#born-again-savage

[popsixsquishcicerolipschitz]

Happy Mother's Day!

call me a conspiracy theorist but this doesn't really seem like a man who "doesn't care much for romantic stories"

[isfjmel-phleg]

(Justice League Task Force #29)

It's the fatherless behavior, Ray.

[eorzeashan]

leveling viper has been. an experience. because i'll queue into a duty like oh ^.^ im sure it'll be maws of totorak or syrcus tower! easy exp! and then boom. Thaleia.

[starcurtain]

Female Guidance in Aventurine's Life

One thing I haven't seen discussed in much depth yet, but which I think is especially interesting, is the consistency of female guidance in Aventurine's life: Every single person who we have seen on screen offering Aventurine assistance or making a positive difference in his life is female (with one exception, yes, I'll get there).

Under the read more cause it's longggg:

Before even diving into his family, let's just get the obvious out of the way: Aventurine is, at least supposedly, blessed by a goddess. The very origin of his good fortune--be it actual blessing or curse--comes from the literal "mother goddess" who watches over him. This is one of the only instances in Star Rail where a god character is specifically given a gender, and Gaiathra is not ever ambiguous. She is the classic female fertility goddess with all the trappings of other famous triple goddess figures of the real world. Aventurine's personal belief in the goddess may be shaky, but he nevertheless continues to treasure his people's faith. Thus, at the core, we can say Aventurine is a character who is guarded by the most quintessential mother figure possible.

Now, with the most obvious out of the way:

We know that Aventurine's father died before Aventurine was even born, and therefore he would not have any memories of his father, leaving him to be raised by his mother and sister.

Both women clearly made an enormous and lasting impression on Aventurine; they haunt every single one of his memories of Sigonia and are the key elements of the family Aventurine longs to return to. While he flirts with the concept of death as a way to see his family members again, it was also his mother and sister who instilled in him any sense of self-worth and meaning to his existence, the only things keeping him from giving up on living. His mother believed him to be blessed; his sister insisted to his face that not even the only remaining remnant of their mother had any value in comparison to his life.

It is for his sister that Aventurine first begins expressing a self-sacrificial nature, and from his sister that this self-sacrifice is reinforced when she uses herself as a shield to help him escape massacre at the hands of the Katicans.

It is also from his sister that Aventurine learns many of the deeply meaningful actions he holds onto to the present day, despite having been so far removed from his own culture.

Conversely, every one of Aventurine's early negative experiences on screen appear to have been driven (at least primarily) by men.

Although the Katican tribe of course would have both men and women, the tribal societies on Sigonia appear to be on the fairly traditional side, with Aventurine's mother staying at the camp with her child while his father was the one to go out and hunt for offerings for Gaiathra. This is also supported by Aventurine asking Jade to take him to her "chief" later on. Therefore, it is likely (although of course not guaranteed) that a majority of the Katicans' army was male, and that Aventurine's early experiences with outsiders consisted almost entirely of indiscriminate pillaging and massacre at the hands of what the Avgin viewed as savage, invading warriors. In separate instances, Aventurine was traumatized by these warrior figures three times--first with the loss of his father, then his mother, and then finally his sister.

And even their hope, supposed to come in the form of the "men in black" from the IPC, completely abandoned them, leaving Aventurine once again betrayed by masculine figures that were supposed to be there to protect him. Led by Oswaldo Schneider, another cruel male authority figure, the Marketing Department of the IPC permitted the wholesale slaughter of Aventurine's people--something which we know Aventurine is now aware of.

Then, of course, the next piece of Aventurine's backstory we're given is his male slave master. I don't really need to say anything about this, do I? This man violated Aventurine's human dignity and bodily autonomy, and forced Aventurine's hand in a life or death battle for which Aventurine still punishes himself mentally, even years in the future.

In part to escape the difficulty of his situation and rise to a position where he would have enough resources to--he thought--help his people, Aventurine joins up with the IPC. But when he attempts to make contact with a powerful man in the organization, Diamond, he is instead met by a woman, Jade, who against Aventurine's own expectations determines that she will raise Aventurine up (or use him as a tool, depending on how you currently choose to interpret Jade's motivations), granting him wealth and status beyond his imagination.

(And this line in particular is interesting, because you can take it one of two ways: 1) Aventurine comes from a patriarchal planet that traditionally put men into positions of power [thereby making his own slavery an emasculating act, aligning him further with disenfranchised women]; thus, he is making the assumption that to get anywhere in this organization, he will need to work with a man; or 2) He actually was counting on Jade taking his bet and helping him right from the beginning, because Aventurine perceives women as inherently more likely to protect and aid him than men would be.)

In the end, Jade does exactly as she claims she will, launching Aventurine into a position of power while also closing golden handcuffs around his wrists. She positions herself not only as his supervisor, but as his advocate and ally. She entrusts him with her Cornerstone, a sign of significant faith in his abilities. She even seems to be keenly aware of his bias towards the mother figure, referring to him as "child" in their conversations.

Whether this is genuine or a manipulation tactic can certainly be debated (and I'm not inclined to think at this point that Jade is a genuinely good role model or selflessly supportive person in Aventurine's life), but whatever the case, women are the only people Aventurine even remotely considers to be "in his corner."

We see this even earlier, in Aventurine's call to Topaz. Like with the example of his mother and sister, Aventurine trusts in Topaz's ability implicitly, and considers her above anyone else when it comes to completing the mission in Penacony.

Although of course we don't know if Aventurine has any other friends or allies among the Strategic Investment Department, it seems very likely that Topaz, yet another woman, is the one he is closest with. At the very least, she is the only IPC character (so far) that Aventurine has a complimentary voice line for, one that shows his respect for her talent:

Over and over again, the story aligns Aventurine with female figures in positions of authority, and demonstrates that he is comfortable (although maybe not too comfortable, in the case of Jade) with relying on them and trusting their judgment, just as he did with his mother and sister.

And this pretty much goes off the charts in Penacony, where Aventurine has more involvement with the female cast than virtually any other non-female character (even the Trailblazer!). We set the pattern off right away, with Aventurine immediately being placed into a negotiation situation with Himeko, respecting her role as the Express's leader and working to get himself aligned with the Express by acquiescing to her request for support.

Then there's the fact that Aventurine is the one who finds Robin's body, an event which, although he didn't let it show too much, was almost certainly traumatic for him, given the violent death of his own sister.

Next, twice in Penacony's story, we see Aventurine seek out Sparkle for information. He may not personally like her and her comments may be both racist and dehumanizing, but Aventurine does rely on her--being the only character explicitly seeking her aid, which no one else in Penacony seems to want.

In 2.0...

And in 2.1.

Now, say it with me, guys: Aventurine built an entire portion of his grand plan around the idea that if he looked pathetic enough, a female character would absolutely come and help him. And sure enough, the women come through for him, always! Sparkle gives him the exact last clue he needs to confirm his belief that he could use "Death" to reach the true Penacony, sealing the deal for the rest of his plan.

His plan which also hinged significantly on Black Swan's involvement too, another woman that he views as, if not trustworthy, then at least intelligent and hyper-competent.

Contrast all this, of course, with the treatment Aventurine receives at the hands of Sunday, the lone opposing male character he faces in Penacony.

Sparkle implies that Sunday would humiliate Aventurine in an unmistakably sexual and degrading way, and Sunday himself professes this same desire to see Aventurine humiliated.

Then we're "treated" to the moment in which Sunday uses the Harmony's (or perhaps actually the Order's?) power against Aventurine, in a scene which is supposed to reflect an interrogation but is also, very clearly, another nonconsensual violation of Aventurine's bodily autonomy and dignity by a man. While ostensibly seeking confirmation of the Cornerstone ruse, Sunday instead subjects Aventurine to unnecessary questions about his past on Sigonia, which recall and force Aventurine to re-endure memories of his trauma.

Even if this is what Aventurine prepared himself for and planned to have happen, the pain he experiences is very real, and he suffers both the physical and emotional consequences of Sunday's assault all the way up to his "Death" and possibly even beyond.

(Also, Sunday fans please don't get too up in arms with me for this; I also like Sunday! It's okay for characters to be morally grey!)

I think there's one other interesting example I would bring up here too, and that's Aventurine's conscious decision to weaponize his own masculinity against the Trailblazer. Through the 2.0 and 2.1 Trailblaze missions, Aventurine deliberately acts in an off-putting manner to the Astral Express crew, particularly the Trailblazer, in order to build up to the 2.1 climax where the Trailblazer is supposed to view him as an unrepentant villain and attack him without hesitation.

In order to achieve this uncomfortable, villainous effect, what does Aventurine do? Exactly what other men have done to him.

This is especially apparent if you're playing Stelle because of the ingrained societal taboo of a man entering a woman's personal space without consent, but even as Caelus, it is very clear that Aventurine is leveraging behaviors typically used to show dominance: In a complete 180 to all Aventurine's other body language in the game (normally quite withdrawn, frequently in defensive postures with his arms crossed or hand behind his back, almost always standing several feet away from other people), Aventurine violates the Trailblazer's personal bubble, looming over them (Caelus was sitting in this cutscene, lol), forcing eye contact, and commanding the space while informing them that they will have no choice.

For someone who was hunted, enslaved, had his movements restricted with chains, and due to his own slight stature has very likely been towered over by others who were intentionally asserting their power over him all his life, it is clear that Aventurine associates dominant, typically more masculine-coded physically-imposing behaviors with discomfort and even villainy.

Any girl who has ever had a man loom over her like this will realize very quickly: Aventurine wanted to make himself scary so he made himself act more like a bad man.

(Yes of course I know "not all men." I'm not saying every man behaves in this domineering way or that women cannot be domineering too, obviously, just that Aventurine had a very specific image in mind when constructing a "villainous persona," and the physically controlling tactics most typically used by aggressive men toward women was his immediate go-to.)

But where does that leave Dr. Ratio, the one male character actually on Aventurine's side?

Frankly, I don't want to derail my post about how intensely Hoyo chose to hammer on the message of "Women will protect you" in Aventurine's story with a discussion about a mlm ship, but the take-away here is going to lead in that direction anyway--so yes, Dr. Ratio is the exception.

What is interesting is that he does not come across as an exception at first, and in fact initially appears as another male character being rude and dismissive to Aventurine. Like, there are still people out there calling Ratio an unrepentant racist for this one.

Of course, it's later clarified that this is an act--likely even these insults were scripted specifically to give Sunday's spying ears the "insight" he needed to exploit Aventurine during the interrogation.

But even though it is an act, Aventurine still has noticeable trouble putting his faith in Ratio. He does genuinely doubt him a few times, despite knowing that they are working together to fool the Family.

Even his voice line about Ratio confirms that he doesn't think Ratio particularly cares for him; rather, he thinks Ratio simply tolerates him because he's slightly less unintelligent than those around them.

Ultimately, the entire act with Ratio ends up being a mirror of the real scenarios Aventurine has been experiencing with men his whole life (at least as far as we are shown his life). Men abandon him to fend for himself (unwillingly, like his father, or willingly, like Diamond leaving Aventurine to deal with Penacony alone on the inside). Ratio keeps leaving Aventurine completely alone. Men attempt to humiliate him and violate his boundaries (like Sunday and his slave master). Ratio insults Aventurine's appearance and intelligence repeatedly. Men betray him (like Oswaldo Schneider and his men leaving the Avgin to die). Ratio "betrays" him.

I'm not saying when Aventurine devised the plan for their act, he consciously drew up a list of all the ways men had hurt him in the past and had Ratio re-enact them one by one, but like... that's what happened, whether or not Aventurine intended it.

And okay, the shrinking scene in Dewlight Pavilion was just for fun and probably only slightly fetishy, the devs promise; yes, it was supposed to be a joke! ...But it's also not a mistake that this is yet another instance of a male character in a glaringly metaphorical position of power over Aventurine. Aventurine's tiny in this scene! He's completely vulnerable! He's in a dangerous position and the male character could very much hurt him in this moment.

But Ratio doesn't. (In fact, his line here is supposed to be sarcastic, very ha ha--but also, what is Ratio really saying? "I won't do anything to you without your express consent." What a good guy.)

Virtually everything negative that we see in 2.1 is Ratio doing these things as an act at Aventurine's own request. He doesn't actually disdain Aventurine; his own voiceline about Aventurine reinforces that he sees Aventurine as talented and intelligent.

Whatever you think he was apologizing for in their early scene, he's the only person we're ever shown in-game apologizing to Aventurine at all.

He worked hard to "betray" Aventurine but only as he was instructed to do, and immediately checks in on Aventurine's well-being afterward, even urging him to give up the plan if it becomes too much to handle.

And then, of course, there's the note: "Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck."

After this point, it cannot be denied that Ratio is unequivocally on Aventurine's side, wants to help him, and is not doing so out of any sense of self-gain but largely because he is a good person who simply cares about Aventurine's fate. By the end of 2.1, it can no longer be doubted that Ratio is the exception to the "gender rule" of Aventurine's life, which--the story shows us again and again--was that guidance, protection, and care for Aventurine come from women, while men repeatedly represent dismissal, betrayal, or pain.

Ratio is, at least as far as Aventurine's story shows us, the proof that men can be good, that things are not as black and white in Aventurine's life as they might appear, and that--if you do choose to ship him with or see Aventurine as attracted to men--his attraction could be validated (and potentially reciprocated) by a male figure who would not bring additional harm to Aventurine's life. Aventurine makes the final decision to live after seeing Ratio's note--the exception to the rule ultimately proves to be the last piece needed to keep him alive.

But I promised I wasn't going to derail my own post about w o m e n, so let me get to the final point, and the one I really wanted to talk about: Although Ratio gets virtually all the credit for "saving" Aventurine in the fandom, Aventurine was actually saved by, you guessed it, another woman.

Not going to lie, the reason I started this post was specifically because I wanted to talk about how Acheron and Aventurine's dynamic was completely unexpected but actually fits flawlessly with the theme of feminine guidance in Aventurine's story.

Despite the fact that Aventurine made Acheron's life much harder and actively used her as a chip in his grand gamble, she doesn't blame or chastise him for those actions. Although she expresses some incredulity that Aventurine is actually that lucky, she then turns around and congratulations him for his ingenuity, immediately supporting him despite the fact that they don't even truly know each other.

Then it gets even more interesting. Acheron, who frequently hits her companions with deep and sometimes very emotionally fraught questions, asks Aventurine: "Have you never wavered?"

We as players know for a fact that Aventurine is constantly wavering, constantly doubting himself, his luck, and whether he'll even live--or even wants to live--to see tomorrow. But we also know that Aventurine is not forthcoming about those truths, refusing to express them to anyone, even himself. The only way we hear those dark truths is through his "future" self (who by the way, is once again another male figure cutting Aventurine down--of course it's himself but it's also, from the player's perspective, once again reinforcing the message that he isn't going to find safety or kindness in an adult male presence). Aventurine almost constantly deflects and diverts when his emotions or struggles are brought to the fore (unless he's divulging them for the specific purpose of allowing someone else to weaponize them). "I'm fine," he says, like a lying liar who lies.

But he doesn't lie to Acheron.

He chooses to be completely candid with her, to lance open the deepest wound of his life--that he can win and win and win and still have lost everything. The glitz and the glamour has all been stripped away here, at the end of everything, and Aventurine finally feels safe enough to admit that he fears he has absolutely nothing in his life worth living for.

And then, we get this direct parallel: Aventurine looks to Acheron, the woman now before him, for guidance, for explanation, exactly as he looked to his sister in the past.

He needs help, he needs answers, and he is continually seeking that help from the female figures in his life, whose support and kindness echo the lost care of his mother and sister.

"Go where you should be," Acheron tells Aventurine, guiding him across the river of death just as his sister insisted that he flee through the rain toward life.

Look guys, Acheron's even the one who reminds Aventurine to look at Ratio's note in the first place because apparently being an emanator of Nihility gives you x-ray vision, but my girl just gets no credit at all for being Aventurine's real savior, come on now!! Yes, Ratio's note was the final reminder Aventurine needed that someone would be waiting for him on the other side, but Aventurine would never have even gotten to the point of being willing to read that note if Acheron hadn't stepped in and provided him an answer to his question.

She feeds him back his own answer: "Why does life slumber? To rehearse the death for which we are not currently prepared." It is Acheron who reminds Aventurine that giving into the Nihility is pointless, and that rather than simply embracing a meaningless death, it is up to humanity itself to find and make meaning by living. It's this, not Ratio's note, that Aventurine gives as his reason for choosing to go on when asked by his own younger self. It's Acheron's words that finally give Aventurine an answer--why do we live just to die? Because there are people we can still make proud. Because when we go into death, we should do so with our heads held high, having achieved our own sense of purpose in this life.

Ratio gave Aventurine a promise: Someone is waiting for you to come back.

But Acheron gave Aventurine a reason: If life is inherently meaningless, doesn't that just mean you are free to give it meaning yourself?

She saved him, as women have been saving him all his life.

Anyway, this has already been horrendously long, but really what I wanted to say is that I think it is absolutely fascinating how consistent Aventurine's writing is when it comes to portraying where his support comes from and who he seeks guidance from. (Psst, just in case you still haven't figured it out, it's women!) In virtually every instance we are shown, we see the message reinforced that women are Aventurine's greatest allies and role models, while male figures are continually positioned to intentionally or unintentionally let him down and cause him distress.

"But women playing the supporting role to a male character is nothing new, Star, why are you so excited by this?"

Because the role women are playing in Aventurine's life is not the subservient supporter and emotional crutch role that female characters all too often play to male counterparts. None of the women in Penacony or Aventurine's past were there to do the emotional labor for him, to be a trophy or prize, or to cater to his needs. They don't exist solely to help him fulfill his character motivations; they aren't following him around waiting for his next request as their only role in the plot.

Instead, with Aventurine's story, we almost have an inversion of gender roles, where the male character eschews the stereotypical "men are leaders, fighters, and stoic heroes" archetype. Instead, no matter how hard he tries to hide it and keep a stiff upper lip, it is clear from 2.0-2.1's story that Aventurine is a deeply insecure, lonely, and explicitly traumatized survivor of genocide, slavery, and exploitation. Unlike most male characters, who are very rarely portrayed as genuine victims--because come on, shouldn't men be strong enough to fight back? Shouldn't men be able to shrug it off when they are hurt, emotionally or physically? (Of course I'm rolling my eyes here!)--Aventurine is belittled, humiliated, emasculated, and victimized on-screen, roles almost exclusively reserved for women, for whom surviving victimization in fiction is seen as noble.

Meanwhile, the women in Aventurine's life take on the roles traditionally given to male characters. They're both emotionally and physically his protectors. Aventurine's sister gave her life to guard his safety; Acheron ensured he could safely pass beyond the river of Nihility into the Primordial Dreamscape. They give him the tools necessary to succeed where he could not succeed on his own. His plan could never have gotten off the ground without Topaz and Jade entrusting their Cornerstones to him. The knowledge and capabilities of the women around him--not their "feminine charms"--are what allow them to help keep Aventurine on the right path even though he does waver. Even women who disrespect him, like Sparkle, still play a positive role in his life, able to provide him insight gained with their own intellect and talents.

When he has no one to rely on and doesn't know what to do, Aventurine is able to continually turn to the women around him, asking for and receiving not servitude or fawning, but their genuine wisdom and guidance.

tl;dr: If nobody else has him, Aventurine knows this random woman he met two minutes ago on the street will have him, because the women in his life literally never let him down.

(It's just so, so good, and ultimately, it should be very clear why Aventurine's story is as popular with women as it is! A+, Hoyo!)

[stuckinapril]

Iran being accused of trying to start WW3 reminds me of the US essentially justifying a decade’s worth of invasion and occupation of Iraq with the fact that “they’re hiding nuclear weapons” “they’re a threat” “they need to be checked.” It’s the crux on which they aid and abet demolishing these countries and sapping them of all their resources. And it’s hitting me how tentative this whole thing is bc again: Iran is the only country that can truly retaliate against Israel. It literally benefits imperialist countries to dehumanize Iran and make it seem as if it’s yet another inherent threat a western savior like the US needs to take out. This is precisely what they want.

I would immediately be suspicious of any argument that leans heavily on dehumanizing the Middle East. A big reason why the world has let Palestinian genocide go on for this long is because to them Arabs are misogynistic homophobic violent backwards terrorists, so many people have grown comfortable to the idea that war is inherent to Arab countries—because they literally see Arabs as subhuman. This has been their strategy for years and years and years. It’s literally the same cycle over and over again.

[rainba]

Animalistic Instincts ღ

a/n: I just wanted to write a small thing about Luka being in heat some more... Particularly his breeding kink~ I made this one a fem reader, but if anyone wants a male version of this, I'd be happy to write it! ( ´ ▿ ` )

For this, reader is implied to be living with Luka.

TWs: breeding kink, dubcon (?), silencing via fingers shoved in mouth, dirty talk, unwanted pregnancy on darling's end, Luka being Luka.

NSFW, 18+ only!

Luka is a man who typically never loses his composure. He’s almost always calm, careful, manipulative, and smart to some degree. It’s something that he takes pride in.

…However, as a man born half-fox, there are days where the animal within him likes to take control. Every year when winter rolls around, that’s when his heat takes over him. And when that happens, he can no longer think for himself– he just goes wherever his dick takes him.

There are some times where he can be rational. Luka can still reasonably cook, clean, work, and take care of both you and him. However, he needs to fuck multiple times between tasks, which is a little inconvenient. He can still function overall, though.

But… There are days where his mind turns into total mush, and all he can think about is fucking you raw.

Luka knows that it’s gonna be a rough day when he wakes up and his first thoughts are centered around how badly he wants to breed and get you pregnant.

God, the idea of it all sounds so damn enticing to him. He’ll fuck you over and over again until you can’t walk, stuffing you full of his hot seed as he lovingly rubs your stomach. He can’t stop thinking about how beautiful you’ll be when you’re all swollen and big while carrying his children. Luka will take extra-good care of you every step of the way… He’ll spoil you like a princess.

“We’re going to have so many kids,” He’ll growl darkly as he savagely thrusts his cock deep inside of you, shoving his cum further in as he locks your hips in place. At some point, you’ll lose count of how many rounds of sex you’ve had. 

“We’ll make a huge family.”

If you whine and tell him that you don’t want any kids, he’ll silence you by shoving his fingers deep inside your throat. You obviously don’t mean that…! You’re just a little confused and worn-out, that’s all. So instead of whining and saying things you don’t mean, how about you suck on his fingers and take his cock like a good girl?

After a couple rounds have passed and you’re thoroughly tired and overstimulated, Luka will start to slow down… But he doesn’t stop. Instead, he’ll just lay you down on your side and he’ll curl up behind you, raising one of your legs as he sensually fucks your pussy from the back. His breath is hot and heavy as he buries his face into your neck.

Luka's cum would be, quite literally, overflowing out of you and spilling onto the bed, but that doesn’t stop him. The animal inside of him demands that he keeps going until he physically collapses.

Also, it doesn’t matter if you feel all hot, sweaty, and disgusting– Luka downright refuses to let you take a shower. However, he will let you lay in bed as he takes a wet rag and wipes you down. His one rule is that you’re absolutely not allowed to clean up his cum. If you wash it out, then that means you’re lowering the chances of getting pregnant...! Right?

Afterwards, if you still cry at the thought of getting pregnant, he’ll kiss away your tears while reassuring you that everything will be okay– and that there’s nothing to worry about! Bearing his children can’t be that bad… If anything, it’ll be a wonderful experience! Don’t you worry your pretty little head, he’ll spoil you rotten for the next 9 months. ~

…But when tomorrow rolls around, if his mind isn’t mush anymore, the delayed post-nut regret will hit him like a speeding train. He’d consider giving you a morning-after pill, but… Honestly? Even when he’s not insanely horny, the idea of starting a family with you sounds nice. So, he wouldn’t give you it unless you genuinely begged him to.

[kick-a-long]

i find it so desperately sad that goyim generally would be so much less antisemitic if jews started physically fighting back with guns or sticks in every country. calling for the murder of muslims all over the world, if the jewish population was big enough to have large scary groups of crazy fringe fundamentalist synagogues all over the world, a billion strong, that preached murder and hate so goyim could look down on jews like some noble savage in need of assistance and western education and protection. so we could be reformed in obvious patronizing ways because there were so many of us that we had militant violent fringe extremists, like christians and muslims have, mixed in with the normal jews.

if jews didn't have such a reputation for success and intelligence maybe conspiracy theories would stop blaming us for controlling the world. if we felt less in danger maybe we wouldn't be so obsessed with long term survival.

is antisemitism some warped form of envy? maybe. what sucks is that jews are no better or worse than anyone else. some jews are brutes and some are the most wonderful people imaginable, just like any other group. what sucks is we don't all live up to the reputation of tactical geniuses and wizards with mind control magic. all of us jews are just tired and abused humans who have lived with 2000+ years of generational trauma and the endless fall out from a popular jewish book written 3000+ years ago describing the best practices of jewish culture. It has some great stories, histories, life advice, diet recommendations, hygiene, and rules about how to treat others.

is that such a crime?

trying to show a path forward? not demanding anyone else follow those rules but wanting to do our best to follow them anyway? how to live a good life that makes the world better and makes you proud to have been on earth for the time you were there? jews fail to do this all the time, just like everyone else. I fail all the time. why are people so obsessed with that? people say shylock is a stereotyped antisemitic character but,

"I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is? If you prick��us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a Christian, what is his humility? Revenge. If a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his sufferance be by Christian example? Why, revenge! The villainy you teach me I will execute, and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction."

so why do jews always have to be the better man? why do we have to apologize for being angry and sad and hating the people that attack us? that was written by Shakespeare, a christian in the 1600s who who had probably never met a jew, they were expelled from england, but imagined us as money lenders, the only profession left to jews at that time. even he saw the double standard. it makes a good point.

now, i don't want vengeance, i don't want violence, but i feel vengeful. i feel angry that i am unsafe because of play actors and terrorist supporters who want revenge for jews existing but scream bloody murder when jews refuse to dig their own graves, beg forgiveness for ever being born, and lay down in them to be mocked and pissed on and abused in the worst ways imaginable for the entertainment and conquest of it. i want peace with them. they are as human as i am, full of foibles and anger. i want nothing to do with them. i want them to never come near a jew again for the rest of time.

i am sad. all i want is to feel my feelings and advocate for what is the most ethical and practical work around to a world filled with unending suffering while i am still alive. i want them on thier side to live in the world they want and me on my side to live in the world i want. why don't these children of all ages, lost in delusions of fantastical battles and ultimate good and evil, see that? why can't I be a human first as well as a jew first? why do they ask me to pick? why am i not allowed to pick?

it's been almost a year. we're all so tired.

I'm going to a music festival. I'm trying to decide whether to wear a star. why is it dangerous to wear a star around my neck?

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.2 K Warnings: none Prompt: The Marauders x Vixen parank is finally about to happen.. How will the students react to a school flooded with frogs? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 62: Born to be Wild

Wednesday 12th, 1977 - 08:20 AM

“So? You think she’s too hurt?” you asked as you leaned over the Slytherin table. 

“You said she crashed on the floor and rolled a couple of times, yeah?” Solacis asked. He was the one person you knew had a lot of knowledge of owls, so you had gone to him as soon as he appeared at the door. 

“Yeah, she was trying to crash onto me, but I got out of the way.” 

“And she bit you?” 

“But that’s been taken care of,” you said reassuringly. “I’m worried about her, though. She was stunned. I don’t think James used much strength but–” 

“But she’s way smaller than a human,” Solacis nodded. Nieve was still asleep, but she stirred as Solacis extended her wing to check on her. His delicate pale hands were softly touching her feathers when Nox and Regulus arrived at the table. 

“Hey, Vix,” Nox said. He’d heard Prongs calling you that one day and it had stuck. 

Reggie said your name quietly with a nod and sat down beside you. You hadn’t had a proper talk since that day, and something told him that then wouldn’t be a good moment to do it either. “How are you?” 

“Good,” you replied with a genuine smile, he could tell. “You?” 

He smiled, although it seemed like it was hard for him to do it, “Yeah, that too.” 

Nox and Solacis were talking about the owl while you looked at him with a bit of a frown. He cleared his throat and handed you a piece of bread. You knew he was trying to divert the attention from it, he probably couldn’t talk about it there. “I’ll see you later about that homework, yeah?” 

“What homework?” Nox asked, clearly worried he’d forgotten his own.

“Reggie’s gonna help me with something,” you excused and then turned to Solacis. “Is she okay?” 

“She’ll be all right,��� he reassured you. “Mix some Boswelia and Chamomile with her food, and keep an eye on her. She’ll be like new in a few days. I think she just took a bad hit, but she won’t be able to fly for a while. So if you need to take a message somewhere I suggest you use your other owl.” 

“Right, will do,” you said with a smile. “Thanks, Sol, I owe you one.” 

“You can pay back by not being so savage next time we play quidditch.” 

“Oh, no, you’d have to pick something else,” you added with a smirk and a wink. 

“Indeed, you have to practise more, Solacis, not get your opponents to go easier on you,” Dorcas said as she sat right in front of them. “Nice to see you, Luv.” 

“Same,” you smiled as you stood. “I better get to my table before I’m called a house traitor.” 

“I think you should just change your robes to green and join us.” 

“I could make room for you in my chambers,” Dorcas offered with a smirk. 

“And have to share a common room with Snivellus? No, thank you!” you joked. Dorcas cackled while the others laughed, even if a little more discreetly. Severus, who wasn’t that far off, threw you an angry look, which you noticed out of the corner of your eye. Even Barty was concealing a smile as Evan told Severus something related to their homework. You smiled and picked Nieve from their table carefully. “Thanks again,” you told Solacis with a smile and walked back to your table with the owl in your hands. 

“How did it go?” Remus asked.

“Great, I know what plants I should feed her… Mind coming with me to the herbology classroom later?” 

“Sure,” he retorted with a smile. “Perhaps after the thing.” 

“What thing?” Asked Marlene as she leaned towards you. 

“Oh, just a thing,” you retorted, making it sound as casual as possible. “Nothing to worry about.” 

“Don’t tell me you’ve gotten yourself involved in another Marauder’s prank? Last time we lost James and Sirius in the game, and we’re playing Slytherin again, we’ll need James! Regulus has been practising since you beat him to the snitch.” 

“I’d never do such a thing,” you said as you looked at Remus, complicity dancing in both gazes. “Quidditch comes first, pranks come later,” you added resolutely.  

“Aye!” James said as he took a bite from his toast. Lily, who was sitting beside him, rolled her eyes and handed him a napkin since he’d gotten crumbs all over his face. 

Breakfast came and went without much more eventualities. Peter didn’t wake up in time but you saved some food for him and handed it over when he caught up with you on your way to charms after you went back to your room to leave Nieve in a small heap of pillows. 

“Thanks, Vixen,” he said as he took out the sandwich from its napkin. “And it’s roast beef with brown sauce!” He said after he gave it a bite. “Brilliant!” 

“No problem,” you said with a simple shrug. 

By the time you arrived at your classroom, the five of you were beaming with the excitement of the imminent prank. Peter had gobbled the last half of his sandwich just before walking inside the classroom. 

“That can’t be good for your health mate,” James said with a frown as he pointed at Peter.

The latter cleared his throat before retorting “Shut up, Prongs!”

“Just looking out for you,” James said as he raised his hands in surrender. “I think you’re going back to nervous eating. You know your mum told me that–” 

“James!” he complained now, motioning to the fact that there were plenty of people around. James didn’t know why it was such an issue for Peter to talk about it but didn’t press further. Peter, on the other hand, hated the idea of talking about his food issues in front of people, especially in front of Sirius and Remus who seemed to be so fit without putting any effort into it –according to him.  Sirius literally did quidditch every morning with you and James. And while Remus didn’t do anything special, he did do a freaking intense amount of exercise whenever he was a wolf, not to mention he often took walks around the school when he wanted to be alone. 

“Sorry, sorry,” James retorted. “We’ll talk about it later.” 

Peter tried not to roll his eyes as he rushed inside the classroom. 

Professor Flitwick was already inside the classroom, standing at his little podium like he often would during classes, you smiled and nodded his way as you walked inside along with the boys. As you were walking to sit next to Remus (as you usually did on Charms), Lily pulled you from her spot near the front and had you sit beside her. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” she told you as you fell onto the chair. Remus threw you a questioning look and you shrugged in response. When Sirius realised Remus wouldn’t be sitting with you, he went straight to take your normal spot and sent you a daring sort of gaze, as if to show off the fact that he was sitting next to Rem instead of you. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Lily asked as she shook you by the shoulder.

“Yes, sorry,” you replied as you turned to her, “you said we had to hand in an essay today but you totally forgot about it.” 

“And you forgot it too, you dumbass, I’ve checked your notes,” she said as she pointed at the pile of papers you had now left on the table, including a few scrolls and a notebook, the essay was nowhere in sight. 

“I didn’t forget,” you said with a smile. 

“Well it’s not here either,” she said as she moved your papers around again. 

“No, I just didn’t do it.” 

“You what?” she asked in shock. You had been in study club since the start, and you had always handed in your homework on time. In fact, she thought you were as dedicated as her, if perhaps a little more relaxed. 

You smirked. “You really shouldn’t worry so much. For one, I’m sure Flitwick would forgive and forget if one of his favourite students forgot to bring their homework. Two, I have the feeling everyone’s gonna forget about the homework in a few minutes.” 

“Oh no, the toads,” she whispered, the grip on her wand tightened. “You know, I blame you for forgetting it, I spent all of last night looking up spells in case of an emergency.” 

“Oh, that’s so not on me,” you retorted with a smile. 

“Welcome, welcome,” Flitwick said, voice slightly louder than it had been previously. “I hope you all had an excellent Christmas break…” 

You tried not to think too much of your Christmas break, although there had definitely been some a few –although very few– things that you would have considered excellent from the tumultuous time the past few weeks had been for you. 

“… today we’re going to be looking at complex charms combinations. Does anybody know what charm combining consists of?” 

Lily and Remus raised their hands. You would have raised yours as well but decided to let either of them answer instead. 

“Miss Evans,” Flitwick said as he pointed at her with his wand. 

“Combining spells consists of taking the main properties of two or more spells and weaving them together to create a new spell that either does both things or something slightly different.” 

“And what’s a good example?” 

Lily frowned and licked her lips as she thought of an answer, and then she smiled. “Lumus Solem,” she said. “It combined the brightness of Lumus with the heat and rays of the sun. If done without care it can be extremely dangerous due to radiation.” 

Flitwick smiled, seemingly satisfied at her answer. “Precisely–” he started but got interrupted by a boy who raised her hand and spoke before being indicated. 

“Can Lumus really be dangerous?” he asked. 

“Certain variations of the spell definitely can. A potent enough Lumos could blind you either temporarily or permanently. Lumos Solem, has been used as a torture device in the past as well. Long exposure has been known not only to cause severe dehydration but even grade 3 sunburns–” 

Flitwick was interrupted yet again, this time by a girl’s shriek You turned to the source of the scream with the most surprised face you could pull off. 

“What’s with this fuss?” he asked in a rather stern tone. Flitwick didn’t get angry very often, but he’d gotten interrupted twice already and he really didn’t appreciate being interrupted.

“Toads, Professor,” replied the same boy from before. 

“Excuse me?” 

“There are many of them,” added another girl who was moving her feet out of the way. The students in the back had were already getting on their seats. 

“Please sit down,” the small professor said as he shook his head in exasperation. From his position, he couldn’t quite see the tsunami of toads that was about to reach him. Besides, he quite liked toads, after all, he was planning to reopen the Frog Choir that had been lost after 1959 when Professor Marcus Bonnknott passed away. 

Filius had only heard them play a few times during his first and second years in Hogwarts, and he was very upset when the choir died along with Marcus, who he thought was fascinating. It was in fact, because of said professor that he had gotten himself into music after graduating and before being offered the Charms Teacher position by Dombuldore in the early 70s. 

But neither of the students seemed to listen, which obviously exasperated him and forced him to walk down from his podium only to see a small toad jumping his way. He leaned down and picked it up carefully. “Is this little guy the one causing you to leave your seats so hastily?” 

“No, Professor,” said Imgoen as she shook her head. “It’s the amount of them.” 

By then both you and Lily had gotten over your seats and were currently sitting on the table. What could only be described as a herd of toads was approaching the front of the room. The stone floor of the classroom turned green and brown as the toads jumped around, trying to find some space within the now swampy water running from the end of the classroom. 

Lily threw you a look and you just shrugged as you straightened up and looked at the mess you’d created along with the boys. 

“Oh Dear, quite a catastrophe, I see,” said Flitwick as he took his wand out and waved it in the air. With a swish and a flick, about a hundred toads were lifted from the ground and started floating above everyone.

“Ugh… that’s gross,” said a Hufflepuff boy as he nudged one of the toads further from his face using his wand. 

“Please refrain from touching the animals,” Flitwick said as he threw the boy a stern look. 

Another girl had picked a salt shaker from her bag and was diligently throwing it around her. 

“What do you think you’re doing, Miss Griffith?” 

“Salt will make them squirm, I’m keeping them away from me,” she said urgently as she continued, even if none of the frogs seemed to mind. 

“That’s with slugs, you dumbass,” retorted Tom with a cackle. He’d been sitting next to her because after Lily pulled you to sit beside her, the normal sit arrangement had been skewed and his place –next to Beth– had been taken by Marlene. 

“Shut up,” the girl said as she continued throwing salt. 

Peter was laughing as he stared until a toad got on his feet and he shook it off with a short scream as he also got on top of the table.

James, Sirius and Remus were definitely enjoying the absolute chaos as they all stood at their desks, they didn’t even bother to sit on them and looked riddicolously tall in comparison to Flitwick which just made the whole scene all the more amusing.

“Please, calm down,” Flitwick said, as he managed to lift a few more toads into the air. All of them with their small legs extended and looking as confused as you’d imagine a flying toad would. And then another swamp bomb fell to the floor, the water level increased and tons of toads started appearing. “Goodness,” he said as another bomb fell from the other side of the classroom. 

Lily had her wand up in the air as she stared at the toads with a “ready to attack” sort of gaze and you suppressed a smile as some other students were already using protection spells around themselves and keeping them up as the toads walked past the feet of the chairs and table. 

“All right, perhaps we should exit the classroom instead,” he said as he tried to lift some of the toads that had just appeared along with the others. “Please form a careful line and–” 

It was useless, the moment he said they could leave, most students bolted towards the exit like runaway horses, pushing each other while trying to keep themselves as far away as possible from the toads, which was pretty much impossible, since they were all over the floor, not to mention everyone’s pants and socks were now pretty wet with murky water. 

Lily sighed and took out her wand. “Bufonem repelleare,” she said and waved her wand around her shoes, as she placed her feet on the murky water, the toads seemed to form a circle around her, as if avoiding her entirely. 

Beth gasped as she pointed at her, “Lily, come and save me!” She said as she pointed at her feet, which got some other students staring quite impressed at her. 

“Masterful use of spell combination, Miss Evans,” said Flitwick as he pointed at her and continued to move the toads as far away from the students as it was possible for him to do. 

“You’re coming?” Lily asked as she offered you her hand.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got an escape my plan for myself prepared,” you told her with a wink, and as she walked towards Beth you finally got on the table. Your seat was rather close to the windows, and the door was on the other side, which meant you had quite a walk to make before exiting the toadtrap you had created; but you weren’t looking forward to getting your feet wet, let alone your socks, which Lily had taken in as a necessary evil. 

You stood on the chair and then on your table, and from there, you jumped to the table in front of it, the students there were already outside of the classroom, and then you jumped towards the table next to it. The boys, upon seeing what you did, were now imitating you. And they were much faster since they had longer legs. 

By the time you got to the third row of seats, Remus was standing on the desk right in front of yours and Sirius was right next to it. You raised your eyebrows at the boy in front of you and he smiled, placing one hand behind his back and extending the other towards you, “Allow me, my lady,” he said in the noblest of tones. 

You chuckled under your breath as you diverted your gaze to hide the smile you just couldn’t keep away from your lips at this point. He really had read an excessive amount of romance books. 

“Kind Sir,” you said as you took his hand, not because you needed his hand to cross to the other side, but because you wanted to hold his hand. It was a simple gesture and helped you stand right next to him. 

“Oh Moony, you’ll make me jealous,” Sirius teased. “How come she’s getting preferential treatment?” 

It was the smirk on Sirius’ lips that told the both of you that he was just teasing. “It’s all right Puppy, I’ll help you to the other side.” You extended your hand towards him and he used it to jump onto the same table in which the two of you were standing. Now the three of you were stupidly close to each other, not that either of you cared. 

There was a short exchange of glances between the three before Moony jumped to the next table and you followed shortly afterwards. But by the time you extended your hand for Sirius, you felt the table tremble underneath you, even if it was just for a second. You looked around, the feet to try and spot if there was something that was causing it, perhaps a toad that got stuck or something of the sort, but there seemed to be nothing happening down there. Sirius took your hand and jumped towards the two of you, but the second he landed next to you one of the legs gave out, and the three of you plummeted to the floor.

While the toads managed to escape being crushed by any of you three, you did not get away without being completely soaked in the swampy water.  

You groaned, the water hadn’t done much to cushion the fall, and you and Sirius had been the ones to cushion most of it for Remus. 

“Should have come with me,” Lily said as she shook her head and walked towards the door. While you were sore, you still had enough energy to lean your head towards her and pull out your tongue. She shook her head, clearly amused. “Suit yourself.” 

You huffed and then let yourself rest back in the water. What does it matter at this point, it’s already soaked, you thought. A toad jumped closer to you and Sirius scared it away before it reached your fave.

“Sorry,” Remus muttered as he tried to get up since he’d fallen on top of both of you but his hand slipped and he ended up falling over the two again. 

Sirius groaned and you let out a low “uff!”

“Sorry again,” Remus said hurriedly, trying not to think too much of how nice it felt to be that close to you, given the conditions around.  Those being the fact that half of your heads were submerged in murky water and that the frogs now seemed to want to approach you.

“It’s all right, try slower this time,” you told him, offering your hand for some stability, when he finally got up from the floor he realised that most students –and the teacher– had already found a way out of the mess. Once he was up, he helped the both of you stand. 

“They left us?” Sirius asked with a gasp. “We fell, and they left us!” 

“Vixen stuck her tongue out at Lily,” Remus pointed out. “She would have probably waited.” 

“Never mind Evans, It’s Prongs that offends me,” he added with a huff that made you chuckle. 

What neither of you knew was that he had made that table fall and that he had left the three of you at your own luck in retaliation for the bomb that he had left in his pocket and that you had knowingly not warned him about.  But he also thought the three of you could benefit from some time alone, so he was both, taking his revenge, and playing cupid. 

You leaned your arm up towards you, smelled the sleeve of your sweater, and made a slightly disgusted face. “We stink now,” you said as you pulled it as far away from your face as possible. “How about you throw some relashio my way?” 

Remus extended his wand towards you but Sirius was quicker and stopped him, “I’ve got a way better idea than that.” 

“Sirius we’re not swimming on the black lake, I know you’ve wanted to do that all year, but it’s literally snowing out there, it’s a terrible idea.”

“Not that!” Sirius said as he shoved Remus. “It’s a great idea, I promise,” he added with his signature smirk and stepped forward, taking the lead. “Follow me, pretty things.” 

“Did he just–” Remus said as he pointed at Sirius and turned to you.

“Yup,” you said with a nod. “You better get used to it,” you added before nodding your head to the side, inviting him to follow behind Sirius who was already near the door. At least the toads were kind enough to jump out of the way as you walked towards it. 

The hall wasn’t much better either, some classrooms were still figuring their way out and their doors were crammed with people trying to leave, the stone was coated in a rather thin layer of water that only got more and more filled by the minute and everyone was trying to find somewhere safe. 

“What is going on?” Someone shouted, tone laced with desperation as he had to turn to the side when he spotted another tramp of toads coming from the hallway he intended to take. 

While in the world, “all roads lead to Rome” in Hogwarts, “all roads lead to the Great Hall” and you were counting on that to get most students in there, all for the sake of ending the prank with a cherry on top. But some students were already using their brooms and the windows to get out of the buildings and that would ruin the plan. 

“Your idea’ll have to wait,” you told Sirius as you stepped forward. Thankfully just the right person was in sight. “Alex!” You said. “Alex Wood!” 

The Hufflepuff head boy, who was riding his broom flew towards you, “Yeah?” 

“They said we should go to the Great Hall,” you said. “That’s where all the students are going.” 

It was luck, and perhaps your good student reputation, that made Alex nod almost instantly. “I’ll spread the word, thanks!” he added and took off, shouting to everyone on his way to walk towards the Great Hall.

You smiled as you saw him leave towards one side of the hall and you turned to the other, “We have to go to the Great Hall!” you shouted towards everyone and none in particular, “spread the word!” 

The three of you continued walking towards the new direction and kept telling people they had to go, and since people recognized Remus as a Prefect, it was much easier to get them to follow the direction. By the time you reached the Great Hall, there were already other prefects helping everyone walk inside in a much more ordered manner than when they had left their classrooms. Students were walking towards their seats at the table, and the older students were using Lily’s spell to keep the frogs away from the door as everyone tried to walk inside. 

You smiled, looking quite satisfied at the result of your little ruse, and also got in line, but this time Sirius pulled you out of the way. “Follow me, I know a better spot to enjoy the show,” he said with a smile. Remus probably already knew of said spot since he walked next to Sirius as if he too knew the way.

You followed the two of them down a set of stairs –spotting the kitchen entrance– and then a little further inside, where there was a rather large statue of a dragon who moved as if he were breathing. Sirius got up on the small pedestal where the dragon lay and Remus was behind him shortly after, yet again extending his hand for you to follow. You took his hand at once and he pulled you up with ease, not letting go of it even as you were fully there and giving you a reassuring squeeze as Sirius got even closer to the dragon. He crouched and walked inside the crevice left between the tail of the dragon and his head. 

This time around you followed right after him and Remus was close behind. The statue wasn’t really designed to be walked behind, or at least it hadn’t been placed to be walked around, and therefore the spot behind it was slightly darker and a bit colder than the rest of the castle, as if the heating spells didn’t quite reach that spot. 

Then Sirius walked towards a torch holder and pulled on it, a small passage opened underneath the spot where the dragon lay. You smiled and walked down the set of stairs alongside both boys. It was a small room, perhaps something like a broom closet, or a secret hideout for a treasure, but there was nothing inside other than a window that looked remarkably similar to the ones in the great hall but much smaller. 

Sirius approached the window and fumbled with the latch for a few seconds before he managed to flip it open. The bitter cold flew in alongside a few snowflakes and Sirius climbed outside. Remus followed, sitting by the seal, his feet propped to the outside. But just before he jumped he turned to look at you.

You were looking at him from your spot, seeming somewhat hesitant of stepping out. He was about to speak, but Sirius beat him to it, pushing his head under Remus’ arm and leaning it near his ribs with a teasing grin. “You’re not scared, are you, Starshine?” 

“Of course not!” you retorted. “ Just waiting for you boys to open up some space.” Sirius laughed while Remus jumped outside, you got on the seal seconds after. 

Sirius smirked as he turned to Remus, who was wiping some snow from the back of his pants and shaking his head in disapproval, although he was still smiling. Once the three of you were outside, with the bitter cold making your wet clothes all the more uncomfortable, you figured out exactly where you’d be enjoying the spectacle from. 

“You have to be kidding,” you said as you spotted the large windows of the great hall over a few feet of rock.  “Is that where you were on the first day of the year?” you asked as you pointed towards some of the windows.

Sirius nodded in return, “Pretty cool, yeah?” 

“You’re all deranged!” you retorted with an amused smile and walked through the snow and towards one of the windows. The end of the cliff wasn’t so stiff that it would be easy to fall, but if anyone did fall, then it would be nasty.

“Not more than you, Luv,” retorted Remus who was behind you in seconds. 

Sirius had a small, rather proud smirk on his lips as he watched the two of you speed towards the window. “Watch your step, it can be slippery,” he warned. 

“Who's the scared one now?” you asked as you turned to him with a teasing smirk, your hair flowing behind you while some bits of snow from the side of the rocks fell over it.

Once you reached the spot under the window you looked up. It was rather tall. At least a few feet above your head. Sure Sirius and Remus could reach the top by extending their hands, but your fingers barely reached the edge. Narutally, you started jumping to try and get your hands on the seal. Remus caught up with you a few seconds later. “Thought you were a fox, not a rabbit.” 

You huffed, narrowing his eyes at him and turning back to the rocks. There was snow covering them, and you didn’t have your gloves around. Didn’t matter though, you tried to get a hold of one of the rocky edges to climb your way up, but they were stupidly slippery and you ended up slipping towards Sirius who caught you with ease and looked down on your pouty face with a wide smile. 

“Are you done trying to do it by yourself?” he asked. You gave him a mouth twist in return. “Nous sommes une équipe, Starshine, don’t be afraid to ask for help.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and pushed you to stand straight again. 

You grumbled something intelligible as Sirius climbed his way up using a rather specific rock that they had charmed and that was slightly worn out as support, and once he was up he extended his hand while Remus linked both of his and extended them for you to use as a step on the way up. You hesitated, turning your gaze to the side before placing your foot between Rem’s hands, who pushed upwards and allowed you to reach Sirius’. 

Once your elbows were on the bitter-cold stone of the seal, you managed to push yourself up the rest of the way. Rem used the same rock Sirius had to climb  and in between you and Sirius pulled him the rest of the way up. Not that he needed the help, he would have done fine without it, but neither you nor Sirius would waste a chance to hold him close.

“Shouldn’t we use a disillusionment charm?” you asked as you leaned over the windows to see what was inside. “Shit it’s cold,” you added as you shivered. You’d taken your cloak off at the little room under the dragon but your pants and thick sweater were still pretty wet.

“Nah, they can’t see us,” Sirius said as Remus stood closer to you. He was the least wet of the three, coincidentally, his body heat was always warmer due to his furry little problem. “There are special charms on the windows so that the weather outside matches the one in the enchanted ceiling,” he waved through the window, “we’re virtually invisible.” 

“Neat,” you said as you leaned your head on the window again, most students were now taking their seats. Professor McGonagall was helping some of the students accommodate their tables. Spellman was making sure all the Ravenclaws were all right alongside Flitwick who had been a Ravenclaw when he was a student, and Seraphina was making the Hufflepuffs do the same while forcing them into a neat line and counting through them. 

“Where’s Dumbledore?” you asked with a frown. 

“He is overseeing some plans with the order,” Sirius said. “Moody visited the Potters when we were about to leave for Kingscross. He said there was some urgent ‘Order’ business they had to oversee.” 

“Order? Do you mean The Order of the Phoenix?” 

“The what?” 

“Ugh… never mind I’ll tell you about it later,” you said as you shrugged it off and pointed towards the Great Hall. Slughorn had walked towards the podium and seemed about ready to say something. “I think it’s about to happen,” you said. 

Remus looked at you with a frown, still wondering what that was about before he too turned to look at the window. Slughorn seemed to be calming the students down, by giving some sort of speech. And then a screech so loud, that even the three of you heard, broke through his words. 

“Oh, it is happening,” Sirius said, as he too stepped a little closer. Both boys were now practically glued to you and the window, which was at least helping the cold subdue, even if you still felt like the bottom of your clothes, where gravity had accumulated the water, was slowly freezing as well. Not to mention your back felt a little more cold than it should have. But then again, what was a little cold? You’d had much, much worse. 

The girl jumped backwards as she screamed and fell on the floor as a bunch of toads started appearing from under her table. You saw Lily’s mane look around and fixate her gaze on James, she was clearly expecting the classroom and the rest of the hallway mess to be the end of it.

You chuckled as the toads from her table avoided her and jumped in all sorts of directions and towards the rest of the people. The funniest part was, that the toads were also shunning the entrance because they had used the toad-repelling charm all over it, so the more swamp bombs that exploded, the more frogs without anywhere else to go appeared.

McGonagall pressed her wand to her throat before speaking, loud, clear and in that same tone she used in class that was equally unwinding and terrifying. “Prefects, have your houses form a neat line and walk towards the courtyard. I believe it’s the only spot in the entire school not infested by toads at the present moment.” 

You chuckled, and it wasn’t only after your laughter subdued that you noticed that were not only shivering because of the laughs, but also because of the cold. You sneezed.

“Bless you,” Said Remus almost automatically, and then pressed his hands to your face. “You’re freezing! Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“I said it was cold!” you argued with a shrug and then crossed your arms over yourself. 

“But you said it as a casual comment, not as ‘I’m freezing, let’s use a warming spell’ kind of way,” Sirius retorted.

You hummed in response. “Next time, I’ll make sure to sound extra dramatic when complaining about the cold,” you said sarcastically.

“Yeah, you better,” Sirius said as he jumped down from the little window bannister and nodded for you to do the same. 

It was slightly awkward as you got down, but Sirius was there as you landed and he gave you a thumbs up as you wiped some of the snow that had gotten stuck in front of your trousers. Remus was down shortly after and the three of you walked inside the little room. 

Sirius closed the window as soon as you were inside while Remus started with a simple warming spell. He leaned close to you, his wand slowly spreading heat on your back, causing the already-frozen bits of clothes to melt. 

“Wait, it’s too hot,” you said, taking your sweater off almost in a second. You had a simple turtle neck shirt underneath, and while it wasn’t freezing anymore, it was still pretty wet. 

“I mean you can continue taking your clothes off here, or we can go to that place I’ve been telling you about,” Sirius said with a smirk and both of you turned to him with a frown. 

“Where exactly do you want us to go?” Remus asked.

“You’ll see when I take you,” he retorted as he tilted his head. “I think by now most students will be in the courtyard, what do you say?” 

Remus swallowed, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” 

“All my ideas are great,” he retorted, “Right, Starshine?”

“Some have certainly been,” you retorted. “Besides at this point, anything that gets me off this stinkyness is good.” 

Sirius’ smile widened and he gave you a wink before climbing up the stairs and both you and Remus followed closely behind him. 

It had been a few minutes of you scurrying around the castle while trying to avoid being seen by any lost student, and the toads that were now all over the halls, jumping around freely. 

Remus, who finally recognized the way you were taking gasped, “Sirius are we going to the–”

“Yes, don’t spoil it.” 

Sirius had purposefully taken a tricky way there so neither of you realized where it was you were heading but Remus had figured it out anyway. You had a vague idea of where that might be but you weren’t sure, and you had never been there either, so even if it was where you thought it would be it was still a surprise. 

You looked over a corner you were about to cross and instantly pulled back, grabbing onto Sirius’ shirt to stop him from stepping any further. You placed your hand over your lips and nodded. He looked at you with a frown, and you pointed at the corner. 

Sr. Pendragon’s ghost was there, up in his horse and patrolling like the hallway was his own, even when his horse seemed to be much more entertained by the toads. He was comically jumping around while trying to avoid them (it didn’t seem to matter that being a ghost, he couldn’t touch them).

Sirius nodded as soon as he spotted him and took out his wand, but Moony beat the both of you by sending a spell towards one of the portraits on the other side of the hallway. The old man in the portrait started shouting silly complaints and screaming something about the toads attacking him. 

“To the rescue!” Said Sir. Pendragon as he pulled on his horse’s reins to force him to move. Said horse was not cooperating, and it was while he was distracted by them that you cast a disillusionment charm over the three of you and continued to follow Sirius through the halls. 

Skipping through the toads was much harder with the disillusionment charm because they wouldn’t immediately jump out of the way as they spotted you, but it wasn’t impossible. They seemed to have a sort of sixth sense to not be squashed, even if it took a little longer for it to kick off than sight. 

It was when you spotted the large frog in the corner of Ricchie’s “make-out room” that you figured out where Sirius was taking you as well. “How are you planning to get in?” You whispered as you pointed towards the door.

“Easy, we have our own Perfect, he knows the passwords,” Sirius said with a smirk. 

Remus tried not to roll his eyes as the three of you approached the doors, he cleared his throat before leaning into one of the corners of the door. “Whispering Woods,” he said, low so nobody beside you would hear, and the doors split open right in front of the three of you.

You didn’t waste time before walking inside, since you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the three of you were sneaking into the “only prefects” bathroom, even with the disillusionment charm. You were still looking at the hall as you rushed to the door to shut right ahead of you. Some magic doors were faster if you gave them a little push, which was always a good trick when you were sneaking around. 

Once you made sure they were shut you sighed and turned around, only to gasp in shock. It’s not that you hadn’t heard about the Prefect’s Bathroom being grand and elegant, but you were expecting spacious shower stands and perhaps even a nice toilet, not a bathtub the size of a pool.

“I know, right?” Sirius said with a smile and started walking towards the tub, flicking his wand to dissolve the disillusionment charm and opening the faucet in the side. Colourful water started streaming out of the centre, filling the pool with bubbly water. A stained glass mermaid was combing her hair just behind the tub, and she had a sort of mischievous smile going on as she spotted Sirius. 

“I’m going to start thinking you have a water kink or something,” you joked as you followed him, your eyes getting lost on the mermaid before turning back to him. She didn’t look exactly like the mermaids at Lupin’s Cottage, which made you think she probably was from a different species. 

Her nose was slightly longer, and she was looking at the three of you in a sweet, and yet sort of like ‘I’d want to eat you’ glance. 

“Don’t worry about her, she can’t even talk,” Remus when he noticed your staring. 

“Yeah?” you asked with a frown. “Why?” 

“Mermaid portraits can be very temperamental, that’s why wizards rarely use the special brushes that make them talk,” Sirius explained as he threw a wink her way. You’d swear she blushed after that.

“Did you ever read ‘Siren’?” Remus asked, and you shook your head in response. “It’s about an artist that really wanted to paint a mermaid,” he explained. “And he did it, exceptionally well, so well that the portrait even had some of those enchanting abilities mermaids have. He talked to her every single day, she convinced him to put her in the bathroom since she would feel closer to home, and he would see her every single time he bathed.” 

“Yeah?” Sirius asked with a smile as he continued to play with the faucets. Now there was a small fish statue blowing soap bubbles all over the place. “Sounds awkward…” 

“It was,” Remus confirmed. “But she was clever and knew how to make him feel at ease. More time passed and they grew used to each other, until that wasn’t enough for her either, she ended up convincing him to drown in his tub so he could be with her.” 

“Damn,” you said as you looked back up at the mermaid. She was still giving you that same curious look. “I can definitely see it happening, though…” 

“A man falling for the portrait of a beautiful mermaid?” Sirius asked, clearly amused.

“A portrait being more powerful than they originally thought,” you said, not keeping your eyes away from the stained glass window. “Enchanted items can be as delightful as deceitful. There are plenty of stories of wizards who’ve gone mad over a portrait.” 

“I think the water is ready,” Sirius said as he dipped his hand in the marbled pool.

“Yeah?” You asked as you leaned closer to it, leaning over and also digging your hand in the water. 

“Mhm,” he nodded and then turned to Remus with a sort of mischievous look in his eyes. The way they shone told Remus enough about his plan for him to know what a terrific idea it was. “Pourquoi ne l’essaies-tu pas, Étoile?” 

You didn’t even have enough time to turn around and ask what he was going on about when he picked you up from the floor and threw you into the water, the splashing from your fall was enough to leave the two of them wet and filled with bubbles. 

By the time you resurfaced –not that it was very deep– both boys were shaking with laughter, their voices echoing through the bathroom in such a compelling way that you couldn’t even stay mad at them for it. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t retaliate. You looked at them both with a sort of saddened pout that had Remus lose his laughter as fast as he’d found it.

“I think I sprained my hand as I fell,” you said as you took your hand out of the water, “It’s swelling and all…” 

“What? That fast?” Remus said as he approached you. 

Sirius seemed concerned at first, at least until he saw the faintest shadow of a smirk as Remus approached the edge of the tub. You threw him a look, simple, almost too fast, but he instantly knew what he had to do. 

“Perhaps it’s because it’s the hand I sprained at the Leaky Cauldron…” you added and extended it towards him. He was now so close, half of his body was over the water. He had your hand in his, yours was limp and his were careful, feather-like touches to make sure he wouldn’t hurt you further. He moved it to one side and then to the other, carefully. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Slightly,” you retorted. It wasn’t a lie, your hand was still kind of sore. Perhaps it had been a worse hit than you thought originally.

Remus shrugged, “It doesn’t look all that swollen to me, Little Witch, but it could get worse. Perhaps we should call it and go to Pomfrey instead–” 

“You don’t see it?” You asked nonchalantly and threw a look at Sirius. Remus was about to respond, “Maybe if you look closer,” you added before pulling your other hand out of the water and gripping onto his arms as firmly as you could, pulling him towards you. 

Alone, you wouldn’t have done shit to move him unless he had been genuinely distracted, but with Sirius’ help, who threw him off balance with a light kick on the back of his knee and a push, it was as easy as it had been for Sirius to lift you up and throw you into the pool. When Remus resurfaced from the water he was so shocked that he’d been manhandled that he ended up being more confused than anything. 

“How the– you didn’t even hurt your hand, did you?” 

“It’s still sore, but no,” you said with a shrug and a smile. You then stepped a little closer, you’d never seen Remus’ hair wet, at least not fully wet, only fluffed out of the shower, it was way longer than you assumed, it reached almost all the way to his nose. You swam closer to him in an instant and pushed it off his face. It’s something perhaps you would have done even back when you were just friends –you had always been that close to him– but it was because you weren’t just friends anymore that he felt his heart hammer on his chest as you approached. He could kiss you if he wanted to, would you want it to? 

And then you gave him a look. He knew that look so well. You placed both hands on his neck after you stopped playing with his hair and then you raised your eyebrows. He gave you the basic “Are you sure?” Remus Lupin look. You just raised your eyebrows again in return. 

“Hey, Pups,” you said casually, “do you mind passing me my wand? I think I dropped it when you threw me into the water…” That last bit was slightly accusatory, to add up to that guilt and have him lose some of the weariness. 

Sirius picked your wand from the floor and squinted his eyes at you as if deciding just how close he could get without getting pulled into the water by his favourite little fae, although you looked more like a tempting siren than a sprite in that particular moment. 

“What?” You asked with a simple smile. 

“You’re not going to pull me into the water, are you?” 

“Of course not, I just need my wand,” you said with a smile, gently squeezing Remus’ wrist from under the water. 

“What for?” 

“Girl stuff,” you retorted. 

“You can’t just say girl stuff whenever you want to avoid my questions.” 

“But what if it really is girl stuff?” Remus intervened as he eyed Sirius. 

“I won’t throw you into the water, swear,” you added, hands held up in surrender. “Just hand me my wand, you can stay out and watch while Remus and I make out or whatever.” 

“What?!” Sirius asked confused, amused, and a little too keen on the idea, which was ridiculous. But damn, didn’t the both of you look stunning when you were kissing each other? 

“What?” you said as you approached. “Come on, hand it over,” you said as you opened your mouth for him to place your wand in between your lips. Sirius was hesitant as he approached you, but eventually, he was close enough. And when he did, Remus, who had been casually leaning his back on the side stood up and pulled him into the water as you moved out of the way.

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Read more Marauders Fiction

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

getting sick of this noise, m | myg, jjk

misfit toys au continuation of intro >> don’t play >> this game >> those graves

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, jungkook x reader

summary: You won, Min Yoongi. Isn't this what you wanted? You ran away from it all and now lose yourself in the forbidden passion of your stepsister's body day and night. Closer to her than ever. Careful now. The monsters that hide in the dark could tear you apart.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; warning! graphic sexual abuse of a minor — please do not read further if you are not comfortable; reader is the victim, mentions of hard drug use; shitty wealthy parents that abuse their adult children in the name of filial piety narcissism; toxic relationships; angst; stepsiblings; intense smut (fem reader, D/s (sub!JK), restraints, forced orgasm, cum eating, f and m-receiving oral, semi-public m-masturbation, edging, cock-and-ball torture (self + received), hair-pulling, nipple play, cumming on reader's face + chest, anal shower sex, choking, fingering, blindfold usage, heavy bruising / scratching, spit kink); non-idol!AU - orange-haired!Yoongi x savage, bad bitch!reader, ft obsessive, security guard!Jeon Jungkook; shifts between Yoongi’s, yours, and JK’s POV

--

Once again, be warned. This chapter details abuse of a minor, notably sexual as well as physical and mental. Reader is the victim. Although she is aware of how such abuse has warped her psyche, it is apparent that she uses dissociation as a coping mechanism from the worst of it. It is still awful. You are responsible for what you choose to consume. Please do not proceed unless you are in the headspace for monsters that do, sadly, exist in real life.

I do not condone this behavior. For storytelling purposes only.

--

He sat down on that black leather couch.

Spread his legs for his own comfort. His jacket was tossed to the side, out of the way. The living room was dark. All blinds drawn. Breathe out. He pushed his hair back, getting it out of the way. He set an arm on the back of the couch and raised his head. His skin prickled, warning him.

An icy itch slithered down his spine.

Min Yoongi looked up.

His stepsister smiled, a vicious image, and then she let her black lace dress slip down her body to step out of it.

He knew there was wrong in this world and Yoongi knew he was part of it. There was better than him. There was worse than him. Hell, his closest family was the epitome of the worst. He was definitely one of the wrong ones, by blood and by the path he had chosen to take. He had always been a runner, an escape artist, a bad son. He didn’t give a shit. The definition of insanity was doing something over and over again expecting a different result. Why continue being frustrated with something he couldn’t change? Why continue being berated and beaten repeatedly for not copying his father’s obscene behavior?

Why not do one better and take the one his father wanted most, over and over again?

Yoongi lifted two fingers ad curled them inward, beckoning his stepsister to him.

-

-

Life was about getting there.

This was true from the very beginning. You did what you had to do to keep living. It did not matter how you felt about it, and you did what you had to do so often that you forgot to feel something about it. Run. Hide. Cry. Be humiliated. These actions became second nature. The more you did them, the more detached you became. And so you did what you needed to do and felt nothing, just to retrieve your mother’s unconscious body back from whatever she had put herself though. That was the game. She counted on your part in the game. You fulfilled it. She rewarded with trinkets, a little treat, or something equally meaningless that meant everything to an impressionable child. Back then, it was easy. It was easy not to know better. It was easy to be a deceitful heart when nothing was wrong. Like your mother said, nothing could be wrong when you were born to play.

It had to become a game for it to be bearable.

You played the game.

What your mother didn’t count on was you becoming a slut to gain your own freedom. After teaching you to trust no one, she really thought she could make you dependent on the fragile bond of mother and daughter. After all, it was you and dear mother against the world, right? She never thought you would have the guts to make your own terms. Never thought you too could manipulate the people around you.

She wasn’t sober enough half of the time to stop you either.

The world around you was so, so fucked up and dear mother was the one to throw you to the wolves.

At some point, you had your revelation.

The first one was a son of some old guy.

Definitely older than you. Definitely should not be touching you. Didn’t want to either because he was repulsed by pussy. He did what he had to do so his dad wouldn’t know. You happened to be the easiest target in his line of vision. He had cornered you to do the deed, but was too terrified and too limp to do anything. You had been prepared to fight, steak knife behind your back, but the man ended up breaking down and crying. A first. Saying all kinds of things that you didn’t really understand, such as I can’t do this anymore and I have to and I’m sorry, they can’t know, who knows what, and you were looking down at him wondering how someone could have so much money and not be entirely selfish.

“Why don’t you?”

It was like a light bulb turned on in that vacant little brain.

Tear-stained face of a cowering naked creature under your narrow, barely-clothed body. He was bigger than you but, in this moment, he was small in the grandeur of your delicate, adamant defiance. You held up the knife, observing the way the low light gleamed off the blade, knowing you would have used it without hesitation. There was no fear in the desire for survival. You had tilted your head.

And you had felt it.

Power.

“W… W-What?”

You had smiled.

“You can keep a secret, right? Let’s make a secret.”

Your mother had no idea at the time that you were the one to provide the leverage she needed to leave that marriage. She just thought she had gotten lucky stumbling on her stepson in the middle of a gay orgy. Alimony and a quiet split as long as the shameful truth wasn’t revealed to the public. It had taken some time, but not as much as you had originally thought. You had simply copied what she did – created an addiction. Eventually, the addict went out of control. So what if you had to sleep with a few people? So what if you had created a cultish circle of rich kids fucking each other to get the curiosity started? It got you out of the house, away from hungrier eyes always straying from your mother.

Dumb bitch.

“It’s not so bad.”

A couple of men later. This one had been younger than your mother. Cutting lines of white right in front of you. Your mother was passed out. You weren’t worried. She wasn’t that pale. The man had offered you some but oddly accepted your declining. He did not accept you leaving his lap and his half-hard dick though. He snorted a narrow strip of few centimeters and sniffed hard.

“I bet you think all this sucks, doncha?” His satoori and drug habit had corroded his voice. His other hand was on your thigh. He squeezed. “But it isn’t so bad. I see you. You’re different. You’re not all here. And I bet you think people like me are dumb as rocks.” He tapped the side of his head, his pupils expanding like black holes. “But I ain’t dumb. I know your mother is here for money. That’s fine. I like dumb bitches who like getting face-fucked and think they’re making money by playing nice. She’d be making a lot more if she actually became a hooker. But you. I see it in your eyes.”

You had shrugged.

“Heh. I knew it. I knew you weren’t just a dumb little girl. Tell you what. I like you.”

You had stared at him. He offered you an obscene amount of money to suck his dick. But not only money. A safe box at the bank with your own key. It would take years for you to legally have your own assets. It was pointless to give you money that your mother still had access to. He promised to keep the key and give it to you when you came of age.

“I don’t trust you.”

He had grinned.

It was manic.

“Okay. Then you choose how I get off.”

You had frowned. You would always remember his face. Inviting. Sickly. Unfocused and ravenous like a hyena. His pupils had looked as if they were swallowing his irises. Ironically, his dark hair had been bleached, but the strands were turning a sickly orange due to poor upkeep. He would have been handsome if it wasn’t for the drug habit.

You also remembered how impressed you were at how he had played his game.

Then put your palm on his still-hard dick, leaning your weight on it. Gripped hard, as hard as your smaller hand could, crushing his balls into the seat, watching his features contort in pain.

And glee.

“You’re a liar,” you had said slowly, confirming it by digging your blunt nails inward. “You don’t like dumb bitches.”

He had been telling the truth about giving up a whole lot of money for what only you could give.

-

Jeon Jungkook was a security guard for a gentlemen’s club.

He also had a particular obsession with his boss. Not the old Master. Fuck no. The young Master, her daughter. And, although he doubted the feeling was mutual, they now shared a secret. It had to be intentional. She would do no such thing without purpose. Whether that purpose was in his best interest remained to be seen, but Jungkook didn’t really care. The world was fucked anyway. Might as well do some fucked-up things.

He was at work when he received the notification that the young Master was at her condo.

This was not uncommon. There was no need for the Masters to be here to constantly oversee operations. That was why they had managers and supervisors, after all. As for why Jungkook received the notification, well, he had begun to pay the security at that particular building a bit of money to let him know who was going in and out of that particular condo.

Not to do anything.

He just wanted to know.

A few nights ago, she had blindfolded him in the basement. Handcuffed him to a metal bar, naked, and done all sorts of things to him with ice, vibrators, and her pointed manicure. He still had scabbed lines over his back from where she had broken skin. His favorite part had been when she orgasmed while sandwiching the wand vibrator between his balls and her pussy. Holding his cock out of the way, of course. He could feel her cum seeping onto his inner thighs and her hot breath on his chest as she did it. He especially liked it when she scooped up her cum and shoved her slick fingers into his mouth and almost made him choke. Jungkook hadn’t liked it when she stimulated him with a vibrating silicone sleeve rather than her hand. He had begged to at least cum on the stone floor. She only let him if he spit in her hand first and then she used that as lube to jack him off to completion. He wished she had made him lick it up, but the basement floor wasn’t exactly clean.

She did, however, let him get on his knees and clean up her pussy.

Jungkook had an obsession.

He wanted to know who came in and out of the condo. He and the young Master shared a secret. He was a security guard. Hers. He wanted to protect. The best way to protect was to have information. The more information, the better. Spending a bit of money was not going to prevent him from protecting.

On his break, he was in his car when he checked his phone.

The people who had entered the condo were the young Master and her stepbrother.

This was no cause for alarm, but it did greatly piss Jungkook off.

Not for any good reason, he knew. He was in no place to think he was entitled to anything. Nor did he have any delusion about what his relationship was with the young Master. She had the body. She had the money. She could do whatever she wanted as long as she still cared enough to keep their secret. But Jungkook was still mad, because Min Yoongi was an asshole who couldn’t even see who was on his side.

He was also pissed because this information didn’t curb his hunger.

Jungkook sat back in his car and ran his fingers over his erection throbbing in his work pants. His left hand followed the side of his pants, to the slim pocket that held the black switchblade with the engraved tiger motif. It took some effort to unzip his pants. Even more to lower his boxer briefs. His hard cock sprang out, suddenly exposed in the cool air. He stared straight ahead, keeping his breath steady. Glanced at his rearview mirror to make sure his expression didn’t change. No one was coming to the employee parking lot anyway, but there were still cameras. He doubted any of them had the correct angle to see inside his car, but he also didn’t care. He ran the fingertips of his right hand over the head, smearing the pre-cum. Shivered, but otherwise didn’t let the pleasure show. He traced the hard lines of the tiger and stroked himself all over, his swollen cock throbbing uncomfortably, almost unbearable.

Remembered the way his Master touched him and made him sore.

Perfect.

Jungkook knew what the young Master was doing with her stepbrother.

He told himself he didn’t care.

But, still, sometimes he would miss the feeling she gave him. He kept his left hand on the knife she had given him and gripped his balls, squeezing hard. Delicious pain shot up his core. He kept his eyes open, staring straight ahead, aware of the movement around him, imagining her torturing him as he tortured himself, right in the open. Smacked his cock so hard that it hit his pant leg, the slap resounding in the confides of his car. He had to bite his tongue to avoid letting the illicit ecstasy show on his face. He did it again, louder, harder, squeezing his balls again right after to prolong the suffering, and none of it showed on his face even as his lower half vibrated with craving. He wanted her to tell him to stop. He wanted her to punish him. The edges of the switchblade cut into his palm as he hooked thumb and forefinger around the base of his cock and tightened.

The throb of pleasure was so powerful that his hips threatened to rise.

He used all of his willpower to prevent himself from doing so and instead smacked his abused cock once more, his toes curling inside his shoes to maintain the tension of staying upright and appearing unemotional so no one would even suspect how desperately and deeply he wanted to be tied up and used by his Master.

He needed it.

Needed it.

He loved having this secret with the young Master.

He carefully corrected himself. Zipped up his pants and, in doing so, noticed the faint white stains along the inner thighs of his pant legs. He let it be and returned to work. He received a few interesting looks from the working girls but Jungkook only thought about one person. Only one. He finished his shift with his underwear soaked in his pre-cum. The first thing he did when he left work was check his phone.

No new notifications.

He went straight home.

-

The last thing Min Yoongi knew was the right words to say.

It was one thing to be sure of something and another to hear the outward, sickening proof of it. It was one thing to know his own father was despicable and deplorable, but another to hear his own stepmother saying, what is the big deal? The shameful anger flared within him once more as he remembered. The suggestion itself, vile. The way it was presented even more so. But the anger came from somewhere else. From nights of tangled hands and skin-to-skin. From his teeth sunk into flesh, from his hands around her throat, from his cock buried deep inside his stepsister’s pussy. His. His, because she wanted him, because she willingly toyed with his emotions and pushed all his buttons and coiled around him like a viper, her saliva a venomous aphrodisiac. And the shame, well. The shame didn’t come from the wrongness.

No.

“Strip.”

The shame came from jealousy.

Jealousy from her reaching back so confidently and unhooking her bra, so casual and unbothered by his spiteful order. Her shoulders dipped, left, right, the straps smoothly sliding off as she held the lace cups. Too practiced to be accidental. Too graceful to be a novice and Yoongi was ashamed, ashamed for the way he watched her every move, ashamed at himself for how deeply it affected him, ashamed not at his cock twitching but at his chest tightening, his heart racing, the tremble in his own breath.

She slowly let the bra fall into her hands and tossed it aside, letting him look at the shapely curves and stiff nipples.

He had none of that.

And Yoongi was angry, so angry at his own father for trying to take her from him even though he had no right and no claim over this woman, but all the same, she is mine, mine, and you are a shitty father and took away any hope I had in this life so it is about time I take something for you too.

An eye for an eye.

She paused a few steps away. Hooked her finger over the sides of her black lace panties and bent forward, sliding them down, down. Her breasts fully exposed and, as she stood up, her pussy as well, the low light catching a hint of glistening slick. The blinds were all drawn, but it was still daylight outside, allowing the seeping bright cracks to light up the living room.

He breathed in and was greeted with the potent scent of sex.

One hand on his bare knee. Then the other. Yoongi was still wearing his charcoal, paint-stained jeans. The large rips in the knees allowed for the skin-to-skin contact. He didn’t say anything as she lowered herself to her knees. Didn’t dare breathe under that serpentine gaze. He was still wearing his designer t-shirt and made no move to take it off.

She smiled, her pink tongue tracing the edge of her smirk.

His cock throbbed, stretching out his boxer briefs.

Yoongi cocked his chin and stuck his tongue in his cheek.

Then he shot out his hand and grabbed her by the throat, pressing his fingertips inward. Dragged her neck towards him, growling in his chest, his pulse quickening at the sound of her gasp, his blood racing at the feeling of her hands sliding up his thighs, the now-familiar, ravenous desire coiling as her body slid up against his legs.

“How many times you get on your knees for a man?” he hissed, low and violent.

Her chuckle was so dark that he almost let go.

“Very kind of you to think of them as men, brother.”

Her fingers were at his zipper, yanking hard to pull it taut so she could unbutton his jeans. As if she had done this hundreds of times. He hated them all. He hated them and he had no idea who they were but he hated them all.

Yoongi narrowed his eyes, letting his seething anger command him.

“I’m not your brother.”

He threw her back, unzipping his pants and shoving them down, underwear and all. His cock snapped out, bouncing slightly from the force and its stiffness. He didn’t bother to give any warning. Simply seized her shoulders and pushed her down, shuddering from seeing her slide down so readily, and he thrust into her already open mouth.

Fitted his palms to the back of her head, pushing her hair out of the way, and began to fuck her face.

Soft lips, rubbing tongue, tight throat. He didn’t care. Deep, rolling his hips, not moving too quickly on purpose so he could last. So he could feel his girth stretch out her muscles, so he could savor the wet constriction, so he could stare into her eyes gazing back at him from below and tell himself I don’t care, clenching his jaw to avoid moaning, I don’t care, the harsh pleasure eating up his thighs and sliding up his spine, I don’t care, sucking in a stinging inhale as her tongue teased him, stimulating the thin skin under the head, burning heat searing the back of his neck.

She stared into his eyes.

Somehow, Yoongi felt as if she was seeing all of him. But that was impossible.

His shoulder blades pressed against the back of the sofa and he smacked his hips into her lips over and over again, one hand on the back of her head and the other bunching up his shirt, his labored breathing meshing with the lewd sound of her sucking him off, his legs shaking badly, threatening to collapse from the sinful delight tearing at to every nerve of his body.

He kept going.

Her hands spread over the couch, steadying herself as he built the pace, her naked body under him.

Her tongue flicked over his balls.

Mine.

He bit back his groan and snapped his head back, gasping as he felt his core lurch, the high shooting though him like an erotic bullet ricocheting through his ribcage. Hips driving forward, shoving her head down, tightness in his chest as he pumped his release into her throat in thick uncontrolled streams. His lips parting. Her name leaking out in a weak snarl.

He should have said something.

Yoongi wouldn’t know what to say but this, this happening between his legs right now, this was not what a good person would have done. Not that he had any grasp of what the concept of good could be. He just knew it wasn’t this.

The pulse rippled through him and he shivered, tightening his grip on her hair.

Pulled her mouth from his cock.

She leaned back, following his hold, and opened her mouth, displaying a wet pool of saliva and milky cum trickling down to a black hole, her pink tongue flattening out so he could see everything. He watched her swallow. He watched her savor his taste without guilt.

His dripping cock jerked, still hard.

“Play with your tits.”

He kept his left hand twisted into her hair and wrapped his right around his wet length, forcefully pushing himself to the edge as she squeezed her breasts. Pinching her hard nipples, pulling at them, unapologetically sighing in lustful satisfaction, flicking them. Large, swollen, stiff. His eyes shifted to her face. She watched him through lashes. The corner of her lips curved upward, amused. He cocked an eyebrow. Slid his ass forward to the edge of the leather sofa, gripping himself tighter, faster, using the base of his palm to shove down the crown of her head so she was forced to crouch.

She didn’t seem surprised.

He curled his fist downward, pulling on her hair hard enough to be painful.

Her head whipped back, plush lips parting, smokey gasp escaping.

Yoongi stared into her eyes.

They reflected his face, glassy and dark.

“I… I fucking hate you.”

Those dark eyes glittered with glee.

He came on her face.

Her eyes instantly snapped closed as he raised his hips and shot a streak of white over her cheek and onto her open lips. Thrust into his hand a few more times, hissing at the sensitivity, dribbling more down her neck, over her collarbone, and finally shoving the hot, pulsing head against the top of her breasts, pressing into the softness and growling, feeling flare after flare of feral pleasure. Her hands came up and cupped her breasts, pushing them together. He shoved his softening cock into the crevice, smearing his orgasm into her skin, the heavy, strong scent mixing with the honey still wafting up from below.

His entire body shuddered.

He unclenched his fingers from her hair and wiped his cum on her cheek into her mouth, shoving two fingers into the hot wet warmth. He pushed them in and out. His exhale shivered as her lips closed around them and she sucked, sensual and wrong, sucked all the way up to his knuckles as he lightly thrusted into the pocket of her breasts that she was pressing together.

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

He couldn’t.

He leaned down and replaced his fingers with his mouth, kissing his stepsister roughly, his own cum sticking to his face and tongue.

-

Back then, lying was so normal that the concept of truth became foreign.

“You look so pretty when you cry with my cock in your mouth, babygirl.”

You didn’t even have to think about it anymore while it was happening. You just did what you needed to do. You already knew the timing. Intoxicated and pissed from that younger guy turning her down, your mother would come home early, storming into the master bedroom without knocking. The entire scene laid out. No mistaking the situation. Instant incrimination. Immediately screaming her head off, hitting her current flavor-of-the-month boyfriend with her clutch, yelling about how it was over, and that argument would drag on with your body lying face-first into the carpet, your mascara tears soaking into the white shag, and the ache of your wrists tied behind your back with a men’s tie.

Inside, you would be laughing.

Your mother would then force yet another man to pay her a lot of money to keep her mouth shut. She always played her cards right. She always knew too much. She knew what kind of men to target. She knew what truths to say to render them speechless and so deep in the fog that they simply did whatever she asked. These men stood no chance in the wake of her manipulation. It was a talent, really. She would look at you and you would look back. Not saying anything. Slap you too, perhaps, if she had thought she could get more money out of the rich fucker. She probably assumed you were jealous or suspected that you wanted her spotlight, maybe.

Didn’t matter.

Because the night before that younger man that had turned down your mother at the bar, he had paid you even more money to be in your lap dressed in a lacy nightie with his own wrists tied behind his back, violently riding your large strap-on while you pulled on the leash around his neck, and you had whispered behind his back.

Low and dark.

“You gonna cum for your daddy, babygirl?”

Your mother really was a dumb, dumb bitch.

She made sure you were stuck in a world where everyone shot everybody. And so you did, although you only had one true target. Slowly, delicately, precisely. Needle by needle. Man by man. Old, young, in between. Sick fantasies and voracious greed in the shadows. Each conquest without remorse, creating a cyclic lifestyle your mother became so used to that it became an unbreakable habit. An addictive drug with soaring highs and explosive lows. You could have used a gun. Of course. How easy it could have been to ruin the life of the one who gave birth to you by exposing time after time she had exploited your youth for her own gain. But that would have been too quick of an end. Too merciful.

She didn’t deserve that.

Did your mother know? Probably. Did she want to stop it? Of course not. A constant flow of hush money and a revolving door of rich dick, oh, how could she refuse? The luxurious benefits were too fruitful to resist. And when she got bored, she could make your life insufferable until you pulled out that get-out-jail-free card. Most of the time, though, you simply sensed when she was over it and ended things to move on to the next best thing.

Searching.

Hunting.

You just had to be patient.

And then Min Yoongi came along.

Everything falling into place.

Bored, frustrated, agitated with having to play this part for so long and wanting to use you again to get her out of it. A small snag. If your mother was the one to ask for the divorce, she would get nothing. Prenuptial agreements were a bitch. He was disgusting person, but unfortunately not an idiot. And Papa wasn’t giving up yet. After years and years of relying on someone else to do the dirty work, and then being silently refused by that same someone, well, who was going to help her now? Still, she tried to manipulate you.

Your mother was too much of a narcissist to see that you had already surpassed her.

In addition, at this point, she had too much pride to change tactics now. It was a matter of principle. A matter of exercising her power over you, vain was it was. The perception of control. She thought she had won all the battles but she had already lost this war. No. No, she would not allow it. It didn’t matter if it was becoming clearer and clearer each day that she was stuck in a cage. So, your mother did what she always did. Drink. Seek out the high in others. Run. And, at the end of it all, kicking and screaming, getting dragged back to be Papa’s good, obedient wife.

Heh.

Revenge was delicious.

-

His fingers wrapped around her left wrist, around the chain bracelet with the black glass beads.

He was already inside.

His right hand was around her neck, pulling her head back to force her spine to arch as he shoved his hips forward a little more, making them both hiss. Him from the tightness. Her from the fullness. It must have hurt, but Min Yoongi was fucking his stepsister and he didn’t have time to care about things like that.

“Your ass is much tighter than your pussy,” he growled into ear, pushing back her wet hair.

The raining showerhead thundered down. Warm droplets splashing against burning skin. She had both palms against the vertical, smooth white tiles, using the leverage to push her body back into him, squeezing his length. He didn’t care. The grimace rippled down his body, his core tightening, his hard cock twitching. Not moving yet. He would be damned if he moved right now. Kept his grip on her wrist and neck, feeling pulse after pulse race through his blood, his erratic breath against her ear, not looking up from the curve of her tense neck.

Yoongi just stood there in the opulent shower, his fully erect cock buried into his stepsister’s tight asshole, clenching his pelvic muscles to make it throb inside her.

It was wrong. It was demeaning. He hadn’t even asked. She had left him on the couch and walked past him, still painted with his cum, and said nothing as she entered the bedroom. A few seconds later, he had heard the running water. Yoongi had sat there, pants still undone, dying in the weight of this watery silence, feeling both the sting of pain and blind anger. He didn’t care. He didn’t care, and the lies he told himself were second nature at this part, something so lived-in that they became real, even as Yoongi flung himself off the leather sofa and yanked his clothes off, throwing them on the floor. All the way to the bathroom, laying false claim on this condo, seeing himself in the mirror for a second before entering the shower.

His gelled, orange-dyed hair in disarray and his lost expression.

His dark eyes misty.

It must have been a trick of a light, a result of the steaming air, that his vision blurred unexpectedly.

Without another thought, Yoongi had opened the glass door of the shower and let himself in, pushing her body against the tiles and not letting her see his face because even he didn’t want to look at it now.

She moaned under him, not moving away.

I hate you.

He let go of her left wrist and reached down, sliding his fingers between her open legs and tracing the slick, wet lips of her pussy.

“Must be awful for you to have this hole empty.”

A wicked, dark snicker flowed out from her open lips, more telling than any words.

His chest to her back. His hand around her neck, tightening, and he pressed his rough fingertips to her swollen clit, relishing in the depraved satisfaction of her hips shivering, bucking back against him in response. He pressed down, sliding back and forth. Slow, with pressure, and moving his own hips. Drawing back, almost, her tight ring of muscle clutching around the base of the head. He hoped it tortured her. He hoped it felt good to be denied, hoped she felt the empty ache as he rutted the engorged tip of his cock in and out, in and out, then he shoved his cock back in, all the way.

The pleasure flared, burning all of his nerves and making his legs scream in tension.

He hoped she could feel the hurt, because Yoongi could.

Choked her harder and began to fuck her ass.

Close, his breath into her wet hair. Water streaming down his shoulders. Thrusting up and with effort, slow at first, but forceful, suffocating his arousal with the depth. He bit his lip, hard, letting the pain eat through the pleasure. So tight around his hard length, so soft along the sensitive, throbbing head, sucking him in, her thin moans echoing throughout the bathroom along with the slapping of hips to ass. Her body shaking under him. He let go of her neck suddenly, gripping her hip instead, driving his fingertips into her folds and rubbing tight circles, flicking his blunt fingernail over the packed nerves.

She hissed, her shoulders caving in, and growled his name, the tendons of her hands popping out.

“Fuck, Yoongi!”

There was an abrupt convulsion around his buried cock and passionate electricity radiated all over his inner thighs, up his stomach, to his throat, turning him viciously breathless, her orgasm slick on his fingers, and his hand on her hip gripped tighter, pausing to feel the aftershocks.

He hoped he left bruises.

On her body and in her memory.

So tight, uncontrolled now, chasing the wicked pleasure. He thrust in, again and again, loud and lewd and wet, her back arched, lower torso nearly parallel to the ground, and Yoongi sank his hold into her lush hips, dragging her to him and his unforgiving cock, his vision blurring, his hair sticking to his face, fuzzy smears of dark orange eclipsed with droplets clinging to his lashes, and he closed his eyes, pretending there was nothing but this, nothing but tightness and pleasure and her cries for him, wanton and unsatiated. The water tumbled, down, down, splashing over the tiles. He was drowning, drowning in lust, and the water drowned out his sudden hungry moan.

Smack!

She gasped sharply, on the edge of pain.

He groaned, violent and possessed, spilling into that soft clenching hole, and he could feel every jerk, every shiver, every twitch that shot a little more. Could feel even the way the choked head of his cock was being squished up against his own cum, the delicate rubbing sending a fresh wave of piercing pins and needles tearing through him.

Couldn’t breathe.

Staggered back, slipping out, and it was obscene. His orgasm wasn’t as much, of course, but even in the hazy falling water he could see his own cum dribble out of her ass and stick to the curve, clinging there for a violating millisecond before being washed away, dragged down the drain along with his sins.

Yoongi panted, the back of his throat feeling as if an animal had clawed at it.

He looked up.

Her head was turned, hair flat against her cheeks, one eye seeing him, and the fingertips of her right hand toyed with the chain bracelet with the black beads. There were red marks on her left wrist, underneath the jewelry. The edge of her lips raised in gratification.

The water fell down, down.

He didn’t say anything.

Reached forward and smeared what was left along her hole, then remained tight-lipped as he shoved his finger in, sucking back a breath. She gasped, but it was faint and not a whimper. It was lustful and carnal satisfaction. He pushed in and out. In and out. Still tight, still gripping him, pulsing around his finger, learned behavior, and Yoongi wanted to scream.

Mostly because he knew this practiced response was most likely not from instances like this, but much crueler, hateful moments.

He placed his palm along her jaw and turned her face more to face him. Leaned in without another word, sliding his tongue into her open mouth and slowly thrusting his finger into her ass. All the way to his knuckle, slow and deliberate. Gentle pleasure. The water rained down, down. It washed away all sins. He pulled his finger out. Turned his back to her, taking the soap.

Couldn’t look.

Yoongi told himself he didn’t care. Cleaned off his hand. Covered himself in the soap, rubbing the sweet lather into his skin while staring at the white tiles. Told himself there was nothing to say. Told himself the tingling left on his skin was just from the physicality of it all and nothing else. Nothing else.

He stiffened as he felt her hard nipples ghost his skin.

“I’ll wash your back.”

He tightened his jaw.

“Brother.”

Her full breasts pressed against his back. Her hands on his shoulders, caressing them. All over, body to body, slippery, fragrant. He bit back his sound, killing it. His chest vibrated, the snarl inside fighting him. Snapped his head around, knocking her hand away, his wet hair over his eyes.

Couldn’t quite catch her expression from behind the dripping curtain of red-orange.

“Stop calling me brother.”

He didn’t care.

Didn’t care.

He was no different from anyone else who touched her. Yoongi reached out, closing his grip around her shoulder. Pulled her to him, their bodies colliding, his heavy breath on her face.

Avoided her eyes.

“We are alone. Stop pretending,” he mumbled, leaning down to those lips, bruising them with kisses to avoid any more slip-ups.

-

You awoke to silence.

Turned your head and Min Yoongi was staring at you in the semi-darkness. Shirtless. Arms crossed, looking down, with the duvet pooled around his lower waist. His dyed, dark orange hair hung down, slightly frizzy and unkempt. Not styled. Air-dried from the shower. His pale skin seemed even paler than usual, the pallor reflecting the grim expression on his face. Narrowed, guarded dark eyes. Frigid tension between his lips.

A slow breath weaved through the tightness in your chest that was slowly dissipating due to now being conscious and in control.

You could feel your nakedness under the duvet.

The curtains were barely open, allowing a strip of moonlight and city light to illuminate the dark bedroom. You gazed back at Yoongi but said nothing. He must have witnessed. You inhaled again. A slow, measured breath. Held it. Exhaled. It was almost unnoticeable, barring the fact that your stepbrother was staring right at you.

“You had a nightmare.”

His lips barely moved. Each word came out deliberately and impassively, trying to avoid the true intention behind such words, and, in doing so, revealing everything. You almost expected the low edge of irritation. You could tell he regretted not adding it.

You almost lied.

Almost.

“I always dream,” you whispered back with no emotion, desensitized.

Complete and utter stillness.

A single shift and tilt of his head, not accepting your response. You looked up at him from the pillow, the images flashing in your head, but they quickly disintegrated, leaving only the crawling sensation of distorted parasitic desires forced upon you at one point in time. You ignored it. They always came in dreams because they couldn’t reach you without the shackles of sleep.

“You mean you always have nightmares,” Yoongi corrected you.

Inhale. Inhale. Exhale.

You had no reply to the truth.

Maybe it was the surrealness of the dead of night. Maybe it was the unholiness of what happened in your bed with your stepbrother earlier. Maybe it was the used condoms on the floor and the torn wrappers all over the nightstand. Maybe it was the scent of sex and sin weighing heavily in the air. As close as possible and yet so far away. His dark brown eyes flickered to the empty easel on the other side of the bedroom. Then back to your form coiled in the sheets, serpentine, and yet in a rare moment of calm. Hunger satiated, at least for now.

Yoongi asked you a question with no notable inflection. Perhaps it was the low volume of his voice, raspy and dreamlike.

“Am I ever part of your nightmares?”

You almost twisted the truth.

“You are related to one of many monsters I have encountered,” you breathed, staring into the shadows of his eyes.

Loathing flared within in at the mention.

Your stepbrother looked away.

“I know.”

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see any more.

“There are always monsters,” you whispered to the surrealness of the night.

Yoongi said nothing.

He had never seen you sleep before. Even on so-called family vacations, you had never shared a room with him. More often than not there would be a mix-up and you would end up having a sleepless night in the same hotel room as your stepfather and mother. That or running off with a local to finally get some sleep. It was safer to be in a stranger’s home than in a hotel room with those two. That was the truth. Those vacations were only for show anyway; there was no meaning to them other than a chance at coercion. You knew Yoongi knew that.

He hadn’t known about your nightmares though.

You had grown so used to them that you had forgotten. A strange slip-up for you. No, you concluded, not a slip-up. You didn’t have them every night. Just most nights. You knew there could have been a chance the moment you closed your eyes while in bed with him. You hadn’t planned for him to know, but this was not a mistake. Making plans was for novices. Plans never succeed. Capitalizing on the moment and turning it into an opportunity at the right time, why, that was what constituted a villain.

And, sometimes, one had to become a villain to survive.

You waited.

Min Yoongi didn’t move for a long, long time. He stayed where he was, not laying back down and not adjusting. You would feel and hear his actions if he did. He did not. There was nothing but his calm, nearly inaudible breath and soon it became a lulling rhythm, swaying your consciousness between reality, nightmares, or total blackness.

You hoped it would be total blackness this time.

Deep, deep down, for yet another countless night in a row, you wished for the total blackness to become eternal despite knowing full well that you would never be that lucky. That was the funny thing about wishes.

Even the most unworthy cling to them.

On the cusp of falling asleep, you felt the weight on the bed shift. Yoongi left.

-

A few blocks away, Jeon Jungkook stood shirtless in his bathroom and locked eyes with his own reflection.

The hot sweat along his shoulders was drying. He savored the way his heart raced in his chest, thud-thud-thud, matching the click-click-clicking of the images flickering through his mind. He closed his eyes and he could almost feel it again, once again, the crawling sensation of forced desire, her slick tongue sliding over his collarbone and then her spit hitting the back of his throat, his mouth open and already primed to receive. In his dreams, there was no blindfold.

In his dreams, Jungkook could see her face.

In his dreams, he could relish in the power thriving in those downcast eyes, watch her nails sink into his stomach as he whimpered, witness her delicious body roll as her slippery pussy rubbed against his hard length trapped in an uncomfortable and unbearable position, the dark purple head leaking against his lower belly. The young Master would not give him what he wanted and Jungkook would cry. He would beg.

And he would hate and love hearing the denial.

Jungkook breathed in slow, recalling the dream and committing it to memory.

Inhale.

The ache within him grew and grew.

Inhale.

He knew exactly where she lived. The building. The number on the door. He even knew how to bypass the security. He had memorized their schedules and gathered enough damning information. It was always good to have ammunition, after all. The young Master had taught him that.

Exhale.

Then again, she was most likely fucking her stepbrother right now.

His eyes snapped open and Jungkook growled at his reflection, tension creeping all over his body.

It took him a moment to calm down. There was nothing he could do about it. He breathed out again, his shoulders falling. His reflection observed him as closely as he did. His black hair fallen over his forehead, tangled from sleep. Eyes sharp, brows furrowed. His hands gripped the edge of the sink. He could see how wound up he was by how white his knuckles were. He let go. She shared a secret with him. He had to trust in that. He was confident in that secret.

He had to be.

He worked for her. He was of service. He took that very seriously, regardless of what an outsider might think, because he had chosen to be a man of loyalty. Jungkook knew where his loyalties lie, and he was not a man who could be swayed by irrefutable truths because he could always recall that look in her eyes. That poisoned guilt, that vacancy, the look of a child begging for someone to help, and he had made a silent promise that even she didn’t know about.

To those eyes.

To her.

In a world there everyone backstabbed everyone else, Jungkook had chosen to be the knife to be wielded by one who still believed she had no one by her side. Of course, it was stupid. Of course, she was not faultless. Of course, everything was all wrong.

But they shared a secret.

He turned his head, not quite facing the mirror, but instead in the direction of the location of her condominium, and spoke to the air, to the dead of night, across the distance of many heads in between reality and dreams. She could not hear him but that did not make his declaration invalid.

“I will protect you.”

And perhaps his loyalties would eventually turn the young Master against him. He hated that that could be true, but such was life. And maybe he definitely couldn’t save anyone, but he would die trying. Did she not deserve such loyalty? Even the most unworthy didn’t deserve to be abandoned.

After all, there was always some awful truth to villainous behavior.

He missed her.

He wished he could hold her, someday. He wished for that to be possible, even if it was the slimmest of chances. He hoped she had understood him back then, hoped he had conveyed how serious he was every time they interacted. I like it with you. It’s different. That was right. She said so herself. And so, Jungkook promised to play with game with her, no matter what it looked like, no matter how much he wanted to punch that self-centered Min Yoongi right in his stupid pretty face, no matter how much he hurt because his hurt meant her happiness and eventually she would come back to him.

Of course.

Jungkook bit his lower lip, inhaling slowly.

Right?

Held it.

“Come back to me,” he whispered to the surrealness of the night and he knew damn well she couldn’t hear him.

-

Min Yoongi sat on the couch in the living room of his stepsister’s condo with only his underwear on after his business with the bathroom. He had gone to the kitchen to wash his hands because he could not stare at his own reflection in the mirror.

He inhaled a shaky breath.

The proper thing to do would be to go back to the bedroom. Well, proper was the wrong word considering he was sleeping with his own stepsister. Perhaps the better word for it was… ethical. Fuck, even halfway decent. He couldn’t get the image of her distress out of his head. Waking up suddenly to her hands clutching the pillow, her knuckles white, her breathing rapid and labored. At first, he thought his brain had made up the sounds. Nonsensical muted cries. Pained noises trapped in her throat. Her entire body tense, on the verge of thrashing but not. Rigid.

Couldn’t.

Paralyzed in fear.

Yoongi tried to gulp down more air. Shuddering. Swallowing. Feeling like it wasn’t enough, falling forward and running his hands through his hair, his elbows on his knees.

He had never seen her afraid. Truly and utterly terrified, and it only appeared because she had been asleep. The moment he hesitantly touched her shoulder, she startled awake, instantly vigilant. The transformation had been seamless, and then she was herself. Calm, collected, calculated. Only now did Yoongi realize it was a caricature. A front so practiced that it had become second nature. Not intentionally but out of necessity. It frightened him, because now Yoongi had confirmation that his father was just another in the long line of self-centered assholes that attempted to take advantage of her and he was no better.

He was no better.

He shakily exhaled, torn and in tatters.

There are always monsters.

Of course, there were always monsters and Yoongi was one of them.

He wanted to run. Throw on all his clothes and run to his studio, locking himself in there and not coming out until he couldn’t stand being alone anymore. He wanted to scream and drown himself in alcohol. He wanted to pick a fight with some hapless stranger and feel powerful. Even if just for a second. Anything. Anything but this. An awful crawling sensation travelled all over his bare back. He shivered even though it had no physical basis. He wasn’t stupid. Yoongi had seen the way men looked at her – as if she was a thing to be used. He had convinced himself not to care. Why care? She didn’t. He had vowed himself not to get involved like that but now he was sitting in her living room wanting to tear his skin off thinking about the probable shit she had been though in her childhood and having the horrifying realization that the truth was probably beyond his imagination. Attempted to take advantage of her? He was lying to himself again.

He wanted to go home.

Except he knew damn well he never had a home.

Yoongi had lived his life in the shadow of a greater man, or so he was led to believe. Even if this didn’t turn out to be true, he could not undo the paradoxical thinking of overwhelming self-importance and the constant struggle of trying to reach an unattainable goal. He was never enough for his father. Eventually he just stopped trying to be. Every achievement was met with the accusation, a need to be more. More ambitious, more strategic, more intelligent. It was impossible. He had long stopped giving a fuck, or so he thought.

And yet.

Like her nightmares, his own personal hell came back to haunt him all the time.

He dug his fingernails into his scalp, on the cusp of screaming.

The only reason he didn’t was because he didn’t want to wake her. Or perhaps it was because he didn’t want her to know. There was nothing he could do. He could do nothing. He never could, according to his father. Lacked resolve, or at least that was what Yoongi had been told over and over. You are a disgrace. There was at least solace in knowing that he wasn’t his father, right? He didn’t know. Was that even true, considering all of this? I always dream. She was so used to them that nightmares were simply considered regular dreams to her. How fucked was that? Shit, her entire life was a goddamn nightmare and she didn’t even know. Or maybe she did, and had adapted accordingly, something he could never do, something Yoongi could never admit to himself, at least not unless it was times like this, trapped in the surreal depths of the dead of night.

He tried to breathe but it seemed impossible.

He knew deep down that he was worthless, but even the worthless had desires. And he wasn’t stupid either. She was using him. He was using her. She wanted him for her reasons and he wanted her to get back at his father. Shit. She was afraid and she showed no one, not even herself, dealing with it in her sleep. Didn’t trust him. Why the fuck would she? He was her stepbrother, they were having an incestuous affair, and not once did she rely on him.

But he did.

Yoongi shuddered.

That was true.

He relied on her to want him so he could feel better about himself.

I am so fucking vile.

She didn’t even make him feel guilty about it. There are always monsters. She could have. She could have emotionally manipulated him, she could have said something to get a rise out of him, but all she did was tell him the truth of how desensitized she was to malignance. She had options. He did not expect to be so shaken by the one she chose. His fingernails dug into his scalp some more, causing stinging pain. Yoongi dared not look up because he knew her paintings were hanging on the walls around him. Multiple canvases painted black all over with thin lines of dark blood-red drawn onto the murk like arteries. He had found them unsettling and rightfully so. Underneath them were secrets. “I love you, so I act this way.” “You should accept love. It’s not that easy to be loved in this world.” “You can keep a secret, right?” “Let’s make a secret.” Scrawled underneath and then covered with heavy layers of paint, almost certainly hundreds of secrets, and the awful crawling sensation travelled up and down his spine like hot acid.

He didn’t want to know.

Yoongi knew that he should go back to the bedroom if he was even halfway decent of a man.

But he was terrified.

He could not be like her.

He couldn’t deal with it.

He had to make a decision. He forced himself to take a breath. Then another. He forced himself to stand, to exhale, to walk. What was not supposed to be ingrained in memory already was. All he had to do was follow the trail of discarded clothes. Vile. He stepped between darkness and light, but the faint glow was artificial, bleeding into the windows from the city below, and Yoongi knew he could not be like his stepsister but he wanted to believe that he could. He wanted to believe he could play the game. He did not want to believe he was just another discarded misfit toy. Couldn’t. And so he chose not to believe the irrefutable truth, turning the corner to see her eyes closed. Her lustrous hair draped over her pillow. Her facial expression not in distress but, instead, nothing. A mind trapped in total blackness.

Dreamlessness.

Yoongi had never been so grateful to see nothing.

He stepped to her side of the bed.

In some ways, she resembled a child, or at least the peacefulness of one in slumber. His hand lifted. Each strand of her hair, the curve of her cheek, the line of her closed eyes. From moonlight to memory, although at the time he didn’t know it yet. He reached out. His fingertips hovered above the crown of her head and Yoongi realized, with a tightness in his chest, that he would be perhaps the first and the only person to do this for her.

His palm touched the top her head.

His stepsister remained fast asleep. Yoongi stayed like that for a moment. He knew damn well that she would never feel the sensation of someone patting her on the head but he did it anyway.

-

You left before your stepbrother woke up.

To be more precise, you didn’t confirm or deny if he was faking his deep breathing. You simply accepted it as truth. Dressed in your closet, picked up your purse, and stepped out of the apartment, heading for your car. Not looking back. Purchased a light breakfast, spending some solitary time in the hotel restaurant. Headed to your appointment with Valentino, where you absentmindedly picked a few pieces for work, thinking about the word nightmare.

Dreams.

You called them dreams. Yoongi had called them nightmares. The correct word was memories. Ones that you did not acknowledge. The times you were the prey before you became the predator. The times you were weak before you were strong. The first time you felt power was the first time. Not all those other times where you hid and prayed not be found before the drugs or drunkenness set in. Not those other times you were approached, despising it not because of learned morality, but because the touching placed you in the same category as your mother, something you loathed more than the wrongness. Misery was something unnecessary and meaningless. Pain was something you could acclimate to. Death was something you could aspire to. But being known as your mother’s spitting image was a fate worse than death.

You had a nightmare.

You made your luxury purchases. You window-shopped at a few other spots, all while questioning your humanness that you had thought you had lost long ago. You could sense the judgement in the eyes of the other patrons. The employees were sincere because you were holding your black card, but not a single one dared to ask you about your personal life. It was not about whether you seemed stuck-up in your long structured black wool cape, nor the subtle sensuality of your fitted, slinky black dress with the high slit, studded Valentino black pumps, and small black handbag.

There was just something not quite right about your presence.

You slipped into this persona when you didn’t want to be bothered. Natural, but perhaps not. The eyes felt louder than usual today. You had dreams. Everybody had dreams. You had a nightmare. You had heard the word before, and yet the way he said it. You placed your shopping bags in your car and drove away with no destination in mind. Flashes of memory. Whiskey and a hand on your wrist. You waited for the light to turn green and ventured forward. Nights in private rooms in bars you were too young for. You stopped at a nice restaurant in a high-rise, sitting at by the window with a nice view, slicing into your steak in silence as you pondered how it would feel to throw your body against the glass and plunge into free-fall, wondering if you would have the life-flashing-before-your-eyes-moment, if you would recall all the countless hands and the whispered placations and being awake for all of it, so much so that you caged those memories into dreams.

You patted your lips with the cloth napkin before paying the check.

A man said something to you as you were leaving and you looked at him with such hollowness that he took a step back, visibly shaken. You forgot about it. You shopped for a little longer, purchasing another pair of nice, wickedly tall heels. There was one final errand to complete before heading home to fuck your stepbrother. You took your time.

-

Days passed.

And then, elation.

Jeon Jungkook stood in front of the door of salvation. He raised a hand to the heavy wood. Held his breath. Savored the sensation of his need crawling up from his insides, rearing its ugly head and shaking his heart to a rapid, telltale pulse. He knocked.

“Come in.”

His breath hitched at the familiar voice.

He opened the heavy door of the office on the highest floor of the gentleman’s club and the young Master looked up from the other side of the desk. Hair swept back in a graceful updo with a few tasteful strands framing her face. The dark silver blouse clung to her curves. Silk. The fountain pen in her hand paused.

Her eyes roamed all over him.

He almost collapsed in desperation.

She said nothing. She did not stand up from behind the dark-stained cherry wood. He stepped in cautiously, placing his body on the other side of the door. It was a large office of black floral wallpaper, large black filing cabinets, and chairs positioned along the walls. The floor-to-ceiling windows behind her desk were bulletproof glass. One-way view. This was one of the areas that had no cameras. Even the bathrooms had cameras positioned outside the stalls to catch any nefarious acts. He knew all of this. The chandelier diffused cold-blooded white light in reflected fragments all over the room.

The look in her eyes pinned him to his spot.

His spine tingled as an n icy itch slithered down to his groin.

“Lock the door behind you,” the young Master commanded him.

He did as he was told, with every cell in his body vibrating for the pain. Turned around. Like a snake, she had already risen, gliding around the desk. Her hips were tucked into a skin-tight pleather pencil skirt. The wicked high heels were silent against the vintage Persian rug. She was probably standing on over a hundred million won. She stopped in front of her desk.

Unfastened the button of her left sleeve.

Casually looked down to smoothly fold it back to her elbow. Jungkook remained rooted, not crossing the distance without an order despite his growing erection already fighting against his pants. Golden light glistened along her periphery, highlighting every line. Hell turned heavenly. She completed the left sleeve and paused, raising her right hand to waist height.

Tilted her head back and beckoned him with two fingers.

“Come forward.”

With each step his own heart beat against the confines of his ribcage. With each step Jungkook knew his arousal was becoming more and more obvious. He deliberately kept his hands by his sides, not hiding anything, and her eyes flickered down as she folded her right sleeve back. There was a ripple of knowing across her features. He stopped at a respectful distance. They were alone. The door was locked. This room was soundproof. He was in the middle of his shift when he was called up, which never happened unless one had committed a grave mistake. He knew this, and yet he was still inappropriately, obscenely, violently turned on. She finished rolling up her sleeve to the elbow and reached back to an object that was behind her, tucked by the computer monitor in between papers.

A black leather blindfold.

She tilted her head. He was taller than her, but that meant nothing. She ticked the blindfold in her hand, wordlessly telling him to come closer. He did so, his face frozen, on the cusp of falling apart. He was in his full uniform. Cap and all. It was as if none of that mattered. He tried to search for some kind of emotion on her face but she remained impassive.

“On your knees.”

He obeyed so quickly that they both heard the heavy sound of his weight hitting the floor under the carpet. She did not even smile. She stared down at him. He looked up at her. He wanted to say he needed it. He wanted to say do anything to me, anything you want, please do it now, and yet all she did was hold the blindfold in one hand with her ass against the edge of her desk, gazing down at Jungkook’s spread knees and trembling body.

He was so hungry for it that he was shaking.

Her eyes stopped at the obvious bulge in his pants and she declared in a noncommittal tone, “I am going to hurt you. Right now.” His breath froze in his throat. “On my dime, I’m going to hurt you. And then you will go back to work, hurting, and you will not let a single person know.”

No explanation about what happened the past couple days. Jungkook knew she had left her apartment and always gone back. He also knew her stepbrother had not left with her during those outings. That meant when she went back, she was most likely fucking him. Jungkook knew that. But she came back here. Here, to the gentleman’s club she owned. Where he worked. She came back, and probably not for him. And yet.

Yet he was on his knees right now because she forced him to.

She owned him.

That was all he ever wanted.

“Yes, Master.”

Her line of vision raised. She stepped forward, and placed her right shoe on his thigh. He gasped, feeling the pressure in the toe of her heel and then the tip of the stiletto. His cap was removed from his head and delicately placed on the desk. Her face lowered. For a single, hovering second, they were eye-to-eye.

“Close your eyes, Jungkook,” she whispered against his lips.

He did and she slipped the blindfold over his eyes before buckling it tightly in place.

-

You straightened.

Looked down at him.

You had never done this before. Not in the middle of the day, in this office that used to be your mother’s. These walls had seen a lot of fucking, you knew. Your mother used to be notorious for it. This place was tainted. Festering with immoral intent. You removed your shoe from his leg. Heard Jungkook’s small gasp of relief whisper past his quivering lips. You previously used the basement because it was the place where horrible acts were meant to be committed, the place your mother refused to go because it was beneath her to do such nasty things. You had turned the basement into your safe space. This office was her space. Her space to use her sexuality as her power, and therefore you had only used it to conduct official business. Until now.

You placed your shoe on top of his pant-covered erection and put pressure on it.

He whimpered, locking his knees and taking it.

You violated your mother’s space with Jungkook’s pure, ravenous need to service you.

“Have you been wanting me?” you asked, placing a hand on the edge of the desk so you could rub back and forth while stepping on his cock.

“Y… ah, y-yes…”

“Craving me?”

“Yes… oh, f-fuck…”

You shoved the tip of your stiletto in between the dip of his thigh connecting to his crotch, digging into that soft part without remorse.

“Touching yourself thinking only of me?”

His voice shook but his resolve did not.

“Only you.”

Jungkook made no move to hide or conceal himself. You removed the pressure and stepped around him, admiring the angles on his body. His hands were fists, knuckles pressed into the carpet. The clip of the tiger switchblade was visible from the side pocket of his uniform pants. You stopped behind him. Laced your fingers into his short black hair and yanked, hard, making him gasp to the ceiling. You leaned down, breathing out just above his open mouth. He inhaled greedily, his broad shoulders vibrating with need. You stared straight down his chest, to his exposed crotch, and whispered into the black hole of his throat, “Take your cock out and show me.”

He whined as his hands left the carpet. Centimeter by agonizing centimeter. His belt unbuckled, flopping to the side. Time slowed down despite his haste to undo his pants, nearly ripping the zipper, but you did not relieve him of your grip, staring straight down as he pushed down his pants. Pushed down his black boxer briefs, and then pulled out his stiff, leaking length. The head was dark red and glistening. He moved his right hand closer to the base of the shaft. You pulled on his hair, making his lower lip brush against your chin as he moaned, immediately backing off.

“Your balls too. Out.”

He reached again, but only to scoop his balls out, leaving his genitals fully exposed to the air.

You breathed in, savoring his unique scent.

His hard cock twitched, bobbing.

You let go of his hair.

Backed up, saying nothing. Stayed silent, admiring everything about him. He could certainly hear the movement of your skirt, but he remained head back, his hands hovering by his hips, and you sank to your knees between his.

And slapped his cock.

His head snapped to the side and he cried out.

“Louder,” you ordered, and slapped him again.

His screams radiated throughout the office.

You gripped his balls and squeezed, listening to the effect of your assault ravage his lungs. His torso writhed. You released and dug your nails inward, making his shoulders flinch strongly. You smacked the shaft again, watching it bounce from side to side from your force. His deep voice cracked. You wrapped your hand around him and his cock was hot, pulsating, needy. Again and again, you slapped his cock, reaching up with your free hand to unbutton his shirt.

One.

By.

One.

His naked chest was exposed in a deep v-line. You reached in and dragged your nails down as you ghosted your palm around his sore, abused cock, delicately rubbing the length against your skin as you tore him up. Jungkook couldn’t help himself. He reached up and unfastened the rest of the buttons, pushing his shirt past his shoulders and exposing more of his body to your nails. His nipples were already hard. You pinched one and made him yelp. The result was instant, rippling throughout his body, even making his cock jolt against your hand, smearing pre-cum onto your wrist.

You collected saliva on the edges of your teeth.

Leaned in and placed the flat of your tongue onto his shivering collarbone, leaking spit down his pecs.

“O-Oh my god…”

Closer.

You kept a hold onto his cock until your skirt was pressed up in between his thighs, and then let go. There was an audible, visceral smack of his thick length hitting the pleather against your thighs. He moaned deeply. You grabbed him by the hair and pulled, relishing in his groan of discomfort, and pressed up against his aching body, thrusting your tongue forcefully into his mouth.

You made sure the blindfold was in place.

His hips bucked, desperate for friction, and you kissed him roughly, demandingly, uncaring to his plight and him grinding his balls into the hem of your skirt. Your other hand slid down the nape of his neck, scratching up his back too as you tongue-fucked him. Your lipstick smeared all over his lips, a blue-scarlet dark as blood.

You pulled back, wiping the back of your hand over your back and seeing red.

Then you wrapped your hands around his throat and closed in on his blood supply.

“Touch yourself.”

Jungkook gasped, whined, and reached for his abused cock, slowly stroking the length as you toyed with his blood flow. Tighter. Letting him have a breath before pressing on the sides of his neck once again, and from your shoulder blades the prickling began, a nebulous want surfacing as you choked him and watched him stumble towards orgasm. Closer. The pad of his thumb grazed over the dripping opening of the head and his entire body flinched, writhing, his Adam’s apple straining against the underside of your thumb.

You released him and dove down.

Almost burned your knees from your speed. It required an almost uncomfortable folding of your body, but none of that mattered as you descended, closer and closer, your tongue cupping the tip and sliding down. Immediately, Jungkook removed his hand, letting out a string of nonsensical moans that only intensified as your teeth closed in around the shaft. Deliberate, pulsing pressure. His cock throbbed in response, relishing in the attention as his familiar heavy scent penetrated your throat.

Possessiveness laced int your veins as you tasted him.

You forced your head down and took him all the way to the base. One hand on his thigh and the other locked around his balls. You pulled. You squeezed. You raked your nails over that soft, supple skin, and sucked him off in deep, expansive thrusts, filling your mouth over and over again. Until your muscles strained. Until your body shook with tension. Until he was half-crying, half-groaning to the ceiling, vibrating in your mouth. He came. You swallowed. And kept going. His body twisted and he begged to be let go and you ignored him, coaxing his softening cock to swell again. Despite your knees protesting, you kept going until you could tell he was about to orgasm again, and you pulled back.

Silent.

Wrapped your hand around his jerking, spit-covered cock, and pumped him hard. Intense. He was falling apart, shaking his head from side-to-side, and thrust his hips into your hand. You did not stop him. He came again, and cum began to pool, so you pressed his length back and let him continue, the hot milky streak streaming down your fingers. It was clearly uncomfortable.

He did not complain.

You closed the distance as his head lolled back, whispering to his face as you casually wiped your wet hand onto his shuddering chest.

“Something for you to keep close to your heart as you work for me.”

With the same hand you gripped him by the hair, stilling him, tasting his erratic breath, and you found yourself entranced. Strands of black stuck to his forehead and against the leather blindfold. His cheeks flushed pink with effort, hollowing slightly with each heavy pant. His lips swollen and covered in red lipstick. His tan skin gleaming with sweat. The muscles of his neck and chest tensed, reddened from your scratches, and he was.

Was…?

You opened your mouth, but all you could think was how beautiful and perfect he looked just like this.

You released him and caught his jaw with your palms, pulling him towards you.

“I am your only one. Don’t you dare desire anyone but me,” you hissed, and then kissed him deeply, suffocating any response he had.

-

“Open this fucking door!”

He didn’t bother using his knuckles. Min Yoongi used the heel of his palm, slamming it against the heavy wood door. The zippers of his leather jacket flapped with weighty clinks. The security guard behind him bristled. They hadn’t wanted to let him in. He hadn’t cared. He growled under his breath and narrowed his eyes, glaring over his shoulder.

“Fuck off.”

Despite his professionalism, the guard let some of his distaste show in his face. It quickly disappeared, but Yoongi flung his arm anyway, making him take a step back.

“I told you to fuck off,” he snapped. “Let me talk to my sister alone, prick.”

There was some hesitation, and then the guard stepped away with his line of vision travelling upwards. Yoongi’s eyes followed, seeing the round lens of a small camera perched high above. He snorted. Instead of bowing to him as one would to the other guests, the guard simply kept his eyes on him as he backed up, as if Yoongi was a delinquent off the street and not a filthy rich grown man. Asshole. He quickly turned back around, his messy dark orange hair swinging by his eyes. He didn’t care about that. Under the leather jacket, he wore a white t-shirt with a monochrome graffiti print and torn slate-blue jeans. A suitcase of his stuff had appeared after the first night. He hadn’t questioned it. It was obvious his stepsister had brought it somehow. He kicked the door with his black boot in frustration and was disappointed that he hadn’t left a dent.

It opened.

There was a faint click and the heavy wood swung open so fast that Yoongi stumbled back, surprised at the abruptness, and then the stern glare of his stepsister was directed right at him.

An icy itch skittered down his spine, prickling at his vertebrae.

She was backlit from the back wall of windows. The sun was lowering, turning her outline a ghostly orange. The sleeves of her gunmetal silk blouse were folded back to her elbows. Her sharp eyes glanced past him, presumably to the retreating back of the security guard. Her tight pleather pencil skirt caught the light, accentuating her hips. But what Yoongi noticed was her face. Her smokey eye makeup was intact.

Her lips, although flushed dark mauve, were bare.

Her hair was swept up, but there was something off about it. As if the intentionally messy strands framing her face were not intentional after all.

“Hello, brother.”

Her voice was crisp. Almost icy. His brows furrowed. She smiled at him, with the same hospitality as a snake would greet a rat.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Yoongi hissed.

She did not invite him into the office. He could see the grand room behind her. Dark wallpapered walls, large solid wood desk, high backed black leather chair. Locked cabinets along the walls. He didn’t know what they were for and he didn’t care.

Her eyebrow raised. “Working. I assume you’re familiar with the concept.”

He scowled. "Why do you even bother working? Your mother put you up to this?"

A hostility darkened over her features so quickly that he involuntarily flinched, preparing for her to strike him. But it was gone as soon as he saw it, causing him to question if it was ever there at all. She answered him with a small, soulless smile.

"People depend on me for their livelihood."

He snorted in disbelief.

His stepsister’s gaze sharpened.

"I am immoral, not unjust," she coldly stated, dropping the façade.

Before Yoongi could say anything more, he noticed the looming darkness falling into her shadow. Recognition burned through him like hot fire.

“You,” he spat, locking eyes with those black-brown ones looking down at him from under the black cap. He knew that face. From the hotel room back then. Sharp jaw, broad chest, younger than him, and the disapproving look of seeing something he would rather not. “You bastard. The fuck you doing here?”

A flutter of satisfaction gleamed from those shaded eyes.

“He works for me.”

For some reason, intense anger flared through his ribs, seeping into the depths. Oh, he heard what she said. Yoongi glanced from his stepsister to the security guard. She regarded him with head held high. Unfazed. The guard stood behind her, but there was a possessiveness in his stance. Hands behind his back. Yoongi slowly looked back to her.

Inhaled.

A whiff of her sharp, decadent perfume.

And sex.

Yoongi curled his hands into fists.

He had spent days in her condo. Sleeping away the daylight and rising at night. Tangling his fingers into her hair, pulling her down to his level, his blunt nails carving half-moons into her skin. Constantly seeing the black paintings on the walls while knowing what was behind them. Somewhere between dying and living, feeling like shit when he was alone and losing himself in aching bliss of her tightness. And now this. This. Right in front of his face. The rage seared tension into his muscles, the bites and bruises on his skin still tingling with soreness, and the corner of the guard’s lips raised, so slightly that maybe Yoongi was imagining it, but nonetheless the snarl in his chest bubbled upwards.

His hand shot out and grabbed her shoulder, yanking hard to push her aside as he raised his other fist to the face of the man behind her.

She let go of the door and caught his hand in the air, stopping him.

He put his shoulder into it but his stepsister dug her stiletto heel into the hardwood floor and shoved back against him, knocking him out of the momentum. Yoongi whipped his head to her, so fast that his hair lashed him in the cheekbone.

Her lips pursed. “You hit him; he sues me for workplace violence.” She moved slightly more in front of the guard, blocking Yoongi’s path. “Don’t make trouble.”

He stared at her.

And suddenly it hit him all at once. All those times his father not only directly beat him down, but every snide remark that chipped away at his wholeness. Every adult in his life seeing him as a hopeless problem, polite enough to not piss off his father but otherwise ignoring his existence, feeding his inner worthlessness with every avoided eye contact, every step back, every look the other way. And then, her. Her, flitting just out of his father’s grip. Her, sending those sneaking glimpses his way and making him uncomfortable with the attention. Her, whispering against his lips, hot and alluring, so stop yourself, her, coiling around him in the dark, soft skin, lush hips, wicked tongue all around him, her, his stepsister he now knew that was tortured by nightmares from a past that would kill most people. And now Yoongi in front of her, her pointed stare slicing through him as she stood in front of this other man, both of them reeking of sex, and the only one inherently wrong was himself.

The sun was sinking fast. Night bled into the red-orange sky, turning it purple and bruised.

Don’t make trouble.

She might as well have driven a hot knife in between his ribs, right into his beating heart, and twisted it.

Yoongi took a step back, his expression frozen into indifference.

Something changed in her face.

But he didn’t spare any time to figure it out. Yoongi simply turned, and did what he did best. It was how it always was, in the end. It was what it always was. Pointless. Pointless to fight against everything his father said he was. Not aiming high enough. Never good enough. A disgrace. He could not outrun his fate, but Yoongi did what he did best and he ran, ran down the hall, down all those stairs, out of the building, onto the streets, into the bleeding sunset with a sinking void in his chest and blurred wetness stinging at the edges of his vision.

He ran.

He had asked before if she was fucking that security guard. She said that she was. At the time, he hadn’t thought he cared. He didn’t. It was futile to give a shit. She was a whore. He always said she was a whore. It would be easier if she was a whore. But he saw the way she stood in front of that man, even if she didn’t notice. He saw the way that guard stoically stayed in her shadow, protecting something he couldn’t.

Never could.

Min Yoongi ran and ran and ran until his legs collapsed.

--

masterpost

[justagalwhowrites]

The Savage and the Sanctuary - Ch. 2: Teenagers

You and Joel adjust to each other as you struggle with Ellie. A continuation of The Savage and the Sanctuary, a no outbreak TLOU story, from the prologue through chapter 1 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

CW: Mild suicidal ideation. Mention of grief and child loss. Mention of parent loss. No use of Y/N. Whole fic will be explicit so minors DNI, 18+ only.

Length: 13.4k

A/N: For some reference because I haven't explicitly stated their ages, Joel is turning 42 in this chapter and was about to turn 37 in the flashback at the start of this chapter. Reader is 36 (meaning they were the same ages when their kids were born.)

Fic Masterlist | Masterlist | AO3 | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Wednesday, September 25, 2019

“Dad, please!” 

Joel sighed, leaning against his counter and sipping his coffee, his 16-year-old daughter standing in front of him with wide, pleading eyes. 

“It’s a school night, baby girl,” he said. “We both gotta be up early tomorrow and…” 

“And we could play hooky!” She said. “Celebrate your birthday, go to Waffle House…” 

“I don’t like waffles.” 

“Those are for my benefit,” she replied. “You can get your smothered hash browns and see if they’ll put candles in them so you can celebrate being an old man.” 

“I can’t just call into work because it’s my birthday tomorrow, kiddo,” he said. “And your friend should have her party on the weekend…” 

“But her birthday’s today!” She said. “It’s sweet 16, please! Everyone’s going, basically no one is going to be at school on Thursday because of it, please Dad!” 

He sighed again, Sarah still looking so hopeful in front of him. 

And then, her face shifted. 

“We could go see the new Curtis and Viper tomorrow,” she smirked, brows raised conspiratorially. “We’ll probably have the theater to ourselves so we can make fun of it.” 

Joel clenched his jaw to keep from smiling. 

“Come on, Dad,” she said. “You worked so late on your birthday last year that we didn’t get to do anything. Please?” 

He sighed. 

“What would you miss at school tomorrow?” 

“Basically nothing!” She said quickly, eyes lighting up. “I have exam review but I got As on all my homework in that class so I don’t need it and…” 

“Jesus, you’re a bad influence,” he muttered, taking a sip of coffee. Sarah squealed, slamming into him, throwing her arms around his neck. 

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She said, her voice muffled by his shirt before she pulled back at looked up at him, practically beaming. “We’re going to have so much fun tomorrow!” 

“Somethin’ tells me you’re more excited about having fun tonight than hanging out with me tomorrow,” he shook his head but smiled all the same. “Who all’s goin’ to this thing tonight? There gonna be boys and drinking and shit?” 

“Dad,” she gave him a look. 

“You can act all grown up all you want, baby girl, but you’re still a kid,” he said. “Want you to have fun but don’t want you doing anything too dangerous…” 

“My friends don’t drink…” 

“You say that now,” he muttered. 

“…and Brit’s parents will be there so while there will be boys, nothing’s going to happen with the boys.” 

“Alright,” he sighed. “But you gotta promise me you’re gonna be safe, no gettin’ in the car with someone who’s been drinking. Even just one beer is too much and you call me if you don’t have another way home, I’ll come get you, you won’t be in trouble and…” 

“I know, Dad,” she rolled her eyes but smiled a little. “Don’t worry so much. I don’t plan on getting drunk anytime soon. Maybe inject heroin under my fingernails but…” 

“Your fingernails, huh?” Joel teased. 

“Well yeah,” she said. “Gotta hide the track marks.” 

There was a honk from the driveway and Sarah grabbed what was left of her coffee - more creamer than actual coffee but Joel still liked to humor her - and chugged it. 

“That’s Emma,” she said, rinsing out her favorite mug, the chipped one with the owl on it that she’d been drinking hot cocoa out of since she was so small that it was more like room temperature cocoa, and setting it beside the sink. “I’m going to go to her place after school to get ready for the party since you’ll probably be at work, anyway.” 

“Yeah, should stay late and try and wrap up as much as I can since apparently I’m not workin’ tomorrow,” he smirked. “Home by midnight, OK baby girl?” 

“Yup!” She said, giving him a quick hug. He gave her a squeeze, pressing a kiss to her temple. “See you tonight!” 

“Be safe!” He called after her as she grabbed her backpack and headed for the front door. 

When she looked back over her shoulder to wave goodbye, he didn’t know it would be the last time he’d ever see her smile. 

***

Thursday, September 26, 2024 

It was still dark outside. 

Joel wasn’t sure what time it was but it was still dark outside so it was OK. He didn’t need to be aware of things like time or hunger or your safety when it was still dark and he was in his daughter’s room. 

He jerked awake not too long after midnight, just like he’d done every year on his birthday ever since Sarah died. He wasn’t sure why he even bothered trying to sleep in his own bed, as though anything would be different. Why would it be different? The only thing that mattered was gone, it couldn’t be different. 

He stared at his ceiling for a while, waiting to see if he’d be able to fall asleep again, if he could shake the feeling of phantom blood on his skin in the red glow of his alarm clock but he couldn’t. So he did what he always did on the morning of his birthday: he went to his daughter’s room. 

Joel rarely went to Sarah’s room now. Maria, his sister in law, probably spent more time in there than he did, coming by every few months while he was on a job to dust and run the vacuum so it didn’t fall to ruin. She was careful to not disturb things when she did, the t-shirt Sarah had worn to sleep in still draped over the back of her desk chair and the book she’d been reading still face down on the page she’d stopped at on her nightstand. He turned on the lamp and sank onto the bed - still unmade, like she’d left it that morning - staring at the poster-covered walls. 

The posters were old now, the sun fading them in the five years that had passed since his daughter had left him behind. It made the room seem like a relic, as though this space was a museum and not a place where someone had lived once, and it set Joel on edge. 

Five years. Half a decade without the most important person there’d ever been or ever would be. She’d only been 16 when she died and five years had passed so quickly. Soon, she’d have been gone as long as she’d been here. Soon, to the sun-bleached posters and peeling soccer trophies, it would be like she’d never been here at all. 

He found himself looking at the poster of you more than he remembered doing before when he’d been in this room before. It was strange, knowing you existed outside of this liminal space now. You were real, corporeal, a human being with thoughts and feelings and not some imagined thing with an almost disturbingly perfect face someone had invented and put on paper. 

It had been a three days since Joel had seen you last, spending 11 days working with three days off in between. Tommy had been hesitant to schedule him back on duty today of all days but Joel had all but insisted on it. He needed the distraction. More than that, he needed to keep out of trouble. He needed something to keep him from trying to find the person responsible for his daughter’s death and killing them himself. Protecting you was a good enough distraction. 

Yours was the first contract like this Joel had taken on, one that was longer and more involved. Typically, people who needed someone on hand 24/7 didn’t live in Austin, Texas. They passed through and Joel’s job was done in a week, two at most. You were more complicated. 

Part of that was the nature of the job, of course. Working in such close proximity and in such risky situations made shit complicated. 

He’d had to establish rules with you that first day after dropping Ellie off at school. He ground his teeth as you went by a small local coffee shop on your way home, you giving a fake name at the counter as the barista all but stared at you. 

“I’m so sorry,” the girl smiled sheepishly. “But has anyone told you that you look just like…” 

“Oh yeah,” you waved her off. “I get that all the time. Not sure why, I think she’s way prettier.” 

Joel resisted the urge to snap at you until the two of you were back to the car, you still refusing to let him drive as you sipped your overpriced coffee with a contented sigh. 

“Can I help you?” You asked him, brows raised, as you watched him over the rim of your cup. 

“You tryin’ to get yourself killed?” He said. 

“Didn’t realize the coffee shop was so dangerous…” 

“You know what I mean,” he snapped. “You’re bein’ reckless.” 

“I get coffee all the time back home and -”

“And you got yourself a fucking stalker, didn’t you?” He cut you off. “S’why you’re stuck with me, spent too much time runnin’ around doing whatever the fuck you wanted and now you’re payin’ the price.” 

“No, I’m paying the price because the studio is overreacting,” you said, condescension dripping from your voice. “Pretty sure I’d still be sitting in my car sipping a coffee if you were off promising to take a bullet for someone else.” 

You held his gaze as you took a drink, as if to make a point. 

“I don’t know why this is fuckin’ news to you, but you’re one of the most famous people on the goddamn planet,” he snapped. “That shit comes with problems. If you didn’t want to deal with those problems, maybe you shouldn’t have become fuckin’ famous.” 

You looked at him, like you were trying to hold back a laugh, eyebrows raised so high they almost disappeared into your hairline. 

“You think I chose to become famous?” You asked. “You think I wanted this?” 

“Ain’t that why people become actresses,” he said more than asked. 

You just looked at him for a moment, like you were examining him. 

“You don’t have many friends, do you?” You said after a moment. 

He ground his teeth. 

“Got as many as I need,” he said. “Let’s get you home before I have to take a damn bullet because you’re stubborn.” 

“Yes, I’m sure the woman driving that minivan is packing,” you said wryly but putting the car in drive all the same. “Very dangerous.” 

“It’s Texas,” he said, voice flat. “She probably is.” 

But instead of going home, you drove to Whole Foods. Fucking Whole Foods. 

Joel was almost positive it was to piss him off but you completely ignored him as you went up and down the aisles, filling up your cart as he tried to watch for whatever threats might be at a goddamn grocery store while you acted like your goddamn baseball cap made you invisible to whoever might be looking for you. 

“I know you got people for this,” he muttered under his breath, putting his body between you and as much of the rest of the store as he could as you meticulously selected an apple. “Should fuckin’ carry you out of here…” 

“Yes but that would cause a scene, wouldn’t it?” You said, smug. “And that’s even MORE dangerous, right?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you and moved to respond but cut him off. 

“What do you think of this apple?” You thrust it under his nose. “It smells good, right?” 

“It’s a goddamn apple.” 

“Yes, but I need to try to get a teenager to eat it,” you sighed, impatient. “I need it to be appealing. Would you eat it if you were a teenager?” 

“If I tell you yes, will you shut the fuck up and get out of here?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Then yeah, I’d eat the goddamn apple, let’s go.” 

You smiled a little, satisfied, and got several apples and added them to the cart before taking your sweet time going through the rest of the store. 

Eventually, you finished your shopping trip and actually got ready to go home. The only person who seemed to recognize you at the store was the cashier, who gaped at you as much as one person could gape at another while they rang up their items. 

“That will be $267.48,” she said and you went to put your credit card but then she jumped. “Oh, wait! I can put in my discount…” 

“You don’t need to do that,” you laughed. “But you’re sweet to offer!” 

“But…” 

“How about you put that discount in for someone else who comes through your line today,” you smiled. 

“OK,” she smiled a little hesitantly. “Sorry, I’ve just never had someone famous come through my line before.”

“First time for everything,” you winked, putting your card in the machine. 

The cashier kept staring at you. 

“No one is going to believe I met you,” she said eventually. “I wish I had my phone so I could take a selfie…”

“Want an autograph?” You asked as the machine chimed. “Don’t need a phone for that.”

Instead of answering, she scrambled to get some blank receipt paper and a pen and Joel could tell you were trying not to laugh. You wrote on the paper quickly and handed it back before giving the cashier a smile. 

“You have a great day, Mina,” you said. 

She looked up from the paper with wide eyes. 

“How’d you know my name?” 

You smiled a little bigger and nodded to her name badge. 

“See you next time,” you said and she beamed. 

“Shit like that is stopping,” Joel said once the two of you were safely back in your house, behind the gate and fence that surrounded your property. “You got no damn reason to take risks like that…” 

“Yes I do,” you said, defiant, arms crossed. 

“What,” he demanded. “What’s your damn reason.” 

“I want to take care of my kid,” you stuck your chin out. “That means going to the grocery store sometimes. I’m sure that’s a new concept for you since I’m sure you subsist exclusively off fast food and have never thought about looking after anyone but yourself…” 

Joel tightened his jaw, trying to keep the sharp stab of loss from showing on his face. 

“You don’t need to go yourself,” he snapped. “Send someone.” 

You stepped closer to him, close enough that he could smell your skin, sweet and soft and he resented it. 

“I want to take care of her,” you said. “Me. She lost her mother, the person who used to do shit like make her dinner and pick out her snacks. I want to do that for her. Me, not someone I pay. So you just need to accept the fact that I’m going to go to the store because I’m not stopping.” 

“Fine,” he snapped, not about to admit that what you said tugged at him a bit. He remembered going to the store, looking for things that he thought Sarah might like. Things to put in her backpack so she had a snack for school when she got hungry between her afternoon classes or to have waiting for her when she got home. He remembered her favorite foods and how she lit up when he made burgers the way she liked or brought home her favorite cereal. He remembered how lucky he felt to be the person who got to know her in this way, to know her favorite things and be the one to get them for her. “But we’re doin’ it on my terms. This will be a whole lot easier on both of us as soon as you get with the program because I’m not letting you get us both killed because you’re stubborn. Got it?” 

He laid out the rules: You were to never leave the house without him or whoever was filling in for him on his days off. You needed to run your proposed schedule for the week by him so he could make necessary changes - varying your comings and goings as much as possible so you would be unpredictable. You needed to give him full access to your property and any existing security infrastructure so he could check for possible weaknesses. And you needed a code name, one that would be used for the whole team so when there was a handoff or a situation that required additional security, communication was short and easily understood. 

“That seems like overkill,” you rolled your eyes. “It’s not like I’m the fucking president…” 

“When it’s a shit situation and we need to know who has you, we need it,” he said, harsher than he needed to. He was hard pressed to care, though. “We don’t need people stumbling over your name, not knowing if we’re using your first or last, and we really don’t need ‘em announcing your damn name where the wrong person could hear it and learn where you are.” 

“Fine,” you said. “What are the rules for picking a code name then.” 

“There aren’t any,” Joel said. “Yours is Siren.” 

“Siren,” you looked at him, incredulous. “Seriously? I don’t get any say in this at all?” 

“No,” he lied. “We pick for you and it’s Siren.” Your jaw twitched and Joel fought the urge to smirk. “What, don’t like it?” 

You squared yourself, defiant. 

“No, it’s perfect,” you said. “Derivative and dull, just what I’d expect from you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have real work to do.” 

And with that, you stalked off to some far away corner of your massive fucking house, leaving the woman who’d answered the door for him that morning to show him around. 

Joel tried to hide the almost spiteful sense of pride he got from getting under your skin. Because, fuck, if he had live with the reminder of that goddamn show then you had to, too. 

He’d Googled you after he’d met you the day before, his chest tight the whole time. He saw your more recent film history and learned that you were older than he’d realized - you must have been in your 20s when you were playing a teenager on TV. He also learned that you didn’t talk much about the show that Sarah had loved so much and had made you a household name. He wondered if you loathed it as much as he did, if you got the same stomach churning feeling inside yourself when something made you think of it, the same one he got whenever he looked at your disturbingly perfect face. 

Siren was the name of that goddamn show and the almost mocking nickname the male lead of the show had given your character, both of your characters fighting to make it as musicians in some bullshit story that was dramatized to hell and back. Joel recognized the guy, too - he was some fucking country star now, the kind who played bullshit instead of real country music - and he could feel, when he picked that name, that you’d hate it. 

Normally, the person he was protecting got to pick their code name. But you didn’t know that and he needed to feel some sense of power over you. You loomed too large over him. He needed you to feel the way he did, a little helpless, a little out of control. 

And you, stalking off in a huff over that damn name, made him feel better than it should. 

Over the next week and a half, he was keenly aware that none of this, really, was your fault. It wasn’t your fault that you were tied so closely with his dead daughter. It wasn’t your fault that being around you was like living with an open wound, something tender and aching on him that he couldn’t seem to heal because you were near. It wasn’t your fault that he had gone through so much of the last five years numb to everything and now was almost shockingly aware of the constant pain that had been lingering below the surface. 

But you were there and you were so much easier to blame than himself. He knew that, too. But it didn’t make him stop doing it, almost like he was watching himself make your life difficult without having any control over it. 

He had to stay in your home to be available at all hours so he started getting up early to take your keys before you had a chance to make it downstairs in the morning so he could drive when taking Ellie to school. He made a habit of finishing the coffee when Esmo was busy elsewhere in the house and he knew you’d be coming back for another cup. He never accepted any kindness you offered, taking disconcerting pleasure in saying no lattes when you insisted on stopping for a coffee and telling you he didn’t want whatever food you offered him, choosing instead to eat frozen dinners alone in another part of the house away from you and Ellie and Esmo, too. He found a strange satisfaction in these small harms, as though they were earned in some way. You, embedded so deeply in the trappings of wealth and fame, surely deserved some inconvenience in your life. After all the pain you’d inadvertently caused him, it seemed like it was owed to him. He tried to ignore the fact that he didn’t like being the kind of person who took pleasure in hurting someone else who didn’t deserve it, even if it was only small hurts. He tried not to think about what Sarah would say if she could see what he was doing now.  

Being away from you, though, made him more aware of it. The strange poison of wanting to make your life harder was further away when he was home and it was easier to see through it. You were probably dreading his return as much as he was dreading returning. He didn’t like who he became when he was near you and here he was, going back to the sphere of your influence to let it swallow him and turn him into a worse version of himself again. 

Joel should tell Tommy to take him off this job. He knew that but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was never supposed to be this way with him and his brother. Joel was the older one, Joel was the one who had practically raised Tommy when their parents were gone. Tommy was never supposed to be the one to take care of him. He was never supposed to be the one to give him a fucking job or make sure he didn’t lose his house in the months after the death of his daughter. He owed his brother so much now. How could he tell him “Sorry, this simple job is just too much for me, find someone else.” Tommy asked Joel to protect you so he would. 

Even if he hated it. 

Dawn was just starting on the horizon when Joel decided to indulge himself for a minute, lying down gently on his daughter’s bed. He was careful to not disturb the blankets, he didn’t adjust the pillow. He let himself sink into the softness of her lavender sheets and twin-sized mattress, to be in the exact place she was the last morning of her life. He stared at the side of her nightstand - stickers she’d placed there starting to peel - and let himself remember what it was like to have someone as good as her love him. 

He stayed there until her room as filled not with the artificial glow of streetlights but the unflinching light of day and got up as carefully as he lay down, going to the door and taking a last look at his daughter’s room on the morning of his fifth birthday since he’d stopped being a father, closing the door softly behind him. 

The drive to your house went by too quickly for his liking and he pulled into the driveway at the same time you did, Seth - the guard who’d filled in for him while he had a few days off - laughing about something with you as the two of you got out of the car. 

“Joel, good to see you man,” he said, still smiling as the two of you met Joel near your front door. “Ready to take over?” 

“Don’t think I got much choice,” Joel said wryly.

“Good morning, Joel,” you said, your tone oddly cool. He just gave you a nod as Seth put the call in to dispatch. 

“This is Cook,” Seth said. “Transferring custody of Siren to Big Miller.” 

“Big Miller?” Your eyebrows shot up, looking between Seth and Joel. Seth covered the receiver on the phone. 

“We got two Millers, he’s the older one,” he said, before going back to the call. “That’s correct…” 

“Big Miller,” you smirked at Joel. “Oh there’s so much I can do with that…” 

“Jesus,” Joel muttered as Seth handed him the phone. He confirmed he was taking over and ground his teeth as Seth hugged you goodbye like the pair of you were old fucking friends. 

“Don’t let this asshole push you around too much,” Seth winked at you. “Deep down, he’s a big softie.” 

“Oh, I’m sure he’s a big something,” you said. Seth laughed. Joel glared. “See you next time.” 

You watched Seth leave before heading into your house without another word. Joel followed you inside, trailing behind you as you otherwise ignored his presence, going to the kitchen to get a bottle of water before heading out back. 

“Hey,” he called after you and you stopped at the edge of your pool, slowly turning to face him, brows raised. “The hell you goin’? I need your itinerary for the week, you know the drill.” 

“No you don’t,” you said. “I decided I’d rather talk with someone who isn’t a huge fucking child so I gave it to Seth. Get it from him, Big Miller.” 

You kept going, toward the pool house and Joel ground his teeth, jogging to catch up with you. 

“Look,” he snapped but you rounded on him. 

“You lied to me,” you said. “I could have picked my own stupid name, you just had to get the one up on me for whatever reason and now I have to deal with being called that stupid, goddamn…” 

“If you and Seth are so cozy why didn’t you get him to change it for you, hm?” He cut you off. 

“Because I’d rather not look like a fucking idiot to your entire company, thanks though,” you snapped. “If you hate me so much, why didn’t you just ask someone else to do this job?” 

“If you hate havin’ me around, why didn’t you ask someone else to take over?” He countered. “Looked cozy enough with fuckin’ Seth!” 

You laughed. 

“Oh I’d never dream of giving you that satisfaction,” you said. “You want to torment me? Fine, two can play at that game. Just wait, you ain’t seen nothing yet, Big Miller.” 

You stalked off toward the pool house again before turning back to face him. 

“We’re leaving at noon,” you said. “If you want to know where to, better call fucking Seth and find out since you don’t have the people skills to get your charge to cooperate.” 

He grit his teeth as you went inside and he stared at the door you’d disappeared through for a moment, half expecting you to come back out and rip into him again. But you didn’t and he went inside, finding Esmo in the kitchen cleaning up from breakfast. 

“She’s in a fuckin’ mood,” Joel muttered, going to help himself to a cup of coffee. 

“It was not an easy morning,” she said, holding a plate with a biscuit out to him. He took it with a frown. “Ellie’s a teenaged girl but even so…” 

“What happened?” He asked, settling in at the breakfast bar. 

“Not sure what set her off,” she sighed, putting the last pan in the drying rack before crossing her arms and leaning back against the counter, watching Joel. She reminded him of his mother, he realized, something grounding and sure about her. “But before they left, Ellie yelled that she wasn’t her mother. She didn’t say anything back but I could tell it hurt.” 

Joel flinched, looking out the window at the back of the kitchen, toward the pool and pool house. Toward you. He and Sarah had rarely clashed, especially that badly, but she was still a teenaged girl who grew up without a mother. She still lashed out about it and he was still the one who had to weather her rage. He knew her pain was misdirected but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

“I know you two don’t…” She paused, like she was searching for the words. “Get along. But she is just as human as you or I, Mr. Miller. Go easy on her today.” 

“Told you, you can just call me Joel,” he said, dodging the rest of what she said. “I ain’t your boss, not gonna make you call me Mr. Miller…” 

Esmo barked a laugh as she poured herself a cup of coffee. 

“What?” He frowned. 

“Do you think she makes me call her ma’am?” She asked. “Mr. Miller, she is my employer. I am not going to call her by her first name, regardless of what she asks. Right now, the same goes for you.” 

He looked toward the pool house again. He’d assumed you’d told Esmo to call you ma’am, that you’d insisted on bullshit that put you on a different level than everyone else. Apparently, he was wrong. 

That didn’t mean he had to like you, though. 

Still, he almost felt bad for you as he got settled back into the room at your house that had become his. You’d been thrown into parenthood head first, none of the gradual build up that raising a child from birth provided. Instead, you were given a fully-fledged teenager with a chip on her shoulder. Anyone would struggle with that, even spoiled movie stars. 

His patience wore thin, though, as noon came and went and you still hadn’t come in from the damn pool house. He wondered if you’d told him noon just to piss him off, to make him feel like he had to spend his morning biding his time until it was wasted only to do nothing but sit at home until the time came to pick up Ellie from school. 

Eventually, he got tired of waiting for you and he stalked to the pool house, damn near ripping the door off its hinges as he went to find you, his eyes widening in surprise when he did. 

Joel wasn’t sure what he was expecting to find there but it certainly wasn’t this. You were there, back to the door, headphones covering your ears as you swung again and again at a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. 

“Hey!” He called but you either ignored him or couldn’t hear them, continuing your clumsy barrage on the bag. You clearly knew fuck all about fighting, your form rough and disjointed. Any punch you landed would be ineffectual at best, damaging to you at worst. It’d be comical if it wasn’t happening to someone whose safety he was responsible for. 

“Hey!” He tried again. Nothing. He clenched his jaw and stalked over to you, hand closing around the band of your headphones to pull them off your head and you spun, breathless and shocked, to face him. 

“What the fuck?” You reached to snatch the headphones back but he held them behind his back, out of reach. “Gimme those!” 

“You actually got some place to fuckin’ be this afternoon or not?” He snapped. “Because I’m tired of waiting for you to get your act together…” 

You stopped reaching for the headphones, still breathless, and checked your smart watch. 

“Shit,” you panted, drooping a little. “I lost track of time… Give me 15 minutes, then we’ll go.” 

He held the headphones out to you and you snatched them back roughly and Joel watched you stomp off toward the main house, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and he tried loathe the way your leggings hugged every curve and arch of your legs and ass as you did. 

You were ready to go in just 15 minutes, though, and still more beautiful than Joel was comfortable with you being. You smelled fresh, clean, some floral fucking body wash on your skin that was covered by more skin-tight athletic wear that revealed your shape to him, all the places that - were you any other woman - he’d want to sink his fingers into to pull you close. He clenched his jaw and he went to the driver’s seat but you stopped in front of him, staring him down. 

“Not sure where you think you’re going,” you said. 

“I’m driving,” he said. “You know the drill.” 

“Oh, so you called Seth?” You asked, brows raised. “Know where we’re headed?” 

He narrowed his eyes and you smirked. 

“Didn’t think so,” you said. “Step aside, Big Miller. Maybe you can drive home.” 

Joel considered, for a moment, fighting you on it. But, today of all days, he didn’t have the energy. He just stalked around to the passenger side of the car, trying his damndest to ignore the little smirk you got when he did. 

He stared determinedly out the window as you drove, the odd, raw feeling he got in his chest when he looked at you a little too sharp today. He focused on the cars around him, watching for any kind of pattern, anything unusual, trying to lose himself in the work of keeping you alive. At least, then, he was still good at something. At least, then, there was still some purpose for him being here. Even if he didn’t want to be. The scar that had been at his temple for nearly five years itched. 

He was so lost in it that he was almost surprised when you pulled up in front of not some insufferable coffee shop or unnecessary grocery store but an overpriced looking nursing home. You reached between Joel’s legs without a word and got your worn baseball cap from the glove box, tugging it down low over your face before grabbing your keys out of your bag and dropping them on Joel’s lap. 

“Get comfy,” you said. “I’ll be at least an hour, probably two.” 

“Hold on,” he said, but you ignored him, getting out of the car and heading toward the door. He caught you quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you around go face him. 

“What is your problem?” You snapped. “You’re always an asshole but Jesus you’re worse than usual today…” 

“You really think I’m just gonna let you go do some photo-op alone?” He asked. “Not about to just wait in the car…” 

“It’s not a photo-op,” you snapped. “It’s private, you don’t need to be involved…” 

“The hell I don’t,” he snapped back. “Your ass dies and it ain’t private anymore. I’m going. Deal with that shit now.” 

“Too bad for you,” you said, trying to pull your arm back from him but he held firm. Your clumsy little fight moves from the pool house earlier hadn’t done you any favors. 

“You can either listen to me or I’ll put you over my shoulder and make you listen,” he said. “I don’t much care which it is.” 

You stared him down, almost like you thought he wouldn’t do it. He was about to prove you wrong when you apparently decided instead, huffing indignantly. 

“Fine,” you snapped. “You can sit in the lobby.” 

“Fine,” he snapped back before following you inside. 

A woman rushed to meet you at the door, speaking to you in hushed tones that even Joel, standing so close to you, had a hard time making out. She directed Joel to a comfortable looking room that reminded him of his grandmother’s living room as a child, the one that no one was allowed in to “keep the furniture nice.” There were no such concerns here, the arm chairs and couches looking comfortable and inviting if overly ornate, neat stacks of magazines on the antique coffee table in the middle of them. He ground his teeth, watching as the woman led you away.

You’d be out of sight. That made him uncomfortable. And he couldn’t trust you to actually call for help if you needed it. That made him more uncomfortable. 

But… this wasn’t an especially public place. There was security keeping people out and the residents in. Chances were, there wasn’t anything that could really get to you in here. And if this wasn’t some bullshit media thing, it was probably fine to leave you to your own devices. At least for a little while. 

So he settled on the couch, keeping an eye on the front doors while he absently picked up a magazine, some kind of trashy tabloid that Sarah used to flip through at the grocery store. It used to make him roll his eyes and tell her that she was rotting her brain and now he’d give anything to go back in time and buy out every newsstand he passed if it meant he got another 20 minutes waiting in line for to pay for groceries with her. 

He wasn’t paying close enough attention to the magazine he picked up, though, and then bam, there you were yet again. Your picture was blurry and you were wearing sunglasses that were a little too big for your face and there was an iced coffee cup dangling from your hand. 

Bombshell breakup the headline under your picture said. Hollywood’s brightest star back on the market!

Joel looked at the date, from almost a year ago now, and flipped to the pages about you. There were pictures of you walking with a woman who looked something like an older, red-headed version of Ellie and he realized he was looking at her mother. Your arms were crossed tightly over your stomach and your face was drawn, Ellie’s mother’s face concerned. It was strangely intimate, seeing you like this. It wasn’t like other paparazzi pictures of you he’d seen, the ones that looked somewhat staged or like you’d at least known you were being photographed. This seemed like an intrusion, something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing. 

He looked at the pictures of you and Ellie’s mother for a while. He wasn’t sure how long, not really able to look away, when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. 

“Yeah,” he said gruffly when he answered. 

“Hello Mr. Miller,” Esmo said, her tone still uncomfortably formal. “I apologize for just reaching out like this but I know she’s visiting her mother right now so her phone is off and we just got a call from the school…” 

“Wait, what?” Joel cut her off. Your mother? That couldn’t be right.

“Yes,” she said, sounding impatient. “The school, apparently Ellie was in a fight and she needs to be picked up, can you please tell her and take care of things?” 

“She OK?” Joel asked, trying not to overthink the sharp little stab of fear in his chest at the thought of Ellie in a fight. He tried not to think about getting his hands on whatever little teenaged prick decided to fight her, either. 

“She’s fine,” Esmo said. “At least, that’s what the school said. She just needs to be picked up. Can you go get her?” 

“Yeah,” he said after a second. “Course, I got it.” 

“Thank you,” she said, relieved. “I appreciate it.” 

Joel’s jaw tightened as he dropped that old magazine on the coffee table before stalking off in the direction he’d watched you go before. 

It didn’t take him long to find you, tucked away in a small and private visitation room, deck of cards sitting on the table between you and a woman who looked a lot like you, some of the cards fanned out in your hand.

“Do you have any fives?” The woman - your mother - asked. 

“You asked me that before,” you said, an oddly tense but gentle edge to your voice. “Why don’t you ask about another one?” 

“Oh,” she frowned at her hand. “How about… tens?” 

“Damn,” you said, handing her a card. She smiled. 

“You shouldn’t curse, you know,” she said. “It makes you sound dumb.” 

“I’ve heard that,” you said, arranging the cards in your hand. “Any eights?” 

She paused for a moment, examining her cards. 

“What was that again?” She said after a moment. 

“Eights,” you repeated. 

“Go fish,” she said and you got a card from the top of the pile. “You know, you remind me of my daughter…” 

“Do I?” You said, your tone oddly even. 

“She’s an actress,” she nodded. “She’s only a teenager though, a lot younger than you. She’s pretty like you, though.” 

“An actress, hm?” You said. “Does she like it?” 

“I don’t know,” she said thoughtfully. “But she’s good at it. Not sure she can handle the hard parts, though.” 

“You’re probably right,” you said. “She can’t.”

“Hello,” your mother said, looking up at Joel and lowering her cards. “Are you here to play, too?” 

You noticed him then, your back going stiff, shifting uncomfortably in your chair when you did. 

“Fraid not,” Joel said. “Just need to talk to… my friend here.” 

You looked back at him then, frowning but he just jerked his head toward the door. You, at least, didn’t question it, just setting the cards face down on the table and joining him. 

“Can I help you?” You asked, brows raised expectantly. 

“Now, I already asked and she’s fine,” he said, which made your eyes go wide but he held up a hand. “Ellie got in a fight at school, we gotta go pick her up…” 

“Shit,” you swore, fishing your phone from some hidden pocket in your leggings at the small of your back and turning it on. It took a moment but you groaned. “Fuck, I have six missed calls…” 

You stashed the phone again and went back to the table, your mother frowning at you as you gathered up the cards. 

“I’m so sorry, ma’am, but I have to go,” you said. “They’ll have someone come bring you back in a minute.” 

“It’s very rude to just take off on someone, you know,” she said sternly. 

“Been told that, too,” you said. “You have a good day.” 

She grunted, crossing her arms and turning away from you. You didn’t take the bait, just going for the door and quickly leading the way back to the car. But, for a change, you went for the passenger side. 

“What?” You said. “You do know the way to the school, don’t you?” 

“I know it,” he muttered, getting behind the wheel. 

“Good,” you said, buckling in. “Then drive.” 

You checked your phone, shaking your head, before just staring out the window. 

“So,” Joel said eventually. “That’s your mom.” 

“In the most technical sense,” you said, not looking at him. He nodded slowly anyway. “I don’t really think of her that way.” 

“Why’s she in there?” Joel asked. 

“Why do you care?” You said, incredulous, finally looking at him. He glanced at you and then shrugged and you sighed, the sound heavy. “Early onset Alzheimers. She’s 67 now, it started about five years back. I try to see her once a month or so.” 

“Don’t you got the money to get her a nurse or some shit so she could stay with you?” He frowned. 

“It’s really not any of your fucking business, is it?” you snapped before sighing, pinching the bridge of your nose and wincing as Joel pulled into the parking lot of the school. “Please don’t mention of this to Ellie. She doesn’t know anything about my mother and I’d like it to stay that way.”

You didn’t give him a chance to say anything else, all but leaping out of the car the second he put it into park and going quickly for the front door of the school. Joel had to run to catch up with you, barely catching you as the two of you were buzzed into the building where the headmistress met you. 

She greeted you the same way Esmo did and Joel could tell, now that he knew you didn’t like it, that it put you on edge. It made him stiffen at your back, narrowing his eyes at the prim and proper woman in front of him, assessing her differently now than the last time you’d met. She was a threat now, she’d upset you, she’d opposed Ellie and he was oddly comforted that he knew he could easily overpower her if he needed to. 

He frowned ever so slightly. 

Why would he need to? She was a fucking teacher. And why should he care so much that she pissed you off? 

“Ms. Stark,” you said, giving her a firm nod. “Where’s Ellie?” 

“In my office,” she said. “Please, follow me.” 

She led the way, setting a brisk pace, her back ramrod straight, but you kept your head high as you kept pace alongside her. 

“What happened?” You asked. “This is very out of character for Ellie.” 

“I’m not so sure it is,” the headmistress said and Joel could have sworn he saw the hint of a self-righteous smile on her lips and he clenched his jaw. “She’s… aggressive…” 

“She’s strong,” you said sharply. “But she wouldn’t pick a fight without a reason.” 

“Well, she has yet to tell us a reason,” she said, smug. “Maybe you can find one. This behavior may have been accepted at other institutions but we hold our students to a higher standard here…” 

“I’ll talk to her,” you said. “I’m sure we can figure this out.” 

Joel was half expecting you to make him wait outside the office like you had at the nursing home but you didn’t and he followed you, the principal’s office looking disturbingly more like a luxury hotel than a school. 

Ellie was sitting on one end of a small row of chairs in the office waiting room, her arms crossed and her jaw set tight. A boy - about her age and far larger than her - sat at the other end, an ice pack clutched to his lower lip and blood dripping from his nose. 

“Ellie,” you said, all but running for her, kneeling in front of her and brushing her hair back from her face. “Are you OK?” 

She jerked away from you. 

“Fine,” she muttered. “I just want to go home.” 

“OK,” you nodded slowly. “Can you tell me what happened?” 

She just looked to the side, tightening her arms around herself. You stood and sighed, still watching her but Joel looked to the boy sitting at the other end of the row. He was determinedly staring straight ahead but his eyes kept darting over to you, a deep blush rising in his cheeks. Joel’s eyes narrowed. 

“We can’t just permit students to attack other students,” the headmistress said. “Especially not unprovoked…” 

“It wasn’t unprovoked!” Ellie snapped, her head whipping around to look at the boy. “He knows what he did.” 

“Miss Williams,” the headmistress said sharply. “You nearly broke a fellow student’s nose.” 

“Well, he’s a pussy!” Ellie yelled. “Not my fault he got his ass handed to him by a girl!” 

“Ellie!” You scolded. 

“What! It’s true,” she said, calming. “Lucky I didn’t do more…”

The headmistress looked at you, a small, self-satisfied smile on her face. 

“Because this is her first offense, she’s suspended for a week,” she said. “But if it happens again, we will have to expel her.” 

“We’ll take care of it,” you said before turning your attention back to Ellie. “C’mon, troublemaker, let’s go.” 

She shoved herself out of the chair and grabbed her backpack sharply from the floor. The boy at the other end of the chairs watched her and she lunged in his direction before pulling back, making him jump. 

“Yeah, better be fuckin’ scared,” she snapped. 

“Alright,” you said sharply, putting your hands on her shoulders and steering her out of the room. “That’s enough, let’s go.” 

Joel gave the kid a final look, one that was apparently enough to make him stare straight ahead again, shrinking in his seat as he did. Satisfied, Joel followed you and Ellie to the car, the girl throwing her backpack in with a little too much force. 

Mercifully, you just went for the passenger seat, saving Joel the fight about driving. You immediately turned to face the disgruntled teenager behind you. 

“Want to tell me what the fuck that was?” You asked. 

“That was a fight,” Ellie said, the sass in her voice thick. “One I won, by the way.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” you said. “Kid, you can’t just do stuff like that for no reason! What were you thinking?” 

“It wasn’t no reason!” She replied. 

“OK then what was the reason?” You said. “I’m dying for you to enlighten me because there had better be some kind of reason why you’d go after a classmate like that!”

“Why do I need to tell you the fucking reason?” She demanded. “You don’t need to know the reason, you just need to trust me when I say I had one!” 

“I do trust you!” You said. “But that school doesn’t! They don’t know you yet! They don’t know how smart and kind and funny you are, all they know is that you refused to follow the dress code on day one and now that you beat people up when you don’t get your way!” 

“I didn’t hit him because I didn’t get my way!” She yelled. “I did it because…” 

Her voice trailed off, seeming to realize what she was about to say just as she said it. You gave her a minute to say it, anyway, but she didn’t. 

“Tell me a reason, Ellie,” you said gently. “Because there has to be a reason. God, I sure hope there is because I’d rather not have to donate a library to some stuffy school every time you decide to throw a tantrum…” 

“Oh, yeah, because you’ll just use your fucking money to fix everything,” Ellie snapped. “But you didn’t use it to save my mom! No, you just let her die.” 

Joel caught a glimpse of your face at that, looking less like you’d been yelled at by a teenager and more like someone had slapped you. 

“I tried, honey,” you said gently. “I tried so hard to save your mom, I helped get her the best doctors, I helped get her into the best facilities but sometimes it’s just beyond what we can do as people.” 

“Whatever,” Ellie snapped as Joel pulled into the driveway. She jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind her and you followed after her. 

“Is that what this is about?” You asked. “Is it because you miss your mom? Because I get that, I miss her too, so much that sometimes I want to burn something down, but…” 

“But she was your friend!” She rounded on you. “And she was my fucking mom, stop acting like you know how I feel because you don’t know how I fucking feel!” 

“Ellie,” you said gently. “I know it’s hard, and…” 

“No, you don’t know!” She snapped. “Stop it! Just leave me alone!” 

She started stomping off to her room but you stayed close behind. 

“We can talk about…” 

“I don’t want to talk to you!” She yelled. “I don’t want to look at you or talk to you or do anything with you! I wish it was you who died instead of her!” 

You froze where you stood and Ellie took advantage of your stillness to stomp off back to her bedroom, the door slamming in her corner of the house.

“Yeah, me too,” you said, so quietly that Joel doubted that you knew he could hear you. 

He was quiet for a moment, staring where Ellie had gone, hoping she’d come back for both your sakes. But she didn’t. 

“Teenagers are hard,” Joel said eventually. “Sure she didn’t mean that…” 

“Oh please, I know you’re just loving this,” you said harshly. “I don’t need your fake pity, Joel. I have interviews, stay out of my office.” 

You left without another word, the click of your door much quieter than Ellie’s had been. 

“That went well,” Esmo sighed, catching Joel off guard. 

“Sure it’ll pass,” Joel said gruffly. He wasn’t sure why his chest got tight as he looked toward your office. He didn’t care about you beyond needing to keep you alive and he only needed do that because of everything he owed his brother. Besides, you were just some spoiled, pampered celebrity. Surely you could use something pushing back on you for a change. 

“Dinner tonight is roast chicken,” Esmo said, heading toward the kitchen. 

Joel frowned. 

“Why are…” 

“I know why you don’t usually eat with us, Mr. Miller,” she said, looking back over her shoulder at him, her eyes narrowed. “She won’t be joining us, her calendar is full until after 10. Don’t pretend that you enjoy those freezer burnt blocks of garbage you call food more than a home cooked meal, I don’t like liars.” 

She disappeared to the kitchen, the rattle of pots and pans following not long after and Joel sighed, settling in on the couch to kill time instead of disappearing to his room on the other side of the house. 

But, to his surprise, Ellie emerged just an hour later, in jeans a t-shirt instead of her uniform now, creeping into the living room like she was expecting someone to jump out at her. 

“She ain’t here,” Joel said, making her jump. “Sorry, kiddo, wasn’t tryin’ to scare you.” 

“It’s fine,” she sighed, coming in and flopping on the loveseat. “Where is she?” 

“Doin’ interviews in her office, I guess,” Joel said. She nodded slowly, staring determinedly at the coffee table. 

The two of them sat quietly for a moment before this strange tug at the center of him to take care of her - something that was so foreign now but still so familiar - made him clear his throat and break the silence. 

“Want… want to talk about anything?” He asked. 

“Like?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at him. 

“Like why you decided to beat up some boy at school,” he shrugged. “Or why you decided to say something that mean to one of the only people who really cares about you. Because that didn’t seem much like you.” 

She scoffed. 

“What do you know?” 

He shrugged. 

“Enough to know that you act tough but that you ain’t an asshole.” 

“Ain’t isn’t a word,” she said. 

Joel just shrugged again, going back to his phone. 

Eventually, Ellie sighed heavily. 

“That fucking boy,” she spat the word as though it were curse word, not the f-bomb she’d dropped a second earlier. “Figured out who she was. Saw her dropping me off at school earlier this week and started talking about shit like ‘your mom is so hot, why aren’t you’ and when that didn’t really bother me started saying shit like ‘I’ve seen your mom’s tits’ and called her a whore and I just… he fucking deserved it, OK? And I’m not about to apologize to that fucker just because the fucking school….” 

“Alright,” Joel said gently, cutting her off. “I agree. He’s a jackass. You probably did the right thing.” 

She looked surprised for a moment but it passed quickly. 

“That’s why I couldn’t tell her what happened,” Ellie said. “Because do you know how fucking creepy it is, knowing that every guy in your stupid school has probably jerked it to your aunt? It’s fucking gross. I don’t want to talk about that shit with her.” 

Joel nodded slowly. 

“So, what, you decided to take it out on your aunt when you got home?” He asked. 

“No,” she said, defensive. “I just… I know she loves my mom… Loved my mom… So why didn’t she… I don’t know, just… why didn’t she fix it? She has all this fucking money and knows all these fucking people, why didn’t she fix it? She can do everything else, why couldn’t she do that one thing?” 

“You really think she didn’t try?” Joel asked gently. “Look, I don’t really know her but I can tell she loves you something fierce and I’m guessin’ that’s because she loved your mama something fierce, too. Just… sometimes, there’s shit that money can’t fix.” Without meaning to, he remembered holding his daughter as she bled out in his arms. He remembered begging whatever god might be listening to do anything to fix it. That he’d give anything, do anything, to fix it. It hadn’t made a damn difference. “Trust me. Sometimes power and money just don’t mean shit.” 

She shrugged and picked at some unseen thing on the couch. 

“Not my business,” Joel shrugged. “Just seems like you’re making her miserable because someone else is bein’ an asshole.” 

“Think she’s mad at me?” Ellie asked quietly, looking over at him, her dark eyes soft. 

“If she is, she’s not actually mad,” he said. “Just hurt. You said some shitty stuff, kid.” 

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed, looking toward the hall that led to your office. “I fucked up.” 

Joel shrugged again. 

“Everyone does.” 

She looked at him, her eyes narrowed. 

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” She asked. “Don’t you usually hide in your room when you’re not following us around?” 

He didn’t want to admit to hiding from the visions of his daughter that so often plagued him on his birthday, so he just shrugged instead. 

“Well, I got this new video game while you were off,” she said. “Want to kill some zombies and shit with me?” 

“Don’t you got homework or something?” He asked, brows raised. 

“I’m suspended, remember?” She said. 

“You really think either of them are gonna let that stand?” Joel asked. “Between your aunt and Esmo, you’re gonna be back in that school before you know it.” 

She snorted. 

“Probably right,” she said. “Still. Wanna play?” 

He examined her for a moment, the hopeful look in her eyes as she watched him in return. 

It had been so long since anyone had wanted something like this with him, some kind of connection, some kind of approval, some kind of emotional investment. It made his chest get tight and his first instinct was to tell her no, to stalk off to his bedroom and close the door and keep himself far away from anything like that… but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not when she so clearly needed it. 

“Yeah, alright,” he said. “Gotta get all that shit set up, though, don’t exactly play a bunch of video games…” 

She scoffed. 

“I’m sure you don’t, old man.” 

Ellie gave him a controller and, as the two of them ran through some virtual desert to collect supplies and shoot zombies, he had the fleeting thought that making her smile made this the best birthday he’d had in more than five years. 

***

“Thank you for having me!” You smiled brightly, hoping it still reached your eyes after faking your way through this for hours. Fuck, your Oscar should be for this shit, not your film roles. “It’s been so fun. Hope to see you at the movies!” 

“See you there!” The spunky entertainment reporter on the other end of the connection said before the stream cut off. You let the smile slip the moment you knew no one but Quinn was left on the screen, grabbing your water bottle from just out of sight and chugging half of it. 

“You did great,” she said, looking at notes on her end. “Hit all the big talking points, great lead in for the main junket kicking off soon.” 

“Can’t wait,” you said wryly. Quinn gave you a look and you just shrugged. “What? I don’t get paid to act like I enjoy this shit with you, just with all the reporters.” 

“Well, it looks like you won’t be flying solo on at least the LA portion of this junket,” she said and you frowned. Quinn answered the question before you had a chance to ask it. “Looks like Chris Reese will be with you…” 

You groaned. 

“Seriously?” You asked. “I have to be in LA and I have to deal with that jackass?” 

“Have worse chemistry with him and then you won’t have to do shit like press with him,” she said. You glared at her. “What? I get paid to spin shit for the reporters, not for you.” 

“Ha ha,” you said and she smirked. 

“It’s not so bad,” she said. “Just two days of interviews. And they want you to do a few of TikTok trends for promos…” you groaned again. “Going to pretend like I didn’t hear that and just say that you’re looking forward to reconnecting with your costar.” 

“Oh yeah, can’t wait,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Also,” Quinn said, steadfastly ignoring you. “I just emailed you part of the script for Savage Starlight, they want you to do some chemistry reads while you’re out that way. They think they have a casting choice for the young version of yourself and you’ll have one dream sequence scene with her that’s going to be pretty important to the story, I guess… fuck if I know. They want to make sure the two of you fit well. They’re also looking at a few guys for your love interest… couple unknowns, Ryan Smythe and Chris Pine are all in the mix.” 

You nodded slowly. 

“Ryan’s not bad,” you said. “I haven’t worked with him but we’ve met a few times and I like his work. Surprised he’s drawn to a project like this…” 

“I’m surprised you’re drawn to a project like this,” Quinn said. 

You shot her a glare. 

“…But I wouldn’t mind working with him,” you continued like she hadn’t spoken at all. “Pine is a shock, I think he’d have gotten enough of playing second fiddle to a woman superhero after Wonder Woman.” 

Quinn shrugged. 

“Maybe he’s just in his big time feminist era, not arguing with that. Plus, he’s good.” 

“Oh, he’s great,” you said. “The best of the Chrises. Unlike Reese…” 

“Oh, suck it up,” she rolled her eyes. “He’s not that bad.” 

“He’s obnoxious,” you said. “You don’t have to deal with him like I do.” 

“No, but I have to deal with his manager,” she replied. “I’ll trade you. At least Reese is nice to look at.” 

“Yeah, he knows it, too,” you said. 

“When you’re out here, we’ll have to have to have lunch,” she said “You’re my favorite client, I miss you.” 

“You say that to all your clients.” 

“Yes, but I lie when I say it to the rest them,” she smiled a little. “OK I’m going to let you go get some sleep. I’ll send you an itinerary for your trip out here and I’ll share it with the security outfit, too. Speaking of which, tell that bodyguard of yours happy birthday.” 

You frowned. 

“It’s his birthday?” You asked. “Wait, how’d you know that?” 

“Come on,” she scoffed. “You know I ran a full investigation on the man I knew would be protecting you. I’m not stupid. Anyway, tell him happy birthday for me and take care of yourself, OK?” 

“Will do. And you, too,” you said, hanging up and letting your forehead droop to your desk with a groan. 

You were exhausted. Even before the Ellie shit you’d been exhausted and all you’d wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep all day. 

Of course, you didn’t get to do that. Instead, you listened to the most important person in your life tell you that she wished you were dead before you had to go give the same goddamn interview to a dozen different broadcast outlets. 

You’d closed yourself in your office and let yourself cry for a while before you forced yourself to stop long enough to do your hair and makeup and make sure you looked at least somewhat presentable before the first interview. And then you faked a smile for hours, talking about the last movie you made before your best friend died, trying not to think about leaving set every day to go see Anna in hospice, always afraid that it would be the last time you’d get to see her. 

Esmo had sent you texts while you were stuck in interview hell, telling you when Ellie had eaten, done her homework and gone to bed. She’d also reached out to the school to discuss bringing her back sooner and said she would tell you what she’d gotten out of them the next day. 

You weren’t sure what you’d done to deserve her but, in that moment, you felt like you owed her your life. Because someone needed to look out for Ellie, even when she wouldn’t let you do it yourself. 

At least, now that it was late, the main part of the house should be empty. Esmo had gone home, Ellie was asleep, Joel liked to avoid every part of the house where he might run into people unless he absolutely had to be there. The last thing you felt like doing was getting into it with your niece or faking a smile for Esmo or putting up with Joel’s shit. 

Your bodyguard exhausted you. He’d seemed to make it his own, personal mission to get under your skin. Sure, maybe you hadn’t given him the warmest welcome - you still weren’t thrilled about having to have a bodyguard in the first place - but that hardly seemed to warrant the degree to which he’d been poking and prodding at you in the two weeks he’d been working for you. 

Joel had figured out quickly that he had a lot of power over you, somehow keenly aware that you weren’t about to complain to his boss about him or try to get him kicked off the job. What you didn’t get was why he seemed to be so fucking miserable to be assigned to you to begin with. 

It’s not like he’d never been a bodyguard before, it’s not like this was new fucking territory for him. He just seemed to hate you personally. 

You’d tried to change that for the first week or so. Yes, you’d gotten off on the wrong foot and you could take the blame for that. You were willing to give him some time to get it out of his system. You tried to reach out, to see what food he liked so you could update the dinner menus to his liking or to buy him coffee when you insisted on stopping to get one - much to his chagrin. You tried to even go along with some of his demands so his job was a little easier - things that wouldn’t have you losing as much of your autonomy, at least - but he didn’t seem to appreciate any of it. And then Seth, the other guard, was with you and you realized just how much Joel must absolutely loathe you. 

Seth was much easier going. He let you drive without argument. He had dinner with you, Ellie and Esmo every night. He smiled and laughed and mentioned that he was surprised you picked Siren of the name options for you. You’d managed to hide your surprise at that, not wanting to give away just how much his coworker seemed to enjoy humiliating you. 

Of course Joel had to come back on what had quickly devolved into the worst day you’d had since Anna died. Of course he’d seen just what Ellie said, of course he had some new way to make you feel like shit. Happy fucking birthday to him. 

The pinch of tears had returned to the back of your throat but you swallowed them. You needed to eat something. You needed to go take off all this fucking makeup. You needed to actually sleep in your own damn bed because sleeping anywhere else would be strange and you couldn’t give Joel more ammunition to use against you or give Ellie any reason to feel worse.

So you forced yourself to go to the kitchen to get the plate Esmo had made for you out of the fridge, your feet heavy, the house dark. The light was on in the pool, the reflection from the water casting lines over the ceiling of your living room and you considered, for a moment, just how easy it’d be to go outside, jump into the water and let it swallow you. But you couldn’t do that. Ellie needed you, whether she liked it or not, and there was a whole staff of people who relied on you for their livelihood. Giving up wasn’t an option. Not for you. So you kept going, like you always did.

The kitchen was dark, too, but the smell of coffee was fresh and strong as you opened the fridge, the light oddly bright compared to the darkness of your house. You found the plate Esmo had left you, a chicken thigh and roasted broccoli piled high. You pulled the plastic wrap back, bumping the fridge closed with your hip as you did. 

“Should pay more attention.” 

You yelped, jumping and looking around before you realized that, at the end of your breakfast bar, was the hulking figure of your bodyguard, sitting in the dark. 

“Jesus Christ,” you said, heart pounding. You set the plate on the counter and stalked to turn on the lights before rounding on him. “What the fuck are you doing, sitting here in the dark? Just lurking to try to fuck with me in some new way or what?” 

“No,” he said and there was something so honest in his voice that you couldn’t help but believe him. “Didn’t feel like sleepin’, so…” 

He shrugged and you just nodded, going to put your dinner in the microwave. 

“Well, you can have the kitchen to yourself again in a minute,” you said, leaning against the counter and facing Joel, your arms crossed over your stomach. 

The frustrating thing was, if he wasn’t such an asshole, Joel would be an attractive man. He was handsome, unquestionably so, in a way that would be sculpted out of marble in a bygone time. He was handsome and tall and broad and there was something about his presence - no matter how antagonistic he seemed to get - that made you feel safe. It was something that you thought went past the fact that he was paid to protect you, something in you that said that, while he was here with you alone, while he could easily overpower you, you didn’t need to be afraid of him. He was safe. 

Of course, maybe it was better if he was a dick. If he was kinder, you’d probably end up half in love with him, a recipe for disaster since he was your bodyguard. 

“S’your house,” Joel shrugged. “I can go if you want space.” 

“I don’t mind,” you said. 

He just nodded, twisting his coffee mug in his hands. 

“You alright?” He asked after a moment of quiet with nothing but the hum of the microwave between you. You raised your brows at him. “Just… you know… whole Ellie thing.” 

You watched him for a moment, head cocked. Was he asking because he actually cared? Was he asking to try to find some new way to make you miserable? You weren’t sure. 

“She’s a good kid,” he said when you’d been quiet a bit too long. “She didn’t… I know she didn’t mean what she said, she’s just bein’ a teenager, and…” 

“How do you know?” 

He frowned. 

“Know what?” 

“That she didn’t mean it,” you said. “How do you know?” 

The microwave beeped and you got out your food. Joel, much to your surprise, pulled out the chair next to his at the breakfast bar before gripping his mug again, his fingers tight and strained against the ceramic. You took the seat, grabbing a fork and knife from the silverware drawer on the way. 

“I talked to her a bit,” he said once you settled in next to him. He wasn’t looking at you, staring straight ahead instead. “She was… she was upset about other shit and took it out on you. Don’t make it right but… at least explains it.” 

“What was she upset about?” You asked, cutting into the chicken and taking a bite. Even reheated it was delicious. God bless Esmo. “Was it the fight at school? Because she was in a mood this morning, too, and…” 

“Yeah, think that fight’s been simmerin’ for a few days,” Joel said, taking a sip of coffee before glancing your way quickly.

“What was it?” You frowned. “Did she tell you? If it was a good reason, then…” 

“She told me,” he cut you off, actually looking at you now. “Look… I’ll tell you, but I think it’s best if you keep it to yourself. I get why she’s pissed.” 

You frowned. 

“OK…” 

“That fuckin’ kid she beat up,” he said, like he was choosing his words carefully. “Well… guess he recognized you…” 

“Shit,” you sighed, dropping your fork to your plate to press the palm of your hand to your eye. Of course you were the root of this problem, too. 

“Sounds like he thought you’re her mom,” he said. “Started askin’ her why she’s not as good looking as you and, when that didn’t get enough of a rise out of ‘er, started saying… other shit.” 

You gave him a second to continue on his own but he didn’t. 

“Other shit like what?” You asked. He flinched and looked down at his coffee cup. “Other shit like what, Joel.” 

He sighed. 

“Other shit like he’d seen your… chest,” he said, his cheeks getting red. “And he called you… well, somethin’ you don’t call a lady.” 

“Jesus,” you slumped down in your seat. “Well, at least that explains why she was begging me to not be the one to drive her to school in the mornings anymore…” 

“Sorry,” Joel said, his voice rough. 

“I don’t blame her for taking the bait,” you sighed. “Lord knows I would have in her shoes… God, it must be embarrassing for her…” 

“Like I said, she’s a good kid,” he said. “Don’t take one blow up too personally. Teenagers are… well, they’re teenagers.” 

You watched him for a moment. 

“Why do you know this stuff?” 

His jaw tightened for a moment. 

“Just do,” he said. 

Something told you that wasn’t all there was to it but you didn’t pry. Instead, you ate your dinner in silence next to him, trying to think of ways to talk to the school to get Ellie back in without bringing up what she’d told Joel. You liked that she had an adult she apparently felt like she could talk to. She needed that, desperately, in her life. You’d prefer it was you - it had been you, once upon a time, back when you weren’t responsible for her - but you’d take what you could get. 

“Can I ask what that punching bag out back did to piss you off?” He asked eventually. 

You laughed a little. 

“Nothing much,” you replied. “Wait… you sighed an NDA for this job, right?” 

“Yeah,” he frowned, looking at you again. “Why?” 

“Because this isn’t public yet,” you said. “But… Well, I’m trying to prep for a role.” 

“A role,” he said. “What role?” 

“You ever heard of the comic series Savage Starlight?” You asked. He nodded. “Well… I’m Starlight. Or, I will be. They’re going to officially announce it in a few months, once the rest of the main cast is settled. They’re starting me with a trainer to learn fight choreography in six weeks but I’ve never had a role with fight scenes like this one, I’m trying to make it so I’m not starting from scratch so I don’t look like a total idiot.” 

“That don’t…” Joel paused. “Doesn’t seem like your kind of movie.” 

“It’s not,” you said. “But Ellie loves the comics. They’re her favorite thing and… well, if I’m her favorite super hero, I can’t be all bad, right? So I just… I want to get it right.” 

“Well, you’re doin’ it wrong,” Joel said. You narrowed your eyes, about to argue with him on it, but he cut you off. “Not trying to be mean. Your form was just… I can tell you haven’t really thrown a punch before. Nothin’ wrong with that. Or, well, there isn’t until you need to start fighting. You just need to be careful is all, otherwise you’re just gonna hurt yourself.” 

You laughed a little. 

“Of course,” you said wryly. “It only makes sense that I’m shit at that, too.” 

“Not shit,” he said. You raised your eyebrows. “What? You’re not. Just not trained. I… I can help. If you wanted.” 

“Really,” you asked, incredulous. “You’d help me train to fight.” 

“Sure,” he shrugged. “Not like I don’t got the time. Besides, figure my job just gets harder if you’re in a damn cast because you busted your wrist throwin’ a bad punch.” 

“Fair enough,” you said. “Thank you.” 

“Sure,” he said, the two of you falling silent again. You picked at the chicken, not much of an appetite. 

“Do you think,” you said, trailing off for a moment before looking at him again. “Do you think you could take Ellie to school when she starts back? I’m going to talk to the school again tomorrow, try to get her back in next week, but I don’t want to cause her more problems and…” 

“Sure,” he said. “I… I don’t mind. She’s a good kid.” 

“She is,” you agreed. 

You finished what you could of your dinner and slid off the seat before cleaning up your dish, Joel frowning and watching as you did. 

“What?” You asked. “You’re looking at me like I’m… I dunno, an alien or something.” 

“Don’t you have people who do shit like clean up after you?” He asked. “Ain’t that part of Esmo’s job?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged. “But I’m not about to leave my dirty dishes sitting out overnight for her to deal with when she gets here in the morning. I’m not an asshole.” 

He seemed to process that as you loaded the dishwasher and chugged a final glass of water before putting the glass in the dishwasher, too. 

“Well, I’m going to bed,” you said. “Been a hell of a day. Want me to turn the light off so you can sit in the dark with your coffee again?” 

Joel just shrugged. 

“Don’t really matter,” he said. “Good night.” 

“Night,” you said, turning to go before you remembered what Quinn had told you. “Hey, actually, why didn’t you mention that today was your birthday?” 

He flinched, the movement so fleeting you almost thought you imagined it, and you had the strangest desire to comfort him somehow. You just didn’t know why. 

“Don’t like my birthday,” he said after a moment. “Not a lot of reasons to celebrate so I just don’t. Besides, don’t really like being the center of attention.” 

You laughed a little at that. 

“Yeah, I know the feeling. But… well, happy birthday, anyway. Thanks for looking after Ellie.” 

He nodded slowly. 

“Thanks,” he said. “It… it was nice.” 

You wanted to say something else but you couldn’t think of what so instead, you turned out the light and left him there, drinking coffee from your favorite mug alone in the dark. 

Next Chapter

A/N: So sorry for the eternity between chapters. I've just not been able to keep up with things lately. I hope you enjoyed it, anyway.

I'm really enjoying their dynamic! Some active antagonism based in misunderstanding of motives, some mutual attraction, a lot of similar life experiences that they don't fully grasp yet. I just really love these two and I'm so excited to share where they're headed! Thanks for being here.

Love you!

Taglist: @christinamadsen @eff4freddie @brittmb115 @copperhalfcent @r3dheadedwitch @pedropascalsbbg @lovelyjess69 @yopossum @moel-jiller @picketniffler @lilyevanstan1325 @reluctanthalfwayoptimism @wintersquirrel

[dominantslasherking]

More feyd rautha please🥺🥺🥺🥺

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen With Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+ Backstory: You're a fremen and Feyd eagerly wants to catch you; for his own personal desires, as he has been obsessed with you.

The merciless desert was relentlessly heated by the searing sun that descended onto Arrakis's limitless dunes.

A lone person crept among the dunes like a desert cat, graceful and stealthy. He was a Fremen, a warrior of the dunes, named 'the ghost', practically disappearing into the sandy terrain with his quiet strides.

But Feyd-Rautha, the phsycopathic nephew of the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, was not one to be easily deceived. He had been tracking this elusive Fremen for days, driven by an insatiable desire that gnawed at his very soul. Ever since he had caught a glimpse of him during a skirmish with the Fremen raiders trying to stop the spice collectors, Feyd had become consumed by an obsession unlike any he had ever known.

Feyd strode into the darkened dwelling of his spacecraft, a ferocious fury burning in his eyes. With his jaw squeezed into a harsh line and his hands clinched into fists at his sides, he demanded answers from the trembling crew. "What happened?" Those who ventured to catch his eyes were sent shivering down their spines as he hissed, his voice deep and menacing with a scratchy and horse undertone to his voice.

A spice collector came forward, recounting of the conditions that had happened in the desert, his voice trembling from fear. "My na-Baron, we faced opposition from the Fremen invaders," he stumbled, his gaze flitting uneasily to Feyd. "I-We tried to fight back, but the strength of the Fremen was too much. Before we could get him down, I was able to secure a scratch on his face."

"By..'Him', do you mean, the ghost? MY GHOST?" Feyd's voice bellowed out his cole black eyes churning with rage.

Feyd's lip curled in disgust at the mere mention of his fremen being harmed. Without a word, he strode forward, his movements fluid and predatory as he closed the distance between himself and the cowering crew member. With a swift and brutal motion, he seized the man by the collar, lifting him off the ground with a strength born of rage.

"You dare to let a mere scratch mar the perfection of what is mine?" Feyd snarled, his voice echoing off the metal walls of the ship. "You are worthless, all of you!"

With a guttural roar, Feyd slammed the spice collector against the wall, his grip tightening with each passing second. The man whimpered in pain, his eyes wide with terror as Feyd's fingers dug into his flesh, leaving bruises in their wake.

But Feyd's heart was consumed by a fire that could not be quenched. With a savage cry, he brought his fist crashing down upon the man's skull, the sickening sound of bone meeting metal filling the air. Again and again, he rained down blows upon the hapless spice collector, his rage fueling his every strike.

After Feyd was a bloody mess, coated in crimson his eyes stared down at the once recognizable face, now just a bloody and gushy mess on the floor, "Worthless." Feyd spat out baring his black coated teeth, as he stared, and hissed at the other spice collectors.

One had shakily come forward, his breath palpable with each step he made towards Feyd. Feyd cruel smirk turning into a cocky, almost mocking one at seeing the man holding a torn cloth.

"You...have something for me.." Feyd asked, ripping the cloth out of the man's hand. "Its...----I manage to rip it off, the Fremen you wanted." The spice collector muttered his eyes flickering towards the dead spice collector on the floor.

Feyd's eyes flickered with a hint of something. Suddenly, in a swift and rapid motion, Feyd brought the cloth to his nose, inhaling a deep breath of the scent that roamed the torn cloth. Your scent. A delicate blend of spice, and your musk..

Once he was finished, he stuffed the cloth into a pouch on his utility belt. "If you worms can't get the job done, I will."

Feyd brushed passed them. making his way towards the ships control center to fly the damn thing.

"He couldn't have gotten far." Feyd muttered, tapping his fingers on a button.

"I'm coming for you." Feyd hissed out, his eyes dimming into a possessive spiral of obsession.

[moronkombat]

Yandere Bi Han with his very pregnant wife runs away from him seeing how he turned to and stay with her brothers in laws as she wants to protect the baby

How would each brothers perspective when reader did that?

this is some good food. tw: yandere, pregnancy, afab pronouns

General headcanons

Bi-Han met her just once but it was enough for him to be consumed by her memory

He doesn't understand why he thinks of her so much and that bothers him. He hates that she is all he thinks about. He can't stand it

She must be his. It is the only way for him to stop thinking of her all the time. Yes, if she were right here in front of him, he wouldn't long so desperately for her

Bi-Han gradually builds up a relationship her and it seems to go fairly well between them and he finally begins to feel at ease knowing she is by his side

The love between them is sweet but Bi-Han a slow acting poison and his corruption grows and grows until there is nothing left of him any longer

He craves to have a son with her, to continue his legacy and so he tries to conceive with her frequently but he is never cruel during it

It soon becomes an obsession of his to have his wife deliver him a son worthy of the Lin Kuei name and finally it seems his efforts pay off but his mind continues to warp and break

He becomes suffocating, all consuming when it comes to his wife and unborn child. Bi-Han never lets her leave or go anywhere

Bi-Han tells her she doesn't need to be anywhere else expect home and in bed as their child grows inside her

Things only worsen when he is brought away by Liu Kang and given that taste of freedom. It destroys him and the world begins to crash down

He tells her how the Lin Kuei will be better and stronger. That they should rule and lead the world instead of serving it. She is horrified, terrified. Where is the soft and gentle man she married?

All but gone that man is...replaced by someone savagely obsessed with power and greatness. She is helpless to change it, to change him back to the man she loved

Bi-Han tells her that his brothers are traitors, better off dead but not to worry because he will never let her leave. She will be with him forever and ever

She cries at night, thinking about all the horror Bi-Han has started to act upon. These suits of armor, weapons of horrible destruction...this isn't right

This isn't the peaceful life he promised her and their child. This is a hellish war and Bi-Han tell her how their son will be his legacy. How he will use his son as a tool for domination

She can't stand it. She begs for Bi-Han to stop this and to come back to her as the man she fell in love with. This impossible and Bi-Han lashes out

He strikes her, hard and firm. As she crashes to the floor with blood dripping down her lip, he scolds her for being so weak and for trying to betray him

Bi-Han tells her that she will learn to accept this life because if she doesn't then she will never see her child once they are born and that is when she can no longer stay with him

She flees, running far away from her crazed husband and how horribly she cries as she does this. Her hands cradle her now heavy stomach, Bi-Han's son is due soon but she must never let him know his father

What is she to do? She is alone and heavily pregnant with the heir to the Lin Kuei. Her heart hangs heavy and she can only think of two people

The two people she had come to know as family but was told were traitors. They were her hope. Not just for her but for her son. If they refused her, she could live with that but they must take in her son once he is born. Bi-Han must never find him

To say he is shocked would be a grave understatement. Kuai Liang thought he would never see her again. Not since what happened between him and Bi-Han

He knew of your pregnancy and was happy for you and Bi-Han. The last he knew, the two of you were happy together

Because of this Kuai Liang is suspicious and even a bit threatening when he sees her at the Shirai Ryu villa

He would draw is weapon and warn you that he will not give you mercy if you are here on Bi-Han's behalf

Kuai Liang watches as through labored breaths you cry and sob, falling to your knees unable to get out what you want to say

His resolve begins to weaken as he watches her fall apart and he is reminded of the fond memories between the two of them

She was his friend before she become a sister-in-law and Kuai Liang still cherishes that friendship but is unsure of how to act

Tomas convinces him to lower his weapons and hear you out and when he does, he is at a loss of words and full of despair

To hear what his brother has become, how he has treated her is enough to break his heart all over again and he knows he cannot refuse sheltering her

Kuai Liang treats her with kindness from that point on. He tells her that she may stay as long as needs and that her baby will be safe here

Though he knows Bi-Han will not sit idly and allow this. He knows this will bring great danger to his home and family but she is his family too and so he will house and protect her

Tomas had always been fond of his brother's wife and cared for her deeply

Truth be told, he was always a bit envious that Bi-Han was her husband but she seemed so happy that he kept quiet

Imagine his shock when he finds her kneeling on the ground and sobbing like he's never heard before

His eyes are instantly drawn to her stomach that she holds so tenderly and he rushes to her side

Tomas would kneel down next to her, unsure of what to do with his hands. He settles for lightly holding onto her shoulders before looking up to Kuai Liang

He tells him to put down that weapon and listen to her. Tomas asks him if he doesn't see how scared and frightened she is and finally Kuai Liang hears her out

When he hears all that has happened, Tomas is enraged. He has never felt such a wrath before and when she finishes her story, he takes her into a tight hug and tell her everything will be alright

For him it was never a question whether she could stay or not. The Shirai Ryu would be her new home and Tomas would protect both her and her unborn son

He doesn't care that it is Bi-Han's child she carries. The child is innocent and is clearly loved so dearly by its mother

Tomas is no fool. He knows Bi-Han will come looking for her and will raise every hell possible in order to obtain his wife but it doesn't matter to him. He will take care of her and her unborn child

It hurts to hear her try and be hopeful that Bi-Han will stop this madness and return back to how he used to be. Tomas knows that will never happen but he doesn't have the heart to tell her that. So he is left to letting her dream of such an unrealistic wish

There is no greater rage in all the realms than what Bi-Han burns with. How dare she leave. How dare she run away with his son

She belongs to him and so does their child. How could she leave him? How could she abandon him just like everybody else?

It can't be true. It just can't. His wife, his dearest love and mother to his child couldn't leave him. Something must have poisoned her mind

Surely that is it. There some twisted thoughts planted in her head that leads her away from him

Bi-Han thinks to himself that when he finds her will have to put her in a pretty little cage just like a songbird

Yes, if he kept her hidden away, only exposed to him then she would never think of leaving again. He must bring her back home and lock her away in a place known only to him

There is a seething wrath knowing his son has been taken from him. That was his prodigy, his grand design to lead the Lin Kuei. How dare his son be withheld from him

Great deal of punishment will be delt to the mother of son in order to teach her the importance of having a father and son know each other

There will be even more suffering brought upon those who keep his family away from him. How dare they keep that what is his from him

Bi-Han knows where his wife has fled to. How could he not? He is in the clutches of his wretched brothers

He vows to kill them, to snuff out the life from their souls while she watches and hears them scream

He will tear them apart as a bear does to a doe. He will leave nothing left of them expect mangled gore and echoing screams

Only then will he bring his lovely wife and son home. He will never let them leave again. If he must break her pretty legs so that she may not run then so be it

Bi-Han will teach her that a wife's place is that next to her husband. That is something that will never change. That is where she belongs and he will keep her there until she accepts her role as his wife and mother to his children

War will be waged in order to bring his wife back. Nothing and no one will stop him

[ozzgin]

Hi it’s me again 😁. I wanted to try to request something but it’s very specific so if you don’t like the idea or just don’t have the time you can just put it aside 😅.

It’s another female predator story but in this one reader is a preator that was born black with white markings which is seen as a bad omen ( i don’t think it’s real in the Yautja culture but let’s just role with it ). Reader was abandoned by her family and was found by a family of thanator ( you know those fierce alien panther from avatar ) so she was a savage and knew how to hunt without any tools from a young age. Her grandmother, a strong and important matriarch, found her and took her back to their planet. But reader doesn’t really have contact with her kind except for her grandmother and her thanators and she hunts alone a lot of dangerous enemies ( like xenoporph queens ).

I’m totally making the even up but let’s imagine it’s mating season and there is a huge a tournament to help yautjas find a good partner. Like wrestling, shooting or small combat matches… It’s time for the females to compete, reader is participating cause her grandma asked her ( she wants grandpups 😂 ) and is wrecking the events and catches the interest of many males. Especialy after the one on one fight where she would use a lot of her natural features and thanator fighting style ( we don’t really see them using there claws, feet or teeth a lot and it’s disapointing cause those are mass murder weapons). The males are enamoured and quickly process to begin the courting but reader doesn’t really know how to act with males and she never really paid it much attention before cause she’s usually hunting or founding and taking care of new alien pets companions. I bet the males are amazed with this unique and strong ( and kind of inexperienced 😏 ) female yautja.

Thanks for reading this ( long ass fuck to be honest 😂😅) resquest and i hope everything is alright for you, 😘 bye.

You'll have to excuse potentially wrong assumptions as I haven't watched Avatar and have no idea what it is about 🥲 buut otherwise I just detailed around your ideas, they’re pretty solid and I didn’t want to tamper with them more than necessary

Predator Headcanons: Predator Reader in Tournament

Featuring a Yautja female with an unusual background.

Everything happened so suddenly. Your peaceful like among your family, uprooted within seconds. One particular day and out of nowhere, a bizarre vessel hovered over Pandora's forests, alerting everyone in its vicinity. The intruders that teleported down caused even greater confusion: they looked just like you. Yet you couldn't understand their odd clicks and guttural noises, nor did you trust the intricate holograms and machinery pointed in your direction.

After what felt like an eternity - and with the help of a translator - the uninvited guests announced their purpose: to retrieve you and bring you back to Yautja Prime. Nonsense, you thought at the time. There's no "back" when your home has always been on this Planet. Despite your protests, you'd quickly learned that your hunting expertise was no proper defense against their foreign technology and so you begrudgingly accepted the proposal.

The first few months were, plainly put, depressing. The matriarch - you'd soon learn she is your remaining family - insisted on keeping your integration a secret at first. Many factors were still unknown to them: would you be able to learn their language after so many years? What about defending yourself against other Predators? Yautja communities are ruthless and unforgiving, and the matriarch could not risk killing off her only successor.

Thankfully you proved yourself efficient enough with your skills. Growing up in the forest has honed your senses, perhaps to an even greater degree when compared to a Predator who relies on modern weaponry. Impressed with the outcome, your grandmother decides to register you for the Grand Tournament. What better way to reveal the return of her long-lost suckling? You don't know what it entails, but the time spent hunting xenomorphs has gotten quite monotonous. You'd take any challenge to entertain you.

The gate opens and you step inside the ring without hesitation. There's a moment of silence, followed by suspicious murmurs from a confused audience. Unbeknownst to you, the patterns you're donning are not only a rare occurrence among the Yautja species, but a bad omen as well. The males are studying your movements carefully. It's not just your appearance; Your fighting stance is unusual, resembling a wild animal. And, as the end of the match quickly follows with an effortless win on your side, they're certain of one thing: they've found their mate.

You raise your first victoriously and don't even notice the predatory stares. Nor do you comprehend the sudden gathering of males that has formed towards the exit, awaiting your return. What's the meaning of this? You glare at the matriarch, and she responds with a smirk. You'll figure it out soon enough.

[rederiswrites]

Look, I think if you're a US citizen you should go on Youtube and watch the debate, or at least some of the chunks of it where the topic matters most to you. You can't counter the arguments if you don't know what arguments they're making. And no, I don't mean arguing with your aunt that drank the conspiracy koolaid. I mean that there are genuinely a lot of people out there hearing what Trump is saying and thinking, "I don't know. That sounds really scary."

So know what he said, and know not just THAT he lied, but HOW he lied.

Sometimes, it's easy. There are no "abortions" after a baby is born. That would be uhhh let's see MURDER and it's already pretty illegal everywhere and absolutely no one is trying to change that. The comment Trump attributed to former VA governor Ralph Northam is completely misrepresented. Northam (whom I am not defending as a person, by the way) was commenting on the subject of *non-viable* pregnancies that represented a health risk to the mother. Nobody was talking about killing babies. Nobody. Not even Mr. Blackface.

Sometimes it's so addled that I'll leave someone else to unpack, for example, what the FUCK he was on about with the giving illegal aliens in prison forced "trangender surgery". Personally I'm assuming he just used the random word generator in his head to say something that sounded scary to him.

There is NO credible evidence that anyone, much less Haitian immigrants, is eating pets in Springfield, Ohio. Both government officials and the police say there's nothing to it. Springfield has had a huge influx of Haitian immigrants, and this is causing infrastructure strain and racial tensions. But again, people who would rather believe that a) legal immigrants are okay with *stealing your pets and eating them* and b) the entire police and gov't infrastructure of a town and the surrounding county want to cover this up, are not worth our energy. It's the people who don't know the truth and are worried that we want to reach.

And my guy, my man, Cheeto Benito, that is not how tariffs work. Tariffs are not magical free money that other countries just HAVE to give you. They're...they're not that at all. Look, I'm lazy so I'm just gonna quote CNN:

Here’s how tariffs work: When the US puts a tariff on an imported good, the cost of the tariff usually comes directly out of the bank account of an American buyer. “It’s fair to call a tariff a tax because that’s exactly what it is,” said Erica York, a senior economist at the right-leaning Tax Foundation. “There’s no way around it. It is a tax on people who buy things from foreign businesses,” she added. Trump has said that if elected, he would impose tariffs of up to 20% on every foreign import coming into the US, as well as another tariff upward of 60% on all Chinese imports. He also said he would impose a “100% tariff” on countries that shift away from using the US dollar. These duties would add to the tariffs he put on foreign steel and aluminum, washing machines, and many Chinese-made goods including baseball hats, luggage, bicycles, TVs and sneakers. President Joe Biden has left many of the Trump-era tariffs in place. It’s possible that a foreign company chooses to pay the tariff or to lower its prices to stay competitive with US-made goods that aren’t impacted by the duty. But study after study, including one from the federal government’s bipartisan US International Trade Commission, have found that Americans have borne almost the entire cost of Trump’s tariffs on Chinese products. To date, Americans have paid more than $242 billion to the US Treasury for tariffs that Trump imposed on imported solar panels, steel and aluminum, and Chinese-made goods, according to US Customs and Border Protection. [link]

Also though you should watch the debate because Harris was an absolute savage and it was genuinely HUGELY entertaining to watch her mercilessly bait Trump in every answer she gave, and watch him take the bait every. fucking. time.

[angie-words]

Rivals Interview & Photoshoot

CW for mentions of sex, nudity

Highlights from the article (abridged! Full article by Caitlin Moran here):

Jilly Cooper’s raunchy Rivals: ‘You will see a lot of willies’

It’s taken 36 years, but finally Jilly Cooper’s legendary bonkbuster Rivals is on TV. Caitlin Moran — who was such a fan, she changed her name to one of the book’s characters — meets the author and stars on set and asks: how was it for you?

Guess where I am.

Oh my gosh — I am in RUTSHIRE.

If you own one of the multimillion copies sold of Jilly Cooper’s infamous Rutshire Chronicles books, you will a) be as excited as me, and b) know exactly where I am.

Yes, I am standing in front of a beautiful, honey-coloured mansion.

Yes, it is a beautiful summer’s day.

Yes, the herbaceous borders are magnificent.

Yes, there are adorable dogs milling around.

Yes, there are champagne bottles strewn hither and yon.

And yes, everyone is dressed in alternately fabulous, or ridiculous, Eighties outfits, with gigantic hair.

The ladies have electric-blue eyeshadow and golden, heaving bosoms.

The men, meanwhile, have tanned legs, huge Rolexes — and, in many instances, their gigantic hair manifests lower down: in moustaches like that of Tom Selleck.

And yes, of course, there is drama. David Tennant — wearing a lavish, gold, silken man-blouse and sucking on a cigar — is furious. He is savaging a roomful of party people, all looking stricken — and all, incongruously, wearing swimwear.

“How the f*** has this happened?” Tennant screams, as all the tits and legs fidget, gaudy piña coladas abandoned. “Get the f*** out there and sort this out! And why are you all wearing bikinis?”

Tennant storms from the room, apoplectic with rage — and then sees me.

“Oh, hello, darling,” he says, all sweetness and light.

“CUT!” the director calls.

Today, David Tennant isn’t, of course, David Tennant. He’s Tony Baddingham, the infamous, nominative-determinist baddie of Jilly Cooper’s Rivals.

“So, is this fun?” I ask him.

The last time I saw him on set, he was being the Doctor in Doctor Who, in a floor-length coat, trying to save the world from being exploded. Again. In the rain. In Wales. At 1am.

“Oh yes,” Tennant says. “I mean, look at my blouse. It’s like my aunt’s! Actually, I think it might be hers — it closes right to left. Don’t men’s buttons close left to right? Am I wearing,” he asks the room at large, “a woman’s blouse?”

“We need to go again, David,” the director says.

“Back in a tick,” Tennant says, running back on set, sucking on his cigar. Getting ready to be really evil, and Eighties, again.

-----

When it comes to the atmosphere on set, I later talk to David Tennant about this subject.

“Yes — there was a lot of due diligence about only having … joyful people on set. Crew and cast,” Tennant says, carefully.

(Dominic) Treadwell-Collins - executive producer - is more forthright.

“We had a very strict ‘no arseholes’ policy,” he says.

-----

Your mother was a Jilly Cooper fan? And, therefore, presumably … a Rupert Campbell-Black fan?

“My mum, you know … blushed when I told her [I’d got the role],” (Alex) Hassell admits. “A lot of women blushed when I told them.”

I’m interviewing Hassell, 44, and Tennant, 53, together. As a former Doctor, Tennant has, of course, a lot of experience in playing a role women find attractive.

“Once you’ve made [Rupert Campbell-Black] flesh, I think a lot of people are going to find it difficult to interact with you, Alex,” he says, helpfully.

It seems Hassell is aware of this.

“Yes,” he says. “One friend, when I told her, said, ‘Oh, that’s a bean-flicker role!’ I said, ‘Ah, I see.’ ”

“Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone come up to me and say, ‘I’ve masturbated thinking about you,’ ” Tennant says, thoughtfully.

“David!” Hassell exclaims, hurt. “When we met, that’s the first thing I said.”

-----

“Tony’s from a lower class, while Rupert was born with an entire silver cutlery canteen in his mouth,” Tennant says. “So whatever Tony does, he never has that class advantage. Tony needs to taste the blood of his betters in his mouth to make him feel better. Rupert’s blood.”

“And while Rupert is, in many ways, a shit,” Hassell says, thoughtfully, “he’s not a bad man, like Tony. Tony is jealous of Rupert. He wants his house, his women, his life.”

Accordingly, this suit-based class war plays out as Campbell-Black tries to take over Baddingham’s TV station — and the backstabbing, shenanigans, shagging and skulduggery commence.

-----

The tennis court at Cooper’s house is the setting for one of her most iconic scenes — where Campbell-Black first meets his love interest, Taggie, while he’s playing naked tennis. He is adjudged to have lost a match point because something is over the line. Oh, why am I being so coy? This is Jilly Cooper. It’s his penis. His massive penis is judged to be over the line. A note to diehard fans: this scene is shot exactly as written. You will see a lot of willies.

“We’ve been equal opportunities in our nudity,” Treadwell-Collins says. “There’s a willy for every pair of tits.”

“That was my great disappointment over the TV show,” Cooper sighs. “The tennis court is a terrible mess — no one’s played on it for 20 years — and I thought [Disney] might be darlings and build me a new one.”

She looks around, hopefully.

“Do you think anyone here has some booze?” she asks. “It is the afternoon.”

Cooper has been an invaluable muse to everyone on set while filming. In one scene, she handed over an urgent note that read, “Rupert would never say ‘spouse’ — that’s very lower-middle [class]. He would say ‘wife’.”

She argued for particularly Cooperesque jokes and puns to stay in, and was firm that the whole “First of May” tradition remain.

“Oh, yes,” she says, looking delighted, and then quotes herself. “ ‘First of May, first of May — outdoor f***ing starts today. But if as usual it do rain, we f*** off indoors again.’ ”

This ribald rhyme kicks off a massive shagging montage, involving the entire cast. And all outdoors, of course.

-----

I can’t tell you what fun it is interviewing all the Rivals people. Because of the show, everyone talks about their memories of the Eighties (David Tennant: “No, my Eighties weren’t like a Jilly Cooper book — I was at school in Paisley with my glasses held together with sticky tape, and a very unappealing haircut”), and smoking (Hassell: “Everyone smoked everywhere, didn’t they? Even on planes. They’d draw across that little … health curtain, and everyone smoked behind it”), and how hard it was to leave Cooper’s world when shooting finished (Hassell: “No one was looking at me like I’m the most sexy man on the planet any more. It was tough.”)

-----

In the event, (Aidan) Turner, 41, is an absolute hoot — particularly on the subject of the massive moustache he sports on the show. It is a magnificent specimen of upper-lip pelt. It looks like a vole fell asleep under his nose.

It looks like the one Ned Flanders has on The Simpsons, I tell him.

Turner gives a huge, barking laugh.

“Ned Flanders? I mean, I was thinking more … Irish stag? Super-masculine?”

He starts giggling again.

Turner’s relaxed stance towards his sex god-dom comes with an interestingly meta twist. In Rivals, one of Baddingham’s TV shows is called Four Men Went to Mow — where sexy farmers, sexily stripped to the waist, carry out sexy agricultural duties.

Turner, of course, infamously stripped to the waist a few times in Poldark, for that scything scene or lying in bed or emerging from the sea. In a pleasingly postmodern moment, one scene sees Turner rail against Four Men Went to Mow — raging, almost camply, “TV can’t just be men taking their tops off!”

Rivals is on Disney+ from October 18

[weird-addiction]

Savage Within

Pairing: House of the Dragon x Male!Targaryen!Reader 

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Mentions of childbirth, murder, burning down an entire city, dragon death, threatening people, bloody duels, graphic descriptions, gore.

Being the first born of King Viserys was not easy, being the heir and prince of dragonstone, Y/n hated it. He was the first born son of King Viserys, older brother to princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. 

He was three years older than his younger sister, making him already ten and eight years old, a dragon rider since he was seven years old. Trained in the art of the sword ever since he could stand, the responsibilities weighed down on him. He wanted to be free, not free in the normal sense, free in the mental sense of things. Y/n felt like he was trapped in his mind prison, the key burned away in his blood that was set alight by the dragon flame. 

There was a side of him that could not be unleashed, if it did the end of days will arrive sooner then how Aegon the Conqueror dreamed of it.

The Red Keep was that he has known, he was born in these very halls, in the same birthing bed that his mother Queen Aemma has had multiple miscarriages and stillborns on. His father has always said when Y/n finally was brought into the world, his cries were all the Red Keep heard, when the midwife said it was a boy, Viserys cried happy tears as his wife held the babe in her arms. 

Y/n had the natural silver hair and violet eyes of his Valyrian forefathers, as he grew into a man his hair got longer and eyes got sharper. Growing into a handsome prince, most of the ladies at court would chase after him, greater and minor lords would offer their daughters, nieces, sisters and cousins as his future wife. 

He wanted nothing to do with them. Marriage. Children. A wife. His own family. None of it, he did not want any of it.

Walking to his mother’s room, he was in riding gear as he was going to the Dragon Pit after visiting. Pushing open the door, the room had incense burning, maesters, midwives all attending to the pregnant queen.

“Mother.” He called out as he walked over and sat down next to her on a smaller stool.

“Y/n. My beautiful boy. How are you? Are you going to go riding again?” She asked as she fanned herself.

“Yes, Seiphax has grown restless within the pit. I heard from the Dragonkeepers that they would cry out at night.” A smile adored his features, the carefree nature of his was on full display.

Y/n’s eyes fell to his mother’s belly, swollen with child. Aemma saw this and laughed. “Your new sibling will be here soon.”

“Mother, I worry for you. You keep on trying pushing out heirs, your body will be eventually destroyed, you cannot keep this up.” He said with worry. “Father already has me as heir, why does he need anymore children? Does he not know of your miscarriages?” 

Aemma gestured for her son to come forward, putting a piece of hair behind his ear when he got close enough. “Queen Alyssa had nine children..” Y/n rolled his eyes and pulled away from her. “I know, you have told me that since I have not wanted to marry.”

“As queens, we have to do our duty to the realm.” Y/n crossed his arms before his eyes. “But mother…”

He shut up as he saw Aemma give him the ‘look’. Letting out a sigh before putting up his hands in defense. “Alright. Alright. I’m just gonna go…I will think about my marriage I guess.” Y/n turned and left the room, going to the dragon pit and mounting Seiphax.

Taking to the skies, getting as far away as possible from King’s Landing at the moment. If he was not heir, he would have already fled across the Narrow Sea and escaped and lived freely.

His dragon was the same size as Caraxes, if not bigger, its wingspan was bigger than the Blood Wyrm but its neck was not snake-like. The scales were a shiny black color, when the dragon first hatched his father had thought it was Balerion reincarnated. 

Within the clouds, above all cities and the people, the wind that blew through his hair gave him the peace he wished he could have. Any other boy would love to be in his position as prince. He knew of what the smallfolk said about him.

The dragon sat in midair as it floated above the clouds. Y/n’s bond with his dragon was strong, sometimes even without High Valyrian, it was like his dragon could understand what he wanted to do.

Y/n was beginning to slip off the saddle, his dragon realized what he was going to. His body weight shifted all to one side and soon he was free falling to the ocean below. Seiphax flew after him, flying as fast as they could and eventually caught him on his back again.  

“Just let me fall Seiphax…..” Was all he said before he took control of the dragon again and flew back to King’s Landing.

Landing back down at the Dragon Pit’s entrance, he got off as he soothed the beast. “Good to see you back prince. Your sister arrived not long after you left.” He walked over to the horse they had brought for him.

“Right. Let’s get back to the Keep before my father freaks out again.” 

—-------------

Things have moved too fast for him, the tourney, the death of his mother and brother, his uncle getting exiled, his father getting remarried, Alicent getting pregnant, having a half-brother, Rhaenyra getting betrothed, the wedding leading to someone dying.

Time flew by and soon ten years had gone by, he was in the same if not worst state he was in before. His nephews and half-siblings have grown up now, all were now at least children that could understand the world that goes around them.

His uncle has married Lady Laena Velayron, giving him twin girls of pure Valyrian blood; Baela and Rhaena. 

His sister getting pregnant again with her third child.

Everyone around him is getting on with their lives, but him, Y/n was heir, and yet he was still alone. Every time they talked about him getting married he managed to sneak away to the dragon pit and fly off into the skies, he would fly for hours and would not come back unless they dropped the topic on his arrival back.

This day, when he arrived back to the Red Keep he saw his sister walking the halls with a newborn in her arms. He saw his brother-in-law Laenor helping her as she had a limp, he went over and got her other arm. 

“Sister, why are you walking? You should be resting after your labors.” His voice was laced with concern.

“The queen has asked for the baby.” Laenor replied, disgust written all over it.

“Again? Thought we were over this.” Y/n shook his head.

“That’s exactly what I said.” The other male said with a sigh.

Soon, they arrived at the queen’s chambers. Even Alicent looked shocked at Rhaenyra walking. 

Y/n could only stand awkwardly to the side as he eyed everyone and practically everything in the room. His father walked in shortly after, but he could care less. He knew more than everyone else in this room, he knew it was all the Hightowers doing, he knew Alicent was the one spreading the rumors, Otto Hightower was the vulture he wanted to hunt and shoot through the eye with an arrow. 

Alicent then came over to him. “Prince Y/n. Your sister has delivered another healthy babe, it is only a matter of time before you need heirs of your own. Me and your father can find you a suitable match..-”

Y/n groaned and rolled his eyes. “Stop. Your grace.” He began to turn away. Y/n gave a silent glare before leaning in and whispering into her ear. “I know you and what you are, a snake and a vulture on the throne. Once my father is gone and dead and cold in his grave, you will overlook me and my sister and install your own children on the throne. If your father did see me as the true heir, he would not have made you marry my father. He only wishes to see his own blood on the Iron Throne.” 

Pulling away, a frown was on his lips. Alicent had an unreadable expression, she was stunned at first but then spoke up anyway. “I’m sure that is not what my father intended for my prince. You are the first born to King Viserys, you are the heir with no doubt.” 

Y/n could only scoff as he decided to walk out of the room, going off to the dragon pit again as he wanted the comfort of his dragon.

His dragon has grown double in size, almost bigger than any dragon in the realm save for Vhagar. It was bigger than Caraxes, bigger than Vermithor, bigger than Dreamfyre. 

Perhaps it really was Balerion again. 

—-------------

Lady Laena has died to Vhagar, setting herself aflame by the dragon’s fire. Everyone was gathered on Driftmark to her funeral, the princes and princesses clearly seemed bored and did not want to be there. 

Y/n stood next to his half-sister Helaena, he was her elder by many years, but Helaena thought comfort in him. Y/n knew she was a shy girl, and did not want to converse with others often. He saw Rhaenyra in the distance, he excused himself to go see his sister.

“Nyra…I know you want to see him.” He said, taking a goblet and filling it with wine.

“I do not know what you speak of brother.” 

She was still trying to deny it, he knew this well. “I know how you look at uncle. You can’t fool me.” 

He did not say anything more, he wanted to drink and get rid of this unnecessary stress. Standing off to the side as he drank, soon his half-brother Aegon spotted him. The boy came over to him, also holding a cup in his hand. “Drinking so soon brother?” The younger asked.

“I should be asking you that, though it’s not a surprise considering it’s you. Guess you take after me.” Downing his wine in one gulp.

“Guess I do, I don’t really see that being a bad thing.”

Y/n gave him a warning glare before walking away. His family has not been the same ever since Alicent married his father, and at this rate there was more infighting going on then Aegon’s conquest to conquer the Seven Kingdoms.

He walked away from the ceremony and to sanded areas of Driftmark. His dragon slept along and behind one of the hills, spotting it was easy as the black scales shimmered in the sunlight.

Seiphax growled as he sensed Y/n’s presence, nuzzling into his rider’s warmth as Y/n patted its snout and soothed him. Seiphax growled more, suggesting to his rider that he wanted to fly and stretch its wings. “I know boy, I’ll take you tonight. How’s that?” The dragon growled in delight at the question.

“Alright. I will be back. Right now I need to go….” He cut himself off, he felt a strong urge to do something.

“I will come back. Just rest for now, yeah?” He patted the dragon’s snout before walking away. 

His hand on his sword, though there was no need to bring a sword to the funeral, Y/n does not part with his blade.

Y/n wandered for a while, he does not know where he went, he just knows he ended up in a forest. There was something pulling him here, and he answered the call. 

The further he got into the forest, the pull began to get stronger. He got to an area where some people were gathered, it was there he felt it. He felt something pushing towards them, his hand gripped his sword harder than before. 

“Kill..”

“Huh?” He heard a voice, he was sure of it.

“Kill them all..” 

“What?” The voice was there, he could not have been wrong. 

“Kill them and prove your worth..” 

He walked closer to the gathered folk, seeing them up close, he realized who they were. They bore the sigil of the Hightower, wearing the green colors with pride, the tower sigil representing their power. 

Seeing it made his blood boil.

“Do you remember the dress Alicent wore on your sister’s wedding day? It was green. What colors does the tower fire glow when Oldtown calls its banners to war?”

“Green..” His voice was laced with hatred. It was clear to him now what Alicent did when she wore such a dress. Queen Visenya should have burned the faith and the Hightowers down when she had the chance.

Unsheathing his sword, he walked, then it turned into a run then a full on sprint. 

He plunged his sword into the first man, after that everything was a blur. He fully blacked out.

—---------

Vhagar had been claimed, but nothing was without a price. Prince Aemond has lost an eye, cut out by his own nephew Luke.

Everyone was gathered back to the main hall, Aemond was getting his eye stitched up after getting it fully taken out. Luke had a broken nose, the others all had bruises. Aemond was trying so hard not to scream, in the moment he wanted to hold his half-brother's hand, Y/n was the only one who did not judge him for not having a dragon.

“Jace? Luke!” Rhaenyra bursts into the room, going to check on her children.

“Where is my son? Where is my heir?!” Viserys shouted at the guards, the kingsguard could only look at each other as they knew not of where Y/n was.

“We have not seen him at the fight Your Grace, perhaps he was still in bed.” One of them said, unsure of his answer. 

Viserys looked toward the kids, looking for some sort of answer to where his heir would be. Most of the children looked away, not knowing where Y/n was at all. All except for one, Helaena, but she stood still as she casted her gaze towards the ground instead. She was mumbling under her breath, but no one managed to catch what it was. 

Aegon stood off to the side as he was drunk and asleep but then woken up by everyone else, he didn’t know anything and yet here he was standing here as if he was on trial for a crime. Aemond sat in the chair with only one remaining good eye, he also did not see his half-brother during his fight, or even when he claimed Vhagar. 

Jace and Luke both looked away not knowing where their uncle was, Luke clutched onto his mother’s dress skirts and tried to hide behind her as much as possible. Jace just stood, his eyes anywhere but to look at his grandsire. Rhaenyra had a hand on Luke’s back as she tried to comfort him. 

Alicent could only look away as she also did not know, she stood over Aemond as she tried to offer some sort of comfort to her son who had just lost an eye. Squeezing his hand in hers as they both stayed silent. 

“Does anyone know where in the seven hells Y/n might be?!” Viserys shouted again, no doubt some of the kids flinched at his tone.

“Father..” Rhaenyra pleaded.

“The towers that glowed green, they would be engulfed in dragon flame..” 

Helaena mumbled under her breath, the only person close enough to her was Aegon, but he only brushed it off as nonsense.

“So does no one know where my son is?” He looked towards his guards again.

“He was not in bed.” Aemond finally said. “I have not seen him since the ceremony.”

“When did you last see him, Aemond?” 

“He was with Aegon.”

“Me?”

Viserys then turned to his second son. “And you boy? Where is your brother?” Aegon did not reply.

“AEGON! Your king demands an answer!”

“None of the children has seen him since the ceremony. Indulging his dragon I would believe, I saw him walk away.” Alicent finally spoke up.

“The towers that glowed green, they would be engulfed in dragon flame..” 

Helaena continued to mumble.

“Send people out to look for him, check where his dragon is.” Viserys said to the guards as they bowed.

“Husband, Aemond has lost an eye! We can look for him in the morning, but his eye cannot.” Alicent argued, she wanted justice for her son.

“I cannot restore his eye, Alicent.” Viserys said sadly. 

“Because it has been taken! He’s your son Viserys! Your blood!” She was on the verge of crying and shedding tears.

“My sons were the ones that were attacked and forced to defend themselves! If my brother were here he would say the same. Vile insults were levied against them.” Rhaenyra said, pushing the two boys behind them.

“What insults?” Viserys was now confused.

“The legitimacy of son’s birth were put loudly to question.” Rhaenyra chose her words carefully.  

“He called us bastards.” Jace added, looking back at Rhaenyra.

“Wh-” Viserys was cut off as a guard came into the room, catching his breath as if he just ran a couple of miles.

“The Heir’s dragon…” He said catching his breath.

“What? What has happened to Seiphax?” 

“The dragon was flying by itself! The prince was nowhere in sight!” The guard managed to say.

At that moment, before anyone could say anything about it, a loud roar could be heard from outside of the Castle. The roar was so loud it seemed like it shook the whole of Driftmark itself. 

The room went silent, the adults took the kids to bed as the guards went outside and assessed the situation. Rhaenyra took the kids to bed, she looked over to Daemon and silently told him to bring her brother home.

—---------

A dragon with shiny black scales can be seen flying overhead of Driftmark, taking to the skies and disappearing among the stars.  Its scales make it blend in perfectly.

Flying under the moonlight, flying over to the distant forest. It slowly lowered itself down in the middle of the forest. Folding its wings in and dipping its head down, a hand slowly patted him. 

“It’s alright boy, you found me.” Seiphax let out a low growl, turning its head to the dead bodies that lay upon the grass and dirt of the forest floor, the blood slowly sinking into the earth below.

The dragon eyes narrowed at the dead, through his eyes, he was asking if it was his rider that killed them. And Y/n already knew. “It was me. I first thought they were fake and I had thought I had gone mad, but since you can see them I don’t know anymore. Maybe you can see them because we are bonded.” 

He leaned his forehead onto the cold scales of Seiphax, as if telling the beast he was still alright. Y/n then pulled back and went to grab where his saddle was, getting on top and making himself comfortable before yelling out a single command.

“Dracarys.” 

The dragon readied itself before spitting out its flames, burning the corpses of the hightower. Y/n watched as the banner of Oldtown fell, the red and yellow flames engulfed the green. However, the flames begin to change, they begin to darken, turning to a pitch black color. 

Soon the flames came to an end, Y/n felt a sense of relief as he watched the corpses burn to nothing. The only thing left was a banner of a half-burnt Hightower banner, and the burnt grass below that has been scorched. “Soves.” Was the only word that left his lips, the dragon spread its wings out but not entirely, before taking off into the sky once again.

“I owe you this flight.” Seiphax let out a sound that sounded like he was laughing, which brought a smile to Y/n’s face. 

They flew to a different mountain cliff, Y/n sat cross-legged as his dragon climbed over the top of the rocks behind him. He managed to get some sleep, just barely as they soon saw the sun rise over the horizon. 

He has never seen a full sunrise before, not out in the wilderness where the nature of things go undisturbed. It was silent save for the sounds of birds and the wind blowing, nothing else was there to disturb him. There were no people, no family drama, no politics, no duties, no pressure of being the heir. He can just relax.

However, nothing ever lasts forever. It was not long until he heard the screech of the blood wyrm, telling him that his uncle was nearby and ready to take him home. Upon hearing the red dragon, his own dragon Seiphax climbed over the hill of rocks and also roared at it. 

Daemon was taken back at how big his nephew’s dragon has actually gotten over the ten years, now it was bigger than any other dragon in the realm, it was bigger than Caraxes he was sure. In a few years it could even rival Vhagar. 

“Nephew. Let’s go.” Daemon simply said. Y/n looked tired, but he only shook his head not wanting to move. “Everyone wants you back. Your father is worried.” Daemon said again.

“No.” Y/n said. “I hate going back. Everytime I go back, the snakes and vultures that rule within my father’s council only wish to see me fall! They do not care if I am the heir, they do not think I am ready to rule. They would rather have my brother because he has the conqueror’s name!” He yelled out, almost all of the pent anger from over the years. 

Daemon got off of Caraxes and went next to his nephew, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Then prove it.” Daemon said.

“What?” 

“I hate the Hightowers as much as you do. Only you and me and Rhaenyra see what they truly are. We are the blood of Old Valyria. Our ancestors were conquerors, we don’t wait until the moment. We take it, either if they are willing or unwilling.” 

That moment, something lit up inside of the heir. If it was only a spark before, it had turned into a flame, a flame that cannot be tamed no matter how much you throw it at the tides.

—---------

Moving to Dragonstone with his sister and uncle may not have been a smart move, however, Y/n refused to stay at the court of green any longer. After Rhaenyra and Daemon married, he had hopped onto Seiphax and flew to Dragonstone by daybreak. 

Little did he know how fast time moves, six years has passed, now returning to King’s Landing to defend his nephew Luke’s title as the future Lord of the Tides. 

The wheelhouse went from the dragonpit to the Red Keep, and when it stopped Y/n mentally prepared himself as he stepped out after Daemon.

“Y/n Targaryen, First of his name, Prince of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne.” They announced his arrival. 

Once they went inside, he no longer saw the Targaryen sigils of the three-headed dragon. Instead it was all replaced by the seven-pointed star of the Faith of the Seven; the Hightowers have taken over the Keep that was built by their ancestors. 

“I would say it is nice to come home, but I barely recognize it anymore.” He and Rhaenyra said at the same time, they looked at each before he nodded for them to proceed. 

They walked the halls they had grown up in, the familiar hallways and corridors became weird and no longer felt like it was home. Their steps stopped as they reached the doors of the King’s chambers. 

Y/n went over to his father, seeing him practically bedridden brought him a sense of sadness. He promises that he will burn House Hightower to the ground. 

“Father, it's me. Y/n.” He spoke quietly.

“Y/n? Oh Y/n…my heir…” Was all Viserys could say before Y/n pulled away to let his sister take over. 

“I’m going out.” He said to Daemon before he left, which Daemon gave him a nod to.

In truth, Y/n had no idea where he was going to go. He wandered around for a while trying to clear his head, but soon he found himself in the training yard.

He saw his nephews there as well, watching someone going against Ser Criston Cole. When the view changed, he saw the silver haired prince was none other than his half-brother Aemond.

Something was definitely going to go wrong. 

During the council to determine Luke’s claim to Driftmark, halfway through King Viserys came in after all. Viserys deemed his grandson Lucerys the rightful heir to Driftmark and yet Vaemond would not have it, Viserys decided to also have Y/n say who he would pledge to as the rightful future Lord of the Tides.

“I would pledge to my nephew Lucerys Velaryon as the future Lord of the Tides, as the heir I will have him rule driftmark while Jacecerys will have a place in my court.” Y/n said with his head held high for the Hightowers to see, he has not even spit fire yet and they looked scared in the mere presence of a dragon. Scratch that, they were in a room of dragons and yet they were only scared of one.

“You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine! My house survived the doom! And a hundred tribulations besides! And I will not see it ended on the account of this-”

“Say it.” Daemon whispered as he nudged Y/n on the elbow.

“Her children are BASTARDS! And she is a whore.” Vaemond spat. Many gasped around the throne room.

“I will have your tongue for that.” Viserys managed to say as he got out the conqueror’s blade.

Y/n in one swift movement cut off the top of Vaemond’s head, just above where his tongue was. “He can keep his tongue.” He said, looking down at the corpse, before tearing his gaze to the Hightowers; especially Otto. 

“Disarm him!” Otto yelled, but no guard dared to move. 

“I am the heir, you have no say over me. No. Fucking. Need.” He wiped off his blade and sheathed it.

That was the first taste of fire the Hightowers got directly coming from Y/n Targaryen, it will surely not be the last that they see such flames.

—---------

The family dinner was a disaster, Y/n managed to break up the fight between his half-brothers and his nephews before it got even worse. 

They left that night on dragon-back, getting away and hoping the drama between everyone would die down for a while.

Little did they know that Viserys passed away just as quickly, and soon the greens have taken advantage and have usurped the throne from the rightful heir and placed Aegon on the throne.

While Y/n was on Dragonstone, he had no idea of what had happened. Until Daemon came and told him. 

Which led to this very moment.

Standing around the painted table, plotting the war to get Y/n back on the throne. While the men were all standing around the table, pointing out possible allies and places for resources if possible. Y/n stood next to his sister, unsure of what he needed to do, this is the worst he had feared of what was going to happen and now it has become reality.

“The greens also have dragons uncle, there has not been a dragon fighting another dragon since Maegor’s reign.” Y/n argued. 

“We also have dragons. They have three adult ones by my count, we have Seiphax, Syrax, Caraxes, Vermax, Arrax, Tyraxes, Meleys. Baela has Moondancer. There is also Seasmoke who is riderless, there are also wild dragons here on Dragonstone. We have over ten to their three, we easily outnumber them.” Daemon said, wanting to already have this war started.

“No.” All eyes turned to Y/n now. 

“What do you mean Your Grace?” One of the Maesters asked.

“If we go after them with force, we will only come back with broken bones, injuries, burn marks and most likely dead dragons. I would not underestimate Aegon so easily.” Y/n spoke, focused on the map in front of him. 

His eyes drifted to the end of the table, there was always one place that the greens would have control so easily, that place also had one more dragon. 

“No one takes action unless I say so. Get as many allies as we possibly can, prepare the ravens Maester.” He said walking around the table, getting to the other end of it. The bottom of the map where the name Oldtown sat. 

“We should bear those messages uncle.” Jace offered.

“Did you not hear what I said? I will be the only one taking action unless I give you permission. You need to stay here in case something goes wrong with me. Do you understand?” Y/n’s gaze hardened on his nephew.

Jace nodded at his uncle’s words. Rhaenyra on the other hand followed her brother out of the room. 

“Brother, what are you doing? We can’t sit by and do nothing while Aegon sits on your throne.” Rhaenyra spoke quickly. 

“Who said I’m doing nothing? The best way to handle such things is not to go after it with force, but rather use what we can to force it out. The greens will be on their knees begging for mercy after what I do.” Y/n turned away with a wicked smile.

Going to Seiphax, climbing onto its saddle that was just barely able to be put onto the dragon’s back, it seemed that the black-scaled dragon had once again doubled in size. It was almost as big as, if not bigger than Vhagar.

“Soves!” Seiphax took to the skies once more, this time it was not for anything nice. 

They flew south for three days, before they finally got a glimpse of Oldtown from above. The city has not yet seen the dragon, but Y/n did not care as he began to fly lower and lower, until the entire city had the dragon’s shadow over it.

And that is when he heard it, the battle horn being blown. Oldtown has called its banners to war.

The fire of the tower had turned green, the banners of House Hightower rose as the armies formed quickly to defend its city. But what could they do against a dragon? Nothing. 

Y/n’s target was not the city first, it was the Starry Sept. The place where the high Septon had once called his family 'abominations’. Queen Visenya was right, they should have burnt it down while they had the chance. Visenya had once said to King Aenys to burn it down and turn it to a second Harrenhal, well it was going to be just that. 

Circling above the Starry Sept before he flew down quickly and yelled out a single command. 

“Dracarys!” Seiphax complied with his rider’s command and began to set aflame to the sept, roasting whoever was still inside. 

Y/n had Seiphax breathe his flames over the sept at least five times before he decided to burn the city; the dragon’s flames were no longer red or yellow, but rather the flames had turned black. 

The burning of Oldtown as a whole had turned into a second Harrenhal, the city was engulfed in Seiphax’s black flames. Y/n had single handedly destroyed the entire line of House Hightower, as no one had managed to get out of the city under his eyes. The Hightowers all hid inside of their home, the dragon’s black flames engulfed them entirely and soon were nothing more than ash and bone. 

What Y/n did not expect was another dragon meeting him in the sky, it was Tessarion and its rider Daeron Targaryen; the youngest son of Viserys and Alicent Hightower. However, Tessarion was no match for the powerful Seiphax. 

Tessarion circled around the bigger dragon making it harder for Seiphax to catch him, but what Daeron did not know was that Y/n had no intention of backing down, Y/n’s goal was to kill the dragon.

Tessarion continued to circle the bigger dragon until Seiphax had enough and began to charge, turning its head to follow the smaller and its circling. The bigger dragon followed its movements before speeding up, its wings catching the wind as it went after Tessarion. Seiphax blew its fire towards Tessarion hoping to slow him down, the smaller dragon slowed down but Seiphax managed to catch up completely. Daeron managed to get his dragon to duck out of the way, but this only caused the dragon’s downfall.

When Tessarion moved away, Seiphax flapped its wings harder to speed up. Seiphax comes up on the right side of Daeron’s dragon before digging its teeth into Tessarion’s right side, the bite was not deep as Seiphax retreated its bite. 

Only for Seiphax to rip out Tessarion’s right wing. The blue queen roared out in pain before it began to fall towards the earth. Daeron tried to hold onto the ropes of his saddle, but his grip slipped and began to free fall. Y/n had Seiphax fly downwards, the heir had managed to grab ahold of Daeron’s arm and pulled him up.

Daeron tried to kill Y/n as he pulled out a dagger and attempted to slice the other’s throat open. The older dodged out of the way and slapped the dagger out of his hands. “You do anything else, I will drop you. No one, not even your own mother will find your remains.” Y/n spat with a glare, looking over his shoulder. 

Daeron could do nothing, his dragon had just died, he had no other weapon, Oldtown was burning, all of the Hightowers had died. There was no one to help him anymore, he could only do as his half-brother says and hope for the best that he does not die. 

Seiphax flew back to Dragonstone in only two days' time, the dragon picked up speed and managed to get back early. The morning they arrived back, everyone had been awoken by the sound of wings flapping outside and a roar that shook the earth. Landing beside the castle of Dragonstone, Seiphax let his rider down along with his hostage. 

Dragonkeepers and guards gathered around to see what had happened, many were shocked to see Prince Daeron covered in ash and soot, but was also surprised to see Tessarion was nowhere in sight. 

“Your grace, what has happened.” 

Y/n pushed Daeron to move forward as he got off of Seiphax. “I’ll explain inside. Put his hands in chains, he has already tried to kill me on my dragon.” The guards nodded and took Daeron away. Y/n gestured for the maesters to follow him inside. 

Walking through the gates of the castle, he was greeted by different guards, servants and a very worried Rhaenyra. “Brother, what did you do? I just saw Daeron being taken away by the guards, did you go to Oldtown?” She asked, tugging on his sleeve.

They walked to the room with the painted table, where a bunch of lords and Daemon were present as well as his nephews. He waited for everyone to quiet down before speaking.

“Oldtown is in flames. The Starry Sept is burnt down, every member of house Hightower is dead within Oldtown. I have captured prince Daeron, for now he is our hostage. He is defenseless, he has no one to help him.” Y/n simply said. Daemon had a smile on his lips as he heard the words of his nephew.

Everyone around the table began to whisper, but no one dared to actually speak up against the heir, that is until Princess Rhaenys spoke up. 

“Your grace, when I fled from the dragon pit I could have burnt them but I chose not to. Because that would have been the starting of a war, I would not have it start because of me. But now, Oldtown and the Starry Sept have been burnt, Alicent would not hesitate to come after us and burn us as well.” Rhaenys reasoned. 

Y/n’s lips pulled into a wicked smile. “Why do you think I have Daeron?” The room was silent, all one could hear was the fire cracking.

“Alicent would be too scared to come after us, the only thing she can do is order Aegon around. But, if we have enough allies secured, and we have Daeron as a bargaining chip. She would not dare have Aegon hurt him. Once word reached to her Oldtown has been burnt to ash, she will know who she is dealing with.” The last part felt like spitting fire, the flame within has been caged for too long now he was letting it out.

“If the greens do decide to fight back? What then?” Someone asked. 

“If they do decide to fight back, we still have enough dragons to outnumber them. Along with armies and allies, we can have every green’s head on a spike before the fucking moon turns.” Daemon said, his words made Y/n smile.

“We are Targaryens. If it is me who started this war, I will see it to the end. Descended from conquerors, we do not run from our fight.” 

Rhaenyra looked to her brother and smiled, same with Rhaenys through her eyes said ‘you know the consequences’. Daemon smiled, Jace, Luke, Rhaena and Baela all looked at each other knowing they would win.

Everyone else in the room begins to plot their battle strategies, seeing which allies they have and who has been secured. 

Soon enough, word had reached Alicent Hightower and her father that Oldtown had been burnt down. They say it was a black dragon that was as big as Vhagar that had done it, no one had made it out of the city. 

Alicent already knew it was Y/n, years ago Y/n told her that he knew of her family’s intention, and now she was paying the price for not taking the words seriously. Days later, a raven arrived at the Red Keep telling Alicent that her youngest son Daeron was on Dragonstone being held hostage. 

‘If you want your son back, dethrone Aegon and I will take my place as the rightful heir. I will spare your family, your children will have places in my court and no harm shall come to them. Make your decision quickly. Not much of my patience remains.’ 

That was what the letter wrote, Alicent did not know what to do. Y/n would not put her children to the sword if she surrendered, but Aegon was still on the throne and now he would not back down so easily. So, she merely told Aegon to go and speak with Y/n, bring Aemond if he wished. 

A week later, Aegon showed up with Aemond on both Sunfyre and Vhagar. Y/n had been expecting them, and so Seiphax was behind him. The dragon was now seen as bigger than Vhagar. 

“Brothers. Come to take back my hostage?” Y/n said in an unusual tone of voice.

“Give us back Daeron, and no one would get hurt.” Aegon spoke sternly. 

Y/n let out a heartful laugh before replying. “Hurt me? Have you seen Seiphax? He could destroy you both! But enough about me, you would at least want to see Daeron right?” He gestured with his hand to bring him forward.

They made Daeron kneel as he was brought forward, Aegon and Aemond were stunned to see their brother in chains. “Let him go.”

“And you promise to dethrone yourself, Aegon?” The said male stayed silent. “No, I didn't think so.” 

Meleys and Caraxes landed behind them. “So what will it be?” Aegon and Aemond both unsheathed their swords.

This battle went down in history as the one the bloodiest duels that ever happened during the Targaryen civil war. 

Y/n Targaryen had managed to disarm both Aemond and Aegon before he injured them badly that they could not even move, one of Aemond’s hands had suffered so much damage that it would not stop shaking. When given the opportunity to pick up his sword again, the sword would slip through and his hand could not even lift it. Aegon on the other hand had both of his legs broken so he could not stand, but as Y/n claimed it so that ‘you may never go back on Sunfyre and fly again.’ 

Both of Aemond’s legs had also been slashed and stabbed as well, this was done because Y/n said it was ‘your consequence of following your brother.’ 

Their dragons did not have any easier fate. 

Meleys had managed to injure Sunfyre and rip off one of its wings. 

Caraxes had almost killed Vhagar if it wasn’t for Y/n telling Daemon to stop. 

“It is Queen Visenya’s dragon, let it be. If it dies, it should die on Dragonstone, the place it was hatched.” 

Both Aegon and Aemond had stayed on Dragonstone for a few days before they left for King’s Landing. 

The smallfolk looked up and saw large shadows of multiple dragons; Seiphax, Syrax and Caraxes. Y/n, Rhaenyra and Daemon were back, Y/n had come for his throne. 

The queen stood in front of the gates with Helaena, shielding her from the three that had just landed. Rhaenyra and Daemon had dragged Aegon and Aemond beside them, the queen was horrified to see her sons broken and hurt.

“Dethrone your son Alicent.” Bringing Aegon beside him and pulling him up as he could not stand, Y/n unsheathed a dagger from his belt and put it to the underside of Aegon’s neck. “Or I will do it myself.” 

“Mother…please…” Aegon practically begged and pleaded to his mother that she do as his brother wanted. Alicent could only nod as she blinked back tears.

“Wait…where is Daeron?” She dared to ask. Y/n tilted his head as he sheathed his dagger. 

“I am true to my word unlike you. He is safe on Dragonstone, after I am crowned he will be brought here. He will be properly taken care of.” He handed Aegon over to Rhaenyra as he began to walk inside. 

Pushing open the doors of the throne room, the guards almost attacked him but then stopped as they saw their king in the hands of Rhaenyra not being able to walk, while Aemond was being held by Daemon who had Dark Sister strapped to his belt. 

Walking up the steps to the Iron Throne before he finally sat down, he had got the throne but there was something missing. And he knew what it was.

Going down to Aegon as on top of his brother’s head was still the conqueror’s crown, taking it for himself but his uncle Daemon offered to crown him. Y/n nodded as he knelt down as Daemon put the crown up on top of his nephew’s head.

This was a temporary crowning as the ceremony will be the official one that deems Y/n king of the realm. But, Y/n had a reason he wanted the crown now.

“Bring Otto Hightower to me.” He said to the guards, Daemon glared at them which made them comply, but also because of their scared queen.

Otto was soon brought into the room, looking confused before his expression turned that into a scared one. “Your grace…” Was all he could say.

“Otto, you really are a snake. My father could not see it, but I surely can. Even from a young age I could tell all you wanted was your own blood on the throne. But look here we are, your grandsons barely able to move or even just stand.” Y/n said all with a wide smile.

“You got what you wanted, but why did you burn down Oldtown?! My family had no part in this!” Otto shouted back.

“Right, it wasn’t the Starry Sept that called my family abominations. It was not Oldtown that supported Alicent to do what she did. But, that was all in the past. The real reason?” Everyone waited for his answer.

“History remembers names, not blood. If this war was fought and we still won, it would be Aegon’s name that is remembered, not mine. I needed to do something I could be remembered for when I sit on this throne. I turned Oldtown into a second Harrenhal.” The wicked smile is not leaving his face.

 Before Otto could even reply, Y/n had gestured for Daemon to put on his sword to the Hand’s neck. And with one hand gesture, Daemon slit Otto’s throat. 

“Tell servants to clean up the mess. Take Aegon and Aemond to the maester to get treated, I have other things I must see to.” Was all Y/n said as he left the room.

Daemon and Rhaenyra looked at each other before nodding, they would go back to Dragonstone to prepare for everything else. 

Seven days passed before Y/n Targaryen was officially crowned as the ruler of Westeros and of the Seven Kingdoms as a whole, they found a septon that had remained in King’s Landing to host it. Daemon may or may not have threatened him a bunch of times.

During the coronation, Y/n’s family all stood to the side. His half-siblings on one, while Rhaenyra and Daemon and his nephews stood to the other. 

“Y/n Targaryen, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” 

With that, the conqueror’s crown was placed on his head. Looking to the crowd as he unsheathed Blackfyre. The crowd cheered for him as they saw the rise of their new king. Daemon was now his hand and so was Rhaenyra, it was the only time in Targaryen history that a single king had two hand of the king. 

Aegon and Aemond were given places in court as Masters of Whispers, Helaena became Rhaenyra’s lady-in-waiting, Daeron was with his brothers but he became a personal guard to court. To Y/n, they were still family and in their youth they had been friends at one point. 

Alicent. She was basically on house arrest as she was not allowed to leave the Keep. Her children took care of her as she grew older. 

Y/n never did marry. He refused to have children, and as he was crowned he made it so that his sister would succeed him if he died, and Daemon would be king consort alongside her. Then, Jacereys would take after her. 

Aegon and Aemond never again flew on their dragons nor did they ever pick up a sword, but they knew they were already spared from their brother’s executioner. Same with Daeron as well. All three men knew they were already far from the flames of Seiphax.

The Targaryen civil war that would be known as the dance of the dragons would go down in history, however, the final act to end the war for everyone to remember is that Prince Y/n Targaryen burnt down Oldtown and the Starry Sept beyond repair. But also, he would be remembered for ending the entire Hightower bloodline single-handedly, turning that city into a second Harrenhal. 

His dragon will also be remembered as they lived beyond the king’s years. 

Seiphax; the second Balerion.

Y/n Targaryen would go down in history being remembered as a king. 

His title?

King Y/n ‘two-faced’ Targaryen. First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

The unpredictable king. The virgin king. The second conqueror. 

But one thing was for sure.

He mended House Targaryen so they forever stood strong. 

Y/n Targaryen was the true blood of Old Valyria. Just like his ancestors, he was a true Targaryen.