#this is practically spoilers for a future chapter

[anotheroneforsmallthings]

I have once again flown too close to the sun, so to separate my long fics and their art, here's another blorbo account for blorbo purposes.

This one is Zelda flavoured this time.

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 3

Pairing: Millionaire!Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Rating: E, 18+, Minors dni

Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.

Chapter Summary: You decide it's time to put yourself on Joel's radar.

CW: Age gap (Joel 45, Reader 22), dual POV. Specific warnings in small red below the cut, do not read to avoid spoilers.

WC: 10k. Sorry, grab a snack!

AN: I'm continuously surprised by the love, excitement and joy that this story brings anyone but me. That probably doesn't even make sense, I'm just lost for words, tbh. Forehead kisses to @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @joelmillerisapunk, and @milla-frenchy for screaming with me or pre reading this for me. @lotusbxtch gets a forehead kiss and a tip of the nose kiss for deep dive beta reading this, she's solely responsible for every semi colon.

Series Masterlist || My Masterist

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates to be alerted for future chapters.

Content Warnings: Flirty, alcohol consumption, mentions of sexual acts, kissing, mutual pining, reader being pinned against a wall, sexual tension, touching. Reader does have some description so may be considered more of an OFC.

The week after Joel removed you from his club goes by in a well-scheduled blur. You work your usual three days, cleaning mansions of people who don’t tip as well as Mister Miller. You pour yourself over LSAT study guides, practicing insane logic questions. You enjoy a coffee date with Jamie who asks you what happened the night at the poker game. You tell her a practiced lie that feels like acid on your tongue as it leaves your lips. You hate lying to your friends, especially her. You can feel that lie sitting heavily on the top of your stomach the entire time you’re with her, but you simply cannot afford to get fired with three years of law school on the horizon. You spend an evening with your roommate, Odette, watching Netflix and eating dumplings from her favourite spot, the only spot in Austin that has those little white paper boxes with the red writing. 

If you decide not to lie to yourself, on top of everyone else, you also spend at least an hour a day watching videos of women tied up and dominated, thinking of Joel goddamn Miller the entire time. Since learning his full name, and the name of his club, the Google searches you swore you’d stop doing have been much more productive. You’ve found multiple blogs and Reddit posts, not just about kink, but also about Joel. It turns out that he’s well-known in the kink and BDSM communities around the world, but is essentially changing the face of kink in Austin. 

One night, you get lost in a Reddit wormhole of women in Texas, and one in Paris, who have been a submissive for a man that sounds a lot like Joel. They don’t actually mention him by name but there’s advice on what he likes and doesn’t like, and how he never actually has sex with any of his submissives. It also sounds like some of these women pay him to be their dom, and, based on the conversations in the comments of one thread, it seems like he has a few submissives at the moment, and majority of their interactions happen at the club. 

 The club. Fuck, Jamie wasn’t kidding when she said JMK was exclusive. Anyone can join, assuming you can pay the yearly membership fees that, according to Reddit, are around $80,000 per year. From the minimal, cryptic information you find, Joel Miller is the main owner and he has two business partners. One you assume is his brother that you served the other night, but the third you are unable to find any information about. 

Since everything you find online is up to interpretation, it’s hard to say what is and isn’t true. According to one disgruntled poster, once you become a member at JMKink, there are a lot of rules to follow. Everyone has to get tested monthly; it’s highly recommended that women are on birth control; and even if you’re married to the guest you bring, men must wear condoms. You can’t just bring anyone in with you: every member and their guest has an app, and the only way to get that app is from a QR code and an assigned activation code. According to another poster, the app is full of waivers and consent forms. You can’t stop the shy smile that crosses your face when you remember how concerned Joel was with your consent the first time you met. 

The Monday before your usual every-other-Tuesday shift at Joel’s, you find a blog post about becoming a submissive, and it’s like it was written just for you. The writer explains how she had a hard time shutting off her brain and how, by the end of the day, she was so exhausted from making decisions that all she wanted was someone to tell her what to do for once. This led to her and her husband exploring a sub/dom partnership. Now, she feels lighter and freer; they’ve both discovered new ways to get pleasure outside of the idea of sex that society feeds us. Being a submissive isn’t always about orgasms or pleasure; it’s helped her build confidence, and she’s found that as they progress, that little voice that tells her she isn't good enough has stopped being so loud. 

After reading through the post a few times, you shut your rose gold laptop and stare at the wall behind your desk. You feel seen, heard even though you didn’t speak. At first, you found yourself feeling ashamed of getting off to these videos, like there was something wrong with you for being turned on by it, but it’s really that ability to let go of control that you crave, the feeling of someone else making the decisions for once. You want that, but more so, you think you need that, and badly.

As a firm believer of ‘everything happens for a reason,’ it all comes together for you. You aren’t even nervous as the thought consumes you. If Joel shows up at his house, tomorrow I’m going to ask him to teach me. 

On Tuesday, you do as you always do, following Joel’s instructions to a tee while listening to a podcast. However, today you only wear one AirPod in hopes of hearing that familiar and comforting engine rev that signals him either coming or going. Every creak or pop of the house causes your heart to flutter, but it’s never him. Much to your chagrin, Joel doesn’t come home. 

Inside the envelope is that expensive matte black paper again, ‘Thanks -JM’ neatly written along it. 

Great, you think to yourself sarcastically, we are on initial terms again. 

Twelve hundred dollars is tucked into the envelope this time, you roll your eyes after thumbing the crisp green bills. The first tip you ever got from him felt sincere, but after walking in on him, and everything since then, it’s feeling more and more like apology money. You shouldn’t complain; people would kill to make this kind of money, but everything would be so much easier if he’d just fucking talk to you.

Your fingers run along the thick, rich paper that he uses as company letterhead. You can’t explain it, but the paper feels like Joel. It’s rough and thick, yet has a vulnerability to it, like you could easily destroy it with just a pinch of your fingers and a flick of your wrist. Your mind flashes back to his club the other night. He was literally begging you to leave, you can still hear it, the pleading in his voice as he said, “I’m sorry. I just can’t have you here, this is on me”. Your fingers trail across the golden ink of his neat handwriting and then open the paper the rest of the way. At the very bottom of the page, in shiny black print similar to the JMK logo at the top, is a phone number. Your heart slams against your ribcage as your eyes scan across the numbers.

  When you get home, you unfold the note on your kitchen counter and pace the three or four steps it takes to walk the length of your small kitchen, never taking your eyes off the paper, looking at it like it’s a live bomb or like it’s going to disappear if you let it out of your sight. This is it: you could call the office, make an appointment or something. You’d probably have to lie, but you just need to see him; you need to make a case for yourself. Your stomach lurches, throat tightening at the thought of being in the club with him again. You open the freezer and grab the bottle of tequila, taking a big swig right from the bottle. It’s a cold burn and you clench your eyes as you swallow it down. Your body shivers involuntarily.  

You dial before you can talk yourself out of it and before you know it you have an appointment under a fake name to speak to Joel tomorrow afternoon before your study group meets. You take two more large gulps of tequila after hanging up the phone. 

Fuck, this is really happening. You take another large sip of the frozen tequila for good measure, your nose scrunching up at the taste. 

Joel’s office isn’t attached to the club, it’s in a smaller building across the street and that has seemed to tamp some of the nerves that are vibrating your very core. Still, you can stop from nervously smoothing the wrinkles that have formed on the short, flowing skirt of your white sundress as you sit on the red velvet couch across from Joel’s receptionist. She is a small woman with a chin length bob, she’s probably in her late fifties and you wonder if her kids or grandkids know that she works for the owner of a kink club, or maybe she’s part of the community too. You’ve done copious amounts of research; kink isn’t just for young people, and you suppose Joel isn’t exactly young either. For all you know, she very well could be a dominatrix in her spare time. 

She says your fake name in a soothing tone as she stands and walks towards the tall black door, pulling it open effortlessly. “Go on in, sweetheart. Joel’s ready for you.”

You smile at her sweetly, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously as you walk over the threshold to try to convince the millionaire whose home you clean to dominate you. The air in his large, bright office feels heavy and thick. Blood rushes through your ears as he looks up at you from his seat. He slips off his 1950’s style black horn rimmed glasses and places them on his desk. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he assesses you. Your heart lurches, knees trembling as you take a few nervous steps towards his desk. As his eyes meet yours you feel it again, that exposed and naked feeling that only his gaze seems to be able to cast. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn such a short dress, but it’s an unseasonably warm March day and even before leaving your apartment you were sweating in a mix of nervousness and excitement. 

You see his lips move, but you can’t hear him over the pounding of your heart. You stop just past the door, then hear it click shut behind you. Joel’s silky lips move again and this time you hear your name followed by a calm, “What’re you doin’ here?”

The words come out before you even think about them, you practically yell them at him, “I want you to teach me.”

His hand waves to the chairs across his desk. When you don’t move he harshly says, “Sit.”

You rush across his expansive office, the plush carpet feels luxurious under your shoes. When you reach the black leather chair you sit on the very edge of the seat, your knee nervously bouncing up and down in time with your heart.

“You want me to do what?” He asks hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair. He looks absolutely beautiful in the late afternoon sun - orange hues reflecting off his tanned skin, the few greys along his temples glistening like the moon on the ocean. He’s in a black dress shirt again, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. You noticed today that he’s wearing a black watch and a gold ring on his right ring finger. Between his accessories and the veins that line his toned forearms your mouth goes dry.

“I - umm, I want you to teach me.”

The last word has barely passed your lips when he scoffs out, “No.”

Your face falls, “Joel, please. I’ve been doing research and I’ve decided that, well, that I want to be…that.”

He places his large palms on the desk, the square black diamond in his ring glittering in the sun, and pushes himself up. You crane your neck to look at him as he slips his hands into his pockets, his eyes already locked on yours. His intense eye contact wraps you up in a weighted blanket of safety and comfort, which is a dangerous and vulnerable place, a place that has the ability to rip you in half, much like you could do with that company letterhead he left you. He walks slowly to the other side of his desk. Once in front of you, he leans back onto it, keeping his hands in the pockets of his perfectly tailored black dress pants. 

“You can’t even say it.” He challenges. 

You furrow your brows, ready to confront him like you always seem to do. In the few interactions you’ve had with Joel, more often than not, it’s been him trying to tell you what to do, you fighting him over it, and then him ultimately winning. It’s infuriating, but not this time. No, this time you’re going to win. You have valid reasons to want this, and they’re all backed up by your research. You are leaving this office as his submissive. 

“I can too!” 

He shrugs his broad shoulders nonchalantly, “Say it then. You wanna learn how to do what, sweetheart?” 

You sit up tall on the edge of the chair, crossing your arms under your breasts, praying your cheeks don’t flush as you finally admit it out loud. “I want to learn how to be a submissive.”

“No.” One of his meaty hands comes out of his pocket, waving you off as he says it again.

“Please!” You plead, “I want to learn how to be a sub.” 

Joel actually squirms at the sound of you being so needy. He lets out a harsh ‘fuck’ under his breath and then whispers your name, “I can’t do this with you.”

Got him, you think to yourself, failing to fight the smirk as you lower your voice and sweetly beg, “Please, Mister Miller?” 

Joel ‘Your-Consent-is-Most-Important’ Miller is not a small man: his broad shoulders take up almost an entire door frame and he’s easily nearing six foot four, but at the sound of you calling him the one name he’s asked you not to, he moves faster than your brain can comprehend. You gasp as he lunges towards you, his hands landing on the arms of the chair, his wide shoulders pushing you back as he cages you in. Your exposed back hits the back of the chair, your short skirt riding up your thighs slightly. He is practically on top of you and for a second you can imagine that this is what having sex with him would look like. His knuckles blanch from gripping the arms of the chair so tightly, his eyes are practically black, and that familiar flush he gets when you challenge him paints his neck and cheeks.

His voice is deeper, thick with arousal, rattling your bones as he speaks slowly, “I said not to call me that. You can’t even…You can’t.” He shuts his eyes and takes a slow breath in through his nose. His tone softens as he opens his eyes, “No, I ain’t doin’ this with you, sweet girl.” 

You practically writhe in your chair. Sweet girl. He’s terrifying and commanding and so fucking beautiful like this. He obviously has a soft spot for when you beg, so you soften your eyes and stick out your velvety smooth bottom lip enticingly before whispering, “Please, Joel.” 

He lets out a groan as he pushes himself off the chair and walks towards the large wall of windows behind his desk, his hands resting on his tapered waist. He avoids your gaze as you sit up, squeezing your thighs together tightly to calm the need at your core. “Lemme set ya up with someone else. My brother Tommy. You were gettin’ him a drink at that poker game.”

“I remember,” you mumble, looking down at your hands like you always do when your lack of confidence gets the best of you. You can’t let that self-doubt creep in now, not when you’re this close. You look back towards his broad back. “But I really don’t want anyone else.”

“Why?” He spins towards you, the lighting behind him gives him an almost ethereal glow. There’s absolutely no denying it, Joel Miller is the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen.

You tuck your hands under your legs, simply stating, “I trust you.”

“You don’t even know me. I could be a horrible guy.”

You let out a sad laugh, shaking your head at him. He’s right, you don’t know him, but you have a feeling about him and you consider yourself pretty good at reading people. “You’ve never given me reason to think I couldn’t trust you. Even that first day. You were so calm and apologetic.”

Joel presses his lips in a thin line, eyes raking over you. You subconsciously slip your bottom lip between your teeth, and a muscle in his jaw flexes. “How old are you?”

“Twenty two,” you immediately regret lying; the avenue of trust is of utmost importance between a submissive and their dominant, so you quickly add, “Almost, I turn twenty two on Friday.”

 “I can’t do this.” He croaks and you can’t help but feel a little bad. You’ve put him in an uncomfortable position and his voice sounds defeated. 

“Please. I always felt I needed more but,” you stand up and take a few slow steps in his direction. “But…I didn’t know what more was and I - I think it’s this.” You audibly swallow pleading, “Please. I need you to help me. I want you to help me. Teach me.” 

He holds his hands up and steps back as you inch closer. A silent call that signals you to stop or that he doesn’t trust himself, not here, not with you. “Jus’ let me set ya up with Tommy. You’re his type.” 

Your heart sinks and an acidic taste lines your tongue. Of course. You aren’t that tall, slender icy blonde girl he had strapped to his desk. No, you have curves, and stretch marks along your hips, your boobs are a B cup on a good day. He can get whatever woman he wants, why would it be you? You look down at your hands, pushing back the nonexistent cuticle on your right thumb. This nervous habit of yours used to drive your mom crazy, ‘you’re going to have no skin left soon’ she’d lecture, but you can’t help it. The immediate result of the nail bed looking clean and perfect is like a dopamine hit. It leaves you with a feeling of accomplishment. The problem is, the initial confidence you had about this decision on Monday night has dwindled and you’ve been so anxious about this meeting that every single finger has a nicely pushed back cuticle. 

It’s silent in the room for a while, you shut your eyes as you sheepishly ask,  “Am I not attractive enough for you?”

“No!” He says insistently and without hesitation. His hand runs through his beard, a faint scratching sound fills the room drawing your eyes open and away from the skin of your thumb. As they land back on him you wonder what his patchy facial hair would feel like between your legs or along the soft skin of your stomach as he kissed you. His voice softens, “That’s not it. I just - I’m sorry. I jus’ can’t do this, sweetheart.”

You feel your chance to become the woman you want to be slipping through your fingers. Your plan is failing and for once in your life you don’t have a Plan B, this is the only plan that makes sense to you. Sadness creeps into your throat, “Why?” 

“‘S not a good idea, sweet girl,” he answers, his soft brown sugar flecked eyes reaching out to yours. 

His face and voice seem to be at war with his words. He’s saying no, but there’s a sadness in his eyes and a caring undertone to his voice. You’re not sure how you know it, but him calling you sweet girl means something to him. “Because I’m not your type?”

He shakes his head, that same curl falling into his eyes as it did in his foyer the other day. “That’s the problem, you’re exactly my type.”

Hearing that you’re this beautiful man's type should feel like you’ve won the lottery, but the way his shoulders slump as he says it only builds that lump in your throat. As you swallow the sadness down, his eyes travel to your neck, watching as the muscles flex and relax with the motion. “I - then why?”

He lets out a long breath and as he walks to the door he says, “I ain’t havin’ this conversation. I said no. And someone who is cut out to be a submissive would just take that answer for what it is.” 

“You’ve made it clear that I’m not a submissive,” you counter and walk towards the door. He cracks the door open and you step in close to him, unconsciously taking in his leather and ash scent before adding, “Have a nice night, Mister Miller.” 

Joel

The door feels like a feather behind his hand as he slams it shut - your body, warm and already vibrating, trapped between him and the solid piece of wood that separates the two of you from his receptionist. He made himself a promise in his rear view mirror the other week; he had to cut this off, create distance. He needed you to be just his house cleaner. Because everytime he looks into your eyes he feels the same way he felt at seventeen when he met Tiffany in that garage. Everything about you oozes sweetness and innocence, his sweetheart, his sweet girl. He didn’t think he was capable of feeling that way again. And he definitely should not feel this way for someone who is younger than his own daughter.

His large frame looms behind you, forcing your chest and forehead to rest against the door. He uses his foot to spread your legs wide. A breathy gasp passes your lips as your hands scramble for purchase against the wood grain of the door. He keeps pushing your legs apart, wide enough for your short white skirt to ride up your creamy thighs. Thighs he’s imagined wrapped tightly around his head as he makes you scream. 

Joel takes a small step forward, caging you completely, making it so you’re completely at his mercy. He can smell the sweet scent of your arousal growing between your thighs; he knows if he reaches a calloused finger to the gusset of your panties they’d be soaked through. His cock is hard as steel, pressing against the zipper of his pants and the small of your back. You’re practically panting and he fights to keep his breathing steady when really he wants to mirror the quick, uneven pace of your breath. This is much more serious and intimate than when he had you trapped in the chair. This is dangerous. This could lead to more.   

His strong fingers wrap around your dainty wrists. He loves the way you don’t fight him as he pulls them above your head, gathering both your wrists in one of his hands, pinning them to the door roughly. His free hand draws a slow line down your arm, then along the sensitive skin of your neck, and down your spine. Goosebumps break out over your skin and you instinctively arch your back into him, a desperate whine passes from your lips between laboured breaths, and that sound nearly buckles his knees.  

His lips come to the shell of your ear, his beard tickling you as he speaks in a slow and commanding tone. “Do you feel what you do to me when you call me that. I’ve asked you not to. Multiple times.”

Your mint and lavender scented shampoo fills his nose as he nudges at you to tilt open your throat to him. He revels in how easily you oblige, cocking your head to the side like the good little girl he knows you are. He continues, lips just a hair away from your pulse point; he’s sure if he pressed his lips to it he’d feel how hard your heart is racing. “But I don’t want you to stop. In fact, I fucking love that you haven’t stopped.” 

Your soft skin is warm against his rough fingers as they continue their trail down your body, running over the firm globe of one of your ass cheeks. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and bites down hard, distracting himself from the urge to spank you for calling him Mister Miller yet again. Finally, his fingers find a home on one of your thighs. He brushes lightly against your soft inner thighs, small little touches jumping from one leg to the other. The little involuntary twitches of your body and the needy little gasps of air you suck through your teeth has his cock straining painfully against his zipper. He’s aching for you in a way he hasn’t felt for years. 

“You infuriate me with your insubordination and it makes me weak,” he mutters. “Makes me absolutely insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about what’s underneath those clothes, and after seeing your perfect breasts and your little pink nipples… fuuuuck, baby. All I can think about is how good they’d look with my handprints tattooed on them after I slap them while you orgasm. Can’t stop thinking about how wet your little pussy must get. How tight she would be around my fingers as I claim her as mine. How fucking delicious she must taste. How goddamn sexy your cries of pain and pleasure would sound.”

Your whole body shudders against his. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you and he knows he needs to stop before he crosses a line, but the way your body responds to him is precisely how he likes it: pliant and ready. His mind reels with all the naughty things he’d like to do to you. If he reaches just a little bit higher he could finally know how you sound when you come, how silky your cunt is, how you taste. He runs the tip of his hooked nose down your neck, the light citrus of your perfume replacing the scent of your shampoo. 

“That what you wanna hear?” Joel continues. “How fucking weak you make me? How desperate? I can’t do this because once I start…I ain’t gonna be able to let you go. Ain’t gonna be able to stop. Never gonna be able to have any other little play thing. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. If I start this, this is it for me.”

Joel releases your wrists with a growl and walks away, carding his fingers through his curls and looking out at the cityscape as the sun begins to dip behind the tall buildings. He doesn’t look back, he can’t look back or he’ll fucking crack. He’ll haul you over his shoulder and take you into his club. He’ll show you everything right now and he won’t stop. His eyes flutter closed as he takes controlled breaths to slow his heart rate, the unmistakable sound of his office door opening and closing behind him. 

You 

You yank the door open and walk as fast as your legs will take you, your mind swirling, every emotion trying to win for first place. You’re painfully turned on, you can feel how soaked your panties are. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. It’s like it’s been carved into your brain. Only you. You jam at the elevator close button as your lungs scream for fresh air, and as you step out into the warm spring night you suck in breath for what feels like the first time since you made this appointment last night. 

Your phone vibrates in the small purse you have across your body. He doesn’t have your number, you remind yourself as you reach for your phone. Jamie’s name across your slightly cracked screen. “Hey!” 

“Are you ok?” her voice is thick with concern.

Your chest feels tight, “Ya, why?”

“You sound like you're out of breath.” 

You laugh a little, “Oh. I was..” fuck, what was I doing. “I mean I am walking. Like on a walk.” 

Even a toddler wouldn’t be convinced by your lie, and Jamie isn’t either as she gasps loudly on the other end before whispering, “Were you having sex?”

“No! God no!” Your clit twitches at the thought of how close Joel was today. “I’m on the street, can’t you hear the cars.” 

“Ok. You do need some sex though,” she laughs. 

“Jamie,” you sigh, “I have to get to a study group. What’s up?” 

She giggles devilishly. “Wellll - It’s your birthday weekend. I want to throw you a party at this really amazing club on Friday.”

“Umm, ya. Sure. Nothing too crazy though, right?” 

“Promise you can keep your top on this time, prude.” She says teasingly and you laugh. “It’s called Mystique. The owner is an old family friend and she gave us a sweet VIP booth and bottle service, all completely free!”

You slide your key into the door of your SUV to unlock it, “Ok. Let’s do it.”

“Good, because I already invited the girls.” You sigh and your phone buzzes in your ear as Jamie’s computer dings on the other end. “Oh, weird. Your regular every other Tuesday clean just requested for you to go on Friday. Weren’t you just there yesterday?” 

Joel. You say dreamily in your mind. 

“That’s shitty,” Jamie continues, “That’s your birthday. The shift is only 4 hours, but I can offer it to someone else if you want.” 

“No!” It comes out too eager and you remind yourself to chill the fuck out as you put her on speaker phone and open the app. “I mean, no, that’s ok. I need the money and my calendar shows 11 to 3, lots of time to get ready!” 

“Text me when you’re done with your study group and we’ll hammer out the details for Friday night. We didn’t get to celebrate you turning twenty one with your insane schedule -”

“Hey!” You exclaim, pretending to be hurt.

“Ya ya, I know,” her voice an amused sarcasm as she continues, “The master plan to graduate early. Which you did. So can we please make this the best celebration yet?” Even without being able to see your best friend you know she’s dancing excitedly on the balls of her feet while giving big green doe eyes. 

Friday rolls around quickly, and you aren’t sure what you’re looking forward to more; a much needed night out with your girlfriends or the possibility of Joel being home today. You’ve tried not to think about how his body felt against yours, but every few hours you found yourself with your hand between your legs, rubbing tight little circles on your clit until you came to thoughts of him, whispering Mister Miller like a church prayer.  

Pulling up to his house today feels strange. He requested an extra clean this week just minutes after you asked him to teach you how to sub and after finding out that your birthday was today. You haul your stuff into his house, letting out a frustrated sigh when you find it quiet and empty. You click open your app and he’s asking you to dust and vacuum the basement, as well as wipe out the fridge. You look down at the app confused. He’s never asked you to clean the basement, and the fridge? He doesn’t cook. The eleven thousand dollar fridge is basically just a decoration to fill a gap in the countertops. 

You pop in your airpods and head downstairs. The cozy white carpet of the stairs feels like plush clouds under your Keds. As you round the corner of the stairs you see everything that makes someone's house a home. So this is where he keeps it all, you think to yourself. 

The short hallway from the stairs to the large open concept basement is covered in photos of Joel at all stages of his life. The first picture that catches your eye is a teenage baby faced Joel and a beautiful young woman sitting on a hospital bed, she’s smiling at the camera as Joel looks down at the tiny bundle of pink blankets in her arms. He looks so happy and soft, and it ignites a small flame of jealousy. Not at the woman, but at the happy little family.

As your eyes scan all the pictures you see that baby at all ages. There’s a picture of her holding a trophy as big as her with little cleats and shin guards on. In another, she and Joel are holding a big fish, her toothless smile bright and brilliant, while something in Joel’s eyes looks sad even though his plush lips are curved up in a sexy smile. 

Another picture is of the little girl sitting on her mom’s lap; the woman doesn’t seem as vibrant in this picture. The next one to catch your eye is her holding a cupcake with a candle in the shape of the number sixteen, then him in a pressed black suit and her in her high school cap and gown. The last picture is similar, except it’s a college graduation photo. 

As you peel yourself away from all the pictures you haven’t managed to look at yet, you face the main living area, a large open concept space. There’s a cozy grey sectional facing the big screen TV, shelves of DVDs surround it and you can only imagine all the movie nights the two of them had down here. There's a pool table along the far back right side of the room and to the left are a bunch of guitars, both acoustic and electric, hanging on the wall. You walk towards the guitars, there’s a stool and a small table beside the amp. An open notebook with lyrics lays on the table and as tempting as it is to read it, you look away. This space is who Joel is and he’s obviously trusting or testing you by sending you down here. He did tell you that you didn’t know him, and that he could be a bad guy, but everything here screams wholesome family man. 

You dust and vacuum, then fluff the couch cushions and fold the blankets nicely. There’s an empty glass on the side table, so you grab that and wash it at the small wet bar before placing it with the other glasses. You take one last longing look at the notebook, it’s tempting but decide you are right to not read it. It’s none of your business what he writes and sings about. You picture him there, dressed casually in sweat pants and t-shirt, his large fingers plucking with a practiced finesse at the strings, you wrapped in a blanket, sitting on the floor with a cup of coffee and a book. The two of you being independently together on a Sunday morning. 

Thoughts of the two of you like that are dangerous; being his submissive isn’t being his girlfriend. You’ve been very good at compartmentalizing, mostly as a coping mechanism to your past, so you find a metaphorical little box in the back of your mind to stuff all those feelings and thoughts into. As you gather your cleaning supplies, you take one last look around. maybe this was his way of showing you that you can’t have a future with him, that he’s done with the kids-and-marriage part of his life. None of that matters to you; you don’t want kids and marriage, you just want a partnership, and the support and comfort that comes with it. You want to become a lawyer, and eventually a judge, and one day sit on the supreme court and defend everyone's civil and human rights. That’s the goal, the only goal.  

From this point on, any feelings for Joel Miller go in that box. If he ever changes his mind, he is my dominant and nothing else. You push the lid on the feelings box and run through your life plan as you head up the stairs. Law school and lawyer, then a relationship before judge and supreme court. That’s the plan, it’s always been the plan.

Once you’re in the kitchen, you pop open the fridge to see a single red rose. You lose a fighting battle with your face, smiling huge from ear to ear. You grab it and close the now empty fridge, bringing the rose to your nose to breathe in the sweet and powdery scent. The black and red envelope sits on the shiny marble countertop. You place the rose down and pop open the envelope. You pull out fifteen hundred dollars and a black business card. Your brows knit together as you inspect the card, flipping it over. A QR code for the JMK app, an activation code, and a note that says “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.” 

You practically rip your phone from your back pocket and scan the QR code. You dance nervously on the balls of your feet as the app downloads. With shaky fingers you create a username and password, then type in the activation code. A bunch of permissions pop up, and while the baby lawyer inside of you screams that you need to read them, you’re too eager, so you hastily click accept on all of them. A profile with your newly appointed username splays across the screen. Right below your name it says “Beginner Submissive” and you roll your eyes. You upload the hottest selfie you can find of yourself to be your profile picture, smirking at what you imagine Joel’s reaction will be when he sees you in that tight fitting gold dress, a picture Jamie took of you on New Year’s Eve. 

On the top right of your screen are 3 little lines, you open the menu and have two options. ‘Assigned Dominant’ and ‘Limits and Waivers’. You are eager to fill out whatever Joel wants on this app, but none of this will feel real to you until you see his name as your Dom. You giggle as you click the first menu. Holy shit, you think as the new window loads, this is going to happen, he’s going to do it. 

Your heart freezes in your chest, and every ounce of excitement and happiness drains from you as you read ‘Assigned Dominant: Tommy Miller’.

When you get home, you open your JMK app again, looking at the assigned dominant screen in hopes you made a mistake. But there it is, clear as day, ‘Tommy Miller’. You lock your phone in frustration and toss it onto your unmade bed. Why would he do this? You’re sure that everything in the limits and waivers menu would have been a yes if Joel was your dom. But Tommy? Not that there’s anything physically wrong with Tommy. He’s definitely attractive, but he’s not Joel and you thought you made that perfectly clear. 

After you shower you've decided you’ve cooled off enough to continue in the app. Tommy is still not Joel, but you want this for yourself, right? And it’s not about pleasure or attraction, it’s about the escape, and more importantly, it’s about having someone to push you and help you grow.    

You click the ‘Limits and Waivers’ menu, a whole quiz comes up where you can rate your interest in different sexual and non sexual acts on a scale of one to five, and secondary checkmark if you’ve already done those things. You scroll through the list, this would be easy with Joel, all fives, all ‘highly interested’, or so you think. As you scroll through the list you get some real fetish level stuff - diapers, feet, scat play, being hung from hooks. You know enough not to kink shame anyone, but none of that interests you. As such, you rank them as a one, not at all interested.

You scroll back up to fill in all the stuff you’re more interested in. 

Spanking, five. 

Whips and Crops, five. 

Paddles, five. 

Nipple Clamps, five, fucking five hundred at this point. 

Bondage, another five hundred. Vibrators, five. 

Butt Plug, three - ya, that one surprised even yourself, but it’s Tommy, not Joel. 

The little box to click if you’ve done those things remains unchecked. You aren’t a virgin, but the small handful of college boys you’ve entertained had the same two or three moves, all of which left you unsatisfied. 

Odette bangs on your door, and you jump as your phone goes flying from your hand as she barges in. “Let’s get ready! Repeat twenty one, baby!”

You scramble off your bed to grab your phone before she does, one of your hands in a death grip on your towel, “Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, you were watching porn again weren’t you?” She laughs as your cheeks flush crimson. She wanders to your closet and opens the doors, “We gotta find you something real hot for tonight, you need to get laid.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” you sing nonchalantly, wandering to your vanity to run a brush through your wet hair.

A few hours later and you’re all ready to go. Jamie and Laren came over to pre-drink and do their hair and make up. The four of you blasted nineties Shania Twain while drinking rosé and doing shots of cheap tequila. You pick a floor length black dress with a slit that goes almost to your hip and drips low between your breasts and leaves your back bare. You leave your hair down, curling it loosely before applying minimal makeup, flirty false lashes and a vibrant matte red lipstick. The packaging says that it's guaranteed not to smudge for up to twelve hours. 

“We’ll test that tonight on drinks and men,” Laren says as she steals it from your hand and puts it on her full, pouty lips.

Jamie surprises you with a limo. Before getting in you swipe your JMK app open and save your half-finished preferences. Tonight is not about Joel or Tommy; tonight is about you, and you deserve to be celebrated.

The table Jamie managed to secure for your birthday is perfect. You’re just off the dance floor, but raised up so that you can see the entire club. The music is loud and the room is dark, dimly lit with light pinks and purples. As you settle into the booth a young icy haired blonde girl in small black shorts and a lacy bra wanders in. “Hey babes! I’m Jade, let’s get these bottles going! Here’s the menu.”

Her eyes fall to you as she hands the bottle service menu and you both freeze. It’s her, the girl from Joel’s desk. The thump of the music fades and all you can hear is her moans and cries, the squelching of her pussy as Joel finger fucked her hard and deep. Shit, fuck, why me. She smiles at you, “Oh hey! Good to see you again.”

A chorus of, ‘again?’ and ‘how do you know each other?’ comes from your friends, all of their wide eyes staring at you.

“We don’t really,” you rush. “Just a mutual acquaintance really.”

Luckily, she gets the hint and just nods along. “What are we getting to drink ladies? I’ve heard it’s on the house so pick something expensive!”

You pick a bottle of Clase Azul tequila, Jade saying she can make different cocktails with it so you’re not all just doing shots. After a few rounds you find yourself alone in the booth while your friends go to the bathroom. Jade sits on the black leather seat beside you. 

“Look, I just want to say that I’m sorry for what you saw the other week. Joel sort of forbade me from seeking you out, but if you’re in my section at the club I work at then I’m not really breaking any rules.” She’s even more beautiful up close, no fucking wonder Joel wants to give you to Tommy. It’s just you, sweet girl, only you. But you see it now, why he’d pass you along. You can’t compete with a woman like her, and from the sounds of it Joel has more than one gorgeous, tall, slender blonde at his beck and call. 

“No, it’s ok. I’m actually learning to be a sub soon.” You smile at her, trying to tamp down the jealousy that’s threatening to choke you.

“No way! Joel is amazing, I only see him like once a month now but you’re going to love it.” Suddenly your entire body feels like an open wound, and the lime and salt left on your hands from tequila shots burns through you. The back of your eyes burn, frustration and jealousy don’t mix well with Rosé and tequila. You blink a few times to stop the tears. 

“He actually set me up with Tommy,” you croak, “Said I’m more his type.”

Just as she opens her perfect pink lips you hear the unmistakable opening to your all time favourite Shania Twain song, and as if your friends appeared from thin air the four of you yell, “Let’s go girls!”. The icy blonde pats the top of the table in your booth with one hand and holds her other hand out for yours. You climb up onto the table, your friends getting on the chairs. 

Every insecurity dissipates from your body as you sing loudly with your friends, swaying your hips to the music. You surrender yourself to the genius that was Shania Twain and Mutt Lange. As you break into the chorus for a second time, a glint of silver across the club catches your eye. Standing on the other side of the dancefloor, leaning against the bar top, is Joel Miller. 

His eyes are locked on yours; he’s wearing brown dress pants and a white short sleeved button up shirt, the top few buttons are left undone and it pulls at his biceps perfectly. He looks so sexy and casual, hair pushed back as he swirls the amber coloured whiskey around in its glass. He smiles devilishly, shaking his head jovially at you as you put on a show for him. As the song ends he crooks his pointer and middle fingers at you, silently calling you over. The simple motion of his fingers makes your pussy flutter, wetness slicking your thighs since you decided to forgo underwear tonight. Risky choice with the high slit of the skirt but suddenly it’s feeling like it’s the best decision you’ve ever made.

“I’ll be right back,” you whisper to your girlfriends as they help you off the table. They call for more shots and you refrain from all out sprinting to Joel. 

“Quite the show you put on up there,” he says, grabbing your bicep like he did at the poker game and pulling you gently along with him.

“You didn’t seem to mind.” You twist your arm out of his grasp and stumble. You’re definitely well on your way to being drunk, but you don’t want him to know that.

He grabs for your waist to steady you. “Careful, you’re drunk.”

“I’m not. And even if I was, I’m celebrating, so I’m allowed to be drunk. Not allowed to be your sub, but allowed to be drunk.” His eyes darken and you know you’ve crossed some sort of undrawn line, but you’re at that reckless sass point in your tipsiness and you really don’t care. A saccharine sweet smile crosses your face as you plant your hands on your hips.

“You sure you wanna play this game, sweetheart?” He practically growls.

“I’m not your sweetheart, I’m Tommy’s,” it comes out poutier than you expect. You spin on the balls of your feet and head back to the dance floor. As always, you can feel his eyes on you as you walk away. When you approach the dance floor you see a handsome man about your age looking at you. A quick glance over your shoulder confirms Joel is watching, you grab the hand of the stranger and say, “Let’s dance.”

As all young, drunk boys do, he obliges. You spin and press your back in this body, grinding your ass into him and keeping your eyes locked on Joel. How did he find you here? Why would he be out at this particular club, unless of course he’s keeping an eye on the icy blonde woman. She confirmed they only see each other once a month though, so why? Is he following you somehow?

The boy's hands move to your hips, traveling up your abdomen. You wink at Joel, pulling your hair to the side and tilting your head so the boy behind you has access to the same spot on your neck that he had in his office. Just as his lips start to lower Joel snaps. Got him, you think. He takes a few long strides onto the dance floor, pulling you away like you’re some sort of toy, like he’s a caveman coming to take what’s his. You let him pull you, yelling an apology to the boy on the dance floor.

Even though you’re happy to go with him, you can’t let him know that. “Joel, stop it. You can’t kick me out of here too.”

He takes you down a quiet, dark hallway, barely illuminated by the red glow of the EXIT sign. “I own half this place, baby. So I can.”

You twist your arm free from his grip, “You’re the bane of my existence, Joel Miller.”

“Why haven’t you filled out your app yet?”

You scoff, anger and annoyance starting to replace the happy feeling you had when he pulled you from the dance floor. “Are you stalking me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Doms can see where their subs are at all times if they accept the location tracker on the app.”

Shit, all those menus that you just clicked ‘Accept All’ to at the beginning. Of course your dom would be able to find you, depending on the relationship they can control everything you do. “You’re not my dom!” You state.

Joel rolls his eyes. “I know. Tommy told me you hadn’t filled it all out yet and where you were. So, why haven’t you filled out the app?”

You lean back on the railing along the wall and slide your feet from your heels, placing them on the cool tile of the floor to soothe the ache in your arches. Your hands come back to grip the railing. “It’s none of your business.”

“Sweet girl, in this case it literally is my business. The JM stands for Joel Miller.”

This time you roll your eyes and then mumble, “Because I don’t want Tommy. I don’t think I’m going to fill it out anymore.”

Joel leans back against the railing across the small hall from you, pinching the bridge of his noise in annoyance, “Please. For me, can you just fill it out?”

“For you? You made it clear you don't want me. I’m filling it out for Tommy.”

He crosses his arms, biceps bulging even more against the tight fabric of his short sleeved button up, if he’s not careful he’s going to go full incredible hulk on that shirt. Not that you’d mind.

“That’s not what I’m sayin’ and that’s also where you’re wrong. You’re fillin’ that out for you. If you’re fillin’ it out for anyone else, then you’re doing this for the wrong reasons.”

You let out an unimpressed sounding huff, “I’m not.”

His lips press into a tight line as he considers his words carefully; Joel is old enough to know not to argue with a twenty-one year old who’s had tequila. “Ok, you’re not. So then why do you want to be a sub?”

He watches as your whole body seems to deflate, there’s a shift, almost like desperation in your body. Sadness lines your eyes as they meet his and your voice comes out small and uncertain. “Because I’m exhausted, Joel. I - I spend all day making decisions, and studying, and learning about civil rights law. I’m always having to come up with a plan A, and B, all the way to plan Z sometimes. And then,” your head falls back to the wall as you continue speaking to the ceiling with your eyes closed, “Then I do it all over again the next day. I can’t shut it off, my brain. It just keeps going and going. It's so loud, so constant, so fucking overwhelming and there’s no escape.”

You fall silent and he steps forward, slipping his large hand behind your neck and bringing your gaze to his. You continue, fighting against the boulder that’s forming in your throat, “I don’t think I’m good enough. Or strong enough…Smart enough. I want to see for once that I am, want to see what I can overcome. For once,” you sigh heavily. “For once I just want someone to tell me how well I’m doing.”

Joel’s eyes fall to your lips, his voice a hoarse whisper, “Fill out the app.”

You take a deep breath. You feel lighter after finally getting to confessing all of that to him. That was your plan for his office the other day, but something about him flusters you and you were completely knocked off the rails by that special unknown thing Joel has over you. You whisper, “I don’t want to do this with Tommy. Please, Joel.”

Joel’s forehead comes to rest on yours, you can see the golden flecks in his dark eyes at this proximity. He smells like mint, and that same ash and leather from his office the other day. You should ask him right now why he let you in his basement today, but he speaks before you can. “Can you please, just for once, show me that you can listen?”

“Kiss me,” you hum, trailing your hands up his strong arms.

He stiffens under your touch. “What?” he asks dumbfoundedly.

“Kiss me and I’ll go home right now and fill out the app,” you whisper, inching your lips closer to his. 

“You’ll go home, fill out the app, and you will not touch yourself.” It’s not a question, it’s a deep command.

Now it’s your turn to be confused as you say, “What?”

He crowds his body closer to yours, pulling his face back slightly so he can take you all in. You’ve never seen this expression before, that flash of darkness from the first time you called him Mister Miller in your car has permanently etched itself into your mind, but it’s almost like he’s transitioned into full dominant Mister Miller now. “If you want to convince me to be your dom, it’s not going to be through just a kiss. So prove to me that you can listen, prove to me that you can be a good girl. ”

The wetness between your legs starts to coat your thighs at the sound of him asking you to be a good girl. You clench your thighs together as his forehead meets yours again.

He continues, his voice just as commanding, “If I give you this kiss, you’ll go home alone, you will not touch that dripping little cunt, and you will fill out the app.”

Your pussy is throbbing with need. You should have known better than to sass him so hard tonight. Someone as competent and experienced as Joel would know exactly how to punish his sub when they were acting up. You nod your head and hum in agreement to his demands.

“Ask me nicely.” He murmurs.

“P-please…kiss me, Joel.” Butterflies assault  the inside of your stomach.

You didn’t think it was possible, but he manages to crowd you even more, your entire body pressed firmly against his. Every skin cell is screaming for his attention, every nerve firing off signals making you hyper aware of anywhere he’s touching you.

“Ask me again using that name I told you not to call me,” He knows he’s playing with fire, but at this exact moment he doesn’t care, he fucking loves the way his preferred dom name sounds coming off your lips. 

“Kiss me, Mister Miller. Please?” It’s airy and desperate, your knees feel weak below you and it feels as if you can’t get a full breath in. The anticipation is killing you. 

“Why?” he growls. Growing up you were always afraid of dark spaces, but if there were any monsters in this hallway they’d be running scared at the timbre of his voice right now.

Your back arches instinctively into him. You’re safe here, Joel Miller is your safety. “Because I need you, Mister Miller. Please. Just one kiss…then I’ll do anything. I promise. P-please. I need to feel you on me, Mister Miller.”

Joel bends slightly, his hands come to the back of your thighs and he lifts you, slamming you against the wall. You squeal, arms flinging around his neck as your ankles hook around his waist. He pins you to the wall with his hips and lets go of your thighs. Both of you are practically panting, his cock is hard as steel, pressing against his zipper and your bare pussy. Your skirt is covering you from exposing yourself to him but something about the glint in his eye when your bodies connect makes you think he might know you don’t have any panties on. 

His hands peel your arms from around his neck and he pins them with one hand above your head like he did in his office. You whimper and grind your hips against him. His free hand wraps around your throat, holding it gently. 

“No,” he growls and it takes every ounce of self control you have to stop your hips. “Say it again.”

He watches your mouth hungrily as you lick your lips and you fight back a moan. He can feel your pulse firing rapidly under his calloused fingertips. A needy whisper passes your lips, filling the miniscule space left between your bodies. “I need you, Mister Miller. Please kiss me.”

With that he slams his lips against yours. It’s a desperate and heady mess of tongue and teeth, your moans being swallowed by his greedy mouth. You tilt your head to allow him in more. His tongue devours every inch that it can reach. He nips at your bottom lip before diving back in. He takes whatever he wants from you and you let him. For the first time in years your brain is quiet. No anxiety about the quickly approaching LSAT, no thinking of whatever practice question you’re stuck on. That nagging fear of being rejected from all the law schools you’ve applied to goes silent. The worrying voice that tells you you’re not good enough disappears. Everything you are is replaced by whatever Joel gives. 

You grind down onto him as you flick your tongue against his; he’s so rough yet so very soft. His tongue tastes like mint and whiskey. You can feel your orgasm building, it’s going to happen embarrassingly fast at this rate. You feel light headed from lack of oxygen and the slight push of his fingers into the side of your throat. More, more, more, you yell in your head.

Joel breaks the kiss and puts you down on your feet, holding you steady as you find your legs again. His lips are puffy and even though it’s not the time to be thinking of this, you realize there isn’t a single drop of red lipstick on his face, so it really will last twelve hours without smudging. 

His thumb comes to your face, swiping along your bottom lip gently, “Put your number in my phone, sweet girl.”

He holds his brand new iPhone Max out to you and you tap your number in with shaky fingers. He sends a quick text when you hand his phone back and then he kneels in front of you, helping you back into your heels. As he stands his hand trails from your ankle, all the way up the slit of your skirt to settle on your clothed hip. “Go get your stuff and go home now, baby. There’ll be a car waiting for you out front.”

He pats your bum gently as you walk on shaky legs back to your VIP booth. You feel like a newborn giraffe as you make your way to your table. 

“Where have you been?” Jamie proclaims, holding up a tequila shot for you.

You wave her off, “I think I’ve had too much. I’m gonna go but I want you girls to stay. Enjoy your night for me.”

It takes a few minutes but you convince your friends to stay and that you’ll be fine and already have a ride arranged. As you exit the club there’s a gorgeous blacked out town car parked in front. An older gentleman in a suit looks at you and nods, “Good Evening, Miss. Are you the young lady Joel Miller has asked me to escort home?”

You nod back, trying to act like this is an everyday occurrence and not the most outrageous thing that’s ever happened to you. As soon as you get home you change into your most unflattering set of pajamas, hoping that if you feel unsexy then it’ll stop that insistent throb between your thighs. Joel was so fucking close again, and this time there was no underwear in his way.

You slide open the app, Tommy Miller is still set as your dom, but you go through the preferences carefully and answer as honestly as possible as to what you want. You try to focus on the questions even though you can still feel Joel's throbbing cock pushing against you, and his warm hands around your wrists and throat. You can still taste him on your lips. You shake the ghost of him off of you and remind yourself again what you want from this, aside from mind-blowing orgasms. 

You fill out every section and then hit save. Just as you are about to lock your phone and try to fall asleep your phone vibrates, the JMK app as a notification.

‘Your Assigned Dominant has changed to Joel Miller’

Your heart pounds behind your rib cage as you stare at the notification, your head feels fuzzy, possibly from the booze, or that kiss, but you can’t believe your eyes. You close out of the app and go back in, staring at where Joel’s name has replaced Tommy’s. Just as it all starts to feel real you get a text message from a number you don’t have saved. You click on the message app.

“No coming until I say so, I know you weren’t wearing any panties tonight. Messy little pussy ruined my pants. Go to sleep now, my sweet girl.”

Next Chapter

[watermelpm]

A "little" Kokichi Ouma analysis

WARNING - Spoilers for LOTS of V3

As a character, Kokichi Ouma is smart, skeptical, arguably selfless, absolutely obnoxious, and someone who would do anything for the greater cause. His forced role as the “antagonist” paired with Shuichi’s forced role as the “protagonist” makes for an intriguing, tragic dichotomy between the two that enhances his own descent into villainous extremities, up until the deadly climax of chapter 5. He is a fantastically complex character, partly due to being one of the most intelligent and forward-thinking in the entire franchise, despite how he seems on the surface.

Kokichi’s intelligence is evident from multiple elements of the game, even just as simple as his room (enhanced analysis abilities in particular are evident from the whiteboard and his ability to predict, anticipate, and plan for future room invaders). Additionally to his room, he also knew/predicted the Monokuma cameras that were around the campus WAY before anyone else noticed; kept track of all the events that were happening/things being said, placing importance on Gonta’s brief mention of “seeing little bugs”, asking Miu to make the BugVac for his suspicions; wrote the Horse A message, meaning he knew or at least hypothesized Rantaro’s perk before anyone else; and made every single move under the assumption the mastermind was one of them, which he was correct about!. Kokichi had a fantastic, well-rounded understanding of how he was perceived and meticulously planned every move he made around how others would react.

Another important aspect of Kokichi is his unrelenting skepticism, which I firmly believe was the crux behind every move he made in DRV3. He kept track of all the murders— hoarded pieces of each trial—, firmly doubted his own memories (which was almost unanimously accepted by everyone else, even the Ultime Detective), and was extremely careful around every other person in the game. His unexplained disappearances and generally less rambunctious, loud attitude at the beginning of the game makes me believe he was observing the actions of his classmates, getting to know their character, and analyzing their chances of becoming killer/victim, which informed his later attachment to classmates he deemed safer (i.e. Gonta in particular). My belief is a lot of his earlier lies were meant to paint himself as not vulnerable, lowering his chances of being killed, and his more innocent, earlier lies eventually grew into the astronomical falsehoods they became because he realized the survival advantage of no one knowing when he was telling the truth.

However, the most crucial reason I think Kokichi’s lies got as out-of-hand as they did is because his classmates immediately and unquestionably treated him like a villain. It’s practically confirmed in-game that Kokichi played up his sinisterness the entire game (playing the mastermind, acting like he was going to “win” the game, both of which are disproven by the end) and I believe it’s because all the other characters expected him to be that way. Everything he said was treated like something wicked and malicious because he phrased it playfully/mischievously, but his intention was almost always (at least until chapter 4) non-malicious. This can be easily seen from the very beginning, when he’s “getting on Kaede’s case” about forcing everyone to keep trying the manhole escape minigame when they were clearly unable to continue, and from him encouraging Himiko to let herself feel upset after the chapter 3 trial. Yet, from almost the first words out of his mouth, Kokichi was seen as the antagonist. Not to say he wasn’t sly, mischievous, playful, and a fucking smartass, but no one could see past the surface of undesirable speech characteristics to understand the intention beneath.

It’s my theory that, by chapter 4, Kokichi fully realized that no matter what he said, it would be perceived negatively. However, as stated, Kokichi was smart, and he ultimately used this epitome to his advantage— wrapping himself up in lies, going completely crazy with it, because it truly no longer mattered what the truth was in the eyes of everyone else. He was willing to lie, cheat, and let everyone else think he was a terrible person for one reason and one reason only: to end the game.

Kokichi hated the killings, as evidenced by D.I.C.E. 's rules about murder and his later confessions/efforts in ch 5. There were many other smaller motivations he practiced throughout the game (surviving was one of the biggest ones, but I’d argue discovering the truth about the game was just as important) but his hatred of the game was the biggest driver of every single action he made. This, in my mind, is the most important reason he “became the villain”: not because he wanted to, but because his classmates wouldn’t listen to him any other way, and he needed to have relative control/understanding of their actions to carry out his own efforts to end the game. None of them (except maybe Gonta, and Shuichi near the beginning) picked up on his ulterior motives, or even had general curiosity about why he acted the way he did. It’s this unfortunate perception of him that prompted Kokichi to intensify his behavior in an effort to reach his goal. Even if he wanted to stop the villain act, Kokichi had gone too far by chapter 4 to pull himself back out, so his lies only grew.

It’s impossible to talk about Kokichi’s character without talking about Shuichi’s because their arcs are so beautifully intertwined. Their separate journeys inform both their development throughout the game.

Kokichi gravitated toward Shuichi from the beginning. This is evidenced by his whiteboard (trustworthy?), his efforts to befriend him in chapter 4, and the general “togetherness” of their viewpoints during trials (99% of the time being on the same side in debate scrum and Kokichi’s lies almost always serving as a way to further the truth both Shuichi and him were seeking, even if they were seemingly at odds). Shuichi was different from everyone else, expressing curiosity about Kokichi rather than immediate resentment like the other classmates, and Kokichi clearly wanted him on his side. Yet, Shuichi, much like Kokichi, was forced into a role by his classmates: the protagonist. While Kokichi’s talent was immediately perceived negatively, Shuichi’s was perceived positively (due to the nature of the killing game, having an Ultimate Detective on your side was likely a factor). As the game progressed (and he grew more confident in his abilities) he proved himself as someone capable of investigating the murders and coming to the correct conclusion.

By chapter 3, everyone had begun to rely on Shuichi to get them through the trials. Even when he was shocked and sad about the deaths, he immediately jumped into every investigation because everyone else’s lives were dependent on him doing so. This ultimately just perpetuated him being driven into the role of the protagonist because he couldn’t stop doing what he was or everyone would die.

Shuichi’s “rivalry” against Kokichi was fabricated completely by the roles they were pushed into. Shuichi was led away from Kokichi the entire game by his friends (Kaito and Maki especially, who both despised Kokichi and vice versa) and Kokichi was isolated, the only person who could stand hanging around him being Gonta. The rest of his classmates’ hatred toward Kokichi also turned Shuichi’s feelings for him into resentment by chapter 5, with Shuichi often feeling like a villain for “siding” with Kokichi in trials. Shuichi was curious/skeptical about Kokichi’s motives the entire game, but it transformed into dismissal (ignoring Kokichi being hurt after he fell through the floorboards in ch 3) and irritation (how Shuichi acts in ch 4’s trial) because he began to perceive Kokichi as everyone else did: a villain.

None of these roles ultimately benefited them, in the end. Even Shuichi, who we usually see as someone who gained more self-confidence due to the uplifting of his friends, really didn’t come out of the killing game better off. He was stuck carrying everyone else through trials, pressured to perform under his intense anxiety/fears, which only made him more scared about making a mistake and inadvertently being the reason for everyone’s deaths, if he was. Kokichi put on a mask of lies to protect himself, not seem helpless, and to achieve his goals, but was pushed into decisions he never would’ve made otherwise in order to play the villain (sacrificing Gonta and using him to kill Miu, for example, discussed later.) Thus, they both suffered for the situation they were put into, forced to butt heads but just as trapped as the other was.

Their similar yet completely opposite directions in the game, as dictated by the people around them rather than themselves, is what makes their relationship so tragic, yet also that much more interconnected. It’s one of the reasons I’ve really started to grow fond of saiou. Here are two people, neither of whom wanted to be protagonist vs antagonist, but, because of the situation they were thrown into— a scenario dictated by fear— and the surface-level perceptions of their talents/personalities by people who didn’t really know them. Kokichi wanted to get closer to Shuichi because he knew Shuichi could help him end the game; his and Shuichi's smarts working together was sure to help them figure out a plan, or at least something to stop the killings from happening and end the game. But Kaede, Kaito, Maki, and everyone else made Shuichi steer clear from Kokichi (though Kokichi was at fault for this too by a certain point because he deliberately pushed others away by chapter 3) but he knew that if he could get Shuichi on his side, they could end the game. And maybe they would’ve.

It’s even more tragic to know that they were incredibly similar not just in their character arcs but even just at a characteristic level. Shuichi wanted to find the truth so badly in every single trial, much like Kokichi, but at the end of the game he CHOOSES TO LIVE A LIE— chooses to be Shuichi Saihara and defy the game even though he knows he’s not a real person anymore. I think that’s profoundly beautiful when we think about Kokichi, who was living a lie the whole time— who already had an understanding that being a lie was less painful and often more advantageous than the truth. Yet he was just like Shuichi, seeking truth even if he had to lie along the way.

Two truth-seekers, two liars, extremely similar characters on a soul-level who would’ve made such a good team had they not been forced apart.

By chapter four, Kokichi’s villain persona was solidified, but what he did was not inherently evil. Kokichi was smart— smart enough to figure out Miu’s plan (when even the Ultimate Detective didn’t). He understood, even without knowing exactly what Miu was planning, that if he let her murder him, everyone else would die, too. I believe he felt the work he made up to that point and the entire killing game itself would be useless if it ended the way Monokuma wanted. He desperately didn’t want that, and so he sacrificed Gonta for this reason: to keep himself and everyone else alive.

This is another aspect of Kokichi’s character I feel isn’t as easily seen on the surface-level: his selflessness. Even if his jokes/lies made the others mad, he was still thoughtful and would try to help them. For example: giving them those electro hammers that Miu made to everyone and telling Kaede to stop using toxic positivity to get everyone to keep on trying to escape through the tunnel they found in Ch 1. Even him telling them about the outside world was meant to act as a mercy— to stop the killings from happening to them. But Kokichi’s ultimate act of selflessness was killing himself in the end— giving his life so that the others could live on.

I believe Kokichi felt like a shitty person for doing that to Gonta— selfish, hopeless even, just because he decided to prioritize the majority. Gonta was the only person that actually trusted Kokichi; he believed in him. That love and appreciation from Gonta made Kokichi tell Gonta about his plans; he’d bring Gonta with him everywhere, tell him what he was trying to do, and Gonta always helped him. This proves to me that if someone else had just been nicer to Kokichi, he would have probably opened up more and much of Kokichi’s more extreme, desperate actions could have been prevented. I can’t even imagine what that was like for Kokichi, tricking the only person that had actually cared about him into killing someone. And it likely made his hatred for the killing game grow even more.

I personally think Kokichi was breaking down really really hard at the end of ch 4. Even if he acted like he didn’t feel bad at all after the execution, it was just that: an act. When he tries to go with Gonta to his execution, I don’t think his feelings were lies; and, if they were, it was a kind lie, meant to help Gonta feel cared for before he died. Kokichi was hurting on the inside while watching what was happening to Gonta, you could just tell, the one person that trusted him and believed in him, he screwed over and betrayed. Kokichi even went full-mastermind mode because he felt like the villain, felt like he was evil because he sacrificed Gonta just to save himself, and realized it was the only way to truly end the game.

Kokichi was an absolute asshole and smartass that knew exactly what was happening and what to do about it. No one listened to his ideas because he put on the villain mask. The others felt like they couldn't trust him, which is what he needed, so that he could pose as the mastermind. Kokichi probably figured out Tsumugi's secret at one point during the game and that's why he played as the mastermind, which is part of the reason he acted like he drank the antidote but gave it to Kaito instead. It was part of his plan to stop the game and expose Tsumugi for breaking the rules that SHE made. He tried to make an unsolvable murder, but he hadn't expected Maki to come into the hangar, which is part of the reason Shuichi was able to solve it.

I know that Tsumugi knew that if Kokichi and Shuichi had been friends, the game would have ended earlier. That’s why I believe her/Spikechunsoft wrote them to be the Protag and Antag duo. Which is sad because they would have been a great team. And yes, Shuichi did end up having to live a lie at the end of the day, which shows great resemblance to Kokichi. They both wanted the truth, they both wanted to end the game and figure out the truth to the trials, but they both did it in separate ways. Kokichi would often question Shuichi during the trials or just in general, that made Shuichi think harder about the situation, which helped all of them find the truth. Kokichi lied to find the truth. Others may think that his lies were useless and bad, but Shuichi had also lied to find the truth. Shuichi lied to everyone else during the trials just to get the truth out of them, and it worked. They both lied to find the truth, but they both would still tell the truth. Kokichi told more lies than Shuichi, and that's what helped him find the truth. Shuichi told more truths than lies, which helped him. Meaning, both Kokichi and Shuichi had different ways of getting the truth out of others. Kokichi lived in lies, he lied to himself about how everything was going to be okay, that the game would end soon, that if he just kept his jig up for a little while longer, he would find the truth of the killing game. Kokichi didn't like lying to himself, but it made him feel better about the situation, more positive, he even lied to himself so much that I could imagine he sometimes couldn't tell whether or not he was telling the truth. Which is one of the reasons I mainly believe he went through with his plan in ch 5.

Shuichi was more emotional than Kokichi, and that's why he couldn't lie to himself. Shuichi wanted to feel better about the situation, he wanted to feel like it would get better, but it was harder for him to lie to himself like Kokichi did. No matter how hard Shuichi had tried, he just couldn't.

I couldn't figure out where to include the last 3 paragraphs but I really wanted to include them lol. Also thank you so much to my sister @kiwi-luminaryofthestars for helping me edit this silly little thing! And an extra shout-out to @starredskys for being so nice and excited to read this thing!

[mydearestbeloved]

#?.3 [Ideas]

CW: Implied Yandere, a little NSFW

⚠️ POTENTIAL SPOILER ALERT to my "Trial Player"-AU (Imagine 1#).

Note:

Any 'Idea' like this is more like a 'What-If's scenarios: not yet cannon/can be cannon or not cannon at all in my story in the future (I'll decide as I go).

I have too many ideas but too little time, so I'll just post them as drafts here until I have the time to edit them thoroughly. If I do decide to include these scenarios in my story, then the scenarios' [Ideas]-status will be updated as [Chapter/Concept].

_____

Draft I:

You should’ve known this was a terrible idea from the start.

After that... debacle with Jinwoo, where he had barely let you leave the bed, you thought a change of space—a brief moment to breathe—might clear your head. Meeting your friends seemed like a good idea at the time. Seemed.

But here you were, sitting at a café, your friends’ relentless teasing ringing in your ears, Jinwoo seated beside you, his usual silent presence somehow looming even larger today. He wasn’t supposed to be here! You were supposed to meet them alone, but he had tagged along, and the moment your friends saw him, the mood shifted.

They hadn’t missed the telltale signs: the slight limp in your step, the fading marks along your neck barely hidden by your collar, and of course, the possessive way Jinwoo’s hand rested on your thigh the entire time.

“Oh my God, (Name), you’ve been busy, haven’t you?” one of your friends teased, leaning in with a grin.

You shot them a glare, face heating up as you tried to deflect. “It’s not—”

“Oh, it’s definitely what it looks like,” another friend chimed in with a knowing smirk. “When were you planning to tell us about this insanely attractive boyfriend of yours?”

Jinwoo’s hand squeezed your thigh slightly, as if in agreement with their assessment, his lips twitching with amusement, though he stayed quiet.

Your friends kept piling on, their teasing relentless. “You’re practically glowing! We knew something was up when you kept dodging our calls last week.”

You huffed, wishing you could just melt into the chair. Meeting them was a mistake. A big one.

“Anyway,” one of them said, waving off your protests, “since you’ve been keeping this little secret, we’ve decided for you. You guys are joining us on a couples’ trip next weekend. No excuses!”

“Wait, what?” you blurted out, eyes widening. “Couples’ trip? I—”

But it was too late. Your friends were already planning it out, excitedly discussing dates, locations, and accommodations. They even showed you the website of the camping site they had in mind—complete with cozy cabins, perfect for romantic getaways. It was absurd, and you opened your mouth to protest again, but Jinwoo’s quiet chuckle beside you sent a shiver down your spine.

“I think it sounds fun,” he said, his tone casual, but the look in his eyes told you exactly what he was thinking.

And that was how you found yourself roped into a couple’s trip.

---

A few days later, you were trudging through a forest, heading toward a cabin that was meant for “lovers”—according to the marketing brochures your friends had gleefully shown you. It had been a relatively peaceful day, with your friends and their partners chatting and laughing.

And as if fate couldn’t resist throwing more absurdity your way, a dungeon break occurred nearby. Just your luck.

You and Jinwoo were more than capable of clearing this dungeon while your friends struggled to set up camp. Jinwoo had taken care of the magic beasts with ease, and though you helped, it was clear that the two of you were functioning on an entirely different level. It was like a strange, dangerous couple’s date, where you fought off monsters instead of enjoying a romantic picnic.

Once the raid was done, the two of you rejoined your friends, who were none the wiser, completely oblivious to the destruction you had just prevented nearby. They were already by the fire, chatting and making s’mores as if nothing had happened.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t stop glancing at Jinwoo, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. That look in his eyes—predatory, intense—told you that this evening wasn’t going to end peacefully, no matter how much you tried to keep things normal.

Later, after your friends had all retreated to their own cabins, you found yourself standing awkwardly in the middle of yours, Jinwoo’s eyes never leaving you. His presence filled the space, making it feel smaller than it actually was. The two of you had been silent for a while, but you knew exactly where this was headed.

“Jinwoo…” you began, but the words stuck in your throat.

He was already stepping closer, his movements deliberate and slow. As usual, there was no need for words between the two of you.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing. You had known this was coming from the moment you agreed to this trip. Hell, you had known it since the dungeon raid, where he’d been sneaking glances at you the whole time, clearly eager to finish the fight so he could focus on you.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him—you did, more than you’d care to admit. But this was... ridiculous. You had literally just cleared a dungeon, and now—

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, backing up toward the bed as Jinwoo’s hands found your waist.

He smirked, his voice low and dangerous. “And yet, you can’t resist me.”

Before you could respond, he pulled you against him, his lips crashing down on yours, and all your protests melted away as heat pooled in your stomach.

---

Hours later, the cabin was bathed in the soft glow of the early morning light, the quiet sounds of the forest outside filling the air. You lay on the bed, skin slick with sweat, your body aching in the best possible way. Jinwoo was beside you, looking comically refreshed, as if he hadn’t just spent the entire night ravaging you like a man possessed.

You, on the other hand, were starting to have an existential crisis.

You let out a muffled scream, covering your face with a pillow.

Jinwoo chuckled softly, pulling the pillow away so he could look at you, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare skin. “You love it.”

You shot him a look, exasperated but strangely satisfied. “You’re insatiable.”

His smirk deepened, his dark eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “Only for you.”

And the worst part? You did love it.

_____

Draft II:

You knew this was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Yet here you were, sitting at a cozy café with your friends, Jinwoo at your side, hovering in his usual subtle but unmistakable way.

It had been only a few days since that exhausting week you'd just survived with Jinwoo, and your legs were finally functioning again. You thought maybe a change of pace would help you clear your mind, escape this suffocating intimacy. Little did you know it would only drag you deeper into the mess you’d been trying to avoid.

At first, it had seemed innocent enough—a casual meetup, a chance to reconnect and breathe after being wrapped up in his world for so long. But the moment you arrived at the café, it became painfully obvious you had made a grave miscalculation.

Now, as you sat there, trying to enjoy a peaceful brunch, your friends’ teasing was just as relentless as Jinwoo’s gaze—both of which were burning holes through you.

“You look glowing today, (Name),” one of your friends chimed in with a mischievous smirk, clearly picking up on the awkward vibe between you and Jinwoo. She nudged you playfully, while her boyfriend leaned in with a knowing grin. “Is it just me, or does this feel like a post-honeymoon glow?”

"Oh! Should we be expecting wedding bells soon?"

You almost choked on your drink. Jinwoo, ever the master of composure, simply sipped his coffee beside you, acting as if he wasn’t responsible for every mark, every limp, and every damn second of the previous week’s exhaustion. His hand, however, was resting possessively on your thigh under the table, and you swore he tightened his grip at the word "honeymoon."

Jinwoo really looked as if he is considering the idea, leaning forward slightly, “Well...” Jinwoo’s voice was smooth, teasing, but you shot him a look so sharp he instantly backed off, a soft chuckle rumbling from his chest.

“Nope, definitely not just you,” another friend added, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “(Name), are you finally going to tell us why you’ve been MIA for days? Or should we just assume?”

You opened your mouth, desperately searching for an excuse, but nothing came out. What could you possibly say that wouldn’t make this worse? Jinwoo wasn’t helping either, his presence practically daring you to lie about where you had been.

“We’ve been busy,” he said casually, a slight smile tugging at his lips. “Right, (Name)?”

Your friends all shared knowing glances, their smiles growing wider with every second of your flustered silence. One of them even leaned in, whispering, “Busy, huh? I bet.”

You could feel your face burning. Meeting your friends was supposed to be a distraction, a way to regain some semblance of normalcy after Jinwoo had practically claimed you for a solid week. Instead, this brunch had turned into an interrogation, with your friends relentless in their teasing and Jinwoo not even pretending to let you off the hook.

“I didn’t realize this was going to be a couples brunch,” you muttered, trying to change the subject as you glanced around the table. Every single one of your friends had brought their partner, and somehow, you had been roped into this nightmare of a double date. “Seriously, guys, why?”

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t want this,” one friend teased, leaning across the table with a wink. “You and Jinwoo are practically glued together these days. We figured you’d appreciate the company.”

Company? No, what you needed was a break, some air, some distance. But no, here you were, stuck in the middle of a couple's date with your overly-attentive not-boyfriend who had literally spent an entire week making sure you couldn't ignore him. The worst part? The teasing wasn’t the only problem. Jinwoo’s subtle touches under the table—the way his hand was lingering, the way his thumb traced small circles on your thigh—was doing nothing to help your composure.

“We thought it’d be fun,” another friend chimed in, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “You know, catch up, see how you two are doing... especially after your long disappearance.”

Jinwoo leaned in, his voice a low murmur just for you. “You didn’t tell them about us?”

You shot him a side-eye, the corner of his lips tugging upward in amusement. He knew exactly what he was doing. The bastard.

“No,” you hissed quietly, leaning away from him slightly. “Not like this.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, and suddenly you were very aware of how close he was. How possessive his presence felt. It didn’t help that your friends continued to pry, clearly enjoying how flustered you had become.

“So,” one of them asked, completely unaware of the tension building between you and Jinwoo, “what’s it like being official now? You two must be spending a lot of time together.”

Jinwoo’s hand moved higher on your thigh, and you nearly jumped out of your seat.

“(Name)’s been getting plenty of rest,” he said, completely unbothered by the chaos brewing inside you. “But she works hard.”

Your gaze shot to him, wide-eyed and mortified. He met your stare with an innocent smile that did nothing to mask the glint of mischief in his eyes. He was enjoying this—this game, this playful torture. And the worst part? Your friends were none the wiser.

“Jinwoo!” you scolded softly, but he just chuckled, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze.

You could feel your pulse quicken, embarrassment and exasperation mixing with something more dangerous. You were supposed to be here to relax, to enjoy some time away from all of this... tension. But no, Jinwoo had other plans, and apparently, your friends were unwitting participants.

One of your friends leaned in, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “So when’s the next couple's trip? Should we plan something fun, maybe a getaway?”

You groaned inwardly. A getaway? The idea of spending more time alone with Jinwoo in this relentless teasing atmosphere made your stomach twist. Not because you didn’t want to—God, did you want to—but because the last week had shown you what Jinwoo was capable of. And the last thing you needed was to be subjected to that level of intensity again in front of your friends.

“Maybe after some... recovery time,” you muttered, earning a few raised eyebrows from the group.

“Oh?” your friend asked, amused. “Need some recovery time, huh?”

You glared at her. “You have no idea.”

Jinwoo chuckled beside you, his hand moving slightly again, and you swore he was getting some twisted enjoyment out of watching you squirm. The thought was enough to make you grit your teeth and shoot him another pointed glare, though it only seemed to fuel his amusement.

“Well, whenever you’re ready for that trip,” your friend teased, “just let us know. We’d love to see more of this dynamic you two have going.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and trying to will away the blush creeping up your neck. Yeah, you really needed a change of pace. But clearly, this was not it. Not with Jinwoo sitting so close, his hand lingering on your thigh, and your friends blissfully unaware of the storm brewing under the table.

Maybe, just maybe, you’d avoid them next time. At least until you could figure out how to survive Jinwoo’s relentless attention without completely losing your mind.

End Note:

I want to try writing smut, already started some drafts, but can't bring myself to continue them due to embarassment.

So, here's a sneak peak through alternative scenarios--aftermath of what I dubbed for now, thee "Tangled Shadows"-Arc (which is *Spoiler Alert!*: 24 percent of (Name) having an existential crisis / 7 -ty six percent of Jinwoo being horny. I'M SORRY!)

The "Tangled Shadows Arc" will be a lot further into the story. So please, DON'T actively wait for it to be out, because it'll be torture what with my schedule now. 🥲

[penguin-stars]

⚠️Spoilers for chapters 195+

On a scale of one to ten, how good was your intervention to improve KSE's mental health?

"Good" Friend Brown: *Did his job as an emotional support bunny* 9/10 - Who would've thought that Soleum would rely on a ghost story entity to get him through other ghost stories? They had great chemistry, just talking to him was a huge help for Soleum. And the good friend did his best to be there for him. Not 10/10 because he never told him about his corruption or BSH's antics.

Lee Jaheon: *Threw him into therapy* 10/10 - Very nice of him actually, KSE was practically kicking and screaming during the process, but in the end, he really needed that intervention. Thanks, chief.

Brown: *Kidnapped Invited him to his Talk Show* 5/10 - He thought he was doing Soleum a favor, can you really blame him? They were having fun at the Talk Show! Soleum got contaminated pretty badly and lost all of his points at Daydream, tho. Kinda of an asshole move in the grand scheme of things, but he went in with the best intentions for his friend, so he gets a semi-pass.

D- Squad: *Helped him out of the Talk Show* 8/10 - There wasn't much that they could do, but they still got together and helped him notice his contamination. Wholesome much, D-Squad always got each other's backs despite being disbanded already. Also, the alien body possession was funny.

Brown: *Helped him out during the Taxi anomaly* 7/10 - Soleum freaked out a little when he heard him. But it was nice of him to arrange his meeting with J3. Well done, friend.

Lee Jaheon: *Broke into his room to warn him about his contamination* 6/10 - Don't you love it when you get home after a long day at work and a lizard man is waiting for you in the living room? I know I would A bit of a weird move, and he gets deductions for getting KSE into a huge debt with the Space Shopping Mall, but capitalism works the same way here and in the rest of the Galaxy, apparently. He also nudged KSE to burn the "good" friend after he re-summoned him, and honestly, I wish he had taken that advice. Thanks again, chief(s).

Brown: *Offered to help him at the festival, and once again at prison* 1/10 - A bit late for that, ain't it? You're losing the race, 친구.

Hyeonmu Team + Eun Haje: *Rescued him from the festival* 10/10 - When Soleum needed them the most, Hyeonmu Team stepped up with an exorcism sequence worthy of a shonen manga. Eun Haje really said "Fuck this mission, Soleum is more important" KSE was at his lowest, and this really helped him look forward to his future once again. Great work, team!

Agent Choi: *Threw him into prison* 0/10 - WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU

Agent Bronze: *Took the role of an interrogator* 15/10 - He did his best. He really did. He helped to make Soleum more comfortable in a process that was heading into torture territory. Had a nice dinner and a heart-to-heart with him. Lowkey became the person who got closest to understanding him. Also, mediated between Soleum and Choi, truly middle child behaviour. Too bad his best wasn't enough to deter Soleum from leaving the Bureau. He still gets the highest score for the effort. Everyone, give it up for Ryu Jaekwan.

Special Mentions J3: 🐺/10 - He still hasn't had his big moment yet, but you can tell that he would do whatever he could to help Soleum. Who's a good boy? Go Youngeun: 🐐/10. - She's a good, level-headed companion that Soleum can talk to. No matter the occasion, he can count on her as the sanest, most composed person in the room. Unless Baek Saheon is involved, and now Soleum has to stop them from throwing hands. Blue Dragon: 💙/10 - Not sure if his affection is good for KSE's mental health, but we know that he cares for him. Give him a chance, Soleum. Baek Saheon: 3/10 - Honestly, I think Soleum enjoys messing with him. Like the equivalent of squeezing a stress ball. That's gotta count for something, right? Director Ho: -100/10 - Lmao

Overall Winner: Lee Jaheon. When life's rough, remember that a lizard is looking out for you.

Winner in my heart: Ryu Jaekwan. Dear Ireum-nim, take all his suffering and give it to Agent Choi.

[natihoneybee]

Kagi-kun & the Basketball Team and HiraKagi Theories Post Chapter 29

In my free time, I spent the last few days rereading all of Hirano & Kagiura (including the novel) and then skimming through all of Sasaki & Miyano for Easter eggs. I wanted to compile as many details as I could find that’s related to Kagiura and his basketball team. I’m doing this to organize my thoughts better, and piece together details about the team.

While going through the material, I did come up with more theories for the upcoming chapter(s). But I might have to make a separate thread depending on how long the post gets. Anyway, I want this post to have facts and key details, so I’ll try to include volume and page numbers, too.

The first half of the post about Kagi-kun & the basketball team possibly has some spoilers for Ch. 29 but not really. Just in case I’m putting it under a “read more” line.

What we know about the basketball team

These are the names of basketball players mentioned so far: Shirahama Kyouji, Tomonori Kuda, Yamada, and Muroi Yuuki. These are the basketball players’ numbers we know about so far: Kagiura is #11 and there are two players who are #7 & #4 from a Shirahama flashback (Vol 10, chapter 49, page 18-19).

We know that Kagiura and the basketball team go to the city to watch basketball games or play outside of practice at a gym (Vol 4, chapter 11, page 7). Kagiura tells Hirano that there’s an arena nearby where a pro basketball team plays. And that the school basketball team sometimes takes the school buses (Vol 1, chapter 4, page 17). Based on some paperwork in (Vol 6, chapter 27, page 7), it looks like there is going to be an off-campus basketball retreat in the near future, which I think is going to come up in the next chapter and might be part of a larger arc in the next volume. But I will address that idea at the end in the “Basketball Retreat Theory” section.

Kagiura Akira

*I'm gonna be brief with Kagi's section because I could go on and on about him hehe

I’m really excited to see more of how Kagiura interacts with his teammates on the basketball team. While rereading, I focused on the scenes of Kagi with his basketball teammates and these scenes from (Vol 5, ch 23a) really stood out to me. Kagiura overhears another player complaining about him “getting out of cleaning” (Vol 5, ch 23a, page 3). And when he meets up with Hirano later that chapter, it’s revealed he’s late because he stayed behind and that “they needed help cleaning up” (Vol 5, ch 23a, page 8). I think that really goes to show the type of person Kagi is and how much he cares about the basketball club. He really works hard at it and doesn’t want anyone questioning his dedication to it. I'll get into this trait of his later in the Basketball Retreat Theory.

Jealous-kun

*I saw someone in another post say that this guy^ complaining about Kagi “getting out of cleaning” from (Vol 5, ch 23a, page 3) is the same guy in (Vol 6, chapter 29). And OMGG you are totally right!! GAAAHHH!! Idk his name though. If anyone could come up with a nickname while we wait, that would make talking about him easier (i’ll prob just call him jealous-kun for now). I'm assuming based on the translation, that he's also a second year.

Back to Kagi

Another thing I’ve been thinking about is a scene from (Vol 3, chapter 14, page 10-12) where a girl tries to give chocolates to Kagi on valentines day. I think her near confession is very precious. Kagi is so sweet about kindly turning down her chocolates. He seems really serious about what she has to say to him, too: he’s genuinely listening, asks her for her name, thanks her for watching their games and offers to walk her to the station. And the words she used to describe him “you looked so cool and mature when you were focusing”, definitely stuck with him in the context of Hirano: “I wonder if he’d think I’m cool and fall for me if I acted more mature”. Just something to think about. Now, this valentine’s day scene reminds of a scene in sasamiya with Shirahama, but I’ll get to that in his character section below.

Shirahama Kyouji

Shirahama in HiraKagi

Shirahama and Kagiura seem to be close, they frequently play basketball together even when there’s no practice scheduled, like during lunch (Vol 3, chapter 12, page 9-19) and on weekends (Vol 4, chapter 11, page 7). Someone in another post called them “basketball buddies” hehe. I think we’re definitely going to see more of their friendship as teammates in the upcoming chapters. Shirahama talks a lot about wanting a girlfriend, and often whines about how Kagiura is so popular with girls (Vol 4, chapter 20.6, pages 2-5). In the extra “Something About White Day”, Shirahama learns that Kagi has an unrequited love though, so I’m wondering if they will talk about love later on or if Kagiura will open up about his crush on Hirano to Shirahama. And even though Shirahama lightly complains about Kagi’s popularity with girls, he definitely cares about and respects Kagi enough to defend him from other players who are jealous of Kagi (Vol 5, ch 23a, page 3).

Shirahama in SasaMiya

Now jumping to the sasamiya series real quick in their third year: Something I’ve noticed is shirahama becoming more of a regular character since Vol 8. And we finally get a character name tag for him in (Vol 8, chapter 42, page 4). Since he’s becoming a bigger role in the sasamiya series, this goes back to my idea of shirahama possibly having a bigger role in hirakagi, too (i.e. he and kagi talking more about crushes or relationships). When I reread the parts of how Shirahama reacted to sasaki and miyano’s relationship (with the context of hirakagi) I started thinking: Does Shirahama know something about Kagiura and Hirano (to some extent)? Like maybe he knows that Kagiura has a crush or at this point is in a relationship that’s secret. Before learning about Miyano and Sasaki, maybe shirahama’s only example of how a couple acts was Kagiura and his experiences. Since, Shirahama seemed really surprised that Miyano wasn’t keeping his relationship a secret, I wonder if maybe Kagiura ever confided to Shirahama about his feelings for or eventual relationship with Hirano and if it was kept secret at some point because they were roommates (this is only the case if they start dating while being roommate, but I think they start dating in Kagiura’s third year tbh).

For Reference, here are the page numbers in sasamiya with Shirahama that I’m referring to: (Vol 8, chapter 42, page 4-8), (Vol 9, chapter 43, page 8), (Vol 10, chapter 49, page 18-21). And these are the specific Shirahama scenes/lines that stick out to me in the sasamiya series that may or may not back up my hirakagi theory involving shirahama (or I’m just delulu *shrug*):

In (Vol 8, chapter 42, page 4) Shirahama says “I’m never gonna get the chance to stay late at school getting everything ready for the cultural festival and then leave with a girl after I tell her it’s dangerous so she should let me walk her home!” He says it’s from a sim game, but it’s really specific and actually reminded me of Kagiura on valentine’s day haha. I wonder if this will happen to Kagiura in his 2nd year in the upcoming cultural festival.

“Let’s say I don’t find a girlfriend before college. Then I’m gonna end up getting a job and going out drinking, saying, ‘I wanna get married…!’ I feel like I’m gonna end up sounding like this guy on the team, and I don’t want that.” (vol 8, ch 42, pg 5).

“You scared me…!! You can’t just say that! It’s a secret!” (vol 8, ch 42, pg 7)

Shirahama says “Is that really what couples usually do…? Guess I was overthinking it.” (Vol 9, ch 43, pg 8)

I’m really interested in what y’all think about the scene in (Vol 10, chapter 49, page 18-21). It seems like Shirahama really doesn’t want to miss basketball practice and the flashback scene he recalls actually hits a nerve. Do you think maybe Shirahama is feeling insecure about his role in the basketball club here? Like maybe he’s not always part of the main team in tournaments? I initially thought that this was a Kagi cameo, but the jersey’s say #4 and #7, and I’ve read somewhere that Kagi’s jersey number is #11.

*Side note: I can’t remember which page in sasamiya it was, but Shirahama mentions going on group dates a lot. Is he going with some guys from the basketball team? If anyone knows, please please pleasee let me know. Obviously, I don’t think Kagi would go, but I can imagine him being asked to go to help the other guys out or “evening out the numbers” haha OR being asked NOT to go because he’s too popular with girls. It could be a funny scene to see idk.

Okay, I think that’s all I have to say about Shirahama on the basketball team for now. I’ll probably refer back to him later though.

Tomonori Kuda

I think he’s the one Kagi mentions in these passages in the HiraKagi light novel on pages 22 and 26. And I think that they might have a “rivals to teammates to friends” type of relationship. At least, that’s the impression I got from the novel when Kagi cheers for him at the Sports Festival and thinks “I’ve gotta tell him how glad I am that he joined the basketball team.”

Also, you can see the name “Tomonori Kuda” in Kagiura’s phone call log, and before Hirano called, he was the last person Kagi talked to on the phone (Vol 1, chapter 3, page 31). So, I’m kinda hoping that they’re close and we see more of that. When the regular players are called over at practice, Kagi and Kuda’s names are both called, and we get to put a face to the name (Vol 5, ch 23a, page 4).

Yamada “Run, Yamada!”

Someone is named Yamada (unknown given name) on the basketball team. This is literally just based on this one background character during practice when Shirahama is talking to Sasaki in (SasaMiya Vol 9, chapter 46, page 11 ) lol.

Muroi Yuuki “headband-kun”

I saw someone referring to him as “headband-kun” in a tag and I thought it was the cutest thing. Muroi Yuuki is a newer character we’ve just been introduced to, and we know he’s Kagiura’s kouhai. He’s a first year, while Kagi is a second year. I believe his first appearance is (Vol 6, chapter 27, page 4 & 7). In the scene where Kagi is helping Muroi with paperwork in (Vol 6, chapter 27, page 7), we see a close up of his name and his reason for staying off-campus. We see quite a bit of him in Chapter 29: where he’s on the school bus with the basketball team, he asks Kagiura which activity he’s doing, introduces himself to Hirano telling him he’s on the basketball team and then asks to have Hirano’s contact information. So we know that 1) he will be at the off-campus basketball retreat, 2) he’s a kouhai on the basketball team, 3) He really looks up to Kagiura. I think he’s adorable and I am soooo looking forward to seeing more of Kagiura and Muroi’s kouhai/senpai relationship. I am so glad Kagiura finally has a kouhai of his own! Also, that part where Kagi gives Muroi his phone to watch a game… so cute, it’s giving ipad kid lmao 🤣😭.

HiraKagi Theories (Spoilers for Chapter 29!!!)

Okay! So that’s it for what I have on the basketball team profiles. I’m gonna get into what I think is going happen after Chapter 29. This section is definitely going to have spoilers!

Basketball Retreat Theory

I think there are going to be multiple arcs coming into play during the months May-October of Hirano’s 3rd and Kagiura’s 2nd year (Hirakagi Vol 7 and onward). First, I’m going to address my Basketball Retreat Theory. Based on some paperwork in (Vol 6, chapter 27, page 7), it looks like there is going to be an off-campus basketball retreat in the near future, which I think is actually going to come up in the next chapter and might be part of a larger arc in this coming up volume.

I can’t remember exactly where this image^ is from, but it got me thinking: Does Kagi become the new captain for the basketball team? I don’t think that’s something that has been confirmed or not but it just makes sense, right? I just get the feeling there’s gotta be more behind the question that Hanzawa is asking Shirahama, especially since Hanzawa is so familiar with Kagiura and his character. I mean like Hanzawa had asked Kagi about being an RA at some point. Kagi was in the running for being an RA without even realizing it! Tashiro (who became ping pong captain) mentioned that he started getting scouted for the position during the summer/ cultural festival season, which is coming up soon in the hirakagi timeline.

Now, back to the basketball retreat and upcoming tournaments: If Kagi’s senpais on the basketball team are going to start scouting for the new team captain, I am absolutely positive they are going to partially determine who to choose based on how well things run smoothly at the retreat and tournaments. Going back to Kagiura’s profile from earlier, we know he’s Basketball Team Captain worthy and Hirano has even said to Kagi that “They’re well aware of how hard you’ve been working” (Vol 5, chapter 23b, page 6). Not to even mention, Kagi in his 2nd year has now been training and teaching the younger members too! So, following this theory that Kagi is in the running for becoming the new basketball team captain, I think this definitely adds to the possibility that we will see some basketball team drama. Especially if Jealous-kun is another 2nd year basketball player in the team interested in that position.

Homophobic Jealous-kun Theory

Now, this other theory involves Jealous-kun much more. My other theory is that Jealous-kun, who has a history of intently watching Kagiura, catches Kagiura having a moment with Hirano—and like Hirano with Inchinose—Kagi makes eye contact and realizes they were caught. Only, Jealous-kun isn’t as sweet about it and reacts homophobically. If this does happen, I actually think this might go a really angsty route where Hirano and/or Hanzawa get involved. Like… I’m wondering if there will be a physical fight between Kagi and Jealous-kun (which just thinking about that scares me so much cause idek if Kagi can fight??) But the reason I think this is a huge possibility is because of some clues in both hirakagi and sasamiya series.

It’s been brought up multiple times that Hirano is good in a fight, in (Vol 1, chapter 3, page 14) Sasaki tries to reassure Hanzawa that “Hirano’s good in a fight. If anything happens, he’ll be fine… I think”. To which Hanzawa replies “That ‘I think’ doesn’t really make me feel better”. So I’m wondering if there will be a point in the story where we will see Hirano get in a physical fight. Either he fights someone *cough cough maybe jealous kun?* to defend Kagi or Kagi is in a physical fight with someone *cough cough maybe jealous kun?* and Hirano gets involved to try to split it up.

If this does happen, I think Hanzawa could be a witness to this situation. Fast forward to the scene from sasamiya (Vol 6, chapter 30, page 12). Hanzawa says “Some of the guys in my life are gay, and I’ve seen them get in fights before. It’s scary. Whenever they get hurt, I always worry that something happened with one of their boyfriends…” Now, when I first read this scene I only thought about it in the context of Hanzawa’s brothers past relationships (maybe they dealt with domestic abuse). BUT in the context of hirakagi (it’s interesting that Hirano is pictured here), it’s definitely not the case of domestic abuse or toxic relationships.

I think the wording here is on purpose because 1) Hanzawa used the phrase “some of the guys in my life are gay” instead of just using “brothers”. So I immediately thought of Kagiura. 2) When he says “I always worry that something happened with one of their boyfriends”, I feel like it could have a double meaning where “that something” that “happened with one of their boyfriends” could be Hanzawa and Hirano finding out that Kagiura is in a fight with someone and Hirano dashes to him (we all remember how fast he ran when kagi was overtired).

*sigh* Just thinking about this situation is stressing me out. So for now I’m moving on to another thought process and that’s Hirano’s confession, but I’ll get back to Hanzawa later.

Hirano’s Confession

As of right now it’s May in the hirakagi timeline, the sports festival just happened and in the sasamiya timeline this is when Sasaki (awkwardly) confesses to Miyano. 

In the sasamiya series in (Vol 3, chapter 15, page 21), we have this beautiful moment between Hirano and Sasaki that happens in June. Hmph. So, Hirano’s reaction definitely feels personal, right?? Because there’s definitely a window between May and June, I wouldn’t be surprised if Harusono stretched out that period of time. Still, I’m pretty positive that Hirano is going to confess in June right before or right after this scene with Sasaki. Hirano’s comment: “Stop making excuses and just tell him already!” Absolutely confirms to me that there is going to be something on Hirano’s mind that he might use as an excuse to wait to tell Kagi, that will delay his confession, or that will just make him feel hesitant. And I think that something could be related to the basketball retreat theory, the homophobic jealous kun theory, or how Hanzawa feels about gay relationships (at this point in the series). And when he tells this to Sasaki, I think he’s also saying this to himself (maybe).

Hanzawa’s Involvement

Time to get back to Hanzawa. In the sasamiya timeline, we’re officially introduced to his character with a name tag in (sasamiya Vol 4, chapter 19, page 8). At this time, it’s July. I think it’s really interesting that Harunsono chose this point to officially introduce Hanzawa, especially with Hirano’s dorm life brought up on the same page and Hanzawa seeming to be unphased. Later in (sasamiya Vol 4, chapter 22, page 19-20 & 24) Hanzawa and Miyano are discussing what love is. At this time, it’s September during cultural festival preparations. I saw someone in another post say that it feels like Hanzawa is repeating someone else’s words. I believe this is definitely the case. In the Sasaki and Miyano anime, Hanzawa’s speech actually overlaps with scenes of Hirano & Kagiura and Kuresawa & Ogasawara on the phone with their respective girlfriends. And the reference to Hirano and Kagiura feels like such an obvious clue now looking back at it. The conversation between Hanzawa and Miyano (in the anime and manga) goes like this: 

Miyano: What do you think it means to like someone?

Hanzawa: I think it depends on the person. Like wanting to do stuff with them? Or like wanting to be together. Wanting to hold hands. Wanting to touch them. Wanting to kiss them. Wanting to hold them. Or wanting to have them all to yourself. … Love is when you can’t stop thinking about the other person, or so they say.

Everything that Hanzawa says and uses as an example of Love literally relates back to Hirano and Kagiura. So, it could be that this is a speech that Hirano has said to Hanzawa before. Even the phrasing reminds me of Hirano. Like in hirakagi (chapter 29, pages 12-13 & 16) when Hirano is talking to Ichinose, Hirano asks “Have you ever wanted to kiss someone? … And try various things. … I’m fine with touching them”. Hirano is sorta still figuring out the type of “like/love” he feels for kagiura (although in chapter 29, page 34 it looks like he’s realized it’s the same as kagiura’s like/love), but once he figures it out completely, I think he’s going to share this information with Hanzawa. And explain it to Hanzawa with personal examples: 

Kagiura and Hirano feel love differently (it depends on the person)

Sometimes it’s wanting to try various things (like wanting to do stuff with them?)

Wanting to continue living together as roommates (like wanting to be together)

Wanting to hold hands (something Hirano and Kagiura have done)

Wanting to touch them (the 10 seconds touch everyday)

Wanting to kiss them (something Kagiura or Ichinose want to do when they like someone)

Wanting to hold them (hugging)

Wanting to have them all to yourself (dating and Kagi's "More than anything, I want to be with you" in chapter 29, page 28)

When you can’t stop thinking about the other person (literally Hirano every moment of everyday and Kagi when Hirano leaves)

And I think this is going to happen in July, since that’s when Hanzawa was introduced to the sasamiya series and seems to be more open to gay relationships by this time. I just think that Harusono is very intentional with their characters and would set it up this way. Especially since in (sasamiya Vol 4, chapter 19, page 8) Hanzawa doesn’t seem to be as worried as he did before about Hirano and Kagiura’s dorm life as roommates (him no longer being an RA might be a factor as well, but I think it’s mostly because Hirano has talked it over with Hanzawa regarding his closeness with Kagi).

*Side Note: Now this isn't really about Hanzawa's involvement, but on the topic of Hirano’s feelings and for the sake of sticking to chronological order with referencing chapter 29 so much, I'm going to put it here. Are we going to get a kiss in the next chapter?? Before they were interrupted by Muroi (chapter 29, page 30), it seems like they were talking about trying it (when they have more privacy, like maybe back at the dorm?). Because like… Hirano didn’t say no, just not here. Ya know?

Hirakagi Timeline Post Chapter 29

Okay, so I think I’ve addressed everything I wanted to. But to lay it out in a more organized fashion, here is a timeline based on all my theories and how I think it could pan out post chapter 29:

May -> Right now we’re at the Sports Festival

May - June -> basketball retreat/tournaments/team drama that Kagiura is gonna have to face; the basketball retreat theory, the homophobic jealous-kun theory? (could happen anywhere between May-July)

June -> Hirano’s confession!! (hopefully)

June - July -> Hirano and Hanzawa’s heart to heart moment

September - October -> Cultural festival; possible basketball tournament (shoutout to @rubyrose143 for finding this easter egg in sasamiya chapter 23.1)

December - January -> New Year’s Eve (Kagi is sick; Hirano goes to the shrine with Sasaki and meets Miyano, Kuresawa and Tashiro there in the "Special Drama CD My Wish", also shown as an extra chapter in sasamiya Vol 3)

Well, that's it. I hope this was somewhat helpful and entertaining to read. Thank you all for interacting, please let me know if I missed anything, and please please please tell me what you think! ❤️

[jiniretracha]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐲 - Jeon Jungkook (1)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader / Park Jimin x fem!reader (but not quite, you'll see)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Future smut

Summary: You were supposed to spend your happily ever after with Jeon Jungkook... until a family issue causes him to leave and a sudden break up leaves you bereft in the arms of your best friend, Park Jimin.

Word count: 6.7k

PS: this is heavily entirely inspired in the last two episode of True Beauty (so consider this a huge spoiler if you haven't seen it) cause i've been a fan of it since it came out and I just had to do something about it lol

MASTERLIST // my Ko-Fi // SERIES MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 1: 𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐈𝐭 𝐄𝐧𝐝?

“Bottoms up!” Seokjin loudly cheered as you and your friends downed your soju shots. 

You looked at your now-empty glass of soju, liquid that was now burning down your throat. But you couldn’t care less about it. It had been the most tiring day ever, like every day since you started being an assistant to a supermodel newcomer, Nari.

Your eyelids were feeling heavy, dizzy with alcohol and sleep that your body was begging for since the beginning of the day. 

“Hey, Y/N-innie,” Taehyung called you, twirling a strand of hair from her girlfriend’s hair, Karina, your high school best friend, while he talked. “Nari gave you trouble today?” he asked, sipping on his drink. 

With a huff and an eyeroll, you nodded, letting your forehead drop on your palm. “Yeah, fuck, you don’t know how much her voice just irritates me, let alone her demands!” you cried, slurring almost every word. “Ever since Jimin dropped me off that one time, like- when was it? Like, a month ago? She’s been bugging me about getting her a date with him ever since” you cried.

“Then, why doesn’t he take her out?” Karina shrugs.

“Because he doesn’t like her” you sighed, pouring more soju on your shot cup.

Seokjin snorts and shakes his head. “Of course he doesn’t. Who wouldn’t?” he asks with a smile. “I stalked her Insta the other day. She’s pretty and all, don’t get me wrong, but bitch is obnoxious” he hisses.

Your eyebrows arch. “See?” you say to Taehyung and Karina. 

Taehyung laughs. “Where is Jimin, by the way?” he asked, his head turning towards the door. “He said he’d be here by 10 and that was thirty minutes ago” Tae said, looking at you.

You let out a huff. “I don’t know, honestly. He said he was practicing with his new band” you downed your soju shot and then let out a cry. “At this point he’ll abandon us for his new friends” 

“Oh no, not another Jungkook” Seokjin chuckles.

But nobody at the table laughed. Not even a smile was sent his way.

Karina glared at him.

Taehyung narrowed his eyes.

And you, you simply stared at the table in front of you. 

“S-sorry. Didn’t realise it was still a sensitive topic. Sorry” he apologised. If he were a dog, he’d have his tail between his legs, and his ears bowed down in shame along with his head. 

You sighed and used it as an excuse to pour another soju shot. 

Karina looked at you and her expression softened with worry. “Y/N, babe, don’t you think… don’t you think you’ve had enough for today?” she asked.

“Nope”

“How many shots have you downed since we got here?” she asked you, placing a hand over yours.

“I don’t know. And I don’t care” you said, throwing back the shot. “That’s better” 

Taehyung sighed and dug his hand inside his pocket. He clicked on the chat he had with Jimin and sent him another text.

Tae: Jimin hyung. We have a problem. It’s Y/N, hurry tf up. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Jimin walked inside the restaurant with a pant and looked around in search of his friends.

“Jimin-ssi” Taehyung waved his hand and Jimin walked faster towards them. 

“Hey!” he panted and his eyes fell towards you.

You were slumped over the table, head inside your arms, as you mumbled incoherent nonsense against the fabric of your cashmere black sweater. 

He smiled slightly and sat on the empty seat next to yours.

“Why did you let her drink so much, you guys?” Jimin scolded them as he got comfortable.

“Yo, blame her, not us bro. She’s a big girl” Seokjin cried. “She needed those drinks. Her day at work sucked”

Jimin let out a sigh and put a hand over your back. 

“Y/N, hey. It’s me, come on. Wake up” he whispered gently as he tried to move you.

Your head shot up and you opened your eyes. You instantly smiled and let out a little chuckle.

“Hello, you…” you drawled out, poking his cheek. 

Jimin gave you a toothy smile. “Yeah, hi, sleeping beauty” he chuckled. 

“I’m sorry…” you said and let your head fall on his shoulder.

He froze in his spot and reluctantly put an arm around you, caressing your shoulder.

His eyes looked up and found Tae and Karina smirking at him. He sent them a frown and a grimace, like stop meddling!

With a sigh, you straightened up and blinked your eyes open. “This is all your fault” you spat at him.

Jimin’s smile fell. “Huh?” he asked, utterly confused.

“Every day at work is a day in hell because of that nagging bitch Nari, why can’t you just do me that favour!” you yelled, grabbing his collar and shaking him a little.

“Wait, wait, Y/N” Jimin said, prying your hands off of him. 

“Y/N, go easy on him” Karina chuckled.

You looked at her and then back at Jimin and let him go with a sigh. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Jimin helped you out of the restaurant while Seokjin, Karina and Tae trailed behind. 

“You got her, right? You can drive her home?” Tae asked.

Jimin smiled and nodded, looking at you, slumped against him with a drunk smile. “Yeah, I’ve handled her before, so…” he trailed off with a shrug.

“That’s great, please text us when you guys get home, okay?” Karina said to all of you.

“Yeah, we will” Jimin said, waving at the three friends walking away.

“Buh-bye!” you slurred and then hiccuped.

“Come on, young lady…” he said and helped you walk through the streets.

You turned your head to the side and gasped when you saw the river in front of the restaurant. “Wow…” you breathed out.

Jimin let out a chuckle. “You do that every time we go out to this bar” 

You looked up at him and blushed. “I know, I just love the river” you shrugged.

Your friend eyed you and grabbed your hand, “Come on, let’s sit and look at it, shall we?” 

You smiled and nodded, jumping up and down but he grabbed your waist and pinned you to the ground.

“No jumping”

You grumbled. “Okay, grandpa”

He chuckled and helped you cross the street, leading you to sit on a bench that faced the beautiful view of Han River at night. He sighed when he had you sat down and he did the same, next to you. He curled his arm around you and stared at your face. 

“You okay?” he asked you, handing you a bottle of water he had in his bag.

“Thank you, and yeah, I think so” you sighed, drinking a little from the bottle. “I just have a lot going on, that’s all” 

“Tell me”

“No… it’s always the same” you slurred. “It’s me telling you about my problems when you’re probably on your way to becoming the next big thing. You needn’t worry about my stupid middle class issues”

Jimin cackled. “Hey, I’m middle class, too!” 

“Yeah, well. Not anymore, that’s for sure” you grumbled. 

Jimin giggled. “Come on, let’s get you sober” he said, pushing the bottle closer to you. “Drink it, now”

You chuckled at his tone and gave it a big gulp. 

Once you placed the bottle down next to you, you gave him a dizzy look. 

“What’s up” he smiled.

“Jiminnie” you started. “Can’t you just… like- a little bit, just… take her out? For once?” you pleaded him.

“Y/N…” he huffed. “I said no, okay?”

You groaned. “You could make my life so much easier. I'm not talking- like- dating and stuff, marry her or some shit. I'm just asking you to take her to dinner, once. That's all I'm asking” you insisted, putting your hands together in a praying manner.

“I don't like her! I find her just as infuriating as you do” Jimin cried.

“I know, I know. But just once… you can like- totally dump her after that” you continued. 

Jimin looked down, clearly uncomfortable. “Please stop” he told you and you bit your lip, to contain pleading him much further. “Don’t tell me to meet some other girl, alright?” he asked you, with a straight face. 

You frowned at his tone, so unlikely of his character.

“It makes me mad” he sighed. 

“Why?” 

“Why do you ask?” he chuckled and looked away. “I think you should know how I feel by now, Y/N” 

You gave Jimin a confused look.

He pressed his tongue against his cheek. “She’s drunk, Jimin. Come on” he whispered to himself. 

You grabbed his hand and gave him puppy eyes. “Tell me… It’s okay, I’ll probably remember tomorrow” 

Jimin looked at you, completely enamoured by you and his eyes couldn't help but drift down to your mouth. Your plump bottom lip was jutted and it was giving him the mad urge to bite it. But he had to pull himself together. 

You, as drunk as you were, realised that Jimin, in that moment, wanted to kiss you.

“Jimin?” you asked him.

“Yeah?” he asked you, his gaze not pulling away from your lips.

“Can we… can we go home?” you stuttered. “I’m kind of freezing”

Jimin pulled away all of a sudden and blinked. 

Of course.

“Y-yeah, let’s go” he whispered. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The next day, you sat up on your bed holding your head in your hands. 

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m never drinking again” you whispered to yourself.

The door opened and Jimin walked inside the room, holding a cup of tea in his hands and a tablet of Advil in his hand.

“You say that every time” he chuckled.

You sighed and let him sit next to you, as he handed you the cup and the Advil. “I know, but I think this time I mean it” you licked your lips, downing the pill. “Thank you, Chim”

He smiled and put the cup down. “You’re welcome”

You grabbed his arm and smiled, remembering all of a sudden. “How did practice go? Did they tell you when’s your debut date?” 

“Nope” he shook his head. “But I have a great feeling about it, actually” he nodded. “I think it’s closer than we all think”

“I think it’s around the corner. No, it’s behind you. It’s like, breathing down your neck” you smiled, sipping on the tea while he chuckled.

“That’s sweet of you, Y/N” he blushed. 

“I’m just telling you the truth” you shrugged and he pressed his lips together. 

“Thank you” he chuckled. 

You swallowed the tea and left the cup by your nightstand.

“Did I gave you a hard time last night?” you asked him, really not wanting him to answer that question but also wanting him to. “You know, I don’t remember how I got so drunk” 

He patted your hair and gave you a smile. “No, just… you were very insistent” he frowned.

You pulled your face back. “What? With what?”

“With the Nari thing” he replied. 

Your shoulders deflated. “Oh, yeah” you nodded. “Sorry about that. It’s just that… she’s like… making me hate my job”

“But you love it” he frowned.

“I know! I love it, and that’s the worst part” you said.

He sighed. “I’ll think of something” Jimin tried.

Your eyes widened. “You will?” you asked with a smile.

“I’ll try, I said” 

You clapped your hands and hugged him. “Oh, thank you, Chim. I love you!” you squealed.

Yeah… 

“I love you, too” he said, patting your back. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You walked down the steps of the building hall with Jimin, as he grabbed the keys from his car from his pocket.

“Thank you… again, Chim, for taking me here. I’m really lucky to have someone who’s there to save my ass every time” you chuckled. 

He giggled and pushed your shoulder slightly. “Don’t mention it, and don’t get sappy on me. I might throw up” 

You laughed and looked away. “I won’t… sorry” 

You got flashbacks from the events from the night prior.

How he had looked at your lips.

How he had looked at you with want.

You hadn’t been looked like that since-

“Hey, you okay?” Jimin asked you, placing a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back to earth. 

You blinked. “Um, Chim… you- you wanted to say something to me last night. You remember?” you asked him. 

He licked his lips. “I- I- uh…” he stammered. 

You noticed his discomfort and you let out a sigh. 

“Chim… don’t tell me-”

“I’m sorry” he looked away, ashamed.

You closed your eyes. “Chim, come on” 

“I know” he said, his eyes getting teary.

You grabbed his hands and made him look at you. “It’s not worth it… I’m… not worth it”

Jimin smiled. “Yeah, you are. You’re just… blind, I guess” he chuckled a little.

You smiled. “No, I’m really not. I’m a dumbass, who’s too stupid to get over his ex” you exploded. “And you deserve someone who gives you her full attention. And doesn’t have baggage like me”

“Why don’t you let me help you?” he asked you.

“What?” you asked, confused. “With- with what?”

“Help you get over him…”

「 ✦ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐖𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰: 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝? ✦ 」

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 A YEAR AGO 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Jungkook walked through the halls of the hospital, his breathing was heavy and his eyes were drenched with tears. 

He knew his father and him didn’t have the greatest relationship out of all, but he wasn’t going to deny that he loved him.

It was his only parent alive, and he wasn’t about to lose him just like he lost his mother. At least, without saying goodbye. 

He pushed the door open from his room and found him lying in his hospital bed.

Jungkook blinked a couple of times, trying not to cry in front of the nurses that were cleaning up his room. 

They all looked at him and gave him a sympathetic look.

He sighed and went to sit down next to him, feeling the nurses scurry away from the room to give him some privacy with his father. Jungkook grabbed his hand and watched him breathe in and out, with his mask placed on his face. He looked so peaceful and he feared that if he touched him too harshly, he’d break.

“I’m here…” he whispered against his palm. “I’m here, dad” 

His dad’s eyes blinked open and he made a surprise noise. 

“I… Jungkook” he tried to smile. 

“Dad” he smiled, caressing his arm.

“I’m sorry” he breathed out. “I’m sorry, Jungkook” he said and tried taking off his mask.

“No, no, no” Jungkook cried softly, tears falling on his face. “Keep it, you need that”

He grabbed his son’s hand and placed it close to his heart. 

“I thought… I’d go without being able to see you” he breathed out. “You traveled all the way to the US to see me?” 

He smiled at him and nodded. “I did, dad” he smiled.

Jungkook had flied all the way to Minnesota, just to see his dad after receiving a call that he had been urged to the hospital. 

“Thank you, son” he grinned, patting Jungkook’s hand. “Did you tell Y/N you’re here?” 

He nodded. “Yeah, she actually drove me all the way to the airport”

His dad chuckled. “That girl… she’s special, huh?”

“Yeah, she’s really something” Jungkook chuckled, feeling his chest tighten at how much love his heart held for you. 

“I’d… I’d like to meet her sometime, if you let me” his dad asked him.

Jungkook looked away and wiped the tears from his face. 

“I know, I know I fucked up” he sighed. 

“Shh… please try to sleep, okay?” he asked his dad. 

His dad nodded weakly and his eyes slowly closed. 

Jungkook sat up and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll see you later, okay?” he whispered and kissed his forehead once again. 

He left the room, and let out a sigh. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A few weeks later, Jungkook opened the door to his room at the hospital that was connected to the one his father had, and let out a breath when he let himself fall on the bed with a thud.

With a groan, he stretched his back and let all the muscles and bones crack. 

He felt his phone buzzing in the pocket of his jeans and he quickly took it out from it.

Jungkook felt his mouth widen in a lovesick smile and pressed answer immediately.

“Jagiya! What are you doing up at this hour? Isn’t it like… the middle of the night in Seoul?” he asked, checking the watch he had on his wrist.

You giggled on the other side. “I was studying, that’s it” he heard her giggle and he sat up on the bed. “Are you at the airport yet?” 

“No, I just got back from taking care of him. You know, giving him food with a fork like a baby and shit. I’m being picked up in an hour or so” he smiled. “Dad’s going to be discharged soon though, I don’t know if I’m gonna have to go back again, you know?” 

“You wanna fly with your dad?” you asked him. 

“Yeah, kind of” he shrugged. “But… at the same time, I don’t wanna leave you, you know?” he chuckled. 

“Aw, you love me” you sing-songed.

“Didn’t you know yet?” he giggled. “Head over heels” 

You squealed on the other side of the line and his heart doubled its size. “I love you too, my Jungkookie” 

“Ah, I miss you, Jagi” he sighed.

“Me too” you smiled. “But we’re seeing each other in hours so… don’t miss me too much” 

“That is literally impossible” he let out a breath.

“Okay, okay, enough with me. How’s your dad?” you asked him. 

“He’s alright, I guess. He’s completely awake now, and well, he’s tired as hell” he told you. “But they told me that everything is a good sign. I mean, he had a heart attack, he could’ve died… literally speaking. But, you know, he’s recovering, and he’s doing well. And I trust them” 

“That’s good, then” you told him, with genuine happiness.

“Yeah, it is”

“I told you everything was going to be okay, Kookie” you said softly.

“You’re always right”

“I’m always right, indeed. You’re a smart boy” you giggled.

He repeated the action and giggled too.

“You know, it’s been a month since we’ve seen each other”

“Yeah” he nodded. “I miss you so much” he said, again.

“I know, you told me” you chuckled. “And I miss you too… you know, I can come meet you at the airport” 

“No, Jagi, don’t worry. I’ll head to you as soon as I arrive” Jungkook reassured you. 

“No! I really want to go!” you whined.

Jungkook rolled his eyes with a smile. “You’re not gonna let it go, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, you can come to the airport” Jungkook said.

“Yay” you squealed.

“Okay, missy. You gotta go to sleep, it’s Thursday. You have uni tomorrow” Jungkook scolded.

“Yes, sir”

He felt his cock stir at the sudden name you used. “Y/N…”

“Yeah?” you said, feigning innocence. 

“I’m hanging up” he chuckled.

“Okay” you said and he heard you yawn. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my love. I love you”

“See you tomorrow, Jagi. Love you”

He hung up the call and let the phone drop on the bed.

A few minutes later, he got a call from the uber that was waiting for him outside the Hospital.

He grabbed his suitcase and got out of the room, but the moment he did, he saw three paramedics running with a hospital bed, in which laid a patient he knew really well: his dad.

His eyes widened and he ran, following them as they got inside the Operating room. When he got to the door, a nurse intercepted him and he was sure she was telling him to step back, but with all his yelling, he couldn’t hear a thing. 

“Dad!” he yelled, “Dad!” 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You got to the airport with a huge smile on your face and sat down on a bench by the arrivals gate. You were chewing your lip anxiously and excitedly at the same time because you were dying to see your boyfriend. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Your dad had a cardiac arrest, boy” the doctor in charge of the surgery said, taking off his face mask.

Jungkook felt his heart drop to his feet as he stared wordlessly at the doctor.

“His vitals are stable, however… his condition is still serious” the doctor said. “We’ll do whatever it takes to get your dad back to your home country, don’t worry” he smiled slightly, patting Jungkook’s shoulder and heading back to the operation room.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Two hours passed… then three… and then four.

Jungkook was nowhere in sight.

It got to a point where you stared at the floor, feeling numb. The sadness had left your body a while ago and it was just hopelessness.

You decided to get up from the bench, paid for the parking and went straight home. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The next day, you sat with Karina next to you at your uni class, while staring at your textbook. 

You felt her shake your shoulder and you looked at her, only to find her giving you a look that screamed: I pity you.

“Hey, babe. You alright?” she asked.

Bless her soul.

You plastered a fake smile and nodded. “Yeah, just… distracted. That’s all” you lied.

She furrowed her eyebrows but let it go. 

You felt your phone buzz and you immediately grabbed it. 

Disappointment filled your body when you saw it was just a dumb Instagram notification. With a sigh, you opened the messaging app and clicked on the chat with your boyfriend. 

You eyed the past messages you and Jungkook had shared, and the last you had sent him.

You: How’s your dad?

Jungkook: the same

You: did you at least get some sleep, baby?

He hadn’t replied to that one. 

You licked your lips and pressed your eyes together, trying to refrain yourself from crying in front of a whole class. How embarrassing. 

By the end of the day, you felt your stomach killing you with anxiety, to the point that when you got to your home, you had to bend over from the pain. 

You groaned, and gasped, feeling your feet shake from the pain.

Karina, who happened to be your roommate at the time, saw you on the floor and gasped, running towards you.

“Y/N! Y/N! You okay? Hey, look at me!” she desperately said, grabbing your face. 

“Kari- Kari, please take me to the hospital” you wheezed out.

“Yeah, yeah, come on” she said. “Hold on to me”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

A few hours later, Karina watched you sleep in a hospital bed. They had given you medication for the stomach pain and some pills for future anxiety attacks like the one you had.

She sighed as she stared at you.

“She’s gonna be fine, babe” Taehyung, your longtime friend, and since two months ago, Karina’s boyfriend, said, rubbing her back.

“I know, she will be. But it’s what's causing it that's worrying me, you know?” Karina bit her lip.

With a long breath out, she smiled at her boyfriend. 

Your phone vibrated on the little stand next to the bed.

Jungkook, it read. 

Karina and Taehyung looked at each other and nodded. Karina picked up the call and tried her best to sound calm.

“Hey, Jungkook” she said. 

“Oh, Karina. Hi” he smiled slightly. “How have you been?”

“I’m fine, how about you?” Karina replied. 

Jungkook sighed. “Well, I’m… holding on, I guess. Where’s- where’s Y/N?” he asked shakily. 

Karina looked at your sleeping form and chewed on her lip. “Um, don’t freak out. Y/N’s at the hospital right now, we’re taking care of he-”

“WHAT?” Jungkook yelled. “How- how did that happen? Is she okay?”

“Oh gosh, calm down. She’s fine, Jungkook. It’s not serious. She just had an anxiety attack and her stomach was killing her” Karina explained it all to Jungkook. “The exams we’ve had lately are killing us and well… you know, what’s going on with your dad took a toll on her, too. I’m not gonna lie to you, Kook” 

“Can- can I speak to her, please?” Jungkook asked, in a small voice. 

“I’m sorry, she’s asleep. They gave her some strong medicine that kicked her lights out” Karina chuckled a little. “How’s your dad, Jungkook?”

“He’s not well, yet” Jungkook whispered.

Karina hummed. Tae crouched down and said, “Hey, Jungkookie, we miss you”

Jungkook smiled. “Hey, Tae” he chuckled.

“Okay, that’s enough, adults are talking” Karina jokingly pushed his boyfriend away, making him pout at her. “Well, we wish you and him nothing but the best from here. We’ll tell her to call you when she wakes up”

Jungkook nodded. “Right, thank you” he said quietly. 

Jungkook hung up and Karina left the phone by the stand with a sigh.

“I hope he’s okay” Tae told her.

Karina grabbed his hand and kissed the back of it. “He will be. And Y/N-nnie will be too” 

Taehyung nodded and hugged his girlfriend.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Once you got home, you got ready for bed in your usual pajamas: one of Jungkook’s shirts and a pair of worn out shorts. 

As you let yourself get comfortable under the sheets, you felt your phone ringing and you quickly grabbed it, smiling slightly when you saw your boyfriend's name on the screen.

You swiped to answer the call and calmed yourself. 

“Hey, Kook! How are you, honey” you smiled. “It feels like we haven’t talked in forever”

“Hey… right” he trailed off.

Jungkook was sitting on a hospital bench, outside of his father’s room. His leg was bouncing up and down with the nerves racking over his body. 

“Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah!” you lied. “I am, actually. Of course. I actually passed my last test yesterday so…” 

“That’s great” Jungkook breathed out in a smile. 

“I know!” you squealed. “I was so nervous. But well, if I’m going to be the best makeup artist ever, I gotta pass the hardest tests, I mean, right?” 

“Yeah” Jungkook said, biting his lip and rolling his lip ring with his tongue. “Y/N…”

“Yeah, babe?”

Jungkook pressed his eyes together at the nickname. “We… we should break up” he said all in one breath. 

You blinked a couple of times, feeling your heart stopping its beating for a couple of seconds. “Huh?” you asked in a small voice. “What do you mean?”

“Waiting on my dad without knowing when he’ll wake up… must be hard for you too” Jungkook said, feeling the tears he had tried so hard to hold in his eyes, starting to fall. He sniffled and looked down to his feet. “It’s not fair to you”

You felt your vision getting blurry with tears. “What- what are you talking about?” you asked him. “It’s not hard for me at all, Jungkook” you lied. “I can wait, it’s all right”

“I don’t feel that’s what you deserve, Jagiya. I can’t even be there for you when you need me” Jungkook cried. “I feel so bad about it”

“You don’t have to feel bad about me, Jungkook” you cried.

“But I do! You’ve had an anxiety attack and I couldn’t even be there for you. God knows what else you might be going through or what you’ll go through and I’ll be unable to be there for you because of my current situation!” Jungkook said, his face completely soaked with tears of sadness. 

“I said I’m fine, Kook. Why are you doing this?” you sobbed. Jungkook didn’t answer. “I don’t want to break up. Nuh-uh” you shook your head as you frowned. “I can- fuck, I can even make money to fly back and fourth but we’re not over, we’re not!” 

“I… I can’t let you do that” Jungkook chuckled humorlessly. 

“Why not? Jungkook, that is my decision” you told him.

Jungkook smiled at your words and how you stood your ground. Just like you’ve always done. 

“Do well in Uni, Jagi. Don’t wait for my calls anymore, okay?” he asked softly. 

“Stop it, stop it, stop it!” You cried, almost grabbing your hair and ripping it out of your head from how he was talking. “Don’t say it like it’s our last time”

“It is…” he sobbed.

“No, I’m hanging up, Jungkook. You can call me when you’re in your right mind. Okay?” you said and hung up. 

You threw your phone further away on the bed and dropped your face on your pillow, sobbing your lungs out and kicking your feet. 

Karina came into the room, hearing your cries and immediately wrapped her arms around you, soothing you.

Meanwhile, in the United States, Jungkook stared at his phone and let out a sob that racked through his whole body. He let his head drop and cried, alone in a hospital hallway, his shoulders shaking. 

「 ✦ 𝐖𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

𝐖𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬' 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬?✦ 」

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The days went by slowly, oh so slowly. It was torture. Seokjin, the one who knew how to cheer you up the most, didn’t know what to do. He had run out of jokes to tell you, the ones he knew that he’d have you cackling and grabbing your stomach in seconds. 

Jimin, whom you’ve always considered your soulmate, always reminding each other how scary it was how alike you thought, didn’t even know what you were thinking now. He couldn’t decode what was on your head anymore. 

Karina didn’t know what to do either. She didn’t want to pressure you into going out to get your mind off things, but she also didn’t want you to mope around forever in your shared apartment. 

Taehyung was going crazy as well, because he knew that Jungkook, one of his best friends, wasn’t going to come around any time soon and, because he cared for you, he felt so bad for you as well. 

A month passed by and Karina had moved out of the apartment to Taehyung’s. You were genuinely happy for her, because you knew how long it had taken for those two to confess their feelings, and you knew how much they loved each other. 

But, at the same time, you were jealous of her. Because you didn’t get to have that with Jungkook, and you knew that you weren’t going to have that. 

At the same time, you wanted to have all of those things but you didn't want it with anybody that wasn’t Jeon Jungkook. And it hurt like hell.

Jimin was the one who was the most present and there for you during your break up. He’d bring you your favorite ramen, bring you take out, bring you the snacks you knew you’d like, bring you pads for your periods, etc. 

He had been your rock throughout the whole process, and it made you realize just how lucky you were to have him.

“Thank you, Chim” you smiled at him when he handed you the ramen bowl.

He smiled. “You’re welcome, Y/N-innie” he said, patting your hair.

“No. Not only for the ramen, I mean. For- for everything you’ve done so far” you said, your eyes lining up with tears. “I’m so thankful to have a friend like you. I’m really lucky”

Jimin bowed his head down at the mention of the word friend, but he let it slide, for your and his own sake. “Yeah, don’t mention it. I know you’d do the same for me”

“Of course” you smiled, and grabbed his hand. 

He covered your hand with his free hand and smiled at you. “You know, I’ve been to therapy these past couple of years and one thing that I found really… really helpful for… you know… letting go of some unsaid feelings, thoughts, whatever is going through your mind, is to write them down in letter form” he said. 

“Chim-”

“I know. It’s just an idea. Something that worked for me” Jimin spoke softly to you, caressing your hand. “You can address it to… you know who, and tell that person how you feel, without sending it to him actually. It worked for me” he shrugged

You didn’t say anything.

“I’ll bring you some diet coke, is that okay?” Jimin said, standing up from the bed.

You sighed and nodded. “Yeah. You know me so well, thanks” you chuckled.

“No worries”

Once he left, you placed the bowl on the nightstand and went to your desk to grab your phone that had just finished charging. 

Accidentally, on your way back to bed, you bumped your hip into your desk chair, making the bag that was on it, fall to the floor.

“Shit” you said, grabbing your hip in pain and crouching down to put your bag on the desk chair again.

When you moved the bag out of the way, you saw something underneath your desk. You quickly grabbed it with a frown and your heart started beating faster when you saw what it was.

It was a photo strip taken at a photobooth, with you and Jungkook in it, kissing, looking so in love like you had always been. It had written in sharpie: happy 11 months, babe!

You felt a tear run down your cheek at the memory. It was a gift he had given you 3 months ago, for your 11th month anniversary. You couldn’t even celebrate a full year together because you had broken up a week prior to the date. 

Your chin quivered with sadness and turned the picture down, unable to continue staring at it. 

But as you turned it down, you realised that something was written at the back. 

“I hope we can go to Namsan, to make a wish upon the first snow… so we can be together forever” 

You frowned as you cried. 

Now, that wish, to be together forever, was further away than Jungkook. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The next day, you walked out of Uni with Karina and Seokjin by your side, chuckling at some dumb story that Seokjin had told. 

“Oh God, shut up, Jin” Karina rolled her eyes. 

“No, Karina, but I’m telling you. We have to go to that Karaoke again” he insisted. “We’ll have so much fun, this time, Y/N-innie, you’re coming with us. No exceptions”

“Okay, okay” you sighed.

Karina and Seokjin turned to look at each other and squealed. “Yeah!” Seokjin said, grabbing your waist and twirling you around.

“Y/N’s back!” Karina smiled, clapping her hands.

“Oh God, put me down, Seokjin!” you yelled.

“Sorry” he mumbled.

You chuckled and then gasped, feeling something dropping on your hand.

Your eyes fell to the back of your hand and saw a white, little, snowflake. 

“Oh, it’s snowing, look!” Karina gasped.

You looked up and saw the snowy weather. 

Why did everything remind you of him?

That night, you couldn’t help but drive all the way to Namsan Tower, and as you reached the outer observatory, you sat down on a bench and sighed. 

“Okay… here goes my wish” you whispered under your breath. “I wish… to get the job I applied for last week. I really hope I get it, I’m needing the money” you sighed. 

You licked your lips and looked up.

“And I wish for Jungkook’s dad to get okay” you said. “I guess, that’s a little selfish, wishing twice” you brushed the snow from your hair and stood up, ready to go home. “Whatever wish comes true… I’m happy with either of those” Feeling like you’ve completed your purpose, you walked out of Namsan Tower, and went straight back home. 

「 ✦ 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 ✦ 」

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Jungkook sat by his dad’s hospital bed, while scrolling down on the gallery app.

It was self-torture, he knew that, but he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and he felt the need to go through every photo you’ve taken together. 

He swiped over every photo, memorizing every feature on your face and recalling every memory behind every single photo. 

He stopped when he reached a particular one.

You were on his bed, wearing his shirt. You were holding his brother’s new pup, the one he had given you two to care of for a week because he had gone on vacation. 

He felt a sob rack through his throat at the memory, one which he recalls was the happiest of his life. 

He didn’t know how happy he was back then, but now, he knows he had never been happier. 

And it was all because of you. 

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Once you got back home, you sat on your desk and grabbed your macbook, opening it. 

You remembered Jimin’s words. 

Write a letter to Jungkook, addressing it to him, without sending it. Just to free some feelings.

That was easy.

You grabbed a hair tie, wrapping it around your hair in a bun and let out a shaky breath.

Dear Jungkook,

It’s been almost 2 months since our last call. I guess you can say I’ve been doing fine, academically speaking. 

I’ve passed my classes and I’m only one exam away from getting my degree early with Karina. We’re so excited. We honestly cannot wait to start working already. 

I wonder if you’ve started studying music over there. I know that Jimin and you would’ve been such a power music couple. You would’ve broken every single record. I hope one day I can hear the music you made. You know, even the ones you played for me. 

I know I stopped texting. And I’m sure you’re wondering why. But it’s because I realized that maybe this was for the better. Maybe we weren’t supposed to be together for the rest of our lives like we had planned. Like we wanted to. Like I wanted to. At some point, I got tired of the read status. It made me sad. I can’t do that to myself anymore. 

It’s snowing here. I hope the place you’re in is warm, I know you don’t enjoy cold weather that much. 

I won’t contact you anymore.

I promise.

I just felt like this was for the better. Writing a goodbye letter to get closure.

So that we can get some closure.

So that I can get some closure.

Goodbye.

You finished writing the letter and pressed your lips together. 

Your eyes looked up on the screen and saw Jungkook’s contact on the message inbox. 

Without a second thought, you copied the letter and sent it to him. You quickly shut the macbook and stood up from the desk. You let yourself fall on your ass on the bed, placing your back against the bedpost. 

The tears fell across your cheeks, like a waterfall.

Closure. That’s exactly what was needed. 

「 ✦ 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐌𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞

𝐒𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞

𝐃-𝐘-𝐈-𝐍-𝐆 ✦ 」

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 PRESENT DAY 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

“Y/N?” 

“Huh?” you blinked.

Jimin let out a little laugh. “Did you hear what I just said?” he asked.

You licked your lips. “Yeah…”

“Well, will you let me?” Jimin asked. “Will you let me help you get over him?” 

You looked at your feet and got nervous. “I- I don’t know, Chim” 

“I’m not trying to pressure you” Jimin said, putting his hands up in a defensive manner. “Just let me take you out. Once… twice… as many times as you want” 

“That’s why you got annoyed that I kept bringing Nari up, huh?” you asked.

“Well… yeah, kind of” Jimin chuckled. 

You chewed on your lip. 

“Okay”

Jimin frowned. “Okay… what?”

You smiled. “I’ll let you take me out, Chim”

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

let me know what you think :))

PREVIOUS // NEXT

[tuesday-teyz]

Spoilers to chapter 40 of Butterfly reign below

TW for talks of abuse

A couple days back I got a question from a friend on discord asking if I consider br!Wilbur to be br!Tommy's abuser, and I'd like to give my answer here as well to help you better understand Tommy's choice, as well as the narrational reasoning that went into the plotpoint of Wilbur's murder.

So, was Wilbur Tommy's abuser?

The short answer is yes, absolutely.

In the early years, their relationship had been more of a codependent type, with generally unhealthy dynamics but not enough that it would strike most people as cause for alarm. However, a few key details and scenes demonstrate how Wilbur's treatment of Tommy became controlling over the years. Wilbur dictated who Tommy could be friends with and interceded his attempts at forming relationships he did not approve of. Those he did allow, had to be under his direct control (Tubbo) or limited in their ability to interact with him (Techno). He manipulated Tommy into feeling guilty over wanting to have his independence and used his love to bind Tommy to his side. This is the very staple of emotional abuse.

I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty if you enjoy the sweeter and healthier moments of crimeboys interaction. In fact, I added those in an attempt to show more realistic side of abusive relationships in real life. And the reality is, they can get better. People do change. And they can remain the same but be good to other people where they weren't good to you. Once someone becomes abusive, they don't suddenly turn into this caricature of a pure evil incarnated that exists in this plane of universe for the sole purpose of tormenting a specific person. To deny that they remain human is to deny the very real fact of life that any of us could turn into the same evil for someone else.

But the consequences of abuse don't suddenly go away when the abuse itself stops. It has a lasting, often scarring effect on the person as well as their relationship with their past abuser. It is my perspective that forgivenesss or acceptance can never erase that effect and it will continue to impact whatever interaction they have, or don't have, in the future. In many cases, the victim feels like they cannot find peace for as long as their abuser is alive and is capable of hurting them.

This is the peace that Tommy seeks (aside from more practical reasons we will explore later in the story) with his decision to murder Wilbur. He acknowledges that Wilbur may not mean to inflict any harm – but is still capable of doing so by the very fact of his existence. He is endlessly haunted by the knowledge that all it takes is for Wilbur to change his mind again for things to take a turn for the worse. It is exacerbated for Tommy by their past history; Wilbur knows exactly what he needs to say or do to impact him the most, and that is the kind of power he cannot anyone have over himself. So, among other things, it is a bid for control and security in his life.

[igneousiguana202]

SXF CHAPTER 108 SPOILERS!

.

WE ARE SO BACK!!

Two months without an episode but it’s ok because endo cooked 🙏

Ive been trying to find out what the cards mean in these positions but everything is contradicting everything I’m gonna cry 😭Here’s what I’m going with-

Past: Ace of cups. You were going through a period of new beginnings and emotional fulfillment. In terms of relationships, there was a time of blossoming romance and deep connections formed

((probably a reference to the last time anya and Damian were together, in chapter 96))

Present: Four of Cups reversed. You are beginning to appreciate the opportunities around you. In terms of relationships, this card represents a renewal of interest and commitment in which both partners work towards happiness and fulfillment.

((Not sure abt this one. Sy-on boy’s as thunders as ever))

Near future: Three of swords, reversed. Represents the easing of pain and the beginning of the healing process— a period of rejuvenation approaches. In terms of relationships, it represents potential for reconciliation and healing of wounds, a period of understanding and forgiveness and bonding

((please endo please give my babies a break 🙏))

Advice: Three of wands: you are advised to expand your horizons and be open to new possibilities. Atm you may be stuck or limited

((Could be referring to how she can’t advance with plan A while on a break from school, or that she should take a different approach to plan B/the B plan))

other’s heart: death reversed. ( the closest thing I could find for this was “how someone sees you”). This person sees you as something that pushes them from their comfort zone. They feel stuck and resist steps towards positive change. They’re frozen by fear instead of motivated by love, and they see you as a sign of negative emotion patterns. it’s up to you whether that changes.

((This does kinda sum up Damian. Tsundere raised to believe he is above the rest, suppressing his feElings for anya bc he thinks he’ll be looked down on and that he’s too far above her in terms of status))

Asker’s mind: 10 of pentacles reversed. This card means you’ve lost sight of the big picture and are too hyper-focused on something. May signify you’ve recently gone thru a challenging time and feel a lack of security

((Yeah this fits. Anya is starting to get quite centered around succeeding at plan B so loid won’t send her back to the orphanage, it’s almost like she subconsciously doesn’t trust him when it comes to taking care of her. Which I guess is fair— after all he is still quite a mission-driven spy, and anya probably gained some trust issues from the lab))

Final: The Star. (Melinda said this card is reversed but cards are actually supposed to be read in the POV of the person who the reading is about so I think that’s just her blundering it.) this card indicates a time of healing and inspiration

((But like Mel brought up, maaybe it’s saying Anya’s gonna get another Stella? :D))

Shoutout to www.sibyltarot.com for practically all these meanings

[mrpenguinpants]

Emortia.

— In the retroact rain, he sees your phantom.

— Jiyan

Spoilers for Chapter 1, Act 6: Grand Warstorm Italics represent the past [Masterlist]

I only played up to chapter 2 of the main story so if anything is wrong, don't come for me. Felt like I should post this before it becomes too outdated. Sorry if this is hard to follow, I tried my best.

The Retroact Rain. Rain that contains Remnant energy that can recreate past events, and project them as Phantoms by resonating with the frequencies of the living people in the rain. Even with an antidote and the knowledge that these people and objects are just hallucinations, it doesn't make seeing fallen comrades any easier.

"Jiyan, welcome back."

It doesn't make seeing you any easier.

"I heard you got into an argument with the General. Is everything alright? If he said anything rude to you, I swear I'll plaster him with the most colorful bandages I own," you chuckled, already rifling through your supplies to produce a box of bandages for children. He's positive you only brought that box to make fun of Geshu Lin. "Cute flowers should make him less moody, don't you think Jiyan?"

Jiyan remembers that day. It was the last time he saw you before you had disappeared, presumably dead from the Tacet Discords. Perhaps it was for the best that they never found your body. That you passed somewhere far away during the evacuation. He wouldn't know what to do if your phantom met him on the battlefield, desperately crying out for help only to be silenced.

Jiyan chuckled slightly at your response. Reaching out to pluck the box from your hands. He turns the box over in his hand, the paper lid bent and creased at odd ends. It's already been opened and closed several times. "I don't think even the prettiest flowers could fix that man's sour mood," Jiyan chuckled under his breath, as if the General could overhear him if he spoke any louder. He passes the box back to you as he returns to his practiced stoic front. "The General had different views from mine. That is all." You puffed your cheeks out, crossing your arms as you shook your head. Reaching out to pat him on the shoulder loudly, although it hardly hurt, it did help to let out some of the tension in his muscles simmer and relax.

The words of the General still echoed in his mind. Too soft. Too carefree. It will be to your detriment Jiyan.

He clenched his fists tightly, feeling the rain pelting against his skin and his clothes, but making no effort to seek shelter. He couldn't ignore the pang of bittersweet regret that coursed through him. The memories of bantering with you, of laughing together, of sharing moments of vulnerability, they were all still as vivid as ever. All he could do was cling to them, even though he knew that reliving those moments was the definition of a sweet sorrow. But now, in the present, it was different. There was no laughter, no promise of a future conversation. Only silence and the knowledge that those moments would never happen again.

The rain continued to fall around you, creating the illusion of a shimmering silver curtain. Jiyan could feel his heart tightening in his chest as his thoughts swirled inside his head. His hand twitching to reach out to this hallucination.

"That's all? He makes talking to a brick wall sound appealing. I swear, that guy must be hiding horns somewhere," you scoffed, rolling your eyes with annoyance written all over your face. He smiled at that. Your relationship with Geshu Lin was always something that puzzled him. He could sense the unwavering bond you shared, as well as your deep affection for the man. Even though it appeared on the surface that you didn't view Geshu Lin in a positive light, you were his closest companion. Jiyan never had the chance to ask about what your relationship with Geshu Lin was, but he could tell you loved him. Romantically or not. "You do know that you have terrible taste in men, right?" he asked lightly, the tease in his tone carefully masking his bitterness. You immediately flushed bright red, squawking and making the most unflattering noises he's ever heard come from a human being while you attempt to hit his shoulder in embarrassment. His heart squeezes as he falls in love again.

Your hand goes right through him, a cold sensation that digs straight into his bones. A voice filtered and robotic, one where he can't even see half your face because you're not real. He needs to turn around and look away before he falls prey to the rain he so aggressively has been fighting all these years.

Yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave.

"I-I do not! Besides, it's not like that at all! He and I- we're not- we're not like that!" you splutter, making vague hand gestures in the air as you attempt to form a coherent sentence before slumping over in defeat. The tips of your ears are so red that he almost wants to reach out and touch them. His fingers twitching at his sides before his hand snaps back to his side when you jerk your head back up. You squint at him, sending him your nasiest stink eye. It's cute. But he still raises his hands in mock surrender. It's always been so easy to act silly around you. "I know. I'm just teasing you," he said softly, unable to tear his gaze away. "Geez, you're almost as bad as Geshu Lin..." you mumble, before placing your hands back on your hip. He didn't miss the lighthearted note in your tone. As much as you pretended to be annoyed, he knew that you secretly relished in his playful teasing. "Ah- but don't tell him I said that. Anyways, hurry up and go! And don't blame me if you get reprimanded for being late! And don't forget your promise or I'll be plastering you with cute bandages!"

In the past, this is where he had been called away by another soldier. He had laughed at your expression while you attempted to throw your pen at him, nimbly dodging with the promise that he would talk to you when he returned. Now, in the future, he'll never be able to fulfill that promise. His gaze lingers on your illusionary presence for a moment before he continues on his way. There's still a lot of work that needs to be done before he can rest. Too many battles that need to be won before he can face his fallen comrades with a proud face. The next time he sees you, he hopes to tell you that they've won. That the rain no longer falls.

As he turns to go, he misses your last words. The same way he missed them all those years ago.

"Bad taste in men huh? I guess so. They never seem to catch a hint," You mumble as the door slides closed. You turn to stare out the window, droplets of water running down the glass as you whisper a promise to yourself. "I'll tell him when it stops raining."

Another promise that was swept away with the rain.

[livesworthlivingau]

Lives Worth Living Chapter 13

ISAT Spoilers below!

(The soothing sound of Mirabelle's dramatic reading of one of her books fills your ears. You lie with your head on her lap, eye closed, smiling softly and enjoying the company and sounds. Mirabelle's voice slowly drifts off as she finishes a chapter. You perk up some, opening up your eye to check on her. You're met with a conflicted look plastered across her face.)

"Mira?..."

"Are… Are you sure you're okay Siffrin?…"

"I mean… As much as I can be I guess… You can only be so 'okay' about losing 30 years of your life, right?…"

"… Were… Were you happy? I-I mean I know I said I didn't want spoilers or anything a-and you don't have to tell me anything specific if you don't want because that might mess with the future or the time space whatever it's ca-"

"Mira!" (She jumps a bit as you snap her out of her little freak out spiral. You take her hand in yours, intertwining your fingers before wrapping your other around it as well.)

"I had… One of the best lives anyone could ask for, thanks to all of you… Yeah it's sad that it's kinda gone now but… It's also kinda nice?… To get to experience it all over again, y'know?"

"Siffrin… I can tell something else is bothering you, and I'm honestly more scared about what you're NOT telling us, I mean, how is that not already the big secret?!"

"… Mira, I-I…"

"You promised me Siffrin… It might have been over 30 years ago for you, but it's only been a couple weeks for me. You promised we'd be feelings buddies and we'd talk about this stuff!"

"I know!… I know I promised… But…" (You let out a heavy sigh, letting go of her hand before running yours through your hair, gripping it a bit.)

"It's… It's not just about me this time… It's Loop."

"Loop? What do you mean? D-Did something happen to them?"

"… I-I… Ugh…" (You let out an annoyed groan, sitting up and hugging yourself close.)

"It's… It's not my place to talk about it Mira… As much as I want to, as much as I desperately want to talk and get help about it… It's their secret too, and I can't… I can't make that choice for them."

"… Okay Siffrin… If it's out of respect for keeping their secret, I guess I'll drop it… But if this continues to be an issue I'm going to have to insist about it, okay?"

"… Thanks, Mira… I promise I'll talk about it as soon as I can." (You swear, laying your head onto her shoulder. She follows suit and lays hers against you.)

"Thank you Siffrin, and I'm glad you've told us what you have so far… I'm just worried about you…"

"I know Mira, but I promise, I'm… Well I'm just about as okay as I can be right now, all things considered." (You admit with a slightly nervous chuckle. She responds in kind.)

"I guess that's the best I could ask for at this point... Did you wanna listen to another chapter?"

"Sure! We still gotta get to the part abou-"

"SPOILERS!!!"

--------------------------------------------------

(You smile softly with your eye closed, sitting on the floor with Mira on the couch above you. Your hair fiddled between her fingers as she was braiding it in places.)

"I've always wanted to do this~!" (Mira practically squeaked out with excitement, so excited to actually get to style your hair for once.)

"Heh, yeah I guess we never used to do this, huh?"

"DO WE DO THIS A LOT IN THE FU-NO WAIT NO SPOILERS!!" (She interrupts her own excited shouting with frantic shouting, making you wince some but chuckle none the less.)

"... So how are you doing Mirabelle?... I know everyone's been worried about me and all but... You all had a lot going on too! I... I feel bad taking up all this emotional space..." (You feel her hands pause for a moment from working through your hair.)

"... I... I guess I haven't really thought about it a lot... that festival was really nice but... It just hasn't actually hit me that it's really over! I keep waiting for it to sink in, for this feeling of accomplishment, for the stress of it all to go away! But it still hasn't! I-I still feel the same as I did, just a little more relieved. I know the King's curse is gone, I know we saved everyone, I know we're 'the saviors'..."

"... But it doesn't feel like you earned it?"

"E-Exactly! I-I... Oh, you said something like that the other day, didn't you?"

"Y-Yeah but... I feel like I screwed everything up at the end there, you all were the ones who actually defeated the king!" (You feel her hands start moving again, going back to braiding your hair.)

"Okay, feelings buddies compromise time! If either of us start to feel like we didn't save the country or deserve the praise, the other has to assure them that they're wrong, deal?"

"... Okay, Deal~."

[mediocrecowboyhat]

Set in sand - Chapter 5

We mark the year 1934 and a peculiar journal falls into your hands. It's telling the tale of an outlaw and the downfall of a gang. Some pages are torn and others are downright unreadable, but nevertheless, you are still able to make out some parts of the tragic story.

With the help of a certain time traveler friend of yours, will you be able to safe the author of the journal or will you be the cause for his demise?

Previous chapter

Next chapter

Word count: 3906

Disclaimer: This is based on the side quest "Geology for Beginners" so the reader is from the future and aware of some things that happen, but not everything. The reader will also have she/her pronouns and this fanfiction follows the story of RDR2. Also English is not my first language so pls forgive me for any grammatical mistakes!

TW: end-game spoilers will be mentioned very early on in the story, 18+ MDNI, sexual themes, violence, gore, death, misogynistic themes (anything that happens in the game as well)

It's another slow day and usually you use them to pay your practice spot a visit, but not this time. Arthur and John are standing at the edge of the camp and you're currently busy eavesdropping a little bit.

It's not because you're nosy or anything. There's actually a genuine and good reason why you're trying to insert yourself into their business.

Yes, Arthur tells you about the jobs he's been doing all over Valentine and New Hanover when you have your daily conversation in the morning or evening, but the day that he told you about collecting money from this Wróbel and you not being aware of that...saying that it had scared you shitless would be an understatement.

Now that you think about it, it does sound a tad dramatic, but it wasn't like that in the moment! You sincerely thought that he had gone to Mr. Downes!

It's just that you don't want to miss it when he leaves to pay that man a visit. Then another idea pops up in your head. Maybe it would be smart to get a bit closer to Strauss and that way he might tell you when he'll send Arthur to get the money.

Something stirs in the corner of your eye and you watch Arthur and John head for the hitching posts.

Shit, now I missed the last part.

With hasty steps you make your way over to the two men and lean against the post Arthur's Tennessee Walker is attached to. John rides off almost right after.

"A train job, huh?" There is a mischievous smirk growing on your face and Arthur raises an eyebrow at that as he hoists himself up on the saddle.

"Yup." You were hoping for a longer answer, but oh well. At this point you've gotten pretty good at getting information out of this man.

"So where are you heading to?"

"I'm gettin' an oil wagon.", he answers while petting his horse.

Your reply shoots out of you like a bullet. "I know where to find one."

"Yea, I know already. There is this oil place so I'll be headin' in during the night to-" He doesn't get to finish his sentence before you interrupt him.

"No, no! There is a wagon in Valentine around this time usually. It's by the entrance of the town, close to the stables and if I remember correctly there is only one guard and that's the driver."

Arthur nods to himself as your words sink in. "Thanks for the tip. I'll go there then."

As he turns his horse around to leave, you almost immediately jump infront of him. "Take me with you."

It doesn't come to a surprise to you to see him shake his head at your proposition.

"Not a chance. There might be some shootin' and if we don't get hit then the oil wagon will and well." He waves his hand around in the air. "You know 'bout that part."

The corners of your mouth curl up into a knowing smirk. "What if I make sure that it doesn't come to that?"

A snort leaves his throat and he looks down at you in disbelief. "And how'd ya do that, huh?"

"I'll distract the guard. Lead him away a bit and by the time he notices it's missing you'll be long gone."

"And what about you?"

"Oh, he won't be interested in me anymore after that. While he's looking for the wagon I will slip away too."

His expression is unreadable, but the look in his blue eyes betrays the fact that he's considering it. With Francis you would have thrown another argument in to push him further to where you want him to be, but you know by now that Arthur is the opposite in that regard.

If you interrupt his thought process now then he will shut down completely so you're standing silently and waiting for his answer. It seems like the whole day is going by before he says anything.

"Alright. Hop on."

You bite back a victory noise that threatens to come out of your mouth and quickly make your way to the back. The outlaw offers his calloused hand to you and helps you on top.

It's been a while since your last crime, but the yearning for it has only grown over the course of the last two weeks. What a strange thing that is to find out about yourself. You would have never thought of developing these criminal tendencies, but there is a lot about yourself you've been discovering lately.

Arthur rips you out of your thoughts. "I'm assumin' that you got a plan?"

Of course you do. Ever since you overheard John talk about the train job the plan has been brewing in your mind like a good stew.

"We should enter the town separately so no one sees that we're together. I'll pretend that my horse has gotten injured further back on the road and now I need a big and strong man to help me." You put on a pretend desperate tone at the last past and theatrically place the back of your hand on your forehead.

"And what if that doesn't work?" His voice is thick with skepticism.

"Arthur Morgan! Are you implying that there is a person out there who would be able to resist my charm?" The feigned offense you're putting on earns you an amused snort from the man.

The reason why you're joking and not giving him a proper answer is, because you don't have a backup. You have no idea what to do if your plan doesn't work, so it's better to play it off confidently before he changes his mind and takes you back to camp.

Is it irresponsible? Perhaps. Are you still excited for it? Unquestionably so.

A few minutes later you get to the point where you part ways for now and you continue the way on foot. Just as expected, the oil wagon comes into view and shortly after you spot the driver leaning on a post next to it.

You take one deep breath to calm your nerves before you approach him and button up your summer coat a bit to hide the gun. Of course you don't plan on using it, but you won't make the mistake of leaving it back in camp ever again.

"Excuse me, sir?", you softly call out to him and his head snaps towards your direction. "Oh, sorry if I startled you."

The man takes a drag from his lit cigarette before shaking his head.

He looks young and by the state of his hands, couldn't have been working for too long in his life. A rifle is dangling off his shoulders and judging from his appearance it doesn't seem like he's on guard at all.

But then again who would be dumb enough to steal an oil wagon in broad daylight in a fully occupied town?

"Could you help me maybe?"

"I'm busy." His answer is short and clearly meant to shut down this conversation, but you know better than to give up now.

A strangled sob escapes your throat and you bury your face in both hands. "Sir, my horse got injured further up ahead and if my husband finds out- oh God-"

The noise you're producing starts to become a bit more hysterical and you take a peak between your fingers. An overwhelmed expression can be seen on the young man's face and he lifts his hands awkwardly.

"Miss, could you keep it down-"

Instead you let out an ear piercing weep and grab the driver by his shoulders. "He's going to shoot me! Oh, you're killing me, sir!"

Some passersby are turning their heads in your direction to get a better look at the loud scene you're causing. The guard firmly pushes you around the corner, visibly uncomfortable over the fact that you're putting him on the spot like that.

"Are you out of your damn mind?", he hisses through gritted teeth and you bite back the victorious grin that is threatening to form on your lips.

Arthur will steal that wagon any second now and you intend on buying him some more time. You fling your arms around the man dramatically and pick up your wailing again.

The man rummages through his pockets until he fishes out a few coins and shoves them in your hand. "Go get yourself a drink or somethin' and leave me alone, goddammit."

"But my husband-"

"I don't give a shit, Lady!" His sudden interruption startles you for a brief second, but you catch yourself again.

The moment he disappears around the corner and you hear him cruse in a raised voice, you take flight. It doesn't look like he's pursuing you or anything, but you still don't stop until you're on the whole other side of town.

Your plan is a success and you're going to make sure to rub it into Arthur's face later this evening, but for now you have to get home. Thankfully the camp isn't too far away from Valentine and you play with one of the coins as you start walking.

Helping steal a wagon feels good. Really good. It's giving you a certain rush as if you can take on anything and everything. As you leave the town behind you and pocket the coin you were fidgeting with, a voice calls out to you.

"Hey, sweet thing! What's a lady like you doin' all alone out here?"

A group of three men is standing to your right with their horses hitched to a tree. You don't dare to look at heir direction and so you keep your head down and pick up your pace. If you pretend you didn't hear him then maybe they will leave you alone.

"I'm talkin' to ya!"

Without them noticing, you start to unbotten your coat to give you easy access to the revolver just in case they keep harassing you or it escalates. Then you overhear another guy mumbling something to the other two.

"I've seen her before. She's ridin' with Dutch!"

Upon hearing these words you start sprinting as fast as you can and grab the gun from your holster. It's useless to outrun them, you know that. Their horses will catch up to you in no time and that is exactly what happens.

One of them cuts off the path infront of you and soon enough there is no way for you to escape to. They have you completely surrounded and you cling onto the cattleman with dear life.

"You're comin' with us, sweetheart.", one of them snarls and the blood rushing in your ears almost drowns out his sentence.

A familiar feeling gets ahold of you and keeps you in an iron grip. Panic. The same panic that coursed through your veins when you got attacked by wolves near Colter.

The man infront of you jumps down from his horse and leisurely strolls towards you. He doesn't seem threatened by your gun at all.

"Ooohhh, watch out, guys! We got a dangerous one on our hands!" His voice is oozing with a mix of mockery and sarcasm.

You should have fired a long time ago, but an unknown force is holding you back. It's like there is a wall in the back of your mind blocking you from doing it.

Before he can get any closer to you, though, you quickly jerk up the gun with trembling hands. His expression turns from one of amusement to surprise at your sudden motion and almost instinctively, he leaps forward.

All air leaves your lungs as his body collides into yours and you're being violently thrown into the dust. A gasp escapes your lips and you body sets into autopilot while the man tries to take the weapon away from you.

There is no question, he's way stronger rhan you and if you don't step into action now you will be doomed. So without aiming or giving it much thought you pull the trigger.

The bang leaves an uncomfortable ringing in your ears and you feel something warm and wet spread on your abdomen. You're met with a terrified expression and wide glassy eyes as your attacker stares down at you in shock.

Only a few heartbeats later, all life drains from his face as if it's being sucked out of him and his body goes limb. It takes a second for the realization of what you've done to hit you and boy, does it hit you hard.

For the first time ever, you have taken another person's life. There is this strange, hollow feeling in your chest and with all your might you push the dead man off you. The next moment you feel something of a strong wave course through your body and you empty the contents of your stomach instantly.

"You fuckin' bitch!"

Someone yanks you back to your feet by the collar of your blouse and your arms are being twisted behind your back. The rope around your wrist cuts deep into your skin and before you can react, you're being thrown onto the back of a horse.

"Colm's gonna have a field trip with ya. Fuckin' Van Der Linde trash."

You've never encountered any O'Driscoll members, not before or after joining Dutch and you haven't been exactly expecting to make their acquaintances this early on, but alas here you are.

Under any other circumstances you might have been pissing your pants, but the fear is being dampened by the weight of your previous actions. It's as if someone placed a veil over your head like you're looking at the world through a thick curtain.

Hoping is the only thing you could do at the moment. Hoping that someone back in camp notices your absence, but it might be too late by the time that happens.

You might either end up being handed over to the law or six feet underground and then no one will be there to save Arthur.

Arthur.

Thinking about him gives you a small sense of comfort and your eyes flutter shut.

He will come for me. He has to.

Throughout the entire ride you're repeating these two sentences in your mind like a mantra as if you will eventually manifest it over time. When the two men set up a temporary camp somewhere hidden in the woods, they leave you tied to a thick tree.

Your eyes are heavy, but you don't allow yourself to sleep. If you close them now then you might not see where they're taking you and you desperately want to remember the way.

Not that it would help you much anyways. Laying tied up on a horse (and on your stomach nonetheless) doesn't leave much room to take in your surroundings and besides, most of the landscape looks the same to you.

How long have you been riding now though? It's hard to tell. Maybe two days or so? The thought alone makes your aching stomach turn upside down some more.

Just trying to imagine how far away you must be from Horseshoe Overlook makes you sick and miserable to the core. An impending sense of doom is nesting itself in the back of your mind and is slowly crawling closer.

With every passing second, minute and hour you feel more and more lost. No way will Arthur and the others find you now. Not even Charles' impeccable tracking skills could pick up your trail and that revelation makes you want to scream and cry.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally arrive at what looks like a base camp. There are two wooden cabins in the middle and a bunch of tents around them. One of the men that has kidnapped you is dragging you harshly towards one of the small houses and you feel everyone's eyes boring into you.

"The boss will come soon and then he'll decide what we will do to ya."

You barely register his words as you stumble through the door. The stench of wet wood, mold and sweat penetrates your nose and you fight back a gag, but it's not like there's anything left inside you to throw up.

Another waiting game starts after they tie you to a bed post, but at least your wrists are binded infront of you. No one expects the dehydrated, malnourished and sleep deprived person they have snatched up to cause much trouble.

Much to your relief, none of the men in camp pay you too much attention. A nasty look here and there is the only thing they're giving you.

They probably don't want to act without Colm's approval which strikes you as odd at first. You didn't think that these animals would respect orders this much, but there is a lot that you haven't been able to foresee lately.

The sun has set a long time ago and the inside of the cabin is drenched in complete darkness. They have pulled the heavy curtains together so that not even the flickering light of the campfire could come through the windows. Either they don't care or they want you to lose the last bit sense of time you've got left.

He will come for me. He has to.

The words sound hollow in your head and have by now lost all meaning. Your eyelids feel like concrete as you struggle to keep your head up.

When was the last time you have allowed yourself to sleep? You don't even remember. How long has it been anyways? A week for sure or even longer.

A certain warmth and coziness suddenly gets ahold of your entire body and you feel yourself slip through a soft crack as darkness begins to envelop you.

---

Shouting can be heard in the distance and then the sound of fireworks. A soft smile forms on your lips at the memory of watching them as a child in the park and you lift your head.

Next thing you knew the door is being swung open and a large silhouette appears in your vision. The figure quickly walks over to the bed post and cuts free the rope

Arthur?

As you blink the sleep and disorientation away and your eyes slowly start to adjust to the light coming in through the open door, you finally get a better look at your rescuer. Only to realize that this person isn't here to rescue you at all.

The green bandana around his neck is indication enough that it's one of the O'Driscoll scum and he's probably here to take you away. No, you refuse you to be dragged further away from your gang.

That's also when you register that the fireworks aren't in fact fireworks, but gunshots.

So they did manage to find me.

With a revolver in his right hand he sneaks towards the entrance and peaks through the open crack of the door. Your wrists are still painfully tight tied together, but you can move your arms around just fine.

Both your mind and heart are racing and before you can even grasp a clear thought, you pick up an empty bottle from the table and smash it over the back of the O'Driscoll's head.

Glass shards scatter across the wooden floor and filthy carpet and the man comes crashing down with a shriek. His hand reaches out to the side as he desperately tries to pick up the gun again.

Before he gets even the chance to get close to it, you're already over him and swing down the broken bottle in a blind rage. There's no specific spot you're aiming for as you bring down the glass on him again and again and again.

You can't recall when his screaming and the gurgling noise coming from his throat stop. All that is going through your brain now is that you won't go down without a fight. You can't and if they do manage to take you then you'll drag them down with you.

Suddenly a pair of strong arms embrace your torso and you squirm, kick and scream in a craze.

Then you hear Arthur's voice close to your ear. "Hey, hey, relax. It's me. It's okay."

You don't halt your resistance immediately out of fear that your mind is playing another trick on you, but the more you hear him talk the more your muscles relax. It can't be fake. You hope it's not.

With an exhausted sob you slide down onto your knees and allow him to remove your ropes. His rough hands treat and touch you in such a gentle and soft way that it makes you want to cry out.

"It's okay. They won't hurt you anymore.", he mumbles under his breath and helps you get back up again.

All the sitting, laying and kneeling from the past week has made you weak in your legs and your thighs are shaking uncontrollably with every step. Arthur quickly takes notice of it and carefully picks you up as if he wants to give you time to protest.

"What took you guys so long?" The question comes out harsher than you have intended.

The outlaw's expression is a hardened mask and his eyes are fixed on something in the distance. If he gives you an answer, you don't hear it. Your consciousness slips away once again as darkness embraces you.

---

As your eyelids flutter open and you sit up with a grunt, you're being met with a freckled face and long, blonde, unruly hair. Saide hastily brings a cup to your lips and you take a sip from it.

The feeling of fresh, cold water sliding down your throat is indescribable and you empty the cup in a matter of heartbeats.

"These animals deserve to rot in hell.", Sadie hisses through gritted teeth and you recall the recent events in your head

Not only one, but two people have died by your hands now. A drained sigh escapes your lips and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

Your gaze wanders around to take in the camp and people, having to remind yourself that this is real and that you're safe now.

"What happened while I was gone?", you ask with your voice heavy with curiosity and the need to get your mind off the O'Driscoll camp.

"Dutch sent out a search party the moment we realized you were missing. It's not like he had much of a choice anyways."

The last sentence piques your interest and your ears perk up. "What do you mean?"

"Well, Arthur looked like he was gonna kill someone.", she answers in a matter of fact way.

It kinda makes sense. He was the last person you were with before you got kidnapped so he probably feels guilty.

"Where is he now?"

Sadie tilts her head and thinks for a moment before she answers. "Strauss sent him away to collect a debt."

Your heartbeat picks up on speed and you feel all the energy come rushing back to you.

"Where is he?"

The woman furrows her eyebrows in confusion at your sudden urgency. "I don't know-"

Your hands grip her shoulders and you lock eyes with her. "Did he say a name?"

"What has gotten into-'

"A name, Sadie!"

Her mouth stands slightly open as she gives you a puzzled look.

"He mentioned a Thomas Downes I think."

I'm too late.

Taglist: @shackspossum

[damn-stark]

Chapter 20 The Witch, The Siren, and The Prince

Chapter 20 of Moonlight

A/N- this was very fun to write, I hope you all enjoy it!!

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, violence, angst!!, fluff!!, SPOILERS FOR FUTURE EVENTS OF HOTD, USING FIRE AND BLOOD, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode/Pages- 447- (only a part of) 449

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

Maybe it’s the rain, the grey skies, and the chilly air that makes your mind wonder about your mother and how she’s dealing with Jacaerys death. Has her heart completely been torn from her chest like yours was? Is she overcome with nothing but a raging storm that doesn’t let her see a single break of light in the darkened clouds?

You don’t want to think of her, you want to stay angry, but she appears in your mind like some ghost haunting you from the great beyond. And her eyes, her tears, her reaction to all that transpired in the Gullet fills your head. You’re still angry, you still feel that poison deep within you, but…you can’t help but wonder what she might've thought when she heard what you did. Is she disgusted? Horrified? Is she scared of the woman she birthed and raised after she heard how you relished in that massacre?

No matter what, you don’t want her to be scared of you. You don’t want her to be horrified. And even if some part of you wishes you hadn’t been born, you don’t want her to feel that regret about you. No matter how angry you are…

“My Prince Regent. Princess Regent,” Ser Criston greets Aemond and you with a bow of his head. “Welcome to Harrenhal.”

You snap from the depths of your mind and find Ser Criston glaring at you. If looks could kill his glare would have killed you the moment you hopped off Astraea and stepped onto these damp lands. Why is it so?

Is it because of the lack of a battle and his all too clean armor that should be stained with the blood of the Rivermen? Is it because of the lack of an army and the lack of dragon battle between Caraxes and Vhagar? Or is it because you’re all in Harrenhal?

Sure as you saw it from the sky, you could see the reminder of what happened when Aegon the Conqueror showed the rivermen the power of the dragons, but it’s not a terrible sight. The castle is tall, it was probably the tallest tower once, and it probably touched the sky before it was burnt down. The stone is dark which adds an eeriness as it’s cast by grey clouds, and a large lake sits by the castle which contrasts its eeriness and offers some serenity—for those who can find it anyway.

So it’s not all bad. To you at least. To Ser Criston it’s a different story and a different reason why his frown is carved so deeply on his face—you can already predict why he’s so upset, he’s practically yelling it at you through that glare.

“Men are already rounding up everyone who lives within the castle,” Ser Criston shares as he brings out his arms from behind him and steals a glance at the entrance of the dark castle before looking at Aemond. “And guards are being posted in every direction of the castle.”

Aemond hums and turns around to look at the castle, letting Ser Criston once again sneak a glare at you.

“Taking the castle was easier than I imagined it would be,” you mock Ser Criston as you hold his glare through the silver chains that fall over your face like a veil.

Aemond hums, and you let a faint smirk play in the corner of your lips before you turn away and face the castle from the ground, catching yourself smiling instead of feeling a chill as you see a small brown owl flying overhead.

“Where is everyone?” You don’t try to ease that frustration Ser Criston so obviously holds. You instigate the problem with a smug look playing in your eyes instead of your lips as you face the knight again.

“Why don’t you come with me to the main tent before we head inside,” Ser Criston suggests and Aemond doesn’t hesitate to follow, making you turn to trail after him. Yet as you’re going to step away, suddenly a breeze brushes over you that carries unintelligible whispering which causes you to snap around and face the castle.

Was it just some fragment of your imagination? Some mind trick? It could just be the wind, but you know the difference between a breeze and the whispers that come from someone’s mouth, and what you heard just now was whispering; not from Aemond or Ser Criston, they’re walking away. The whispering came from the breeze that blew from the direction of the castle.

If only you understood what it was saying, but not a word was clear. You just know it was someone whispering, and you wait in hopes you will hear it again, but you instead hear Aemond calling out your name.

“I’m…coming!” You respond over your shoulder and wait for a split second more before you turn around and see him waiting at the bottom hill for you. When you catch up you hook your arm around his and whisper to him as Ser Criston leads the way.

“He seems upset,” you point out as you flip back the chains hanging over your face, and then look at the back of the man's head. “At me more than anything else.”

Aemond sighs and speaks up in High Valyrian so he’s not understood—yet talking in a different language only makes him more suspicious. “<Don’t pay it any mind. There’s no reason to be upset, Daemon left. He’s a coward. It’s that simple.>”

“<You're not upset at me?>” You can’t help but ask and glance at him, catching him glance at you at the same time. “<He saw me. I could’ve been the one who sent him flying.>”

Aemond shakes his head. <You said he was wearing armor. I'm certain he didn’t know we were nearby before he saw you, so he most likely already planned on leaving. It’s not your fault.>”

You glance down at the hand you have around his arm and hum in comprehension, giving away the uneasiness that you tried hard to fight off, but finds a way to still weigh down on you as you feel some responsibility for facing an empty castle. Aemond senses that and leans over to press a kiss on the side of your head.

“The twins don’t like this weather,” you complain and look up. “It messes up my hair.”

“You were just covered in blood,” he rebuttals, making you snicker—“anyway with Daemon gone we won’t stay long. We’ll have my uncle stay here to keep the castle.”

You nod softly. “Good, I miss Aerion and our bed.”

He scoffs, but you make a faint smile tug on his lips regardless.

Before you can reach the tent you feel his gaze on you, so you look over to lock eyes with him and catch the corner of his lips twitching to a smirk. “You look beautiful in that gown. If that wasn’t obvious,” he says, making a warmth creep on your face, and causing you to turn your head away to grin as you mindlessly brush the long silk crimson skirt with your hand.

“You’re being unprofessional, husband. You're going to make Ser Criston mad.”

Aemond scoffs and leans over to whisper in your ear. “I don’t give a damn. I can tell you you look nice whenever I please.”

You smile wider and then lull your head back toward Aemond to look at him with a love-struck gaze. “Thank you,” you whisper against his lips that you brush against as you find him closer than you thought.

He hums and looks down at your lips before he presses a peck on your forehead, making you groan, but making him smirk before he flips the silver chains back over your face to fall like a veil instead of using it like a hairnet.

“<Protect yourself. We’re on enemy grounds.>” He says in High Valyrian.

“It’s more like a fashion piece,” you mumble as you fix the chains.

“It works both ways, that's all that matters,” he retorts before he walks ahead of you to open the tent and let you walk in first.

Once inside the perimeters of the main tent, you’re greeted with the sight of other knights and commanders who hadn’t been in your meetings before. And they all go quiet when Aemond and you walk in and steal their breaths—All except Ser Criston’s and Ser Gwayne’s breath that is.

“Welcome to Harrenhal my Prince, my Princess,” Ser Gwayne greets with a kindness Ser Criston lacked. “If it wasn't obvious we have already taken over the castle with minimal challenge.”

“If a challenge is what you call it,” Ser Criston grumbles. “The doors were open, and the halls emptied. All that remains is prints of what used to be.”

His eyes follow you as you make your way to a seat. You can feel him glowering.

“Have the men inside faced any resistance?” Aemond asks as he takes a seat across from you since there’s no map to study or markers to move. The wooden table is empty and men in their armor simply surround it.

“No, none,” Ser Gwayne answers. “Some men were left, but easily fought. The Strong’s have all but surrendered.”

Aemond hums and Ser Criston parts his lips to finally express his anger against you in a daring and bold tone. “Perhaps if the Princess Regent had not been so reckless in her scouting task then the army would be here, and Daemon would not have fled.”

You look at him unbothered as you cross your leg over the other and sit back before you let your head loll to the side, and then interject in your defense with this cocky air mingling around you. “Mind your tongue Ser,” you roll out softly but threatening in every way. “You may be the Hand, but you still are a Kingsguard.”

You narrow your gaze and a faint smirk that only Ser Criston sees plays on the corner of your lips.

“Forgive me,” he says with no sentiment behind his apology, he just loses his glare and averts his gaze. “I did not mean to raise my voice. We could have had them pinned and destroyed their army. Or if we hadn't, we could have at least diminished their numbers, but now who knows how many more men we may have to face when he joins the others. The Northmen get closer by the day, their numbers may be small, but together they will be a much more dangerous threat.”

Your smirk falls and your eyes fall on your hands as you start to fiddle with your rings at the mention of the Northern men.

“The Northerner army still has to face our Western army,” a commander offers some consolation. “Lord Jason may be dead, but the Lannister army is still prevailing. They fight under Lord Humfrey Lefford now.”

“He’s in a litter,” Ser Criston snaps back spitefully as if the man had any fault.

“But still fighting,” Ser Gwayne counters. “Ease that brow Ser Criston, the princess did not send Daemon and the Rivermen army fleeing. It seems that by the time the Princess went to scout, the army was already leaving around us to avoid us. The same goes for Prince Daemon.”

“Daemon and his river scum fled rather than face my wrath,” Aemond proclaims and as much as you would want to agree, you have a feeling that there’s a much more significant reason why Daemon finally left the Riverlands and the castle undefended—“we will take the castle and after it falls the Princess and I will return to King's Landing. Ser Gwayne—”

Before he can finish sharing his plan a knight walks in with a raven scroll. “My Prince, this came for you from King’s Landing.”

You and Aemond share a confused and concerned glance before he walks over and takes the scroll, letting the knight walk out.

As Aemond opens the scroll, you slip your leg off the other and sit up straight to watch as Aemond’s face begins to twist with a seething rage.

“What is it?” You probe as you stand up. “What’s wrong?”

Aemond crumbles up the scroll and hurls it on the tabletop before he snaps his glare up as he huffs out through his nose, and then exclaims. “Daemon and that cunt Rhaenyra took King’s Landing!”

Tension fills the room, and everyone around the table passes worried glances as Aemond’s nostrils begin to flare with each heavy breath he takes.

“They took it while we were away! They have my son captive! And my mother and sister along with him!” He yells, making you swallow back nervously. Not out of fear of what they would do to Aerion, your mother wouldn’t hurt him, nor would Daemon. You grow nervous because of what Aemond wants to do to retaliate such an attack against him and the crown he almost held at his fingertips. It was there in his reach and now it got taken away by a man that a few days ago was under his nose.

“That’s where that craven took that army! That’s where that fucking craven went!” His angry shouts fill the tent, making everyone not dare to look him in the eye. You don’t even look at him, not because you fear him, you don’t. You don’t face him because you once again redirect your thoughts to your mother.

She took King’s Landing. That’s what she has been up to since Jacaerys death. She most likely used her anger to finally take the capital from Aemond and the rest of the Greens while Vhagar was away. She did it and you don’t know if you’re angry, or secretly proud. You don’t fight for either side, that’s still true. You fight for yourself, for your survival and that of your children and Aemond, but as she sits on the throne of swords does she think about you? Or does she now look at you the same way she looks at Aemond? Like an enemy that needs to be taken down? A daughter turned enemy that she will not consider her heir now that Jacaerys is dead?

What are you to her now that she finally sits on the Iron Throne? And are you proud or upset? Then again that last question depends on how she sees you now.

Regardless, it’s not like you can know now so you focus back on Aemond still simmering in his rage before he suddenly turns around swiftly and stomps out of the tent.

You and Ser Gwayne share a concerned look before you quickly follow Aemond out, seeing that he seems to be heading toward the castle.

You then quickly catch up to him and match his pace even if he takes very long strides, and manage to catch his arm.

“Aemond?” You beckon his attention, and he doesn’t hesitate to give it to you. And rather than meeting anger because you are the daughter of Rhaenyra; the one who took the throne behind his back, you actually see that he shares a malicious and smug look with you that answers your upcoming question before you can express it, and eases your chest from its clenched hold whilst also sparking those same emotions inside you.

That malice playing in his eyes is contagious, and you welcome it with open arms. You don’t fight it, it eases right in you. Which sounds twisted that with one look from Aemond you match the emotions inflaming within him, but you can’t help it. Be it doubt about your mother and the anger you still hold for her that makes understanding him and matching his fire that much easier, but you do. And it’s also with another single look that he gives you that you trust him wholeheartedly.

No words were exchanged. There’s no need for them. He asks you with his eye alone to trust him, only glances are exchanged, only your souls communicate together through your eyes, and without hesitation or pesky doubt, you trust him. You show him that you trust him without a single word, you lift your nose in the air and pass him a sly smirk. And he is relieved to know you understand. It’s your understanding, your matching fire that makes his shoulders roll back with more confidence and makes him have more cockiness in his stride.

When you finally make your way past the entrance of the blackened castle, your gaze hardens and emanates an icy fire that intimidates those who meet your gaze and gives away the suffering that made you so cold.

For those who look closely anyway, otherwise, they meet the eyes of a dragon in human form, the Blood Dragon, and the Fire Demon who demolished the Triarchy in The Gullet. You are a sight to behold, more so as you walk side by side, and at a matching pace with your husband Prince Aemond, the Prince Regent.

Before there was a change in the air as all the bodies that inhabited the castle were rounded up and confronted by a large army, but now it’s a different story. Now a darker cloud looms over Harrenhal as Aemond and you make your way into the courtyard, as they announce your names and titles, and you both pierce your glares down at everyone from the clouds. You literally stood before them, face to face, on the ground, but to the eyes of captured men and women and everyone that was not either of you, you watched them from a throne in the clouds.

Aemond and you are the very picture of royalty. Whereas Daemon waltzed about the castle looking every bit of a dragon warrior and offering his assistance where he could, Aemond and you differed; you’re like gods with your piercing glares that could damn anyone if they looked too close, and your noses in the air that showed everyone you were nowhere near them.

“Who is the castellan of Harrenhal?” Aemond asks a question he knows, but he’s playing around with all the captives set before you. “Step forward.”

The old and the young men all look between each other before a plump man with grey hair steps forward in his velvet robes, and his eyes downcasted.

“It is I, Ser Simon Strong, at your service, my Prince…and Princess.”

He dares himself to glance at you as if waiting to be corrected, but you tilt your head up, proving he was right to also name you.

“The castle is yours,” Ser Simon Strong adds, making Aemond snicker, and unsettling the old lord and every man behind him. “We surrender Harrenhal to you.” The man declares and bows his head.

Aemond and you share a quick glance before Aemond steps forward and pulls Blackfyre out of its sheath to lift Ser Simon’s chin with the flat side of the blade.

“Did you fall on your knees just as quickly when Daemon barged in here and took the castle?” He asks with his anger heightening in his tone. “Why should I trust the words of a man who yielded the castle and his loyalty to the enemy?”

Ser Simon swallows thickly and shakes his head as panic grows in his eyes. “No, he forced us, my Prince. He took the castle by force. My loyalties are to King Aegon. We are true and loyal servants of the crown,” he runs his mouth without trying to avert his gaze so his every word is believed, but Aemond is no fool. Even if he was, nothing would spare the castallen from Aemond’s wrath.

“My nephew Lord Larys Strong serves the realm, and the King as the Master of Whisperers,” he continues to add, but that only makes Aemond’s grip around the sword tighten. “House Strong serves no other ruler but King Aegon, and you.”

Aemond lowers the sword and steps back, giving the man a false sense of relief.

“Lord Larys tried to kill my son and heir,” Aemond makes the man stiffen. “He is only five months old. Lord Larys tried to kill my wife, your Princess, and the babes growing inside her, so tell me, Lord Strong,” Aemond rolls out with every word laced with venom. “Why should I trust the words or loyalties of a man whose nephew betrayed the crown? Who let the pretender inside the city and take the throne?!” He sneers, and Ser Simon shakes his head trying to argue but what words can he use to assure Aemond?

There’s nothing the man can say. No excuses, no protests. There at that moment, inside of Aemond’s eye, he can see the fate that awaits him.

“Give Ser Simon a sword,” Aemond demands as he turns to start pacing menacingly. “Let the Gods decide if he speaks truly. If you are innocent Ser, the Warrior will give you strength to defeat me. If not…” he trails off and ends the sentence with silence, but there’s no need for him to finish, everyone knows what will happen if the man doesn’t defeat Aemond. Just like everyone knows that will be the only outcome of this duel. Aemond knows it, and you know it.

Everyone knows that Ser Simon’s fate is imminent. He knows it for certain and it’s why he looks at you for reassurance, for a wedge that could let him escape his lurking fate. Yet he’s mistaken. Besides he only looks at you for help because you’re a woman for one; you are meant to have a woman’s merciful heart. And two, you're Rhaenyra’s daughter, you are the Realm’s Golden Girl, but the Realm’s Golden Girl doesn’t reside within you anymore, she’s dead, and he sees that when he catches your intimidating glare behind those silver chains over your face. Thus he leaves you be as he sees that his fate is set in stone.

“<You may not need it, but I’m still going to give you my favor,>” you tell Aemond as he waits to fight Ser Simon, making him hum in response before you stand on the tip of your toes and press a kiss on his cheek. “<The gods are in your favor, my love.>”

Aemond holds your gaze for a lingering moment before he turns away and heads to the center of the courtyard to face his old opponent shoved to the center. All while you walk back in the shadows to stand next to Ser Gwayne.

“What happens to the other men of the castle?” You ask as you see how Aemond rolls his shoulders back.

“If the Prince is merciful they are kept captive where they’re forced to work for us or rot in a cell,” Ser Gwayne says without trying to hide a thing. “If he’s not well, your dragons are going to be well-fed tonight.”

You hum and drift your eyes to all the men and the boys nervously watching the fight about to commence. You would like to say there’s a flicker of some sense to help them, but all that grows within you is a dangerous smugness that accompanies a wicked plan that starts to take root.

Would you be denied such pleasures though? That’s the question you should ask yourself before you get excited.

Perhaps by Ser Criston, but Aemond? Doubtful. Actually probably not since he’s furious that King’s Landing was taken. You will have to wait until after the duel to know though.

Until then you clasp your hands before you and feel a rush of excitement as the duel starts and Aemond stares the man down. Yet as Ser Simon is going to attempt to make his first move, a breeze blows past you again and that same whispering travels amongst it, pulling your eyes away from the duel and drifting them toward an arch that leads out somewhere you don’t know, somewhere that every muscle in your body wants to move toward, but somewhere you don’t push yourself to go to just yet.

You stay where you are and slowly bring your eyes down, at that moment catching distant green eyes looking back at you. Big green eyes that belong to a woman in dark purple who sports long black hair that flows behind her as a breeze also brushes past her. A woman that steals your attention over the singing of the swords hitting against each other and holds your attention over the fact that Aemond is the one dueling.

You don’t know why she holds your attention captive, you don’t know why you look at this woman amongst the flock of other women who reside in this castle. You just hold her gaze and feel a familiarity deep in your bones. Have you seen the gleam of her eyes somewhere? A haunting dream perhaps?

You don’t know, she just seems familiar. And the way she holds your gaze makes it seem like she knows you too, like she’s not scared of you like the others are.

“No!!”

You rip your eyes away from the woman and look back to the center of the courtyard, finding Ser Simon bleeding out from a large gash on his stomach that has his inside leaking out, and proves Aemond the winner. Not like it was going to go any other way, everyone knew, you knew with certainty. But even still, you beam at him and clap, making him smirk at the ground as you make your way to each other.

When you meet in the middle he grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles. Before he turns around you tighten your grip around his hold and draw his attention to you. “Do you trust me?” You ask out loud.

Aemond’s eye digs deep into your soul to try and figure out what you’re up to. Yet even if he sees that malice reflecting back at him, he can’t exactly pull your mind apart so he nods. “Of course,” he assures you.

You blink and sigh with relief before you glance at the women cornered at the far end of the courtyard. “Oh, and the women, spare them.”

Aemond follows your gaze and shakes his head lightly, but you grab his arm and pull his attention back to you. “Aemond,” you insist and come up with a quick but strong excuse to spare their lives. “With King’s Landing taken we might stay here a while, we need them. I need them. I need someone to tend to me as I am with child.” You press and make him hold your gaze for a long while as he debates your proposal.

When his mind is made he sighs deeply. “Alright. They will be spared.”

“Good…and let me handle the sentencing of the sons, everyone else is yours to do as you please,” you add for some context before he can get carried away.

“They will not be spared,” he clarifies, making you nod in comprehension before you let his hand go and face the horrified and solemn crowd together.

“Have his body fed to Vhagar,” Aemond proclaims as he strides forward to be at the center of attention. “As for the rest of you, hm.”

He turns with his hands clasped behind him, and his nose in the air to show his boast in confidence and power after his win. “The Princess Regent wants the women spared, so they shall. Thank her for I thought of you as dragon fodder.” He huffs with amusement. “Tend to her, and if she or my children are harmed I will slay you down myself.”

There’s no echo of responses, everyone understands and agrees in a sign of relief.

“And if I hear that any man from our army touched them against their will, I will hunt them down,” you make it known threateningly. “Ser Criston? Ser Gwayne? The men better behave and find whores to bother instead.”

“Understood,” Ser Gwayne is the only one who voices his comprehension, while Ser Criston, well, as you peer back he simply offers you a stiff nod.

You don’t argue about his response, you simply hum and then roll your shoulders back to mirror your husband's stance before you stalk toward him as you have your gaze set on the crowd of men now.

“As for the men,” you continue to have your voice be heard, piquing Ser Criston’s attention now more than before. “Every bastard boy seventeen and younger is spared. As for the sons of Ser Simon Strong, please step forward.”

Whispers travel about the crowd of men and women, while you peer over at Ser Criston and catch him looking at Aemond as if seeking for him to control you and stop taking charge.

Alas Aemond is too busy with what you have planned to pay Ser Criston any mind.

“Good,” you say as the men you asked for walk to the center of the courtyard, whilst in the air the sound of large flapping wings is heard before Astraea makes an appearance as she perches herself on a wall that towers over the courtyard, setting terror within the men before you as her gaze pierces in them the same way yours does.

“W-we surrender!” A man seeming to be not much older than you stammers out as he falls to his knees. “Please, please Your Grace we are at your mercy!”

A wicked smirk tugs on your lips at the sound of his words, but before you can do or say anything, you look over at Aemond, and with your eyes point at the empty spot next to his uncle that’s right under Astraea’s neck, and away from her target of fire.

Aemond of course seems hesitant at first, but after you insist he falls back, letting you face the men with a dark and piercing gaze and a menacing smirk only meant for them.

“You’re at my mercy. That’s good,” you interject in a soft voice before you utter a single word in the softest most alluring way. “Dracarys.”

Astraea doesn’t hesitate, she doesn’t need to be told twice, she brings her head down right behind you and opens her mouth to blast out a blazing cloud of fire that captures you in its rage along with all the men you brought to the middle. All except one.

One man manages to slip away from Astraea’s wrath the moment she opens her mouth. Albeit he’s caught by Aemond before he can run any further and is forced to watch as his brothers cry out in pain, as their skin melts from their bones, and as you stand there unharmed and a cold look in your eyes. There's no menacing smirk, no smug one either. You watch them suffer from inside those flames with a piercing look; not amusement or pride, and not malice either. Pure anger flickers in your eyes the same way the flames flicker around you.

Why anger though?

Because you’re angry at the world. You want the men you set ablaze to suffer the same way you’re suffering over the loss of your brothers. You want them to suffer the same way you suffer as those lies you were told echo in your head. You want them to live in the same pain you do as you remember at every waking hour that the man you loved with all your heart left you behind.

You’re full of rage and you want them all to feel the heat of your anger.

——

*LATER*

“What do we do next?” You ask as your eyes wander yet another darkened hall. “With Vermax gone that still leaves us severely outnumbered.”

Ser Criston sighs deeply and for once his glare is not aimed at you, or anyone for that matter, he looks down at the table and thinks over the next course of action.

“We march South, join Daeron and the rest of the Hightower forces,” Ser Gwayne suggests and looks to Aemond in hopes he will agree. “Our support is the strongest in the South. With the Rivermen supporting the Blacks we are surrounded by the enemy now that they have taken the throne. Our best choice would be to march South, have three dragons joined together, and two large armies join strengths. We could have a chance to retake King's Landing with our forces together.”

You slowly drift your eyes toward Aemond, and as he glances at you, you let him know with a slight lift of your chin that you agree with whatever he has planned���He understands that and rolls his eye back to his uncle.

“No. That is a craven’s choice. That’s what they want us to do, run like they did. I will not run like a dog with its tail between its legs,” he sneers and presses his hands on the surface of the round table. “We will hold this castle and find a way to retake King’s Landing, even if it means having to lure each dragonrider one by one until all that Rhaenyra has left is one dragon.”

“There's no use for our armies here,” Ser Criston argues and approaches the table. “Prince Daemon is gone and the men with him are too. That’s why we came in the first place, to fight them, and now they’re gone. We will just be a sitting target ready to be plucked by the enemy around us.”

“Enemy?” Aemond bites back as he tilts his head. “The Lannister army is taking out our enemy. We will not run. We will hold this castle and make our plans here, do you understand?”

Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne share an unconvinced and doubtful glance before Ser Gwayne meets your gaze and seems to ask for help to talk sense to Aemond. Which is kind of funny because ever since you stood there in that courtyard with the ashes of your enemy at your feet and you perfectly unscathed, Ser Gwayne nor Ser Criston have been able to meet you in the eye.

They can’t look past their horror because that’s what it is, there’s no mistaking the horror you saw on their faces when the fire died down and you stood there unharmed. It’s like you turned to a plague in their eyes, a fearsome thing to behold, or even look at.

Not like you care. You don’t give a damn if they fear you, or if they think of you as some demon. Aemond looked at you with fascination as the fire died and you stood there unharmed. If it was possible his love for you only intensified, and if he wasn’t already in love, he would fall with you all over again at that moment in time as the fire bathed you and you stood there radiantly, like the very sun itself. You were not someone to fear. You were and are awe-striking, something to look at with wonder and fascination. Someone to worship. What you possess is a gift, not a curse. He sees that, he knows that and he could never fear you because of it. That’s all that matters to you.

“Great,” Aemond adds with a huff as neither Ser Criston nor Ser Gwayne protests his plan.

“What of Ser Simon’s youngest son?” Ser Gwayne brings up now that he has the chance. “What will be of him?”

You stand up straighter and stifle your mischievous smirk. “I will give him the chance to gain his freedom on the morrow in a…trial by combat. He managed to escape Astraea’s wrath, so I will give him a chance to gain his freedom. It’s only fair.”

Ser Gwayne does not seem to have any protests about your plan. It’s insignificant so it doesn’t bother him, but Ser Criston seems annoyed, disgusted almost, and he hopes Aemond has some protest, but your husband did not see what he did. Not even a bit, which only leaves the knight more annoyed.

Does he say anything though? No, he stays quiet and doesn’t really speak up about any other matter that’s discussed. A silence falls over the hall as they all swallow any protests that go against Aemond’s plan, which makes for a short meeting. Which is great for you, it feels like you’ve been on your feet for days without rest. The twins are only getting bigger by the day and are only draining more of your energy. You want to sleep until the next day, and maybe eat something sweet?

Cake! That sounds good. Maybe you’ll have one of the cooks make you one—then again what if they try to poison you?

If only you had the faintest idea of how to make a cake of your own. Alas, you don’t, and you don’t want to ask anyone to make one either. You’ll have to live with the temptation.

Unless…

“Ser Jason—”

There it is again. That whispering accompanying the wind.

It’s still unintelligible, but you hear it again. Only this time it doesn’t go away with the wind, you keep hearing it. It's loud and then it goes quiet as it lures you somewhere you shouldn’t go, somewhere you should be cautious about, after all, you just got here, Daemon held this castle previously, and someone loyal to him could harm you. Yet no matter how many times you try to tell yourself to stop, you can’t ignore the soft whispering. It’s as if the wind is pulling you with it throughout the wet grounds, and you’re too entranced to stop.

“What is it, princess?” Ser Jason interjects.

You shake your head. “Never mind,” you brush him off and walk faster, turning corners, and passing by servants who stop to let you pass. You walk over puddles, and forget corridors you take to get to the Godswood?

You’re in the Godswood, in front of a large Heart tree with vibrant red leaves, the finest and whitest wood, and long roots that spread all over the ground. You stand there under its towering ancient presence and realize at that instant that the whispering is calling you to its presence. It’s telling you to go so you go with no protest and no fear. You walk to it with fascination as that whispering gets louder but not clearer, just louder as you get closer and closer.

Once you stand before the weeping face an urge takes over you to touch the sap that falls from it. It’s telling every muscle in your body to touch it and finally cipher what the whispering is saying, so you start to stretch your hand out. Yet as your fingers hover over the red sap, the sound of Ser Jason’s threatening voice stops you.

“There is far enough.”

The whispering goes quiet and you drop your arm back to your side right away before you turn and face, her. It’s that woman from the courtyard, the one that you swear you know, but can’t pinpoint from where. A dream perhaps?

Regardless, she’s standing there behind Ser Jason’s sword looking directly at you with her big eyes.

“Ser,” you interject softly and walk down toward them. “It’s alright.”

Ser Jason glances over at the entrance to make sure your husband isn’t lurking and ready to get him in trouble before he slowly does as he’s told, leaving the woman with access to you now.

“You,” you direct at her with a hint of wonder.

“Alys,” she says and side-eyes your sworn protector with the most rudest side-eye you’ve ever seen and then slowly drags her feet toward you. “Rivers.”

You take in her name with a gentle nod and she stops walking while you step back on the ground to be on the same level, but still several feet away.

“You,” she redirects, making the corner of your lips twitch up, but not extend to that smile just yet. Not even when she says your name.

“Some of those boys you and the Prince put to the sword were good. Boys with no name who were just trying to live,” she says boldly, making you raise your chin and show no falter in your decision. You show no regret and no guilt. Pride sparks in your eyes and makes the corner of your lips tug to a malicious smirk.

“Boys turn to vengeful men,” you counter simply. “Men have already tried to kill me and my children. I won’t let them get close again.”

She doesn’t say anything in return, she instead walks closer but stops soon thereafter and looks you up and down, letting you do the same in the silence that comes down over you.

You still try to figure out where you might know her from, but you can’t come up with an answer, just more curiosity.

“I’ve been waiting for you for a while now,” she breaks the silence, making you stiffen and causing your lips to part as your eyes slowly widen—“It’s about time our paths crossed, don’t you think?”

The corner of her lips lift slightly, but you only look at her shocked as your mind unravels what she might be.

“Are you—”

“A healer,” she interrupts you. “Yes.”

You shake your head as that shock turns back to fascination. “A witch?”

She scoffs and brings her hands together as she slowly makes her way closer to you, causing you to try and step back out of caution. However, you don’t actually end up moving. You think you do but you can’t bring yourself to really move.

“Well, I dabble in some medicinal things and people call them potions. The wind speaks to me, murky waters and fire paint me a picture, but I wouldn’t call myself that.”

You let out a breathless laugh, and then as she finally stops only a few inches away do you study her; her defined jaw, her big green eyes that have a way of luring you in, and her long and beautiful black hair that flows down her back.

“I am merely Alys. That’s all. That's all I’ll be in this long game.”

Your eyebrows twitch together in confusion, but you don’t question her. You don’t dare to yet.

“And you,” she continues and piques your curiosity. “A spark that triggers a greater fire.”

Your shoulders fall and a flood of questions come through your mind, drowning out any suspicions you held for her.

“What do you mean?” Is the first question that escapes you, making her lips lift up to a smug smile.

“All in due time, Princess, we still have a lot of time together,” she deflects and steps aside to point at the door that leads back inside the castle. “Why don’t I check on your twins first, hm?”

You part your lips and finally have the right mind to hesitate. “Maybe a maester can help me.”

She scoffs. “There’s no maester here. He left. Don’t worry, you can trust me.”

You draw in a deep breath and continue to hesitate for a moment longer until you remember that there’s no maester in your grand arsenal of men, so there’s no other choice but to trust her.

“Very well,” you give in with a deep breath and walk with her, but end up stopping when Ser Jason doesn’t follow closely behind. He stays in the middle of the courtyard and looks around panicked until you call for his attention.

“Ser Jason?”

His head snaps toward you and he looks at you horrified.

“Are you alright, Ser? Too brisk for you?”

Alys snickers and you offer the man a teasing smile, but he just heaves until he shakes his head and clears his throat before he finally catches up. You then continue your path inside side by side with Alys until you reach some messy hall with a cozy fire lit inside, and a round table full of clutter.

It's hard to be awed by the mess.

“Sit,” she orders and points to a large chair before she goes and tries to close the door. However, Ser Jason puts his foot in the way to stop her.

“No,” he deadpans.

“No men, just us. I have to check on her privately. Unless you want to be a part of it?” She asks and then seems to whisper something you don’t catch, but makes Ser Jason’s eyes flutter nervously before he slowly slides his foot back, making her scoff.

“None of your father’s backbone. He would’ve fought to stay here,” she has no shame in saying. And even if you should be in disbelief, you’re awed by her jab.

Poor Ser Jason can’t say the same, he’s horrified and flabbergasted all at the same time, and it’s her comment that lets her shut the door in his face and then face you with a smile.

You had the thought of asking her how she knew about Ser Jason’s big secret, but how do witches know anything?

Who knows. You leave it as just an impressive feat.

“How far along are you?” She asks as she makes her way to the round table.

You draw in a deep breath and look at the floor for an answer, but you can’t come up with it right away. There’s been death after death, and devastating news after devastating news that you lost track.

“A month maybe? Almost two? I have lost track. I just know that I am not showing yet.” You say.

Alys hums as she puts a kettle over the fire. “Has there been bleeding?” She then asks as she turns back to her table. “Anything of note?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m just more tired now. Hungry. The aches have slowly gone away.”

She nods in comprehension and you interlace your hands together and let your eyes explore the dimly lit room. Alys walks over to you, but doesn’t garner your attention until she’s standing over you.

“You ought to be more cautious,” she almost scolds you. It sounds like it anyway. “Locked in a room with me? After having just met me.”

You slowly stand up as you hold her gaze and without saying anything you flip back the silver chains that fall over your face, as if leaving the most valuable part of you vulnerable after feeling the need to protect it after Jacaerys death.

“There’s nothing you can do that can hurt me,” you mutter full of gloom. “Whatever was left of my heart died with my brother.”

Alys looks deep into your eyes and you catch the slight shake of her head before she whispers. “Is that why you leave yourself vulnerable to me? Armor can only protect so much.”

You draw out a deep breath and finally let go of her gaze. “Let’s just say it feels as if I already know you. Is it you? Some trick?”

She rolls her eyes. “No,” she retorts. “No trick, our part of our story is at last getting told. That’s all.”

You scoff and nod softly. “Okay. You’re strange, you know that?”

She smiles. “So I have been told. Sit and put your legs up on this,” she says and drags a tall stool in front of the chair, letting you do as she asked to let her check on you and the twins.

“You ought to be careful with whom you share your fire with,” she finally goes back to what she was trying to get at. “You don’t know me. You don’t even know half of this world. There are cold people who would do anything to snuff out a warm and blazing fire like yours. You can’t let them, you’re a dragon with fire-made flesh, be a dragon,” she gets across harshly as she’s examining you, which kind of fails to get her point across, but it still finds a way to travel in your ears and make you quiet. Like a mother would, or an older sister, or some passionate and dedicated teacher.

And like a scolded child you stay quiet until she’s done.

“Strong,” she shares, easing your worry. “And growing as they should be.”

You let out a relieved sigh and slide your legs back to let your gown fall back over your legs. “There was one smaller than the other, is that still the same?” You have to ask, making her hold your gaze in a gentle manner as she nods.

“Keep trying to stay strong and your little dragons will do the same, hm?”

You nod in comprehension and watch her walk to a bowl of water to wash her hands before she pulls the kettle out of the fire to now prepare some tea or something you can’t figure out yet.

“It’s nice talking to another woman,” you share with no shame and with no kind of hesitation to her warnings. “My handmaiden Vanessa stayed behind, and so did Helaena. It’s just me and a bunch of men. Only Aemond doesn’t let me converse with any, so it’s mostly him, and Ser Gwayne. So it’s nice talking to you.”

Alys stops mashing some kind of herbs and blinks repeatedly as if caught in disbelief over your words before she slowly lifts her gaze and looks at you with this different gleam in her eyes. It’s much softer, but still bright that it makes it look like she’s smiling with her eyes before an actual smile paints on her features.

“Daemon was much colder and distant, you—”

“Ew,” you cut her off with disgust. “Never ever compare me to him. That’s…no.”

She giggles and besides your disgust, you laugh quietly along with her. You share a laugh until the door is ripped open and Aemond stomps inside with a glare already set on Alys.

“If you’re done let’s go,” he says through gritted teeth as he snaps his gaze to you.

“It’s quite alright,” she tries to assure him as she mixes the hot water and herbs she dumps in a cup. “I don’t bite.”

Aemond drags his gaze back to her and passes her a glare without returning any word. He just glares at her before he looks back at you and presses his insistence to leave.

“I’m going,” you whisper sharply as you make your way to him, whilst Alys makes her way to you—“she was just checking on me and your twins.” You snap and he presses his glare at you, making you roll your eyes in return.

When you reach Aemond’s side, Alys reaches you, so he grabs your wrist and steps back, but you stay grounded.

“Drink this, it’s red raspberry leaf tea. For you and your babes,” she says and offers you the cup which you take without question.

“Thank you, Alys,” you tell her with a gentle smile as you slide your arm up to grab Aemond’s hand.

“And if you,” she directs at him. “Find yourself having…sleepless nights, I can make you something to aid in that. You need only ask.”

Aemond’s gaze hardens as he hums before he turns around swiftly, making his hair turn dramatically. Before you leave Alys behind you offer her one last smile, and then catch up to Aemond’s side so he’s not dragging you with him.

“I went to look for you at our chambers and you were not there,” he says in annoyance, but you brush him off.

“She was merely checking on me and the twins. That’s all.”

Aemond stops walking, and you stop with him. Before he can face you he mutters. “Then talk to a maester or a midwife. Not some…whatever she is.”

“Healer,” you avoid saying witch so he doesn’t overreact. “And if you must know the twins are fine. Strong, she says.”

Aemond turns slowly with a change in his expression; going from upset and overly concerned to relieved and soft.

“Are they?” He probes as he reaches over and gently caresses your belly.

“Mhm-hmm,” you reassure him with a hum. “Getting bigger.”

The corner of his lips twitch up very faintly and you just watch him with a blissful smile before you glance down at him pressing his hand against your belly.

“<That's good,>” he whispers in High Valyrian.

You press your hand over his and smile wider, which is something he catches now and studies for a lingering moment before he then snatches the cup in your hand and throws it back.

“Aemond!”

“You’re not drinking that,” he deadpans and continues walking.

It’s not like you can collect the tea off the ground so you follow at his side. “You’re being dramatic,” you mumble.

“No. You don’t know her,” he argues. “It could be poison. I’m just protecting you and the twins.”

He is right to be wary, so you don’t argue, but to throw out the tea like that?!

Regardless, with nothing to be done over the spilled tea when you make it to your quarters, you once again hesitate and stiffen at the sight of your new dark chambers with a leaking roof.

At least there’s a hot bath ready now.

“Bathe with me, my love,” you tell Aemond over your shoulder, and at that moment catch him still in the hall, seeming to be staring at something in particular that has him stiff, his nose flared, and his chest rising and falling quickly.

“Aemond?” You call out and walk back out, catching a simple dark empty corridor. “What is it?” You query and grab his hand to tug it and gain his attention. “Aemond?”

Said man’s lips curl as if he’s getting upset at the emptiness, so you step in front of him and find his lost gaze.

“What is it?” You ask with concern and finally, his attention finds you after being somewhere far away. “Are you okay?”

His gaze flickers behind you for a second before he looks back at you and nods. You question him speechlessly as you’re hesitant to believe him, but he presses a kiss on your forehead and finally heads inside.

“Come on,” he whispers, but before you follow him back inside you steal a glance at the end of the corridor first. When you find it empty once again you just head back inside your chambers.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

“The prisoner as you requested,” a man says as he pushes the Strong boy in front of Aemond and you, letting Aemond and you share the same mischievous look before he steps forward and simply studies the boy.

After a minute of silence, he steps before him, towering over his kneeled figure and looking at him with a pointed glare. “I will say I am…surprised you managed to avoid getting burnt,” he breaks the silence in his menacing low voice. “It is for that sole reason that the Princess Regent has granted you a chance to live.”

The boy blinks repeatedly in disbelief and shifts on his knees but doesn’t dare to look up at the lurking menace before him.

“A simple trial by combat,” Aemond reveals, making a crowd of men begin to gather in the tall and long great hall. “I’m sure you are aware how that works or do you need someone to explain it to you?”

The boy shakes his head. “No, I know.”

Aemond shifts his feet around and looks at the ground before he slowly scales his gaze up your figure before meeting your gaze with a sense of hesitation in his eye. All because he isn’t a big fan of your plan. He only agreed to it after a lot of persuading.

“Albeit,” you interject and walk forward, catching the young man’s attention, and making Aemond watch you walk forward until you reach his side—“there’s a change in the rules. You cannot pick your champion, you will fight, but you can pick your opponent between fighters we have chosen for today.”

The young man’s eyes widen before he drops his gaze to the ground and dares to argue. “But…”

“You can always choose death,” Aemond cuts him off, and the young man closes his mouth and stays quiet, responding to Aemond’s comment at that moment.

“If you win you get to be free, and if they win well…” you trail off since there’s no need to finish the rest, he knows what will happen. “Here are your choices,” you gain his attention once again.

“Ser Gwayne Hightower,” you announce and point to the knight. “Ser Criston Cole. Prince Aemond Targaryen,” you say and look at your husband who is hoping he is the one picked for today's trial. “Or…me.” You smirk, and the young man of course doesn’t reflect any sort of amusement. He looks rather baffled and slightly horrified that you, a woman, would offer to be his opponent.

“Don't worry you will get to wear armor,” you try to reassure him, but that’s not what he’s worried about.

“But the Prince is the Prince, I cannot harm him,” he argues as he shakes his head in denial, making you grow annoyed rather quickly.

“Choose,” you urge him impatiently.

The young man looks between Aemond, you, and the two knights behind you. He debates for a long moment, bringing tension to the hall until finally a shaky finger points at you.

“Good,” you whisper with a smug smile that slowly spreads on your lips. “Why don’t you help him don some armor,” you direct at the guards and start to turn to Aemond.

“No,” the young man cuts in, pulling your eyes back to him—“I do not require it. I am good as I am.”

And there it is, overconfidence because you’re a woman. You admire it.

“Are you sure?” You make sure to ask, but he doesn’t think it over, he nods, making you scoff softly before you turn to your husband whilst the young man is pulled off his knees to be prepared for the duel.

“I could take your place,” Aemond tries to protest. “I know you can fight, but you do not have to.”

You grab his arm and shake your head. “No I do not have to, but I want to. I can. And he is already doubting me. I will use that and win.”

Aemond swallows thickly and still looks unconvinced.

“I will be okay,” you assure him softly as you slide your hand down his arm to grab his hand. “You have to trust that I can win. Alright?”

Aemond draws in a deep breath and steals a glance at the young man getting a sword handed to him.

“I don’t know, it takes one swing,” Aemond argues and returns his gaze to you to plead with his eye as well. “And you are with child. No, you cannot.”

“I will,” you press and grab his other arm to lean in closer. “I have fought men much more threatening than him and won, and I have learned from good men like you.”

Aemond’s gaze falls and he shakes his head. “You more so stalked our training.”

You chuckle softly and his lips twitch but he can’t find amusement in your laugh, he only finds more reasons to stop you.

“Aemond,” you insist softly. “I will be fine. I will win. I won’t die today.”

Aemond’s gaze slowly drifts past you and fixates on something. You slowly follow his line of gaze and see nothing but a group of men waiting eagerly for the duel, so you look back at him and cup his cheek

“I will be fine,” you say one more time to reassure him and then lean in to press a kiss on his cheek.

“At least use Blackfyre then,” he quips as he has no other choice but to accept your decision. “If he’s a great fighter he will win regardless of what sword you use.”

He pulls the sword out of its sheath, and you gladly take the massive Valyrian steel sword.

“<Be careful>,” he finally says in High Valyrian, making you nod in comprehension before you let him press a kiss on your cheek.

Before he pulls back he keeps his face close to yours, letting his breath unfurl over your cheek, and his lips grazing on your flesh. You stay in his presence and take in his gentle gesture before you tilt your head and slowly press a kiss on his thin lips before you pull away and walk to the middle of the circle the audience of men has created in anticipation and curiosity.

The young man slowly follows suit and rather than looking nervous, he looks rather determined and quite vengeful. Rightfully so, but let’s see if all those emotions will help win.

He does start right away by stalking around you, which gives him an edge, but you're quick to fix your stance while you follow his figure with your eyes until he's finally face to face with you again, glare narrowed and full of fury. He parts lips and you wait for a word to slip, something to express the grief and the anger, but instead, he lets out a deep guttural scream before he sprints at you and throws a harsh swing that you avert by stepping back with your hand relaxed.

The man sees that you swerved, so he reacts with a growl before he follows with another swing that you once again avert by turning away swiftly.

This only infuriates the young man more so he grabs his sword with both hands and brings his hands back to swing down at your head. You, albeit, quickly swing Blackfyre up and let your swords sing in the tense silence that fills the hall.

“That’s right,” you whisper as you hold his gaze overfilled with anger, and those two simple words only trigger him further, causing him to shove you back with all his strength to the point you stumble but react with a grin.

The young man lunges at you out of anger, but you’re quick, you meet his action and use all of your strength to push away his sword. He then quickly throws his arm back up, but you once again meet his swing. This time though you see that he’s focused on your upper body so you use your leg to kick him back.

The young man stumbles back and you take advantage of the rush passing through your system and stomp toward him. He quickly finds balance and swings hard at your neck with an angry bark leaving his lips, but you duck, and as you’re swinging down past his blade, you swiftly twirl the sword around in your hand to pass it to your non-dominant hand over your back. When you’re standing to your given height you reach your dominant hand back to rip your cloak off and hurl it at his face the same way you saw Ser Jason do to his opponent when you watched him fight for the first time. And like when you studied his fight you actually manage to catch the man off guard and block his view. Just the way you wanted.

Thus just as the man grabs the cloak on his face and begins to pull it off, you swing your sword and manage to slice his head clean off his neck, ending the fight, and proving you the winner.

Now that nail-biting tension slowly slips away, the nervousness on the men’s faces gathered around fall and a mix of disbelief and pride begins to seep through. And as much as you rejoice in the people’s reactions, and find an immense pride in proving men wrong by winning, you turn to look at Aemond first and foremost. You meet his gaze and get lost in his eye, causing everyone and everything around you to slip away and only leave you and him in the hall full of people.

There you are in your own little world, relishing in your achievement, proving you are strong and capable, someone worth fearing just like him, and Aemond can’t offer you anything else but a soft prideful smile as his eyes offer the same emotion, but also an intense awe. And no matter how much you like the attention of other people, the praise, and demonstrating that you are a fearsome thing to behold, all that matters at that moment is Aemond’s reaction. Everything else is meaningless compared to the pride and praise he offers you with his smile and that look in his eye. That’s all you need, all you could ever want.

“Let’s give a cheer to the Princess Regent!” Ser Gwayne breaks you away from your moment with Aemond before you can run over to him. “Princess!”

“Princess!”

“Princess!”

“Princess!” The cheers fill the room, ridding the hall of all that tension that once held a grip on everyone. After seeing you come out of that dragon fire unscathed they thought of you as some demon from the seven hells or some damn curse, but now that’s all quick to vanish after you won your duel. Now every man that is fighting for the Greens is filled with admiration and respect for you.

All except Ser Criston, of course. You find him through the crowd gathering around you. He carries a look of disgust as he looks at you in the center of attention after having won a hand-to-hand duel. He hears all the praise in their cheers and sees the way they all crowd around you to be close to you, but he cannot see what they do. You’re like the eye of the storm in a sea, captivating perhaps, calm looking, but you’re completely dangerous and carry the potential to destroy everything in your path just like your mother.

You see straight through that, you note his disgust and don’t get shamed by it. You’re not belittled, you raise your nose in the air and shoot him a malicious smirk before you flash him a grin and turn away to give your attention to the men around you. You relish the praise and the celebration all meant for you.

For a while at least until you’ve had enough and slip away while they’re all busy talking amongst each other, and go in search of Aemond.

However, you find it difficult to find him when he’s not where you last saw him. He’s gone so you have a choice to wait for him to return because you’re sure he will since you’re out here, or you can go find him.

It’s a rather easy decision, you choose the latter as you have a bubbling excitement to talk to Aemond about the way you fought.

Yet when you leave the great hall and find yourself within the dimly lit corridors, you catch Ser Criston talking to Aemond just above a rather pressing whisper. You almost just reveal your presence by joining the pair, but you then catch your name and instead hide behind a wall with Ser Jason listening beside you.

“…too extreme. She cannot be allowed to be doing such barbaric acts. Not in front of the army of men, not in front of servants with slippery tongues.” He says in regards to your duel, and you wait with your breath held for Aemond’s response, hoping he will counter this rather stupid argument that comes from what? Misogyny? Ser Criston has never cared enough to worry about your well-being.

“Why would I do that?” Aemond snaps back, making a slow relieved breath escape past your nose—“She’s a fighter. A warrior with a great capability, far greater than most men here. She’s also a dragonrider, a talented one at that. Why should I care what people think or say about her in regard to her talents? She’s a Targaryen.”

The corner of your lips slowly pulls up whilst you hear feet shuffle against the stone ground.

“She may be all things you say and more, sure, but she is Rhaenyra’s daughter, Aemond. Don’t you see?” Ser Criston argues sharply and with a loss of patience in his tone. “What would the people think when they hear the whispers about her winning battles and duels?”

“I do not care!” Aemond loses his own patience, making butterflies flutter in your stomach at the sound of how desperately he’s defending you against a man who is his mentor, and like a father.

“She is my wife before she is Rhaenyra’s daughter! She is mine!”

“Then think about your unborn children!” Ser Criston cuts Aemond off in that heat of the moment with a sharper tone in his voice that pierces right through Aemond’s quick-rising rage—“It takes one lunge Aemond, one strong hit against her belly and you lose it all. Your legacy is threatened. Everything you’re fighting for will falter if you lose them over something you can prevent by keeping her away from these duels and battle plans.”

There’s a moment of silence that grows tense for you as you await Aemond’s response like waiting for bad or good news. Then again that is what it is to you, no matter how hard you may fight, Aemond still holds a lot of power over you. You see it, you recognize it, and you slightly fear it only because of the insecurities you hold for being pushed aside and locked away like some exotic bird only needed to be gawked at.

“But that’s it, Ser Criston,” Aemond responds clearly and calmly. Which is far more frightening than if he spoke with anger clinging onto his voice. “If it’s a choice between them and her. I chose her. Legacy be damned. We can always make more.” He finishes with a soft huff before you hear his heels turn against the stone and then click against the hard surface louder and louder as he approaches where you hide, making you bold and step out of the shadows.

When you’re under the revealing fire casting down from the walls, Aemond comes to an immediate halt and his eyes widen as his heart seems to fall to his stomach.

“Ser Criston,” you greet dryly at the man at the end of the corridor, making him avert his gaze and bow his head.

You pierce your glare into him until he escapes down the other corridor, letting you then face Aemond with a softer gaze that brings a sweet smile to your face.

“You heard?” He asks.

You nod without hesitation or shame. “I did. You are arguing in a corridor.”

He holds your gaze and then hums before he starts to walk, making you walk with him at the same pace.

“Thank you, I appreciate you supporting my decisions to be involved,” you say sweetly and reach for his hand, realizing at that moment how stiff he is, but not questioning it, just thinking it’s this castle and its eeriness.

“By the way I’m going to scout on Astraea, make sure there’s nothing lurking in the forest,” you bring up hopefully.

“Alright,” he gives in, making you beam at him before you lean in and press a kiss on his cheek.

“I won’t be long.” You assure him. “I will make sure to not engage in anything that might give me away this time. Swear.”

Aemond scoffs softly in amusement and strokes your knuckles with his thumb before the cold air hits his hand when you pull away and hurry down the hall to go to your dragon. Yet as fast as you are he catches up to you to watch you leave and make sure that what? You don’t slip off the rope ladders hanging on Astraea’s side?

Whatever the reason he follows you until he reaches an arch that leads to Astraea resting on the side of a hill. He stays leaning against it as you mount your dragon and ascend to the grey skies. It’s only once the sight of you is lost amongst the clouds that he turns away.

Nevertheless, when he faces the courtyard in front of the weirwood tree he comes to an immediate halt when he sees him again. A ghost haunting him since the moment he stepped foot in this haunting castle. It’s Lucerys Velaryon once again, standing there with a shadow cast behind him, looking at him with a pointed gaze, and a disappointed frown.

Like the other times before he doesn’t say a word, he just stands there watching him, as if threatening him, overlooking every action he takes. Especially when it comes to you. Like many times before he feels the need to react, to tell him to go away, but before he can part his lips he comes to his senses and realizes he’s not real. He's just some illusion. So with that thought in mind, he intends to walk away, but then the unexpected happens, Lucerys eyes drift up and he watches something in the sky.

Aemond doesn’t want to pay him any mind, but as if he has no control he slowly looks up and sees you returning.

You must’ve forgotten something or seen something.

Thus he turns back around to return to the arch and wait for you to land, but the moment he faces that arch Lucerys is standing under it, watching him again quietly until suddenly he parts his lips and it’s as if he’s really there. “You’re going to kill her.”

Aemond turns away swiftly but there Lucerys is again!

“Just like you killed me.”

“It was an accident!” Aemond barks out and storms toward Lucerys until he’s before him. “It was an accident,” he says quieter but through gritted teeth as his irritation heightens.

“Was it an accident when you slashed her cheek?”

“Yes.” He answers without hesitation or deceit because it was a stupid accident.

“How about when you seeked the company of that whore?” Lucerys quickly counters, making Aemond grow quiet this time and letting Lucerys continue. “It's inevitable, that’s who you are. What you are. You will be her death.”

Aemond shakes his head as his eye quickly wells with tears. “No,” his voice cracks. “You’re wrong. She means much more to me than you ever did. I ride the biggest dragon! I am a skilled swordsman! She will not die by my watch! She will not die. No. She’s mine.”

Lucerys chuckles dryly, causing Aemond to look him up and down with a curled lip.

“Keep telling yourself she won’t die if that’s what helps you sleep—”

“I will not send her away!” Aemond bellows back before Lucerys can finish. “Her mother lied to her and pushed her away! Her grandfather prefers bastards over his own kin! There’s no place for her to go! She’s safe here with me because I will not harm her. You’re wrong! You’re dead!”

Lucerys nods. “I am, but you’re wrong, her mother loves her, you know that. Just like you know she’ll welcome my sister back with open arms. That’s the difference between you and her.”

Aemond shakes his head. “Her place is here with me,” he whispers with a quiver in his voice.

Once again Lucerys nods as if assuring Aemond’s claim before he whispers this time. “Okay.”

Aemond blinks repeatedly to blink away the tears, but at that moment he hears it, a screech ripping through the air. He snaps his head up and right away he is welcomed with the horrifying sight of an arrow pierced through Astraea’s eye, killing her instantly, and setting her plummeting to the lake behind the Godswood.

Aemond gasps your name and before he could even think he sets off toward the lake, forgetting the ghost haunting him, and only thinking about you, hoping—no, praying that you are okay.

He can’t fathom Lucerys being right, he can’t let himself imagine your death. It terrifies him to his very core, so as he runs and runs as fast as his long legs can carry him, he builds up the illusion that you can survive that fall, and that you will just hit that water and walk to shore with a beating heart, and just simply shaken up.

He doesn’t think of the realistic outcome. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t! Not even when he makes it to the Gods Eye and sees your body washing up ashore. He just tricks himself into thinking you’re passed out, he ignores the blood running out of your mouth and your nose. He ignores how lifeless your body looks when he drags you out of the water and cradles you there on the sandy ground.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” he whispers as he wipes the blood and the water off your face.

You won’t open your eyes, but that will take time, he tells himself, so he waits. He keeps you in his arms and keeps wiping off the blood that keeps running out of you. Even if his hands get covered in the thick crimson liquid he keeps wiping it off your face, hoping that with his gentle touches, you’ll wake.

But you don’t. Your eyes stay closed, your chest keeps still, and the heart in your chest that he keeps feeling with his palm remains lifeless.

“Wake up,” he whispers and leans in to press his forehead against yours. “Come on. I have you, you’re okay now…” he trails off and lowers his gaze to wait for a breath to escape you, but your lips remain closed, and your nostrils unmoving.

“It’s not funny,” he hisses. “Wake up!”

He waits desperately. Pathetically so, but you don't laugh, or break into a smile. Your face is stiff, slowly proving his worst fear. “Please don’t do this to me, my love. Please, please.”

Tears run down his cheeks before he has a chance to process that they were building up, while his chest is hit with the worst pain he’s ever felt in his life. And the only way he can expel a fraction of that suffering that torments him so is by letting a wail rip out from the depths chest; one so broken and raw that his throat and chest hurt altogether. It’s so unlike him to let out such an emotion so loudly but there’s no other way to express what he feels inside and what makes it hard to breathe with how choked up he gets.

And yet he tries to keep pleading, he calls out your name over and over again with every word trembling and accompanied by a tear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your lips. “I’m sorry. Please, I can’t…I can’t keep roaming this world without you. It won’t make sense. Please.”

“I told you,” he hears Lucerys whisper, hitting him with a burning fury. Yet when he snaps his head back Lucerys is not there. It’s that strange woman, Alys, looking at him with that same frown Lucerys carried, but a different look in her eyes than Lucerys’. She looks at him without fear, no respect, just a shameless icy look.

“You have to help her,” he ignores her piercing glare and glances back at you to reposition you in his arms so he can get up, but when he looks back at his arms where he once held you, you’re gone and the blood that once covered his hands is also gone. He then looks over at the lake in search of Astraea, but nothing is in the water. You’re not even in the sky…

It was all…fake…

It was all a cruel trick, but one that helps him realize what he must do in regards to you, so you don’t suffer the fate he just saw.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N- Conversations with Alys reminds me of how young mc really is.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid @answer-the-sirens

[savrenim]

mild spoilers for/ but mostly will not make sense before reading the chapter for ch 2 of never told you what I do for a living but some fun fic!canon things that are never going to make it into the actual fic but I really enjoy and so needed to go somewhere

so gods do I enjoy Peak Lord Sun because oops I went and developed the whole huge backstory both for this timeline but also for this fic's version of the PIDW!canon timeline

in the my-fanon!PIDW!canon timeline, they were still being equally Scheming in making Shen Jiu their head disciple. In particular, in this fanon version of canon, they disapproved heavily of the choice of keeping Yue Qingyuan as head disciple of Qiong Ding Peak and sect heir after the entire fiasco with his claiming of Xuan Su. Peak Lord Sun strongly advised their Qiong Ding Peak Lord against it and their Qiong Ding Peak Lord refused to budge, which became a significant (albeit subtle) rift between them, because in every other turning point they'd faced together of their tenure of Peak Lords, Peak Lord Sun's strategic advice had been listened to and respected.

The reason why they disliked Yue Qingyuan the most was not because they saw anything too wrong with Yue Qingyuan's overall situation (although they certainly weren't fond of the weakness Yue Qingyuan's life force being tied to Xuan Su provided), but rather they viewed him as stubborn and uncontrollable, which given how they were being ignored at that juncture on perhaps the single most important issue regarding the future of the sect, was an especially sore spot for them. They refused to appoint a head disciple because they weren't fully satisfied with anyone on their peak, but more than that, they sensed something in Yue Qingyuan that implied to them that anyone they had, there simply would be a situation in which if Yue Qingyuan was committed to a personal course of action, he would refuse to listen, and nothing their heir would say would be able to get through his skull. The thing that they started to look for the most in prospective head disciples was someone who could either work around that or somehow, miraculously, circumvent it.

So of course they had Yue Qingyuan followed to Qui Manor, obtained reports, and from that figured out Yue Qingyuan's full backstory. When Shen Jiu popped up at the Immortal Alliance Conference, it was the perfect answer (and/or they laid some groundwork via spreading rumors etc to attempt to entice Wu Yanzi there, viewing a few potential dead disciples from other sects as totally worth getting their hands on Shen Jiu, depending on just how ruthless you want to go). There was never any question in their mind about Shen Jiu becoming their Head Disciple. They didn't care that Shen Jiu had a broken foundation, or started late, or had extremely questionable training in the Four Arts leading up to that point. The fact that Shen Jiu was smart, could be taught, and could catch up was a bonus. What they cared about was they had managed to find the single person who actually could manage Yue Qingyuan and who would not be boxed out if they needed to manipulate Yue Qingyuan into following a certain course of action because he was not listening, and therefore Shen Jiu was the only possible choice for the next Peak Lord of the Peak of Strategy. After all, everything else could be fixed, or covered up; but that was the one thing that they wouldn't be able to shape some other candidate into having.

This fic interestingly enough follows my-fanon!PIWD!canon up to around there because Peak Lord Sun follows approximately the same course, with the mild offshoot that they were vaguely, as a side project not really taking their full attention, trying to keep an ear to the wind with respect to rumors about a new rogue cultivator practicing a new type of cultivation, in case there was actually anything of substance there instead of usual wild stories that tended to make their rounds from peasants who didn't actually understand anything about cultivation trying to tell stories about cultivation. It wasn't until they got the full report of Qui Manor and then dug deeper over Um Holy Shit Empowered Ghosts And Fierce Corpses Do Not Exist In That Form In This Setting that they first thought they were dealing with demonic cultivation, but then realized that the traces of energy and reports from the scenes and every single detail they assembled didn't point to demonic cultivation (either in terms of demonic energy produced by demons, or human 'demonic cultivators' who were actually practicing twisted spiritual cultivation fueled by atrocities) whatsoever, but rather an entirely new form of cultivation possibly with an entirely different energy source and certainly following an entirely different base theory of spiritual-physics, that they became fixated on this mysterious rogue cultivator. Shen Jiu may have been of initially of interest because of his connection to and hence potential to influence Yue Qingyuan, but he immediately became infinitely more interesting because he seemed to be tied up in this new cultivation, which they rapidly became more and more obsessed with, to the point of viewing 'the future of the sect' as less about influencing whomever the next sect leader was and more about figuring out the exact broad and sweeping changes that this cultivation might end up bringing to the world and making sure that Cang Qiong Sect got ahead of that curve and is on the right side of that wave.

(what do you mean I can't write a story without at least one character who is as aggressively obsessed with magic-physics and the implications that new discoveries in the field would have on their world's version of attempts at creating a unified theory of everything as I would be if I were in that universe)

and from there ch 2 ensues.

(I also have to say, my favorite detail of this entire backstory is the beautiful dramatic irony that in my-fanon!PIDW!canon timeline, Peak Lord Sun does in fact make the incorrect strategic call in an attempt to save the sect that does in fact end up flat-out dooming the sect: in focusing on finding an heir that above all else might have the ability to influence the new generation's sect leader and therefore perform the goddamn duties of the Peak of Strategy, they blindly focus on Shen Jiu despite the warning signs, and in particular, don't give a shit about the warning signs and don't take action to attempt to mitigate or solve those problems. Shen Jiu therefore grows up to become canon!Shen Jiu, and is clever and terrifying in some ways and horrifically self-destructive in a lot of other ways, and unfortunately it is exactly his 'influence' and hence ability to get away with doing what he wants over Yue Qingyuan and running his Peak the way he does and making enemies of his martial siblings the way he does that one can argue leads to the whole sect being razed to the ground; whereas a different less polarizing head disciple chosen to have been reasonably good at their job but also who might get along with everyone would not have led the whole sect to their doom. In an attempt to counter what they viewed as their own Sect Leader's totally incorrect move refusing to consider a different head disciple, they refused to consider a different head disciple, and thus the dominos were laid.)

(mostly there's something I really really love about powerful-to-the-level-of-being-narratively-unbeatable just because the narrative needs to prove to you how specifically strategically smart they are characters who are taken down and/or otherwise 'lose' not through any actions that the protagonists take because even trying their hardest setting up clever traps or finding a deus ex machina or anything they'd attempt to do, the character is simply Better, to use the svsss-ism they have a 'strategist halo' that makes them on a meta level flat-out incapable of being outmaneuvered no matter the situation, and yet the character still faces their downfall by making a Wrong Call and the protagonists are left to grapple with the fact that yes they won but not through any actions or efforts on their part, they got lucky, and if they hadn't happened to get lucky, they would have lost)

my tentative full courtesy name for Peak Lord Sun is Sun Anshu 孫安殊 but I'm too much of a coward to commit to actually trying to Properly Name a Quasi Important Character in my fic so that remains a Schrodinger's name, never to be observed

[raitonsfw]

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: When Makoto walks through the front door, you can see the dark circles that plagued his eyes; the poor boy has been through a lot as he plans for his new future. You just had to make sure he relaxes tonight– with the caress of your tongue.

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, fem!reader, slight dom!reader, tired!makoto, blowjob, cum swallowing, slight face fucking, de-stressing, praises, pleading & whimpering, cuddling, makoto's tired from work and you had to convince him to relax, spoilers for thh/sdr2 chapter 6 (just where makoto works, nothing else is mentioned that's canon to danganronpa's plot after that)

a/n: ahhh, i love this cutie patootie! he deserves everything in the world. wc: 600ish. v-day list | m.list

thirst count: 1

divider credit: @hitobaby & @firefly-graphics

“Relax for me.” You instructed, taking in the sight of his suit trousers hugging his thighs. You laid your head down against it, looking up at Makoto through your eyelashes and he gave you a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Y/N, you really don’t have to do this…” Makoto assured with tired eyes, mindlessly playing with the ends of your hair as it splayed down his leg. You knew the Future Foundation worked him ragged, the long work days dragging him down to the point where it was almost impossible to take care of him; he’d be asleep the first chance he got and all you wanted to do was show him how grateful you were that he held the both of you up. Your boyfriend did so much for you, practically goes out of his way everyday to make the world a better place, and all you wanted to do was show your thanks– if he would let you.

Makoto’s eyes were focused on your mouth though this time and you knew his refusal wouldn’t last long, not with you swiping your fingers towards the button of his trousers. You felt him up with a coy smile, the thick outline already prominent and heavy against the inner seam and you chuckled softly as a quiet gasp escaped him. His cheeks had already flushed a dull pink and his jaw had fallen slack as you took his cock out of its confines.

“Makoto, honey… Let me take care of you for once.” You let the words drip like honey as you took him into your mouth, running your tongue along the shaft of it. Above you, Makoto was already a writhing mess; his eyes squeezed shut and soft whines left his mouth in a hurry. His fingers threaded into your hair even more and he pulled at it slightly, unaware that his hips had already started to move on their own accord. You accommodated the extra movement, hollowing your cheeks around him and sucking him down and you earned a choked whimper from him. 

“Thank you…” Makoto breathed out as you deep throated him, his other hand resting against the plush of the bed as he leaned back slightly. Saliva dribbled from the corners of your mouth as you worked him over and you could feel his thighs trembling from the sensation, needy whimpers falling from his lips now. They raised in pitch as you started to pump his base, slow and sensual and you suckled at the tip of his cock, slathering your saliva down his cock with a faint squelch.

He was a fucking wreck, gasping for air as you played with the sensitive area against the underside of his cock, your tongue pressing at it. “Please, Y/N… need to cum…” 

You hummed happily around him and his cock twitched in your mouth, thrusting deep as he came down your throat with a high drawn out moan. You swallowed the spurts of cum that hit your tongue then pulled off steadily, glancing up at Makoto as you redressed him. “Better?” 

“Mhm…” He had fallen back against the bed with a quiet noise, his breath still heavy and you silently cooed at him; he was so perfect to you. You climbed on top of him, pressing a loving kiss against his lips and he brought his one hand to your cheek. “Let’s get ready for bed, Y/N.” 

“We have all the time in the world, my love. Here.” You rolled off of him and patted your side which he took as an opening to lay against you. Makoto snuggled his head into the crevice of your arm, flush against your head and planted a tiny kiss against your collarbone. 

Yeah, he could wait a while before moving… in between your arms that captured him whole.

[shatcey]

Jude's route

First of all!!!! I DO NOT recommend going on this route immediately after Alfons. The atmosphere on these routes is completely the opposite. Ally tries his best to make a joke in any situation to lighten the mood… It's not the light route, but Ally is doing his best to make everything less gloomy. But Jude… is so damn dark. This contrast is so huge that for several chapters I've been asking myself what I'm even doing here. But I believe it won't be so difficult with literally any other route.

Okaaaaay… (claps the hands) Let's go!

I won't say much, so as not to spoil your fun. Again I'm a very kind and generous person. You have to experience that for yourself. I can only say that this is absolutely NOT what I expected.

@.judesmoonbeauty is made a lot of theories and assumptions about this route and I tried to add a bit from myself, but none of them turned out to be true. I've never been so disappointed in myself.

But!

My wishes for this route have mostly come true. I haven't read his chronicles yet, but I think I'll find the rest where… Surprised. Maybe I asked for too little? A note for the future: I can ask for more!

Jude turned out to be completely different from what I expected (his words "perverted masochist", which are canonical in literally every event, appear only in the ending).

Kate turned out to be completely different from what I expected (I admire her and fear her at the same time, very-very much so).

The main theme is completely different from what you might expect from a teaser. Not the moon, guys, it's not the damn moon. Yes, it plays a huge role in Jude's life, but that's not the main topic.

His childhood wasn't as terrible as I thought (at least he didn't live on the streets, but maybe it would have been better if he had lived there. Hmmm).

And I still have question about where he got the medicine for Ellis' epilogue? He don't work in developing medicine. Is his trading company cooperating with a drug manufacturer? I have more questions, but that would be spoilers.

There is no information about Vivi! Like…@.dear-mrs-otome noted that there was a line about loneliness… And there was a pretty big scene with him in the Romantic Blind Love ending… and my imagination ran wild. Butler? Why is it so tempting when I think about Vivi? (Ally, don't look at me like that, you have nothing to worry about). That's all. OR… I'm really inattentive (which is quite possible). But… I don't know when I will have time to re-read Jude's route, maybe Ciele will translate it even earlier… Yes, Vivi appears here and there, but mostly to dispel the rather gloomy atmosphere of this route. But, as usual, he only shows his goofy and caring side.

I'm slightly (not slightly in the slightest) disappointed that there weren't much twin boys. Nica was a bit present, but there was more of him on Roger's route. And NO Ring at all. But… one expression on Nica's face in response to Darius' question and… I like this guy, I need to know more about him. I expect to see Nica in dramatic Mad love ending… his words hint at this very strongly.

And… just a silly joke before I say a few words to people who aren't afraid of spoilers.

In the main part of the story, Kate gets into a very dangerous situation... twice. And… saying Jude's name out loud (or just thinking about him)… will summon him. He's a superhero! (superhero music is playing).

And now my thoughts on the route… with spoilers

Depression

I understand why Jude is depressed. He has no goals in life. Life is practically meaningless. Hatred and violence… he doesn't have anything else. And day after day, he literally does the same thing. No goals, no plans… nothing. He feels that it is impossible to fulfill the promise (I believe that the level of development of engineering at that time was not very helpful). And that promise was the only thing that kept him going, and it's starting to slip away, as well.

I just thought he wasn't the only guy with depression at Crown.

Liam… He doesn't have a purpose in life either. He's just going with the flow.

Elbert… a very vague goal. It can be very depressing if you have no idea how to achieve it, in which direction to move, or where to even start… And Elbert, by definition, is depressed because of how he sees himself.

Ally… as I mentioned earlier… the same… has no purpose in life. But at least he has no desire to die. He just doesn't care.

Harrison, Williams, Roger, Ellis - they have goals. So they're fine. But some of them are very odd… I'm not judging, the goal is the goal. Everything is right if it works for you!

I'm not sure about Vivi… I think we'll see pretty soon.

Kate

I think Jude's Kate has an adrenaline addiction. It just feels that way. She said herself that life has become more interesting since she became a part of the Crown… Her decisions are very daring and putting her in danger… constantly. It's like she's doing it on purpose. She ran into a room full of armed men (to save Jude), decided to search for evidence alone in enemy territory (for Jude), and at the end of a romantic ending… she works undercover in a criminal gang (again to help Jude). She just too obsessed with him or she has adrenaline addiction. Maybe (most likely) both. It's not bad. Just… unusual.

Additional characters

I can't help but mention Gilbert. He's awesome. He's definitely someone Willy would love. Stubborn and full of conviction about what is right and what is wrong. Who is ready to do literally anything to defend what he considers right. He really looks like Gilly-bee, but… he thinks of himself as "white".

And, of course, Theo. A funny guy who has no idea where he should shut up. The whipping boy. I thought Ellis would be such a person for Jude, but they created Theo for that very purpose. I feel sorry for the guy…

Main theme

I think the main idea of this story is...

This is again my free interpretation.

So… Jude doesn't ask or demand that she do this (he's not Roger, I still not get over it). He really doesn't understand why she's doing this. He really wants to know how far she's willing to go. And the story is all about that. How far she would go… to be with him, to gain his trust, his respect, to safe him, to give him a reason to live...

Maybe I'm wrong, and this story is about something else entirely. But that's how I see it. She is ready to follow him to hell no less. It's obsessive love. I'd say it's no less obsessed than the one we saw on Will's route. She accepts him completely. And just follows the same path.

I'm Ally's Kate, and it's a little weird for me to just accept their fate. I would have struggled, tried to find a solution… I would never give up. Perhaps that's why I'll never agree with them, never delve into their stories. I understand that it's just the concept "they just have to have the same craziness to be together." And I think my craziness is too different from that.

Similarities

Some parts of this story made me feel very similar to the routes of Harrison and Alfons. I'm not saying they're the same or story repeats itself. Not at all. But some of the thoughts were so similar that it was impossible to ignore.

I haven't found Jude's exact words, but it's pretty obvious… He constantly pushes her away because she doesn't belong to this dark world. She's too bright… too soft-hearted. It was the same with Harry. He stays away from her, for her own good.

And this one from romantic blind love ending...

Once again… my very free interpretation.

This is so familiar. The meaning he puts in is a little different, but the words are almost the same. I felt the similarity in the main part of the route, but now I can't remember where exactly.

And again… there is nothing similar either in situations or in stories, just the same vibes, mood, intentions. Nothing else.

Oddity

Jude is one of the characters who literally looks at me (one of his sprites). I don't feel that way with many characters. And it's quite unnerving… It's like the very intense gaze that makes you feel uncomfortable. In the real life I pretty much get used to stares and don't feel them anymore… it was totally impossible to not feel it here.

I'm so weird...

And one more thing. I remember that on Will's route or his events, Kate kept asking him why he was laughing. Damn it, girl, he's happy. Why else are people laughing? But on this route, at least at the end of it… the roles have changed. Jude gets very angry when Kate laughs. And it's so... funny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~