head."

Merg turned on her heel and walked back to her ship with the wave of a hand as a farewell.

Eddie folded his arms across his chest and took another step closer to Thalia.

"What did she mean, 'take care of our girl?'" he asked, almost afraid of the answer

"It means exactly what you think it means," Thalia snorted. "Don't let anything happen to me. Or the cargo. But, mostly me; Merg is very protective."

"And why would good ol' Merg think I have anything to do with protecting you?" Eddie narrowed his eyes at her, but she simply smiled innocently.

Condescendingly.

"Listen, lady," Eddie started. "I don't know who you think you are, but you were not a part of this deal. None of this was a part of this deal. My crew and I are smuggling cargo for you. Suddenly we're not supposed to know what it is or who wants it? Fine. But this is where I draw the line. So get your cute little uniform back on and get on a Star Tours flight straight to Coruscant if you want to meet us there. You are not setting foot on my ship. And don't you dare say you'll pay extra. There aren't enough credits in the galaxy."

"You didn't just agree to this job Eddie," Thalia spat at him. "You agreed to help me, and helping me means that that container doesn't get within a parsec of me. So I'm coming aboard your ship, whether you like it or not."

"You can't just keep adding new terms to the job because you feel like it," Eddie argued.

He was about to call his friends and tell them to off-load the container when Thalia grabbed his arm to stop him again.

But he shook her off.

He was done with her manipulative tactics, her little mind tricks. The touching and the pleading and the you're-my-only-hope. His crew might fold at the prospect of credits and a round of drinks and a pretty face, but he wouldn't. Not this time. He was the captain, this was his business, this was how he made sure he and his friends had a future...especially when the future of the galaxy seemed so grim.

"I don't know who you think I am," he snarled at Thalia. "But I'm not some rookie who's gonna let himself get walked on. And if that's the kind of service you want your highness, then I'm not the kind of smuggler you're looking for."

"You're the only smuggler I trust," she insisted.

"Trust? You don't even know me, how can you trust me? How did you even hear about me?"

"Word of mouth? Holonet? Does it really matter?" She shook her head. "But we're here now. The cargo is already loaded. Everything is set. So what's gonna get me on that ship with that container and en route to Coruscant?"

What could he say to get her to give up? A million credits? Two? But that desperation…he almost felt bad—almost—that he was gonna take a Star Tours flight attendant for all the credits she was worth. However, he knew that she wasn't just some innocent little flight attendant. She was a con artist, a criminal. Just like he was.

"I want 80% of the cut," he demanded.

There was some hesitation at first—and to be honest, Eddie thought that was such a ridiculous number that she’d simply tell him no—but eventually Thalia nodded.

"Done.”

His eyebrows jumped in surprise and he continued.

"And I'm there when you meet this mysterious benefactor you're so intent on keeping secret. That way I know I'm not getting screwed over."

"Sure. Fine. Next."

What else? What else?

"I call the shots from here on out," he continued. "No more secret and sudden demands I don't know about. I'm the captain for a reason."

He couldn't control the smirk that formed on his lips as he watched her jaw clench at that.

"What about—" she started but he cut her off.

"Ah, ah. There's no 'what abouts.' I'm the captain. You said you trust me. Then trust me. And I'll trust you."

"Then I need a failsafe," she insisted. "Some kind of clause in case you muck up the whole job. Like if the Empire does find that container."

"They won't."

"But if they do."

There was an edge to her voice, a nervousness, that put him on edge.

"They won't," Eddie repeated. "But if they do. If something happens and nothing goes horribly wrong, like the ship blowing up or something like that, then our cut goes down to 50%. Not just zero. If you're so afraid of the Empire, then that means my crew and I are taking a big risk here; 50% that's my failsafe."

Thalia looked like she wanted to say something else.

In fact, he could practically hear some of her grumbled words in his head; it wasn't a stretch to imagine, he'd heard it all before.

Instead, she sighed and held out her hand.

"Deal," she said reluctantly.

Eddie grinned, slapped his hand into hers, and shook. Then, once her grip loosened, he pulled her into the crook of his arm and gestured to the loading ramp.

"Then Miss Trieste, welcome aboard the Dragonborn."

Next Chapter: Episode 3: I've Got a Bad Feeling About This (Coming 2/18 at 7PM CST)

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#eddie munson #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x OFC #star wars AU #stranger things x star wars #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson big bang #embb #luminous beings st au

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hungermakesmonsters · 2 days ago

Text

(It Is) What It Is

Chapter Three

Plot Summary : When Billy Russo realises that there is a certain class of wealthy clients who refuse to contract with Anvil because of his playboy reputation, he decides to alter their perception of him. You’re just a down on your luck PA, just trying to get by so when Billy offers to pay you to pretend to date him, you can’t refuse. But the last thing you expect is for Billy to pull you into his secret world of lust and debauchery.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Nothing noteworthy on this chapter. There will be smutty themes throughout the story. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 5.7k

A/N : ... Billy is/continues to be clueless, but at least he's cute doing it😅

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

Master List

Chapter Three

His hand stayed in yours all the way up to the fourth floor and to your door.

Or maybe it was your hand in his.

Honestly, there was no telling which of you was holding on, and it didn’t even cross your mind to wonder about it until you stopped outside your door. Billy stayed next to you, looking at you expectantly and you realised that he actually wanted to go into your apartment.

Your discomfort grew as he remained silent, not even offering an explanation as to what he wanted or why he was still there.

“What are you going to do? Check my apartment for monsters?” You asked, exasperated, finally untangling your hand from his so you could find your keeps and unlock the door.

He didn’t answer, he just fixed you with an unimpressed look, almost as if he thought you should know what he wanted. Once the lock clicked, you hesitated, hoping he’d take the hint. But, of course, he didn’t.

You rolled your eyes and pushed the door open, allowing him to follow you into your apartment. As soon as you were inside, the door was shut and the latch was slid into place.

A relieved sigh slipped from your lips as you finally kicked off your uncomfortable shoes, but any relief you felt was short-lived when you looked at the looming figure of Billy Russo in your apartment.

“So... am I supposed to offer you a drink?” You asked, barely managing to hold back the awkward frustration that was building inside of you.

“Coffee would be great,” Billy answered.

If his attention had been on you, he might have caught the flicker of annoyance on your face as you huffed and headed towards the kitchen, but he was too busy glancing around your sparse apartment.

While it might not have been the nicest apartment, and you’d done little to make it more homely in the six months that you’d been there, it wasn’t some awful shithole. It had potential - you just needed to find the time, money, and inclination to do something with it. It was mid at worst, and a work in progress at best. But it was safe and warm, and had more than enough space for you.

Most importantly, you were happy with it - it was the best that you could afford.

So, you didn’t even stop to think about why Billy was looking around the place as if you’d dragged him into a hovel, nor did you question the silence.

It was a little strange though. You knew that he hadn’t always been filthy rich. In fact, it was well known that he’d grown up with nothing and he’d built himself up. It was all pretty inspirational stuff. So, it made no sense for him to find your apartment offensive.

You tried to ignore it, putting a fresh filter in the coffee machine before starting it up, doing everything and anything you could not to look at him.

“I thought -” he started but stopped himself.

“What?” You prompted, biting back a sigh as you grabbed a couple of mugs.

“I thought I paid you better than... this.”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your -”

“It is my business if you’re hiding something that’s going to make me look bad,” he interrupted.

There was no sharpness in his voice, no accusation, but you still didn’t like it. It wasn’t his business. You weren’t some under-performing asset and you weren’t about to let him treat you like one.

You all but slammed the mug in your hand onto the counter, losing what little composure you had left. It was a wonder that the mug didn’t break, but you didn’t stop to think about that.

“Okay, let’s get one thing straight,” you started. The sudden and uncharacteristic sharpness in your voice clearly caught him off-guard because he damn near winced. “You dragged me into this and now I’m on the hook if things go wrong. But my money and how I live is my business, now yours. I like this apartment. I like living here. And that’s all there is to it.”

There was no missing the way his eyes widened as you spoke - while you had more than enough experience with his moods and temper, he’d never seen yours. But it was about time. If you were going to spend six months at his side, you were going to do it as yourself and not as the docile PA who did everything she could to keep him happy.

You were a human being and he needed to understand that.

You forced yourself to turn from him to grab the coffee pot, pouring two mugs; black coffee for him and adding cream to your own.

“You like living in an apartment that has hardly any furniture?” He asked after a few seconds of silence, a hint of playfulness in his tone as if he was trying to lighten the mood.

You considered calling him out, telling him that he could just turn an awkward situation of his creation into a joke to get out of it, but it had been a long day and you were exhausted.

You just wanted him to drink his coffee and leave.

“I have a job that doesn’t exactly give me a lot of time to go furniture shopping,” you said, earning a forced smile from Billy. “Unless you want me to do it from my desk, instead of making sure you get your lunch on time.”

If he wanted to say anything else on the matter, he kept it to himself, but you were sure you saw a brief moment of understanding finally pass over his face. You were good at your job, you knew he knew at least that much, but clearly he’d never stopped to think about just how much it took for you to be that good.

With little more than a nod of your head, you directed him to the threadbare sofa that sat in front of the TV - a TV that was currently standing on a stack of old cookery books.

If Billy had an opinion on it, he chose to keep it to himself.

He sat on one end of the sofa, you sat on the other, a single solitary seat between you, but it might as well have been miles with how things suddenly felt between the pair of you.

“So,” he said, leaving that one little word to hang in the air between you, as if he expected you to know what to do with it. When you shrugged, he clarified; “don’t you think we ought to talk about tonight?”

“I hope you’re not intending to give me a performance review.”

You were joking, but only just.

Billy almost laughed but shook his head. “No it’s just - well, at dinner you obviously had some notes about what I was doing wrong, so I figure we should at least try to get on the same page.”

Immediately you found yourself wondering if it was you or Billy that would be expected to try.

“Okay,” you said but chose not to expand on it, instead waiting to see where he wanted the conversation to go.

You caught him staring at his mug for a second, and you wondered if his usual confidence had started to abandon him after your outburst in the kitchen, or if he was just as tired as you were.

“Okay,” he said, mirroring your comment and the pause that followed, seeming to hope you’d jump in. When you didn’t, he continued; “I suppose we should start with the kiss.”

Just the mention of it had your heart fluttering, the memory of the moment filling your mind. It had been so gentle, so tender, and just the thought of it had you nervously running your tongue over your lower lip and heat licking across your cheeks.

“What about it?” You asked, lifting your mug and taking a slow sip, hoping to hide the sudden worry that had started to fill you.

(Had there been something wrong with the kiss? Had you done something wrong? Had you kissed him wrong? Was he going to tell you that he’d hated it?)

“Was it - was it okay?” He asked. “I mean - we didn’t discuss it beforehand, and I know I should have asked permission or given you a little more warning.”

Oh.

He seemed genuinely uncomfortable at the thought that he might have forced you to do something you weren’t comfortable with and that was... odd and unexpected. And, in a weird way, it was incredibly sweet.

“It was fine,” you answered quickly, cheeks burning hotter with every awkward word, “more than fine. I mean - unexpected, sure, but if we’re going to sell this, then I guess we’ll have to kiss sometimes...”

“Right,” he agreed with an audible sigh of relief, “and it’s not like it really means anything.”

“Right.”

It didn’t mean anything.

Nothing.

Not a damned thing.

(So why was the memory causing your heart to pound?)

In retrospect, you were willing to chalk the butterflies in your stomach up to shock. He’d taken you by surprise with the kiss. And, sure, you were willing to admit that you’d always harboured a vague curiosity about your boss and what it would be like to be kissed by him - though it had always been an obviously silly, unprofessional thought that you’d never had any intention of acting on before tonight.

Even you weren’t so ridiculous that you couldn’t admit that Billy was an attractive man, and his looks were only one of countless reasons why so many women seemed desperate to be at his side.

“What I said,” you started awkwardly, needing to say it before you lost the nerve, “when I assumed that your other relationships had been meaningless, I - I shouldn’t’ve said that. It wasn’t fair.”

Billy nodded, silently accepting the apology.

“I’m sorry if I was... dismissive when you suggested going to that movie festival,” he said, glancing away from you. “The truth is a lot of my dates are usually very one-note; it’s dinner or a gala or some exclusive club. I don’t really...”

He trailed off into an awkward sigh, and you were left trying to read between the lines. Fortunately, you knew enough about him to put two and two together. It had always been your assumption that he used the women he was with, that he got what he wanted then kicked them to the curb, but you were starting to realise that he was probably used just as much.

Billy Russo opened a lot of doors, and to aspiring models, actresses, and socialites - well, you could see why they’d want to be seen on his arm, and how they could use him to step up a couple of rungs on the social ladder.

And, for reasons you didn’t want to consider, that made you feel sad.

“Don’t you ever just go out and do things for fun?” You asked, not really thinking too much about the question.

“Fun?” He repeated, seeming confused by the concept. “Was tonight not fun?”

Then, again, he was looking at you like you were from another planet and he had no idea how to even begin to understand you. And you - you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing, even though you were sure it didn’t help the situation.

“Billy, I like Italian food as much as the next person, and I’ll never say no to the chance to have some tiramisu, but going to a restaurant isn’t exactly fun,” you told him and instantly regretted it as the corner of his lips started to tug downwards. “Not that I didn’t have fun with you but - c’mon, we probably had more fun in the car than we did at the restaurant.”

“That was fun for you? Just... talking to me?”

Again there was that pang of something, that uncomfortable squeeze beneath your ribs of - what? Pity?

“Of course it was,” you answered before your own paranoia decided to rear its ugly head again. “Did you not -”

“No - I mean, yeah, I enjoyed it. I just -” he seemed to struggle for a few seconds, “- I don’t know, guess I’m just not used to people wanting that from me.”

You took a breath, biting back all the little things you wanted to say, reassurances that you wanted to give that somehow felt too personal to offer your boss. Perhaps, instead, you could show him. Even if it was all pretend, it didn’t mean that you couldn’t have fun and enjoy each other’s company, right?

“Then maybe that’s where we should start?” You offered. “We can try new things, have some fun, and do things differently to how you normally do them? If that doesn’t convince VDK that you’re a changed man, nothing will.”

Billy took a second to consider the offer before nodding. “Okay. We can start with that movie festival.”

“Great,” you said with a smile, immediately reaching for your phone.

He watched you as your focus completely shifted from him to your phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Booking tickets,” you explained, still tapping away on your phone. “And I’ll have to make sure that your schedule is completely clear.”

“Oh, shouldn’t I do -” he started and then abruptly stopped, letting out an awkward laugh.

You looked up from your phone, fixing him with a questioning look before it dawned on you.

“Did you just realise that you usually rely on me to book these sorts of things for you?” You asked, fighting back a smirk.

How many times had he told someone that he’d do something with one breath, only to ask you to do it for him with the next? It was ridiculous in a funny sort of way just how much you did to ensure that his life ran smoothly. In fact, you were a little shocked that he’d been able to book the restaurant tonight without your help.

“Right. Guess I should pay you overtime if you’re going to be doing all this extra work for me for the next six months,” Billy said, laughing.

“To be fair, you’re not exactly the most demanding boss I’ve ever had.” You barely even looked up from your phone as you spoke.

“No?”

“Not really,” you shrugged. “At least, not anymore.”

If Billy wanted to know what you meant by that, he didn’t ask, instead he lifted his mug and took a long, slow drink.

“You’re good at reading me,” he offered, “good at anticipating what I want before I even ask. Good with other people too - never seen anyone render Frank speechless with a coffee and a bear claw before.”

An unseemly snort of laughter escaped you, the kind of sound that would only be described as piggish, and you felt your cheeks grow hotter as you desperately tried to ignore the amused look Billy shot you.

“Okay the, uh - the tickets are booked,” you said, keeping your eyes on your phone for a few seconds more.

“How much do I owe you?”

“Uh, fifty dollars, I got VIP tickets so we don’t have to queue for any of the screenings,” you explained, wondering if you should have asked before ordering the more expensive tickets.

“Fifty dollars for two VIP tickets?” He asked, sounding almost amused at the low cost.

“No, I mean, yours cost fifty, I -”

“You’re not paying for your own ticket,” Billy told you firmly, already pulling out his own phone, no doubt to transfer the money to you.

You wanted to argue because he’d just spent god only knew how much at Bianchi’s, but you knew that tone of voice and you knew he was not going to take no for an answer. And, honestly, again, it was late and you were getting tired.

“Fine, but I’m paying for the popcorn,” you countered.

It was Billy’s turn to roll his eyes but, surprisingly, he didn’t argue. In fact, he seemed to find it funny. And, again, you found yourself wondering what his real dates were like and if they expected him to pay for everything. Maybe that was why they wanted him in the first place, so he’d pay for everything.

Even though he was your boss and you were, eventually at least, going to be paid for pretending to date him, it just seemed sleazy to take advantage of him like that.

Case and point, the dress.

You drained the last of your coffee and looked down at yourself.

“While you’re here, you might as well wait while I change out of this dress. I kept the tags so you should be able to take it back and -”

“Take it back?” He said, confused again.

“Yeah, so you can get it refunded.”

“Why would I -”

You didn’t even let him finish the question before letting out a heavy sigh. “Because it’s expensive. Too expensive. And it’s not like I’ll wear it again.”

He looked ready to respond immediately but then some thought seemed to strike, causing an uncomfortable look to spread across his face.

“You don’t like it.” Statement not a question. He sounded disappointed, almost like a little kid finding out that their dad never really liked the novelty ties they brought them every single Christmas.

“It’s not that, it’s -”

“I thought you liked that colour,” he continued, ignoring your protests. “You have a sweater in that shade, and it really brings out the colour of your eyes...”

Whatever you might have wanted to say died on your lips. You hadn’t worn the sweater in question in well over a month, and it seemed unthinkable to you that he’d actually remembered it, thought about it even, when he was picking the dress. (And you actively avoided even thinking about the eye comment.)

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said as your eyes dropped to look at the dress again. “It’s a beautiful dress, it’s just... too much? I look ridiculous prancing around in a dress that cost so much.”

“You don’t want it because it’s too expensive?” He asked, barely holding back a laugh. “I think you’re the first person to ever complain that a gift cost too much.”

Billy didn’t seem to realise that that statement said just as much about him and his life as it did you and yours. It made you remember the way he’d called you out for assuming all of his past relationships had been meaningless; had he been trying to buy their affection, or did he only manage to find women who wanted him for his money?

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? I’m supposed to be different from the others,” you tried to explain. “And, anyway, I don’t want people thinking I’m some gold digger or that you’re my... my sugar daddy.”

A sudden gasp of laughter escaped Billy, shaking his body so violently that he almost spilled what was left of his coffee.

“Christ, please don’t call me that again.”

You had to laugh as well, if only to relieve the tension in your body.

“I guess it’s good to know that you’re not into that,” you said, smirking at him. “I don’t think I could keep a straight face if you were.”

“No, that’s the one thing you don’t have to worry about,” he said.

And there was something in his words, some hidden meaning you couldn’t quite grasp, a warning even, but you didn’t dare ask what he was trying to tell you. It didn’t matter. Nothing was ever going to happen between you.

Without warning, Billy drained the last of his coffee and got to his feet.

“I want you to keep the dress,” he told you, “even if you decide to sell it. Though, I’d prefer that you didn’t, I think you look lovely in it.”

Suddenly, your lungs refused to draw breath and all you could do was stare at him, wondering if he was playing some cruel trick, or if he was just telling you he thought you looked lovely because that was just what was expected of him.

Either way, it took you a few seconds to realise that he was leaving and get to your feet to follow after, watching as he placed his coffee mug by the sink before heading towards the door.

“I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

“Yes, Mr - Billy,” you said, your eyes following his hand as he unlatched the door.

He turned back to look at you as he started to open the door. “And, for the record, what you said earlier, about people seeing you as a downgrade to the women I usually date, I think you’re wrong.”

He didn’t expand on the comment or give you a chance to ask before slipping out of your apartment and, finally, leaving you alone.

As you laid in bed that night, the dress carefully folded and placed back into the box along with all the tags, you found yourself thinking about him and the bizarre evening you’d spent together.

You’d seen a side to him that you’d never seen before, and allowed him to see far more of yourself than you were usually comfortable with, but it was his laugh that you couldn’t get out of your head. You’d heard him laugh, seen him smile, countless times, but never like he had tonight in those strange little moments that seemed to catch him off-guard.

Of course, you didn’t think it was you per se that had brought out that side of him but, rather, the honesty of the situation. It was clear he was used to dates being performative, transactional almost, the women he was seeing taking whatever they wanted from him while he got - what? Sex, probably.

You pushed that thought away, knowing it would only complicate things to dwell on it.

Tonight had just been the first night, and you still had six months to go.

Closing your eyes, you drifted off with the hopes that things could only get easier.

Your weekend went the way that you weekends often did. Saturday was spent making sure you had everything that you’d need for the following week, which included a couple of hours spent trying to find a better pair of shoes for the next time Billy decided he wanted to take you to dinner. And Sunday was spent the way your Sundays normally were; visiting your brother.

But your trip to Saint Martin’s was cut a little shorter than usual, Seb was tired and managed to fall asleep as you were reading to him, and you’d never had the heart to wake him when he was sleeping.

You spoke with the people responsible for his care, assuring them that the fee increase would not be a problem and, then, you went on your way.

On your way home you decided to stop to treat yourself to a new book and the rest of the weekend was lost to the pages of Stephen King’s The Institute.

Come Monday morning something was off.

Your commute went as normal but, when you stepped into The Bean Grinder to grab your usual coffees and a bear claw for Billy, you were met with strange smiles. As you left, you stopped to check yourself and make sure you hadn’t left the apartment in your pyjamas or had messed up your make-up, but you looked normal, average.

You decided that it must just be them, something going on in the coffee shop that you didn’t need to know about.

As you stepped into Anvil, there were more little glances from people waiting by the elevator as you headed to the security barrier.

“Morning Carl,” you said, working extra hard to force your smile and sound happy. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” he answered, thankfully sounding like his usual self. “Got that video of Lyra’s recital if you want to see?”

Something normal, something that wasn’t weird.

“Definitely,” you answered without hesitation, placing your coffee and food on the security desk as he headed towards you, phone in hand.

He hit play and you stepped a little closer to look at the screen. There was a little girl, only eight years old, dressed in a frilly red dress, playing Amazing Grace on clarinet. You watched with a smile almost as wide as Carl’s, amazed at how talented the little girl was.

You were so caught up in the video, that you didn’t realise someone was behind you until you felt a hand on the small of your back.

Somehow you managed to bite back a squeal of shock, as your head whipped around to see Billy. Carl also had a similar response and started to pull back his phone.

“What are you watching?” Billy asked.

His tone was friendly, but it was obvious that Carl felt caught out by Mr Russo’s sudden appearance, like he was about to get in trouble.

“Carl was showing me his daughter’s clarinet recital,” you explained, “she’s really good.”

You flashed Carl a reassuring smile, refusing to believe even for a second that he was going to get in trouble. He wouldn’t. You wouldn’t let him.

“Oh, okay,” was all Billy said. “Are you heading up now?”

“Yeah,” you said, again smiling at Carl and offering him a slight but reassuring nod. “I’ll see you later Carl.”

With that you grabbed the coffees and bear claw from the desk and started to follow Billy towards the elevator. About halfway there, he relieved you of the coffees, earning a smile from you.

“Are you always so friendly with everyone?” He asked as the elevator door slid shut.

“I guess?” You answered, shrugging. “Carl’s always been really nice to me. The other week he let me borrow his umbrella when I had to go out to get lunch.”

Billy didn’t say anything - you doubted that he cared, but you wanted to make sure he understood that Carl was a good employee and, more than that, someone you liked. In fact, he remained silent for the rest of the short trip up to the top floor of the building.

The elevator gave a ding and Billy let you step out first, though you quickly stopped in your tracks when you found Mr Castle leaning against your desk. You looked from him to Billy and back again, a mild look of shock on your face as you tried to figure out if you’d forgotten to schedule a meeting.

“What are you doing up here this early on a Monday, Frankie?” Billy asked, grinning at his friend.

“Just thought I’d come see if you had any of those bear claws goin’ spare,” Castle answered, looking directly at you.

“Oh, I didn’t know that you’d -” you looked down at the paper bag in your hand, “- I can run back across and -”

“Relax, I’m kiddin’” Mr Castle interrupted before you could get too flustered. “Just, do me a favour, blink twice if Bill here is blackmailin’ you.”

You did blink, but it was more than twice.

“What?” You asked, not getting the joke.

Billy clearly understood what Frank was getting at because he let out a forced sigh.

“Fucking hell, Frankie, leave her alone,” Billy said, not bothering to hold back his annoyance.

He turned to look at you for a moment, letting you take your coffee from the tray, and hand him the paper bag with his breakfast. Then he nodded towards his office and Frank Castle followed him inside.

It wasn’t until you sat at your desk and opened your laptop that your strange morning finally started to make sense to you.

You’d set up the google alert for professional reasons, wanting to make sure that nothing libellous or damaging to Anvil was posted about Billy. More often than not, whenever it pinged it was just photos of him and whichever woman happened to be on his arm, stories about him, stories about him at clubs or galas. Or restaurants.

Your heart stopped and you felt sick when you clicked the alert and saw photos of you and Billy at Bianchi’s; holding hands, eating dinner... kissing.

New York’s most eligible bachelor, Billy Russo, takes unknown to Bianchi’s.

Even if you’d wanted to read the article you couldn’t have. You couldn’t focus your eyes, couldn’t - anything. Closing your laptop, you tugged at the top button of your blouse, feeling like you were being choked by your own collar.

That was why everyone was being weird with you. They thought - fuck, what did they think?

You couldn’t decide what was worse, that they thought you were just someone he was fucking before he moved on to the next, or that you were sleeping with Billy to advance your career.

Somehow, you managed to stand from your desk and make your way to the small bathroom, locking yourself in while you forced yourself through some breathing exercises to try and push the panic away.

Realistically, you knew that you should have expected it - all of Billy’s dates ended up with unwanted publicity in the gossip blogs and the society sections, after all - but seeing those photos of yourself, in that dress, tangled up in Billy Russo’s arms had you feeling more insecure about yourself than you had in years.

The only saving grace was the fact that they hadn’t known your name to publish, though you were sure that wouldn’t last.

It took ten minutes for you to calm down and compose yourself, but the sick feeling in your gut lingered long after you returned to your desk and tried to start your day again, minimising the window that had your photo on.

Frank Castle sauntered out of Billy’s office about twenty minutes later. He gave you a look, a smile that you didn’t understand but he didn’t speak until he was in the elevator and the doors were closing.

“No accountin' for taste, I guess.”

And, with that you felt some part of you break.

Before you could stop to consider what you were doing, your laptop was under your arm and you were walking into Billy’s office. He seemed a little shocked at you just barging in, but didn’t say anything. Approaching his desk, you opened your laptop and put it down in front of him, maximising the gossip blog window again.

You wanted to say something; look at that, someone was photographing us, someone was invading our privacy. Instead, you said nothing, allowing Billy a moment to scan the pictures and the story about his date with an unknown woman.

He didn’t seem shocked, he didn’t even seem to care.

Until he saw your face.

“I...” whatever he wanted to say seemed to die on his lips. Billy took a breath before continuing. “I’m sorry. I’m so used to it now that I didn’t stop to think how you’d feel about it.”

“No one believes it,” you said, quietly, feeling like it was all you could manage. “It won’t work, even Mr Castle -”

“Frank? What did Frank say?” Billy asked, a sharpness slipping into his voice as he got to his feet. For a moment you wondered if he was about to hunt Frank Castle down.

“That there’s no accounting for taste and - and he’s right, Billy. No one will believe that you’d want -” your voice threatened to break.

Before you could finish, you found yourself pulled against him, his arms tight around your body as he held you.

“No - no, that’s not what he meant,” he said, trying to reassure you. “He doesn’t understand why you’d want to be with me, not the other way around.”

Oh.

Closing your eyes tight, you melted against his chest, letting him hold you for a few sweet moments.

Billy pulled back, his hands framing your face, forcing you to look at him, and you found an unexpected look of concern. You barely even noticed the way one of his thumbs was tenderly stroking your cheek because you were too busy getting lost in his eyes.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said. “If it’s going to make you uncomfortable or upset you, I can find another way to get the VDK contract.”

Right. The VDK contract. That was what all of this was for.

You managed to shake your head.

“No, I can -” there was an audible break in your voice and you forced yourself to take a step back, out of his hold. “Sorry. I just - it took me by surprise. I never - I guess I never stopped to think that this is how it would have to be.”

Billy gave an understanding nod, seeming to think on it a moment before offering; “if you want to take the day -”

“No. No, I can’t do that,” you quickly said. “People are already going to assume that I’m getting special treatment from you, and I don’t want to add fuel to the fire.”

“Alright, fine,” Billy relented but you could tell he wasn’t entirely happy about it. “But I’m taking you out for lunch today, okay?”

“Maybe we -”

“I’m not taking no for an answer,” he told you. “Anyway, I think it’s about time I got the coffees and pastries for a change.”

All you could do was nod. It felt like your throat was closing up, and your lungs were starting to strain again. You nodded again as you gathered up your laptop and left Billy’s office and, as you were closing the door behind him, he told you to be ready for lunch at midday.

As you sat back down at your desk, you found yourself wondering just how you were going to survive six months of this. Of course you knew that you’d have to be seen with him again but you’d never really stopped to think about how what you were doing outside of Anvil would bleed into your work life. Honestly, you hadn’t had time to consider much of anything, everything was happening so fast.

You tried desperately to lose yourself in your work over the next few hours, but you kept finding your eyes on the clock, counting down the minutes until he was going to appear from his office to take you for lunch.

A/N : 😅 so I realise now that I should have pointed out that this is going to be a slightly slower burn than some of my other fics (especially compared to Love, Sick Love) but I hope you'll indulge me for the ridiculous cuteness that is a clueless Billy Russo. There's a lot of set-up involved in getting the characters to where I need them to be so I can start the drama but more is going to start happening in the next couple of chapters.

As always thanks so much the likes/comments/reblogs on this, I hope you're enjoying the fluff as much as I am. Have a wonderful weekend!

If you'd like to be tagged, please let me know! Otherwise new chapters will be posted around 7:30pm GMT on Fridays.

Tag list :

@oliviaewl @lincerad @xxxsweetcarolinexxx @benbarnesprettygurl @dreadfulxives18

@danzer8705 @snowkestrel @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @intothesoul @uniquehijo

@anitaxl @solacedragonx @justiceforquentin @ladyblacky @marvelsunlight

@sweetserendipity65 @mrsalwayswrite @bunnygirlwriter876

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #(ii)wii ff

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novaursa · 2 days ago

Text

The Golden Court (alike)

- Summary: You were taken from the royal court by your father when you were a child. Now you return as a woman grown from exile. A woman that ignites fires in her wake.

- Pairing: Jason Lannister/targ!reader/Tyland Lannister

- Note: Adult themes will progress more and more as chapters go on. This fic is pure filth and I make no apologies for it. You have been warned. Happy Valentine's Day! ❤️

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Previous part: the father

- Next part: spite

- Tag(s): @scarletdfox

The heavy stone interior of the Dragonpit echoed with the distant sounds of restless beasts, the deep rumble of their breathing reverberating through the cavernous space. The air was thick with the scent of sulfur and scorched stone, laced with something wilder—the primal heat of dragonfire that never fully faded from the air.

You stepped inside, the weight of your dragonriding leathers molding to your form like a second skin, every buckle, every strap tailored perfectly to you. The deep black leather contrasted against the silver of your hair, your presence as striking as it was effortless. The heavy boots you wore barely made a sound against the stone, but your presence was immediately felt.

Because she felt you.

Haelle.

Your dragon let out a deep, agitated rumble from where she lay further down the pit, her molten-gold eyes narrowing as she sensed you drawing near.

The Dragonkeepers struggled to keep her in check, their chants of "Lykirī" falling on deaf ears. Chains rattled, dust rose, and Syrax—the great golden queen of Rhaenyra Targaryen—shifted uneasily, stepping back from the disturbance.

You barely had time to take in the sight before a voice rang out, edged with irritation.

“You’re late.”

Rhaenyra stood beside Syrax, freshly dismounted, her riding cloak still billowing slightly from the movement. Her silver-gold hair was only slightly tousled from the wind, her dark riding leathers flecked with faint specks of ash.

She was irritated, though not entirely surprised.

You turned toward her, unbothered, as always.

“Aren’t I always?” you mused.

Rhaenyra let out a breath, shaking her head as she moved closer. “You do realize your dragon nearly burned one of the keepers?”

You barely glanced toward Haelle, who was still snapping her great jaws in irritation, pulling against the heavy chains that were barely holding her. “Did she?” you murmured, tilting your head slightly. “Perhaps they should stop chaining her.”

The Dragonkeepers visibly hesitated at your words.

Then—you stepped forward.

And they stepped back.

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, watching the scene unfold with barely contained frustration. “Gods, you are just like your father,” she muttered under her breath.

You smirked as you approached Haelle, reaching out to touch the warm scales of her great black snout. The moment your hand met her, she stilled. The growling stopped. The restless pulling ceased.

The Dragonkeepers let out a breath of relief.

Rhaenyra, however, was not relieved.

She was annoyed.

“Tell me,” she began, her arms crossing over her chest, “how can you be so calm?”

You blinked, finally turning toward her, your hand still resting against Haelle’s snout. “Because she listens to me.”

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed together. “That is not what I meant.”

Your smirk widened. “Isn’t it?”

Rhaenyra let out a huff, her irritation rising. “You never take anything seriously.”

You raised a brow, tilting your head slightly. “And why should I?”

Rhaenyra let out a sharp breath, stepping forward now, her voice lowering. “Because this is exactly what Daemon does,” she muttered. “Causes chaos, acts as though nothing matters, and then—” she gestured vaguely, “—disappears.”

Your smirk flickered—just slightly.

Then—you turned back to Haelle, stroking the warm scales of her snout with lazy precision.

“I am only flying for a short while,” you murmured.

Rhaenyra’s breath hitched, her frustration deepening. “It is not about that.”

You turned to her again, your violet eyes gleaming with something unreadable.

Rhaenyra exhaled. “It is about how you are free to do as you please.”

Your smirk returned.

And it was more biting.

“Ah,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly. “So that’s what this is about.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened.

You turned fully toward her now, your posture effortlessly poised. “You chose this, cousin,” you murmured, your voice quiet but edged with something knowing.

Rhaenyra’s brows furrowed slightly. “Chose what?”

You stepped forward, just slightly.

“To be his heir,” you said simply.

Rhaenyra’s expression twisted—not in anger, not yet, but in something frustrated, something raw. “It is my duty.”

You laughed then, shaking your head slightly. “Duty?” you mused, your tone edged with something light, almost mocking. “Viserys has sons now.”

The words landed.

You saw it in the flicker of Rhaenyra’s expression, in the subtle tightening of her grip at her sides.

And yet—you simply smiled.

Because she knew it.

And so did you.

Rhaenyra’s lips parted, but no words came.

For a moment, just a moment, the weight of your words hung heavy between you, lingering like the heat of dragonfire in the cavernous space of the pit.

Then—her jaw tightened.

She recovered quickly, ever the heir, ever the daughter who bore the weight of the realm upon her shoulders.

“My half-brothers are children,” she said, her voice clipped, biting, as though she needed to say it aloud. As though speaking it into existence would make it true.

You smirked, shaking your head slightly as you turned back toward Haelle. “For now.”

Rhaenyra shifted. “You say that as if it is inevitable.”

You didn’t answer.

Instead, you moved.

With practiced ease, you stepped toward Haelle, reaching up for the thick leather reins, pulling yourself up onto the saddle with effortless grace. The great black beast beneath you shifted, her golden eyes narrowing as she felt your weight settle upon her back, the warmth of her scales seeping into your legs.

Below, Rhaenyra watched, her gaze cutting, her posture rigid.

The flickering torchlight cast shifting shadows over her face, illuminating the frustration carved into her features, the lingering tension that coiled in the set of her jaw.

You turned your head slightly, your voice lazier now, as if the conversation no longer mattered.

“Tell me, cousin,” you murmured, your fingers tightening around the reins. “Did you truly believe Viserys would never have sons?”

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed together.

“I am his heir,” she said, her voice quieter now, but no less firm.

You hummed, tilting your head. “For now.”

Her frustration flared. “What are you saying?”

You smirked. “I am saying that it is easy to believe in promises when they are made in a world where no other options exist.”

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, stepping closer to Haelle’s towering form, her boots clicking against the stone. “It was never about options,” she bit out. “He chose me.”

You tilted your head, considering her.

Then—

You laughed.

A low, quiet sound, edged with something knowing.

Rhaenyra’s frustration turned sharp. “You find this amusing?”

You exhaled, still smirking. “I find it fascinating,” you corrected, adjusting your grip on the saddle.

She stared at you, her violet gaze burning.

And then—you leaned forward slightly, resting your forearm against the pommel, your expression lighter, more mocking.

“Tell me, Rhaenyra,” you murmured. “If Viserys ever changes his mind—if he chooses otherwise—will you accept it?”

The words landed again.

They sank.

Rhaenyra’s throat bobbed, her shoulders stiffening as though the very thought of it was unthinkable.

But you did not wait for an answer.

Instead—

You gave Haelle the signal.

The great black dragon let out a piercing screech, her wings unfurling, the gust of air sending loose dirt scattering across the stone floors, forcing Rhaenyra to take a step back.

And then—you ascended.

The rush of wind hit your face as Haelle lifted, her powerful wings sending you soaring into the dim light of the sky above, the heat of the pit quickly fading behind you.

Below, Rhaenyra watched, her heart pounding, her mind racing.

And though she did not say it aloud—

Your words lingered.

The hour was late when you finally returned to the Red Keep.

The scent of the city still clung to the castle walls—the distant smoke of extinguished lanterns, the briny tang of the Blackwater, and the muddled aromas of street markets long closed. But above all, you carried another scent with you, one that filled the dim corridors as you made your way toward familiar chambers.

Dragon musk.

It was unmistakable. A blend of heat and fire, of something ancient and primal, something that did not belong in the polished halls of the Keep. No perfume could mask it, no bath could truly rid you of it. The smell of dragon lingered, stubborn and strong.

And as you stepped into his chamber, you saw the way they noticed it immediately.

Jason and Tyland Lannister were already waiting inside, the warm glow of candlelight flickering over their features. Jason lounged lazily in a high-backed chair near the hearth, his legs spread wide, a goblet of wine dangling from his fingers. Tyland stood near the table, his arms crossed, his green eyes lifting the moment you entered.

Jason was the first to speak.

“Gods,” he muttered, wrinkling his nose slightly, though amusement tugged at his lips. “You smell like a gods-damned furnace.”

You smirked, stepping further into the room, feeling the heat of their gazes as you shrugged off your riding cloak.

“A hazard of my chosen steed,” you murmured.

Tyland let out a slow breath, shaking his head as he poured himself another drink. “One might say you revel in it.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “Would you rather I arrive smelling like roses, my lord?”

Jason chuckled, lifting his goblet to his lips. “I’d rather you arrive sooner.”

Your smirk deepened, stepping closer to where he sat. “Did you miss me, Lannister?”

Jason scoffed, setting his goblet aside before reaching for your wrist, tugging you toward him with effortless ease. “You know I did.”

Tyland exhaled sharply, though there was no true disapproval in it. “You should at least bathe before coming here,” he muttered, though his gaze was still fixed on you, his expression unreadable.

You smirked, arching a brow. “Would you have waited?”

Tyland’s lips twitched—just slightly.

Jason, however, grinned, his grip tightening as he pulled you onto his lap. “Why should we?” he murmured, his breath warm against your throat. “We like you wild.”

You hummed, your fingers grazing through Jason’s golden hair, tilting his head slightly. “Then perhaps you should get used to it.”

Tyland sighed, shaking his head—but he did not move away.

Jason, meanwhile, smirked against your skin, his hands already roaming over the worn leather of your riding gear.

And as the door to his chamber shut behind you, you knew—

Neither of them would be letting you leave anytime soon.

The air was thick with heat, the scent of sweat, wine, and something far richer—the lingering musk of dragon—clinging to your skin, filling the space between the three of you.

Jason’s body was pressed against yours, his golden hair falling over his brow, his lips trailing heated kisses down your throat, your collarbone, lower still. His hands gripped your thighs, strong and possessive, claiming.

Tyland was behind you, his breath hot against your ear, his fingers tracing deliberate paths along your skin, his measured control contrasting sharply with Jason’s unrestrained hunger. His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear before he finally spoke.

“Your father approves.”

You barely had time to process the words before Jason thrust into you again, stealing the breath from your lips, making you arch against him.

Still, you heard.

Your fingers curled against Jason’s back, nails digging into his skin as you let out a breathless laugh, tilting your head back toward Tyland. “Oh? This again?”

Tyland smirked, his hands roaming lower, gripping your hips firmly as he leaned in, his voice smooth, unwavering. “I told you earlier today, but you didn't acknowledge it properly. Daemon approves of our perposal.”

Jason let out a breath, pressing deeper into you, his grip tightening. “You should be grateful for it,” he murmured against your skin.

You huffed a breathless chuckle, lifting your hips slightly to meet his next thrust. “Should I?”

Tyland’s grip tightened. “I never said yes,” you reminded him, tilting your head to meet his gaze, violet against green.

Jason let out a low growl, his movements quickening, his frustration evident even in pleasure. “You’ll have no choice.”

You let out a soft gasp as he filled you completely, his words settling somewhere deep inside you, somewhere hot and unyielding.

You laughed.

Soft, teasing, playful.

“How brave of you,” you murmured, shifting just enough to taunt them both. “To tell something like that to a woman who smells like a dragon.”

Jason growled in response, his thrusts turning rougher, his grip nearly bruising against your hips.

Tyland, however, merely chuckled against your ear, his fingers sliding over your heated skin. “And yet,” he murmured, teasing, his lips grazing the pulse of your throat, “you’re still in our bed.”

You smirked, tilting your head slightly. “Am I?”

Jason groaned, his hands tightening as he pulled you closer, his body pressing deeper, his breath ragged against your skin. “And you’ll stay in it.”

Tyland’s fingers slid lower, adding to the overwhelming sensation already building between you. “For now,” he mused.

You moaned, your body shuddering, the pleasure cresting—

And in that moment, whatever answer you might have given them—

Was lost to the night.

The rhythm between you all shifted, bodies moving, repositioning. Jason exhaled a sharp breath, his lips trailing one last, heated path down your throat before pulling back, his hands lingering on your skin even as he relinquished his place.

Tyland moved with far more control, his hands firm yet deliberate as he guided you into position, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck, whispering something low and indecipherable. His hands slid down your body, his touch softer than Jason’s, but no less possessive.

And then—he took you.

A gasp escaped your lips, your back arching against him as he filled you completely, stretching you deliberately, thoroughly. Unlike Jason, who loved to claim and devour, Tyland was slow and calculated, as if savoring every sound, every reaction, every little movement of your body beneath him.

Behind you, Jason reclined lazily on the pillows, his golden hair slightly tousled, his skin still glistening from the sheen of exertion. He watched you both with an amused, satisfied smirk, his fingers trailing absently over the ridges of his abdomen as he reached for his goblet of wine with his other hand.

“Gods,” he muttered, shaking his head as he swirled the deep red liquid in his cup. “You are going to ruin our good reputation, princess.”

You hummed a soft, breathless sound, adjusting to Tyland’s deep, steady rhythm, pleasure building slow and deliberate. “Then why keep me?”

Jason’s smirk widened, his green eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Because we are greedy bastards, my love.” He took a sip, tilting his head as he watched you, his gaze flickering between you and Tyland. “That is precisely why we should have the grandest Valyrian wedding in the history of the realm.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your fingers tightening against the sheets as Tyland’s grip on your hips adjusted, sending another ripple of pleasure through your body. “Oh?” you mused, tilting your head slightly, still breathless. “The grandest, you say?”

Jason grinned, propping himself up slightly on one elbow. “The Rock has gold, and your blood has fire,” he mused, his voice thick with amusement and desire. “I think the dragons and lions should make it official.”

Tyland let out a quiet huff against your shoulder but said nothing, his pace never faltering.

You smirked, shifting slightly against him, a teasing lilt to your voice despite the breathless gasps that accompanied it. “You do realize the whole realm would rebel, don’t you?”

Jason exhaled a sharp laugh, setting his goblet aside as he leaned forward, brushing his fingers lazily down your spine. “And what of it?”

You grinned, glancing back at him. “Why,” you murmured, breath hitching slightly as Tyland’s fingers dug into your hips, “would I want that?”

Jason smirked, his lips grazing over your shoulder, his voice a purr.

“Because, my love,” he murmured, dragging his fingers down your thigh, “chaos looks so good on you.”

Tyland groaned, his movements turning more urgent, his breath hot against your skin.

You felt it building—coiling—deep in your core, a heat that mirrored the fire of your blood, the ancient pulse of dragon and desire tangling together in a storm of sensation. Tyland’s breath was ragged against your skin, his lips trailing over your shoulder, his fingers digging harder into your hips, grounding you against him as he chased his own end.

And then—

It broke.

A sudden, gasping moan tore from your lips as you shattered around him, pleasure washing over you in waves, your body trembling beneath the force of it. Tyland followed soon after, his own release hitting as he buried himself deep inside you with a low, guttural groan, his forehead pressing against the curve of your shoulder, his grip unrelenting.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing, of bodies spent, of the lingering scent of sweat and sex and dragon musk still stubborn in the air.

But Jason was not done.

His smirk was back in full force as he rolled over onto his side, his hands already reaching for you, his fingers trailing along your spine in lazy appreciation. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to the curve of your shoulder, then another down your arm, then lower still, as if mapping out every inch of you.

“Gods,” he murmured against your skin, reverent, though his tone was still edged with amusement. His lips brushed against your stomach, his hands gliding down the soft curves of your hips, memorizing you. “We are going to fill all of Casterly Rock with golden-haired brats.”

You let out a breathless laugh, shifting slightly, tilting your head to glance at him. “Oh?”

Jason grinned, his green eyes gleaming. “Oh, indeed,” he murmured, pressing another slow kiss just above your navel. “Golden-haired, dragon-eyed, perfect little heirs.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You sound very smug for a man who has done nothing but talk about it.”

Jason chuckled, dragging his lips back up your body, nipping playfully at the curve of your jaw. “A challenge, is it?”

Tyland—still breathless, but always composed—huffed softly beside you. “Jason, you do realize she might not take your name.”

Jason groaned, flopping back against the pillows, his arms folding behind his head. “Then we shall take hers.”

You laughed, rolling onto your side to face him, your fingers ghosting along his chest. “You, a Lannister, taking my name?”

Jason smirked. “I’m a progressive man, my love.”

Tyland scoffed. “You hate change.”

Jason waved a hand, dismissing the notion entirely. “Irrelevant.” He grinned, tugging you closer. “So long as they have my golden hair, I shall be content.”

You smirked, tracing a slow circle over his heart with the tip of your finger. “And what if they have my dragon’s temper?”

Jason hummed, considering. “Then the whole realm is doomed.”

Tyland let out a low sigh, running a hand down his face. “You two are impossible.”

Jason chuckled, rolling over to pull you beneath him again, his smirk widening.

“Oh, we’re just getting started.”

The early morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of Jason’s chamber, casting long warm streaks across the rumpled sheets. The air was thick with the remnants of the night before—the scent of sweat, wine, and something unmistakably them lingering in the quiet warmth of the room.

You stretched leisurely, the cool morning air brushing against your bare skin as you swung your legs over the edge of the bed. The sheets pooled at your waist, the contrast between silk and warmth causing a pleasant shiver to run down your spine.

Behind you, there was a low, displeased sigh.

Jason.

Lying sprawled across the bed, his golden hair mussed from sleep, he lifted his head just slightly, watching you with groggy but intent green eyes. “What in the seven hells are you doing up before Tyland?”

You smirked, reaching for your discarded riding leathers. “Good morning to you too, my lord.”

Jason huffed, rolling onto his side, one arm sliding beneath the pillow as he continued to watch you. “Don’t avoid the question.”

On the opposite side of the bed, Tyland was far more composed. He lay back against the pillows, his eyes already awake, though he had yet to move from his comfortable position. Unlike Jason, he observed in silence, taking in the way you moved, the way your fingers traced the buckles of your leathers with practiced ease.

He finally spoke, his voice smooth and measured. “It’s early,” he murmured, lifting a brow. “What are you planning?”

You smiled to yourself, fastening the last buckle on your tunic before turning to them. “Nothing of great importance.”

Jason let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing a hand over his face. “That’s even worse.”

You chuckled, reaching for your boots, sliding them on with ease. “Not everything I do has to be concerning, Jason.”

Jason scoffed, rolling onto his back, rubbing his eyes as he muttered, “You never wake before Tyland.”

Tyland let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “A rare occurrence, indeed.”

You smirked, straightening. “Perhaps I simply needed fresh air.”

Jason groaned, flopping an arm over his eyes. “If I find out you’re sneaking off to see anyone else, I’ll be forced to challenge them to a duel.”

You laughed, moving back to the bedside, leaning over him. “Oh? And what if it was my father?”

Jason froze.

Tyland chuckled lowly, reaching for his own discarded tunic. “In that case,” he murmured, “do let us know before we start planning the funeral.”

Jason grumbled under his breath. “You’re both awful.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw before straightening, heading toward the door.

Tyland’s voice followed you, still amused but curious.

“Wherever you’re going,” he mused, “do try not to start a war before breakfast.”

You turned, flashing them both a smirk.

“No promises.”

And with that, you left.

Jason groaned dramatically as the sound of the heavy wooden door closing behind you echoed through the chamber. He threw his arm back over his eyes, as if the very thought of morning was an offense against his existence.

Tyland, by contrast, had already risen, moving toward the sideboard where a pitcher of water awaited him. He poured himself a cup, taking a slow sip before casting a knowing glance at his older twin.

“Are you truly going to lie there all morning?” he mused, his voice laced with amusement.

Jason grumbled something unintelligible.

Tyland smirked, setting down his cup. “I believe she’s made a habit of leaving us behind.”

Jason finally lifted his arm, revealing the mess of golden hair that fell across his forehead, his green eyes still heavy with sleep. “And we are fools for letting her.”

Tyland chuckled, stretching his arms before reaching for his tunic. “She’s a dragon, brother. You cannot keep her caged.”

Jason exhaled, reluctantly pushing himself into a seated position, rubbing a hand over his face. “No, but I can certainly try to make her stay in bed longer.”

Tyland huffed, pulling his own shirt over his shoulders. “You’d have to wake up before midday for that to happen.”

Jason groaned, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, still sluggish. “I loathe mornings.”

Tyland smirked, already fastening his belt. “Yet they come every day regardless.”

Jason shot him a glare before running a hand through his unruly hair, attempting—failing—to make it more presentable. “Fine,” he muttered. “I suppose I should start making arrangements.”

Tyland lifted a brow, adjusting his cuffs. “For?”

Jason huffed, standing with an exaggerated stretch before striding toward the sideboard to pour himself a cup of wine instead of water. “Our darling princess will be wed eventually, and I assume it shall be to us.”

Tyland chuckled, shaking his head as he sat in one of the chairs near the hearth. “Assume?”

Jason waved a hand. “She plays as though she has a choice, but truly—” he took a slow sip of wine, smirking, “—she does not.”

Tyland exhaled dramatically, though amusement flickered in his gaze. “I hope you do not plan on saying that to her face.”

Jason grinned, setting the cup aside. “I value my life, Tyland.”

Tyland hummed, lifting a brow. “Do you? Because informing our family of our intentions will certainly shorten it.”

Jason groaned, rubbing his temples. “Yes, yes, I suppose I must break the news to our dear kin.” He smirked, glancing at Tyland. “Perhaps you should do it.”

Tyland laughed, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. This was your idea.”

Jason scoffed. “Oh, and I suppose you had no hand in it?”

Tyland smirked, leaning back in his chair. “I am simply a willing participant.”

Jason rolled his eyes, finishing his drink before setting the goblet aside. “Fine. I shall write to them.” He groaned, rubbing his face. “And then I shall drink.”

Tyland smirked, standing. “A sound strategy.”

Jason muttered another curse against the morning as he reached for a parchment and quill, already dreading the conversation that was to come.

The Red Keep was alive with murmurs, nobles and courtiers drifting like insects in the dim morning light that streamed through the high-arched windows. Yet, as you strode through the halls, they parted for you, stepping aside with carefully measured bows, their eyes lingering with the same mix of curiosity and caution they always held for you.

Not that you cared.

Your father was waiting.

Daemon stood in the shade of a towering column, his arms crossed over his chest, his violet gaze sharp as ever. His presence was as effortless as it was commanding—draped in black and crimson, his sword resting at his hip, his posture that of a man who had long since stopped caring for courtly pretense.

But as you approached, something in his expression shifted.

He smirked, tilting his head slightly. “And here I thought you’d already flown off again.”

You rolled your eyes, stepping beside him as you continued down the corridor, matching his stride. “You sound disappointed.”

Daemon huffed a low chuckle, his fingers tapping absently against the hilt of Dark Sister. “Hardly. The court is far more entertaining when you are here to make them squirm.”

You hummed, casting a glance at the passing lords and ladies, who pretended very hard not to be eavesdropping.

“How fortunate,” you murmured, smirking, “that I exist solely for your amusement.”

Daemon chuckled again, though this time, his gaze flickered—sharp, assessing. “And yet,” he said, his voice lower now, “you seem to be amusing the Lannisters more, as of late.”

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. “Are you truly that surprised?”

Daemon smirked, leading you toward a more secluded corridor, away from prying ears. “No,” he admitted. “But tell me—do you intend to let them keep you?”

You huffed, running a hand through your silver hair. “Is that what they told you?”

Daemon chuckled darkly. “It is what Tyland told me.”

You snorted. “Of course it was Tyland. I thought he was jesting.”

Daemon glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. “And?”

You tilted your head, smiling just slightly. “And what?”

Daemon sighed, shaking his head. “And what do you intend to do about it?”

You exhaled, stretching your arms above your head as you walked. “Haven’t decided.”

Daemon chuckled, his smirk returning. “You do realize they mean to marry you.”

You smirked back. “I had noticed.”

Daemon hummed, glancing toward the open archway ahead, where the sunlight streamed in golden beams over the stone. “And?”

You let out a lazy breath. “They amuse me.”

Daemon chuckled. “For now.”

You grinned. “That is all that matters.”

Daemon tilted his head slightly, watching you as you continued walking. “And if they press the matter?”

You let out a hum, considering. “Then I shall press back.”

Daemon smirked. “Spoken like a true Targaryen.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head—but then his expression shifted.

Something more measured.

Something more serious.

Your smirk faltered slightly. “What?”

Daemon sighed, his fingers drumming against his sword hilt. “Viserys wants to speak with you.”

You groaned, tilting your head back. “Why?”

Daemon’s lips twitched. “Because we disagreed on something.”

You rolled your eyes. “How shocking.”

Daemon smirked, though it was edged with something knowing. “Best not keep him waiting.”

You sighed, already regretting whatever conversation awaited you.

Daemon chuckled, shaking his head. “Try not to make him have another attack, hm?”

You shot him a mock glare before turning toward the direction of the throne room.

Because if Viserys wanted words—

You had plenty to give him.

The grand doors of the royal solar loomed ahead, the black and crimson banners of House Targaryen hanged around it. The guards stationed outside eyed you warily but did not dare to stop you as you pushed through the heavy doors without waiting to be announced.

Viserys sat at the long table, a cup of wine untouched beside him, his crown slightly askew on his thinning silver hair. He looked tired—older than you remembered, his frame heavier, his eyes sunken with the weight of his rule.

He turned as you entered. “Ah. You’ve come.”

You smirked, closing the doors behind you. “You did summon me, did you not?”

Viserys shook his head, rubbing his temple. “I had hoped you would come with a clearer mind.”

Your smirk widened. “And what exactly must I clear my mind of, dear uncle?”

Viserys exhaled, gesturing toward the chair across from him. “Sit.”

You did not.

Instead, you strolled toward the side of the room, eyeing the tapestries that lined the walls—depictions of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters, their dragons carving the Seven Kingdoms into submission.

“I hear,” Viserys began slowly, measuredly, “that Lord Jason and Lord Tyland have… rather ambitious intentions.”

You chuckled softly, trailing your fingers over the embroidered fabric of Balerion the Black Dread. “Do they?”

Viserys exhaled sharply. “Do not play with me, child.”

You finally turned to him, tilting your head. “Child?”

Viserys groaned, shaking his head. “I have had enough of your father’s arrogance, I do not need yours on top of it.”

Your smirk sharpened. “Then perhaps you should not have summoned me.”

Viserys pinched the bridge of his nose. “This—this thing you are doing with the Lannisters. It must stop.”

Your amusement faltered slightly, but only just. “And why is that?”

Viserys let out a long breath. “Because it is madness.” He leaned forward slightly. “One Lannister is enough of a headache. But two? Do you realize the uproar this will cause?”

You shrugged. “Then perhaps they should all mind their own affairs.”

Viserys looked exasperated. “The Faith of the Seven will never allow it.”

You hummed, stepping toward the table, your fingers lightly trailing the polished wood. “Then we shall have a Valyrian wedding.”

Viserys’ face drained of color. “You cannot be serious.”

You smiled. “Oh, I am very serious.”

Viserys gaped at you, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair. “Do you understand what you are saying? A woman taking two husbands? It is blasphemy in the eyes of the Faith! It is—”

“A Valyrian tradition,” you interrupted smoothly, tilting your head. “Was it blasphemy when Aegon took both Visenya and Rhaenys to wife?”

Viserys’ breath hitched. “That was different—”

“Was it?” you mused, crossing your arms. “Or is it simply because I am not a man?”

Viserys stilled, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for an argument.

You smirked. “What is the worst that could happen, uncle? The Septon denouncing me? The lords whispering behind their hands? The Faith Militant rising from the ashes?” You let out a soft chuckle. “Perhaps I shall set them alight myself.”

Viserys slammed his fist against the table, his frustration finally snapping. “By the gods, do you ever think before you speak?”

You tilted your head, smirking. “Rarely.”

Viserys groaned, rubbing his face with both hands. “You sound just like Daemon.”

You grinned. “Why, thank you.”

Viserys exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “The realm will not accept this.”

You leaned forward slightly, resting your hands against the table. “Then the realm can burn.”

Viserys stared at you, his face paler than you had ever seen it.

You had not meant the words literally.

… Or perhaps you had.

Either way, it no longer mattered.

Because there was no undoing them now.

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