#and considering how many people do it just makes me completely disinterested in sharing a bedroom with other people

[newvegasceo]

i realize how little i have in common with my peers simply because im not constantly on tik tok/instagram/facebook 👴

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XVII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI

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

“If I asked for advice, would you give me some?”

“Only because I have a feeling you wouldn’t leave me alone until I did,” was what Shoko replied to the man in front of her. “As long as it's not love advice, I guess.”

Satoru’s smile seemed to falter, and when he forced a laugh out, Ieiri’s eyebrow quirked. “It’s just advice to… “

How could he frame it without giving himself away? It was not that Satoru wanted to keep his feelings a secret, and he knew Shoko would probably roll her eyes but would not judge him. Still, he did not want to put her in an awkward situation with you if ultimately, nothing came out of this.

“Advice to understand someone,” Satoru said, thinking that should suffice. What he needed at the end was to understand how you were feeling now, was it not?

Shoko blinked slowly and gave Gojo a long, thoughtful look.

“Advice to understand someone,” she repeated. “What would you need that for?”

What is he up to now?

Gojo had never given her the impression of being particularly good at understanding people, that much was true. Of course, he could find his way around them, rather smartly if she dared add, and she knew he could charm people in to take advantage of their strengths, but that did not mean he always understood their feelings, not that he had ever shown much interest in doing it in the first place.

He had always stricken her as the kind of person that cared about people but could not always care for them.

Satoru leaned back in his chair. “If someone told you you are selfish, wouldn’t you like to know why?”

I would, she thought, but it is not like you to mind what people say.

“If it were someone whose opinion matters…” he added, crossing his arms.

He’s not saying any names, but there aren’t many people that could make him care.

“And you don’t want them to think of you like that,” she completed.

He smiled in her direction, but Shoko had the feeling he was avoiding her gaze.

So that’s it.

“So, someone called you selfish, and you want to understand why they did it?” Shoko asked him, sounding as disinterested as ever, but he knew her; the wheels in her head were turning. “I guess it depends on the circumstances.” She leaned back in his chair imitating Satoru’s posture. “If they had a reason for it, something you said or did...”

Gojo seemed to ponder her words for a moment. Was that not the quid of the question?

Satoru himself knew he had done countless things that could be considered selfish. From taking your share of dessert when you were kids to sometimes taking your bed whenever he stayed at your place, to even influencing your decision to stay in Tokyo when you could have left to teach at the school in Kyoto; but not even once had you called him out on it, not seriously at least.

“It might have been something I did,” he admitted.

Ieiri was about to asked what it had been when he spoke again.

“I think… I took something from them.”

Stole… Yeah, I stole that kiss from them.

Is that why you were upset after, because he got carried away and kissed you?

Your hurt and distasteful expression flashed before his eyes.

No, there was more to it.

“You took something? Without permission, I assume.” Ieiri was looking at him.

She knew Gojo had a habit of following that saying: 'Better ask for forgiveness than permission'.

The thing was that even if he did not ask for permission, he rarely asked for forgiveness.

“Can’t you just return it?” she questioned, referring to the ‘something’ Satoru said he had taken.

“No.”

Gojo allowed himself to smile a little as he remembered how you had kissed him back. As bitter as the aftermath had been, for a fleeting moment when your lips moved with his, he thought all pieces were falling into place.

Shoko looked at him suspiciously and sighed. “I guess if you can’t return it, apologize and pay up.”

He hummed.

If only it were that easy.

“And just maybe give it some more thought,” Ieiri continued. “If someone calls you selfish, I think it’s more about your feelings than theirs…. Or to how they think you feel.” She gestured vaguely with her hand. “I guess one or the other.”

“My feelings?” Gojo felt confused by his friend’s words. He knew Shoko was not great at explaining stuff, but what did his feelings have to do with anything? You had not even wanted to hear them.

Ieiri was already standing up and had to looked down at him when she asked him “What you did, did you really do it out of selfishness?”

Satoru knew he could be a selfish man sometimes if the situation called for it, but that night he had just been… impatient. He did not want to spend one more second without knowing how you felt now, without you knowing how he felt.

Was that what you were thinking when you confessed? Had been your heart burning like his?

“No, not really,” he answered honestly.

“Then tell them that,” she said. “People don’t know how you truly feel about whatever you do until you tell them.”

He stood up. “That’s not a bad piece of advice.”

Shoko shrugged. “Whatever helps.” She turned around on her heels but stopped to look back at Gojo. “I guess it is also a piece of love advice.”

He looked at her, but she could not tell his eyes reflected surprise.

“Whatever you have to say, you don’t want to wait until it’s too late.” The closed lip smile she gave him, made Satoru think she was talking from experience, but her demeanor changed in a second. “It’s just a thought. What do I know anyway?” and she left.

Satoru smiled for himself.

Thanks, Shoko.

***

“Under what motive?” the oldest of the three men in the dimly light room asked the other two. “Seems to be a personal revenge. If they want to kill them, let them settle it themselves. Why meddle?”

“They probably do not want to become a target to the Gojo clan,” the man on his left replied.

He had referred to them as the Gojo clan, but they all knew they were thinking of one man in particular.

“Is the [your family name] that strongly connected to the Gojo clan? Is there some kind of contract between families?”

“None there are records of, but there are rumors they are...”

“That would explain it,” the third man, who had been silent all along, finally intervened. “Their attitude about the incident with Geto Suguru; their reluctance to reason with Gojo Satoru when he proclaimed himself the tutor of that kid of the Zenin, and now this; it is obvious where their loyalty lies.”

“A most uncooperative attitude, indeed, but is it necessary to do anything about it?” the first man asked.

“Weeds must be pulled out on time. We learned that the hard way” the second man finished.

***

'I’m alive. Can we meet when you have time?'

That had been Satoru’s message to you.

You had told him you were getting back to work today, and you could meet there. If you had told him he could come to your place yesterday, he would have known at first sight that you had gotten hurt in your last mission.

He does not need to know I got beaten up like that.

And now you were resting your back against a tree despite the cold weather around you. That was yours and Satoru’s usual reunion spot most mornings before work. It was not official, but you always stood there for a few minutes before walking the rest of the pathway and clocking in. At first, it had just been a good spot to finish your morning coffee, but at some point, it became the spot where you waited for Satoru.

Right, it was also not far from here.

You looked around for the spot where you had confessed. Unsurprisingly, you did not feel like having any morning coffee for a few days after that.

Maybe it’s not as bad as I remember it. Maybe I could ask Satoru if it was.

You closed your eyes and sighed.

No, I can’t do that. I’m not even sure of how I’m going to face him today.

When Satoru saw you, a smiled formed on his lips, but it quickly faltered when he realized he was not sure of how to approach you.

You two had gone back to texting each other just the day before, after a long period of complete silence, and furthermore, after that fight, or miscommunication, or “biggest screw-up so far”, as Satoru had been referring to the incident of that day in his head. What should be the first thing he tells you now?

He did not regret kissing you, but after giving it more thought, he had reached the conclusion that Ieiri was right, he should have made his feelings clearer.

He needed to be direct now, but what if you did not take it kindly if he just spitted that he was in love with you on your face? Jeez, he should have at least brought flowers or candy. Would that not have been more romantic?

“Satoru?”

Or coffee, he should have at least brought you something to drink.

“Satoru?”

You had opened your eyes and were looking at him.

I love you.

He wanted to just say it, but what came out instead was “Coffee.”

“Coffee?” you asked.

Idiot, Satoru told himself.

“No! I mean, I should have brought you coffee.” Why was he so nervous?

“Okay? We can have some in the teachers’ room,” you told him. You straighten up and looked ahead; you were technically in the school grounds, but you still had to walk some more before making it to the main building. “Shall we?”

Satoru gave you a silent nod and you both started walking.

You had asked him how his mission had been, and he said it went all right, but he had forgotten your souvenir at home. Then he asked how you had been, and you told him you were fine. Then you were out of subjects to discuss, and the silence felt uncomfortable. Had this path always been this long?

Suddenly, Satoru touched your arm and both of you halted.

When you turned your head to him, it seemed he had his eyes on the spot where his hand was touching you, right above your elbow.

You could feel the wam of his hand even through your clothes.

“About the other night…”

So he was going to address the elephant in the room.

You bit your tongue. Whatever he had to say, you had to hear it.

“I am sorry. I did not mean to…” he was still not meeting your gaze, but his hand was sliding down to yours. “I did not mean to upset you.”

“I’m sorry too, for kicking you out and...”

“I like you.” His hand squeezed yours as he pronounced those words.

“As in…”

What did he mean? You knew he liked you as a person and as his friend, but if he was saying what you were thinking…

His free hand removed a loose stand of hair off your face. “As in I like you.”

If anyone looked at you two, there would be no more mistaking it; all rumors would automatically be considered true: the strongest sorcerer had a thing for his childhood friend.

“You don’t need to say anything now,” he continued when he saw a hint of hesitation on your face. “Just say you will think about it, okay?”

When had he started liking you? If he rejected you months ago, was it not kind of recent?

When he kissed you, was it because he liked you or because he believed you were leaving him alone?

You liked him as much as ever, and more than once you had wished his answer had been different months ago when your feelings came out of the bag, but those awkward days after, and the turbulence that followed had taught you that you did not want him out of your life. What would happen if things did not work out? None of you could probably revert to how they had been before. Was it worth risking your friendship after all?

You nodded to Satoru's question, and he gently pulled you to resume your walk.

You eyed your hand enclosed in his. “Shouldn’t we…?”

He kept looking ahead with a light smile. “Just a little longer, can we?”

Satoru rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb and finally let go of it when you reached your destination and parted ways to go to your respective students.

He felt satisfied believing he had made his feelings clear this time, while you could only think of how cold your hand had felt without his, and how if you broke each other’s hearts, he might never want to hold your hand again.

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

Note: I'm alive!

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XVIII

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[nakanotamu]

Alright so hopefully last post about this I guess, this is my personal thoughts on the whole current Stardom ~situation~ as an overly invested fan and someone who watched it develop in real time and can actually read what's out there in Japanese. If you have no idea what the hell I'm talking about you can find my summary of the past year of Stardom management issues here and my summary of the more recent events leading to Rossy being fired here.

I guess the shortest way to put it is I'm not really upset about it? Maybe it's naive or "cope" or whatever but I'm even kind of cautiously optimistic? Mostly I'm just glad this isn't some huge WWE Japan coup or whatever. Between the year I had last year independent of pro wrestling and watching Stardom go to shit in real time, I kind of already decoupled my personal identity from being A Stardom Fan, something that probably sounds ridiculous given my entire online identity but I promise I was somehow even more personally invested in a much worse way this time last year.

Obviously the big thing to be seen now is how exactly the rosters shake out, who's going where. Of course it's distressing when on screen relationships just suddenly come to an end but I kind of already went through this when Unagi left. As far as a wrestler leaving a company barring like retirement or tragedy that was basically as bad as it could get for me, so like, that's just not an element of it I'm particularly worried about. For every relationship we stop seeing, at least the way we have been, we'll get to see some new ones too, right? I guess personally I'm more interested in what's coming next than dreading anything that might be coming to an end.

I think it's also worth noting that nobody is making permanent decisions right now. Everyone is just as capable of going freelance or changing their mind and going to a different company as they were before. I also assume both companies will have to be at least somewhat open to bringing in freelancers and sharing talent so like. Maybe some people will end up working both! We just don't know at all.

As for whatever Rossy's new company is, barring some announcement I completely hate, obviously if it's watchable on the internet I'm going to at least check it out. I'm not a fan of Rossy's but I'm also just like, so unbelievably sick of Rossy discourse online. He's not the god booker that so many men went to paint him as or whatever with his unforeseen insight into The Business and definitely not mostly just luck allowing him the success he's had. But he does let the wrestlers tell their own stories how they want to, and while I wish that was considered the absolute bare minimum it's instead all too rare, and I'm glad it seems like so many people who have worked with him do enjoy working with and want to continue doing so, something else that's all too rare in wrestling.

I also think it's somewhere between ridiculous and offensive to paint him as some freak pervert booking with his dick based on who he, personally, wants to fuck. Look not to get too into my personal readings of a guy I do not know but I have never seen a man who works as close with women and is as clearly personally disinterested in them as Rossy in my life. As an actual freak pervert who has seen a lot of product that he has produced, I'm fucking telling you and I've been saying it for years that that is not my guy. Especially if your reasoning for hating on him is that you think the wrestler's stories and presentations or anything are too horny when, like I mentioned, we know that comes from them. You don't have to like that but you do have to deal with it. However I do also think it's worth actually considering that when even the women who are most attached to Stardom as fans are pretty universally like "this guy doesn't actually know how to expand his audience, he is never gonna get women or bring things back to how they were" that's probably worth paying attention to.

It's just all so fucking tired and disingenuous and I've been exhausted with it for like 6 years. He's not the saviour messiah of joshi wrestling or the pervert demon who killed it. He's just a fucking photographer turned businessman and I think it's much more likely he got where he did thanks to flexibility and luck more than anything, and it's not like he hasn't had plenty of failure and piss poor management before Bushiroad was ever a factor too. I know I'm already off twitter so this doesn't even matter any more but stop putting everything on Rossy, please, he does not deserve the credit that should go to these wrestlers just for the matches he books. He's just some guy. (Hit him with your car.)

Anyway the big minus for me is that if Rossy's new promotion does have a service that makes it convenient and easy to watch it'll almost definitely be complete shit run by Sonny again since he's not Bushiroad staff he's a freelancer and I want nothing more than to be free of that hack. I so badly wish what we were getting were a promotion of this style that I like that was actually run by women but I guess this isn't the worst case scenario either.

And that's sort of it, for me. Like, as a fan, having Bushiroad-produced Stardom and Rossy-produced Stardom Classic (if that's the vibe they end up with) AND NOT EVEN TO MENTION Act Wres Girl'z which you can already watch RIGHT NOW as a Fuka-produced alternate Stardom Classic, you know. I don't think that's the worst place to be in as a joshi and Stardom fan, so I'm just gonna keep watching everything and see what happens. And if you have any other questions my ask box is always open.

[pridelessdaydreamer]

PLOTTER / SHIPPER

taken from: nat's linoan!

tagging: flutters my lashes like a funny lil guy :eye::sparkles:

1. CONNECTIONS

write about how our muses could connect with each other! ex. what does your muse like to do that other people would be involved in? do they have interests that other people might share?

Linhardt is a Black Eagle, and one native to Fódlan. Any who decide to study the politics of the continent would easily stumble upon his house, and connections can be drawn from there (accurate or otherwise).

She is a frequenter of the library though, even if she's most often found there late at night. Aside from her chronic reading, she also likes to fish! Not competitively though. She's not that competitive.

If you can't find them in class, the library, or at the Fishing Grounds though, just wander around the monastery a bit—they're probably asleep underneath a tree somewhere. Or in their room asleep, in which case, good luck finding them.

2. PLATONIC

write about your muse and their concept of friendship. ex. how is your muse like with friends? do they make friends easily or do they find it difficult to connect with others?

Friendship for Lin is... interesting, to say the least. They'll regard you much the same as they would any other person, but perhaps with slightly less rudeness/sass (unless you're really close, then it's worse *cough cough* CASPAR *cough cough*). The chance of summoning them with the click of your heels increases by 0.5%, so that's also a neat bonus! Really, the big thing is that they'll consciously worry about you now (when they think it's necessary to worry, otherwise, you're on your own).

The thing is, once you actually manage to pin him down, so long as you aren't asking him to do work all the time, you'd be pretty alright in his book! The threshold for 'friendship' though is rather hard to pin down—one day you're acquaintances and the next you're friends. It's not really easy to draw the line.

I can't say she makes friends easily considering she... doesn't exactly try, to be quite frank (it's part of the reason the previous bullet is so nebulous). She'd be completely content being alone forever (minus that one hamster), and she doesn't really rely on others that much except to do work she'd rather not do! Actively seeking out a friend isn't really something she does. I can't say she struggles either though—there is simply no effort made at all. Alas.

3. ANTAGONISTIC

write about your muse and the conflicts they have with other people. ex: who are they on bad terms with? what kind of people do they not get along well with? how do they act around people they don’t like?

Hubert. Also Ferdinand. Edelgard to an extent. Caspar sometimes (it's a best friends thing) /j. Yeah. Yeah.

To elaborate, anybody who expects her to put in more than the minimum amount of effort gotta be joking fr! It's not that bad if it's a misunderstanding, but if you try to force it? Yikes. (Edelgard ain't that bad fr cuz she knows when to quit! Also when to appeal. She's cool ong)

Admittedly, antagonism for Linhardt is basically the same as their normal behavior, just snarkier. More witty rebuttals and sharp comments—this man can never be anything but blunt! They're already very likely to just walk away from a conversation, but if they don't like you? Ohoho!

Won't lose sleep over it though. That's a bit too much.

4. ROMANTIC

write about your muse and their relationship with romance. ex. are they searching for love or not interested in it in the slightest? what’s their dating history like? how do they act around crushes? how would they treat their partner if they were in a relationship?

Okay 'cause this is hilarious when the muse is aromantic gwahaha!

This is an aroace lil guy—completely disinterested in romance for romance's sake (because someone tell me how he tells how many different girls they're gonna have kids together in his A-supports? Also in basically every instance it's got something to do with crests and studying them. He's a bit insane).

Their dating history is completely blank. There is actually nothing to see here.

Similarly, there are no crushes for her to act different around! This one is fairly normal (<- this post was brought to you by the Aspec Gang)

As for how he'd treat his partner if he was dating—the same way he would act if they were friends? lol? Literally nothing has changed in his mind except that there might be kisses or something. (Is there a book he can read somewhere on this? Probably.)

Oh well she's probably gonna get married off for political purposes anyway. (This post was brought to you by the Noble Clique.)

[saabbi]

Regret part 10

Moonlit conversation

Genshin Impact Adeptus! reader

warnings: -

word count:~1.3k

notes: happy mid autumn festival! This chapter is purely about Childe and Tsarista.

[previous] [next]

The Tsarista is hard to understand.

“Your highness?” the gingered male peeked into the dimly lit room carefully, making sure he's not disturbing his archon.

Deep blue eyes searched the room until they landed on a lonely figure by the window sill, silently gazing at the Snezhnaya waters.

The Tsarista looks back a bit, gesturing to him to come closer.

Childe obliges. He came to find her to have a talk, even if he has yet to figure out what to say. The Tsarista has been rather fickle lately, it seemed like she was making rash decisions.

Even though he knows the Tsarista always have everything planned out. The reasons behind her actions were surely ones a mortal like him couldn’t understand.

The Tsarista is hard to understand.

Not even her closest subordinates - harbingers, could see through her. All her thoughts are masked with the iconic smile, one not sinister nor genuine.

It’s just one without any emotions, an eerie and intimidating smile.

To say the least, the Tsarista is someone incredibly… calculating. Each step she takes, each word she utters, are all through careful consideration.

Fickle and unpredictable. No one could guess her next movement. She slips away like ice.

Which is why, small talk coming from her is completely uncalled for.

“The pier was lively today.” Her quiet and breathless voice caught Childe off guard, shoulders flinching at the unexpected voice.

Has the sun risen from the west? Has the snow melted in Snezhnaya?

Childe carefully observed the divine being, perturbed by her unusual behaviour.

Silky hair pale as snow, cold as ice. A sharp and glacy gaze that sends even the most arrogant humans shivering. Contrasting to her bitter cold appearance, a burning desire could be felt within her glacy pupils. A being said to be so ethereal that just one glance would captivate all men and women across Teyvat-

Except something was a bit different from usual. Childe rubbed his eyes to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him.

Is she…frowing? Could it even be considered a frown?

Very slightly, almost goes unnoticeable, was her furrowed brows and tired eyes that observed the pier.

Her usual smile remains, but less… stoic?

Not one necessarily of affection nor gentle, but rather… relieved?

The Tsarista mostly appear to be disinterested in a lot of things, usually displaying an indifferent attitude.

Yet somehow she feels expressive today.

As if her cold facade had faded just for a bit, walls thinned down just a little.

He feels it’d be okay to ask her.

“Your highness…” cautiously, while being wary of any change in her expression, “why did you...?”

Why did she do that to you? What was her intention in exiling you after draining every last bit of your power? Remains unsaid.

She glances at her harbinger once, before refocusing on the sea, watching the wobbly reflection of the moon in the gentle tides.

“There was no need to keep up the pointless charade, is there?” the words themselves are cold and harsh, but something lies beyond.

“It’s been far too long. That child has been by my side for so many years. ” Childe patiently waits for the Tsarista to continue. It seems that she is in the mood for talking today, willing to share more.

“My initial plan to utilise adeptus power has been met, there is simply no need to keep that child around any longer.” The soft moonlight basking her figure made her even paler.

The queen of Snezhnaya is hard to understand.

Her words were so subtle and ambiguous, hard to fully uncover the hidden meanings.

Childe may not be the brightest, but for some reason he thought he might just have a faint idea on what she’s conveying.

Archons make the mistakes too. He recalled what Zhongli once told him, when he was still naive enough to not realise his true identity.

Archons, deities with absolute authority. But the geo archon had him realising even divine beings feel remorse for their own actions.

But guilt doesn’t seem to be the right word to describe what the current Tsarista is feeling.

It’s something else, hiding deep behind those walls.

“Did you know? There’s a tradition in Liyue for families to reunite under the full moon, no matter how far they parted.” she gazes at the luminous full moon.

Snezhnaya’s queen does not have any love left for her people - a saying he had heard from somewhere long ago, describing the one and only ruler of his home.

Being an archon does not mean they’re perfect, nor can they protect all their loved ones. In Zhongli’s case, he learnt, would be giving up his beloved adeptus for the sake of his people, and losing close friends in the ancient war.

Then how about the Tsarista? She must have lost something precious too.

But that is not for him to butt into.

“I’m sure the weather would be nicer there, without the neverending snowstorms and hail.”

Does the Tsarista truly have no love left for her people?

“As a previous envoy to Liyue, I guarantee that it’s warm and cosy.” a cheeky grin started to form on his face, getting wider and wider.

But perhaps he already knows the answer.

The Tsarista lets out a soft hum at his response, somewhat sounding relieved.

“Your highness, did you know? Morax frequently forgets to bring mora…”

“And he bought a vase for 1 million mora, and I had to pay!”

“Then La Signora knocked Scaramouche’s hat off! He was so pissed!”

“And that moose-deer being talked! I had no idea it was an adeptus!”

Light chuckles and giggles filled the quiet atmosphere along with Childe’s innocent and non-stop rambling.

Just for today, it’s okay for her to drop her facade.

Maybe, the Tsarista is not as unfathomable.

An archon may not be so different from human mortals, after all.

“I’m sure that Zhongli and them are having a great time.” his grin so wide and bright, “that child, well, a child older than me, is finally back home after all.”

“Happy full moon day, your highness.”

“I believe the correct saying is ‘happy mid-autumn festival’, Tartaglia.”

Childe awkwardly rubbed his head and broke out into a loud laughter.

.

.

.

“Could you help me deliver something when you visit Liyue again?” She reaches into her pocket, pulling out a tarnished necklace.

One that is cracked, but pieces of it has been carefully assembled and glued together.

One that resembles the shape of a flower he hadn’t seen in Snezhnaya.

One that seems to be of very old age, considering the oxidized parts. It couldn’t be worth much. Who is the Tsarista giving this to?

“It’s something that child left behind.” Ah. A sudden realisation hits him. So it was not the Tsarista’s own belongings.

“What was done was inevitable for the final destination, I don’t regret it. Yet… that child has been with me for quite some time.”

“That child had quite a hard time. This… is something they held dearly before.” She points at the necklace, running her fingers over the flower. “I wasn’t sure how to give it back.”

So that was why the Tsarista held onto something that seemed so… worn out.

Even though Childe still disapproves of her actions towards you which caused you to suffer, he feels as if he gained a deeper understanding of his archon.

She is meant to be someone brutal who would commit atrocities just to achieve her goal, even if she believes it will lead to peace.

Perhaps that’s why she always kept a certain distance from you. The Tsarista has done terrible things, so, so many heartless and ruthless deeds.

Or maybe, the archons are just not good at communication. Childe huffs at his own thoughts, recalling both Zhongli’s and Tsarista’s expressions when talking about you.

Archons are just as imperfect as mortals are.

The archons sure are hard to understand.

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[angelguk]

if youre still thinking angst for jock jk: much like real life jungkook, jock jk i feel like wants to be good — at everything. and he really is great at everything! so when he isnt great, he takes it very personally and i wouldnt be surprised if this spills into his relationship. wanting to do things “perfectly” in their relationship but forgetting that jock jk! oc should be involved in the decision making of what is “perfect”

alternatively: olivia rodrigo deja vu but jungkook is olivia thinking about oc and namjoon

this is very much a valid angst prompt ur brain is amazing anon im giving u a kiss rn......... ummm lemme write sumn small for dis :3

featuring: oc being oblivious, jeongguk just wanting to be the best boypwen, namjoon being observant and unspoken insecurities

Jeongguk doesn't usually shrink into himself like this. He abhors it, knows it's not him at all. And yet, he can't help his behaviour, knee bouncing harshly against the bricked pavements as he waits for you to leave your chemistry lab. There's a dainty silver bracelet sitting in his pocket, his head resting in hands as the autumn sun beats down on his back. You don't know it yet but he's got a pretty date planned: a late lunch at your favourite restaurant, an evening walk in the park at the centre of town, maybe some arcade games or a movie if you feel like it, and then a drive down to the hillside where you can watch the sun slip beyond the horizon and Jeongguk can gift you the bracelet and the cute bunny teddy he picked out last night.

It's not for any reason in particular, Jeongguk just wants you to know how much he cares (loves) you. Adoration is what drives his actions, his head springing up when the doors finally swing open and your fellow students spill forth into the afternoon breeze.

You're always one of the last people to leave because you liked buttering up your professors with casual conversations and sweet compliments, so Jeongguk isn't too bothered when everyone disperses and you're still not visible. It's not like you knew he was here away – he did tell you he was stuck in practise all afternoon.

When you do appear, the tiny welcoming smile that was sitting on his lips plummets to the floor.

You're gazing up at a familiar face, eyes sparkling as the sun hits them, your features bright and eager. His eyes eventually shift to the person ambling beside you, taking his towering stature and confident stride, a sickening feeling spreading through his system when he recognises who it is.

Kim Namjoon.

Of all sights to see, Jeongguk would rather have his eyes plucked out by birds that see you around Namjoon again. Especially after what he said to him.

You're giggling, completely unaware of the violent twisting of Jeongguk's heart in his ribs and the words he'd planned to say dissolving on his tongue. You don't even notice him at first, Namjoon's eyes are the ones that stray away, idling over the campus scenery until the settle on Jeongguk.

He wants to smash something, fingernails digging into his palm as his fist curls. Namjoon just grins, waving him down like they're old friends. "Jeongguk!"

You follow then, surprise bleeding over your pretty face. Jeongguk doesn't know why it hurts.

"Gukkie?" A question. He notes how you lean into Namjoon as you draw close, like he's your boyfriend.

"Hey." It's said so quietly that Jeongguk considers smacking himself in the face. A tight cough follows the meek word, clearing his throat from the heaviness that plagues it. "How was class?"

"Good," you return, still confused. "I thought you had practise?"

"Coach let us out early," he lies, smiling hard so you don't see through it.You make a non-committal noise, vaguely appeasing the turmoil in his head. "Namjoon," he adds, finally acknowledging the asshole. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Ah," he sighs, a sheepish grin spreading across his lips. "I got an internship here; Professor Song was kind enough to give me an assistant position. I'm considering applying for master's here too."

"Oh," he doesn't even try to mask his irritation. "That's nice."

But you don't hear it, nodding like an enamoured puppy. "Right? It'll be nice having you around again!"

"It feels good to be here," Namjoon returns. "Don't know why I didn’t apply to this university, to be honest."

Jeongguk knows. It was because this was your dream university and Namjoon didn't want to do his undergraduate with you trailing around like a lingering stench, especially right after your break-up. But now, apparently, he's totally fine with it.

"Hmm, yeah. It's a great university," Jeongguk states, disinterested. He turns to you with a tired smile. "I actually came to pick you up for lunch, you haven't eaten yet have you?"

"I actually did before class," you say, lips forming an apologetic pout. "Can we reschedule for dinner? I wanna show Namjoon around first."

Oh. The weight of his heart sinks him into the ground, earth eagerly swallowing him up as his head splits. So Namjoon gets first priority. Kim Namjoon, over him. Over your boyfriend.

"Yeah, yeah," Jeongguk shrugs. "That's fine. We can reschedule. Text me when you're done, okay?"

He doesn't miss the way Namjoon's gaze lingers on him as he turns away, waving you a quick goodbye. You didn't even give him a hug, stationed beside Namjoon like you watched to attach his limbs to yours. It's unsettling, how swift you loyalty glides away from Jeongguk. He hates how annoyed it makes him because he knows you don't do it purposely. But still, shouldn't he come first?

It's that thought that sends him spiralling, sitting alone in the heat of his car as the bracelet in his pocket grows heavy. Where you like this with Namjoon? Did you put him first? He thinks you did – you cancelled on him so many times in the course of that relationship. Did Namjoon take you to similar places? Did the two of you have moments you never shared with him? That one hurts the most, because even to this day Jeongguk has never shared the titbit of information Namjoon granted him. What did Namjoon give you that you never see in Jeongguk? Even with the title of 'together' hanging over your heads he doesn't feel secure enough – good enough for you. It's what leaves him on edge, overthinking each moment and word and touch shared between the two of you. Because it took you both so long to get here, what did you see in those other guys that you never saw in Jeongguk at first? He longs to be only one you remember, wipe away any lasting memory of any of the others, until it was only him.

But that feels impossible, further sparked in moments like this when you pick them over him. He'll always be the second option, the sideline safety. But never the first choice.

[yesttoheaven]

GOOD GIRLS GO TO HELL

CHAPTER 1

pairing: arvin russell x female!reader

summary: In the eyes of extremely strict parents, 'good' girls go to hell, but they don't know that they are handing over their own daughter to the devil – known to all as Rev. Teagardin.

wc: 3.8k

warnings: language, mentions (not depictions) of abuse, manipulation, religious fanaticism, angst

a/n: This idea has been on my mind since the day I watched the movie, so... here we go!

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

"I don't usually interfere that way. It would be best if she came here willingly. She needs to be open to accept all the blessings that God will bring to her life." Rev. Teagardin took a step forward, considering the request of a mother and father completely desperate for the salvation of their only daughter.

"We tried everything. We found great references about a boarding school called 'Good Pastor', but a week later they called to report that she had run away! Our daughter appeared a few days later in the company of three strange girls. One of them is a single mother, our Y/N shouldn't hang out with those kind of people." The woman's words contained disgust. She was tired of watching her daughter ruin her own life. The girl had become a topic of conversation in the town and a shame for the whole family.

"The truth is, we don't know what to do with Y/N. Day after day she becomes more rebellious. She doesn't respect us." Mr. Henson shared the same agony as his wife, but both see Preston as the solution to this problem.

"We don't want our only daughter to go to hell! You need to help us, Reverend. We believe that you are the only one capable of driving the devil out of her. In the name of God, save our little Y/N!"

In absolute silence, the preacher walked near the window, watching Y/N. She was sitting on the hood of Mr. Henson's car and her body was lulled by the gentle breeze that touched the skirt of the dress she wore, revealing her legs that should have been silky smooth. Smiling, the man looked at the girl's parents, knowing exactly what to do to save Y/N's soul.

"I'm glad you came to me. God will be my guide to help your daughter. Now, I would like to talk to her for a while."

Extremely grateful, Y/N's parents agreed and left the church for a few seconds. When they returned, Y/N was with them. The girl's curious eyes moved from side to side, until they found Preston Teagardin with his hands on his hips. He was at the altar, the cross appearing behind his head left him with a divine aura, but the girl remembers the day she saw the preacher humiliate – indirectly – the chicken liver dish that Emma Russell prepared with such affection. If he said those horrible things to a religious woman like Emma, Y/N didn't want to imagine what he might be thinking about her at the moment. Maybe he was wondering why she hasn't started to burn while walking on sacred ground, but it was him who was burning. Burning with desire. A sin that he identifies in others, but never in himself.

"Hello, you must be Y/N." The man approached, his eyes shining like a hungry predator who had just found the perfect prey. "You don't usually visit the house of God."

"But I'm sure that is about to change." Y/N's mother replied, looking at her daughter hopefully.

Y/N may not be an especially easy girl to handle, but she never understood why her parents didn't respect her space. She never visited the church often and that number dropped to zero when they started to force her to go with them. Over the years, Knockemstiff residents have turned religion into a disease. It's close to insanity and Y/N Henson doesn't want that for her life. Despite being seen as a sinner, she still prays every night. She gets down on her knees and talks to God.

"Dear, your dad and I brought you here to talk to Reverend Teagardin..."

"What? You said you would come here to confess and then we would go home!" Y/N protested angrily. She was ready to retrace her steps to the exit when her father took her arm.

"Y/N, we just want the best for you. Talking to the reverend can be a good start."

"And we are not giving you another option." Mrs. Henson completed, remaining firm in her decision. "Your father and I agreed not to participate in this conversation. We will walk around the town and then we come back here to get you."

"I can take her home... If you agree." Teagardin said, hiding his real intentions and touching the girl's shoulder. She was so small around him and looked so vulnerable. He smiled when he realized that.

"Oh, that's very kind, Reverend. Thanks." Y/N's mother replied, feeling enchanted by the man's benevolence. "Be a good girl." She said, kissing her daughter's forehead.

The preacher accompanied them to the door and having no other option Y/N walked through the church, staring at the cross nailed to the wall. She never felt that she was turning away from God, but looking back is exactly what she did.

"Now it's just me, you and Him." The reverend's words brought Y/N out of her own thoughts and she turned to him, crossing her arms in the process. This made her breasts more visible under the black dress she wore and Teagardin noticed.

"I can go and you tell my parents that you talked to me, but it didn't work because I'm a hopeless case. It's simple."

"I can't lie to your parents. I also don't think you're a hopeless case, Y/N." The man admitted, going to the first bench and sitting down. "We can talk?"

"Like... about my sins?"

"No. A normal conversation. Why don't you start by telling me about your life?" He patted the bench, silently inviting her to sit beside him.

Y/N didn't understand how a simple conversation could help, but she found the idea pleasant. Showing a shy smile, she approached Teagardin and sat down next to him, leaving a space between their bodies. Once again she looked at the cross, beginning to speak:

"I work for Ms. Fowler, she has a chicken coop and some pigs... I don't do much, but I like to help take care of animals and she says they like me too." At that moment Y/N looked at the preacher and imagined that she would find him with an expression of disinterest. The same expression of disinterest that her parents show when she tried to start a conversation or simply tell how her day was. They were always busy, but Teagardin was completely focused on everything she said and with a small smile on the corner of his lips.

"So, do you take care of the animals? I'm impressed, I don't know many girls who risk their lives by entering a pigsty."

"It's a dangerous place." She let slip a sweet laugh, feeling light, as she hadn't felt for a long time. "I understand them."

"I can see that you have a great relationship with animals, but what about your friends? Tell me a little about them." Those words were enough to destabilize Y/N. Any sign of happiness disappeared from her face and everything went gray, just like the view through the church windows. The rain was close and Y/N controlled herself not to start crying.

Like a sniffer dog, Preston felt this was a sensitive subject for the girl – maybe an open wound – and waited patiently until she decided to share it with him.

"I was never good at making friends, but I used to have a friend at school. Her name was Isabella. We were inseparable, but one day her father received a job offer in another city... Despite the distance, she called me every day in the late afternoon" The nostalgia was noticeable in her voice and the way her face softened with small memories. Isabella and Y/N were like sisters, but Mrs. Henson never approved of that friendship. "I am three years without news of my best friend. She never called or answered my letters and I don't know why, reverend."

"Have you never been to visit her?"

"My parents won't let me out of Knockemstiff."

"You don't have to go alone. They can go with you..."

"They don't care about me or what I want." Y/N said, shaking her shoulders as if this feeling was mutual, but deep down she knew it wasn't. "My mom said I have the power to turn people away and if Isabella walked away from me, it is certainly my fault."

"Your mother shouldn't say that." Teagardin looked deeply hurt. The situation was worse than he imagined, this family needs his help.

Y/N needs his help.

"Well, I lost Isabella's friendship, but I got three new friends!" The girl informed, as if she had finally found her place. "Two of them I met at the boarding school. The third helped us to escape and she has a beautiful baby. They work together in a bar away from the city..."

"What do they do in this bar?" The reverend had some suspicions, but he wanted to hear her confess.

"They... dance." Y/N said slowly. "I know it can look wrong, but they are good people and I don't understand why everyone looks at these girls with..."

"Have you ever been there?" Preston needed to know, but the girl just bowed her head. Sighing deeply, he stretched his arm over her shoulders, ending the distance between their bodies. "It's all right... God is merciful and benevolent. He forgives all of our sins, but He does not forgive lies."

"It was only once. I swear!" In the same instant that the words left her lips, she hid her face in Teagardin's chest and he took the opportunity to hug her, and feel the sweet perfume of her hair. It smelled like innocence.

"You made a mistake by going there. That place is not for family girls."

"I was just tired of everything... So, I thought about going there to have a drink and forget about the problems."

"Learn one thing..." The man said softly, running his fingers through her hair. "When problems arise and you feel alone, start praying. God is your best friend. And I am also here to help you."

"Thanks, reverend."

"Never go back to that place again. You shouldn't be drinking... and smoking."

"Wait..." The girl moved away from Teagardin, looking him straight in the eye. "Did my parents say that?"

"I was in town when I saw you smoking with a boy. He approached you and passed the smoke to your mouth... And then he kissed you. Is he your boyfriend?"

"Oh, you saw me with Arvin..." Shame consumed Y/N, turning her cheeks into two tomatoes. "But we are not together. It was our first kiss... My first kiss."

The moment they shared in the car had been magical. Arvin was always different from the Knockemstiff boys. He never judged Y/N for her actions. He understood her, but sometimes some problems were so big that they made the girl run away from him. All Arvin wanted was to hold her in his arms and protect from all the evil in the world.

"You need to stay away from these people. Starting with this young guy." The preacher's words captured Y/N's attention, confusing her. "You can't see it now, but those friendships are not good for you. They are driving you away from your true purpose. And Arvin Russell is taking advantage of your innocence to..."

"Arvin would never do that." She stated in all letters, not letting him finish the assumption. "I think... I think he likes me."

"There is a big difference between love and carnal attraction, and boys his age think of only one thing." Teagardin insisted, using a peaceful tone of voice. He was so convincing, that despite knowing Arvin for a long time, Y/N wondered about the boy's real intentions. He was always kind and respectful, or maybe that's what she thought, but with the help of the reverend she was beginning to understand, and the feeling of being used was difficult to digest. "I saw the way he looked at you... I saw the sin in his eyes."

"This cannot be true... W-We are not talking about the same person! He's d-different!"

"It doesn't matter who you believed in all this time or what you accepted to... to be like them. In the end, you are alone. You know it." When Preston finished, she was completely broken. It was cruel, but someone needed to open her eyes. Y/N deserved the truth. "I know it is difficult, but I am here for you." He buried her against his chest in a bear hug, wishing feel her soft, warm body in his arms again. Y/N returned the hug — and then started to cry.

Her friends were not her friends.

Her parents were right.

She felt confused. Lost. But the reverend was beside her to show a new path free from sin and delusions.

"Do you know Proverbs 28:13?" He asked, holding her face in his hands. With his fingertips he wiped away a few tears and she smiled, shaking her head. "Whoever tries to hide his sins will not succeed, but the one who confesses his sins and leaves them behind will find mercy. Are you ready for this?"

"Yes, reverend." That was the confirmation he needed.

Preston Teagardin always believed that he had a special connection with God. With the right words he had the power to reach the hearts of these girls and offer them redemption. In his dark mind, they were privileged to be touched by a holy man like him. He was doing them a favor. And now it's Y/N's turn.

"First, you need to be free from your sins." The man looked with adoration for the little fallen angel. Slowly, he touched her knees, feeling the smooth skin and after a sigh, the girl was in his hands.

"Reverend..."

"Shhh. Just trust me." He said when his hands disappeared under her dress. His touch was sacred, something she had never experienced, but Y/N's conscience screamed that this was wrong. "Stand up so I can take your panties off. I need to feel you..." She got up, but ran quickly away from him, escaping his dirty hands.

Disappointment appeared in her eyes in the form of tears. It was impossible not to feel used. Again. Influenced by him, Y/N believed that her friends were a problem in her life and that they were moving her away from God's plans, but the real sinner is inside the church. His understanding, concern and kindness never existed. It was all part of the game. He needed to earn her trust before he could attack.

"You... You are a wolf in sheep's clothing! A liar! I thought for the first time someone was understanding my side, but you just want to fuck with me!"

"You got it wrong..."

"S-Stay away from me!" Y/N warned when Teagardin tried to approach. Fear coursed through her veins, spreading through her body like a drug. She didn't know what to do, but she knew she didn't want to be touched by him that way. "If you approach me, I swear I make a scandal! The whole city will know who you really are!"

"No one will believe you." He took a step forward. "You need help. I'm the only one who can..."

"Stop that shit! Do not say that the devil is in me, when you are trying to abuse a girl who is old enough to be your daughter! You are the devil, Teagardin!" For the first time she saw the anger in his eyes. Preston would never agree with that, but that is his true face. He is the devil in disguise and this was confirmed the instant he advanced on her.

Y/N ran to the exit, screaming desperately for help, even though she knew she was alone in this nightmare. With shaking hands, she tried to open the door, but the reverend took her in his arms. Compared to the girl’s small, slender body, he was stronger than she was, but Y/N resisted and hit her knee in the middle of his legs, reaching his weak point. The man let out a loud growl and walked away, seeking support on one of the wooden benches. Taking advantage of the distraction, Y/N opened the door and ran as fast as she could. Teagardin thought of running after her to finish what he started, but he gave up as soon as he saw her cross the threshold of the church, running in the rain as if her life depended on it. She didn't look back, just kept running until she disappeared into the trees.

...

The day turned into night, covering everything with its dark cloak, while rain fell mercilessly on Knockemstiff. Y/N stumbled along the road, hugging her own body in an unsuccessful attempt to warm up. Tears were still streaming down her cheeks, mixing with the raindrops, but the girl's mind was elsewhere.

After what happened at the church, her faith was in pieces. She always knew that bad men walked on Earth, but she never imagined that the preacher was one of them. The way he touched her was disgusting. She wanted to scream, take the pain out of her chest and run back home to tell her parents what happened, but Teagardin's words were stuck in her head, hurting her:

"In the end, you are alone. You know it."

"No one will believe you."

Unexpectedly – or maybe that was a divine sign – a car approached the road Y/N was on. She was surprised to hear the noise of the engine and looked back. Despite the rain and the headlight blinding her for a few moments, Y/N recognized the old car and the boy on the other side certainly recognized her too. Arvin left his truck without a second thought, not caring about the pouring rain wetting his clothes in a matter of seconds.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, needing to raise his voice so she could hear. The girl opened her mouth to reply, but gave up, looking away.

Arvin realized that something was wrong. It was common to see Y/N walking around the city, but not in these circumstances. Before she looked away, he noticed the pain in her eyes. It was no secret to him that she had a difficult relationship with her parents, but this time it was different.

For a moment the worry made him forget that they were both still in the rain and when he realized this, the boy immediately guided her to the car. When she was safely in the passenger seat, he bypassed the vehicle and took the driver's seat. Rain was no longer a problem, but the cold persisted and Arvin grabbed his jeans jacket from the back seat.

"Here." He handed it to her and Y/N mumbled a small 'thanks', wearing the jacket. "So... what happened? You are far from home. It is dangerous to go out in the middle of a storm like this..."

"My intention is to stay away from home. The storm is an extra." The girl tried to relax, hiding her real emotions but it was obvious that she was not well.

"Did you argue with your parents again?"

"I would prefer that." She replied, forcing a laugh. Getting into an argument with her parents was common for her and seemed small compared to what actually happened. But what really happened was suffocating her. "I can tell you everything, r-right?"

"You know you can." Arvin said, holding her hand. The simple contact made their hearts accelerate and Y/N was grateful to have him by her side.

Feeling encouraged, she began to tell what happened at the church. The fact that her parents insisted that the devil was inside her, made Arvin angry. He never understood what the problem was with Mr. and Mrs. Henson about this. Y/N was not sick. All she needed was love and they never gave it to her.

Y/N didn't want to delve into the details of her conversation with the new preacher, but Arvin heard the fear in her voice when she mentioned his name. She said he was good with words, and very persuasive. He easily won her trust and that was her worst mistake. Arvin stopped listening when she said that the man's hands disappeared under the dress she was wearing. Anger consumed him quickly, making his blood boil and he clapped his hands on the steering wheel. With a vision blurred by tears, Y/N looked at him with concern. The tension was clear throughout his body; his jaw was tightly clenched and his hands were shaking as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Arvin always had an explosive temper – paternal inheritance –, especially when the people he cared about were hurt.

"The preacher will never touch you again. I promise." He stated with conviction, bringing his attention back to Y/N. She looked tired, crying silently and the boy opened his arms for her to snuggle against his chest. Playing with a lock of her hair, he said: "I always knew there was something wrong with him. I should be there for you..."

"It's okay, Arvin. I'll be fine and I'll forget what happened... I just need to stay away from the church. This is easy for me." Y/N knew it wouldn't be so easy, but to calm him down, everything was welcome.

"You cannot protect him."

"I am not protecting him, but I know you..." She murmured softly, running a hand over his chest. "My life is a mess, you are the only one who believes in me. So, I'm just asking you not to do anything stupid... Because... Because I need you here." Arvin relaxed at her words. It was nice to know that she wanted him around in this difficult time. Y/N would have his support forever. And his love. For her sake, he decided to act with caution, but this does not mean that Teagardin will not suffer the consequences of his actions.

With undisclosed feelings, they remained embraced, just enjoying each other's company. It had been a long day. Arvin remembered the fallen tree in the middle of the road, forcing him to take the long way home, but that path brought him to Y/N. He was happy that it was he who found her in the middle of this storm.

"You need to rest. I will take you home." The boy broke the silence and Y/N moved away from him, shaking her head.

"No! I don't want to go home! My parents... they go..."

"I'll take you to my house." Arvin said, catching her cheek with his hand and watching the panic disappear from her eyes. With a smile, he added: "Grandma misses you."

• a/n: This is the first fic I publish here and I'm very nervous!! (Possibly I will do a second part of this) Btw, criticism is welcome!!

(CHAPTER TWO HERE)

[helena-thessaloniki]

Hi Helena! Big fan of your writing here🥺♥️ Your rivamika fics are my safe space 😭 (if you have time to answer) i’d love to know when you first started shipping them, why, and what made you continue to love this ship (or anything else to do with your journey as an RM shipper)? i love your characterisation of both levi and mikasa individually, but even more so, your portrayal of their dynamic as a couple, which is why i wanted to ask so badly ☺️ x

Hey anon! Oh woah, first of all, thank you so much. Second of all, oh god, you probably shouldn't have handed me the mic. heh 😅

I’m afraid to look at the word count of this response, I’m sure it’s much more than you bargained for, but I appreciate the question and enjoyed thinking through my response (: Most importantly, I’m so glad you find my stories as a safe space. It’s really an honor. Thank you for sharing with me 🖤🖤

TL; DR As a longtime reader, writer and lover of stories and story-telling, by being someone who pays attention to how stories are crafted and deliberately developed from beginning to end, I sincerely thought Isayama was setting up rivamika as an endgame relationship. So, I read into and interpreted meaning out of ALL their interactions and became deeply invested.

I don’t necessarily ship them cause of the parallels, age gap, enemies to lover trope, height difference, or some of those common reasons and/or kinks. I’m more basic and boring than that. I love the concept of them coming together as though it’s inevitable.

They both are unbelievably strong, selfless, and have suffered so much loss— so, no one else could truly understand them as well as they can understand each other. They both probably would have always settled for a stable, simple life, and been alone and lonely even without realizing it— instead, they find each other, and realize what it means to actually no longer be alone, to do more than just survive. It’s this understated bond, as opposed to a dramatic and passionate romance, that I envision in them and that I love so much.

Then, the passion, heat, the romantic "spark"— I think that’s an added bonus, the cherry on top, the perfect final puzzle piece. They’re both so physically capable, can speak through their actions, and don’t show much need or capacity for emotional/ verbal communication, so the ability to connect with each other through physical intimacy and mind-blowing sex seems like another given.

Still, at the end of the day, for me it comes back to their ability to fully depend on each other, to the inevitability. Not like some soulmate trope where they 'have no choice' in it, but like the stars aligned to prove it's right. How each of them have only one other person on the whole planet who could see and understand them, to be on par with them, to make them realize there’s more to life than settling and surviving, and they happen to find it in each other.

You asked, I rambled 😅 Here’s a breakdown of my thought process in my rivamika journey. For those who make it to the end or want to skip to the end, I'll finish with the excerpt of the very first rivamika scene I felt compelled to to write.

I've tried before to re-watch and remember the exact scenes, exact moments, that initially captured my full attention, but I guess it was all of them, the gradual and cumulative compilation of their earliest interactions.

Mikasa always appearing cool and indifferent, and paying no attention whatsoever to others fawning over, like Jean initially falling for her, but then her strongly reacting over Levi in the courtroom showed how uniquely capable he was at getting under her skin.

Of course, the scene in the forest chasing the Female Titan was a critical one. I think of that as the first time both Levi and Mikasa were truly able to see the other's strength, mental and physical. And for them, orphans and trauma survivors who have suffered extensive loss, I think that seeing strength in another person made them feel less alone. Less alone in a deep, quiet but cataclysm, life-altering sort of way, even if not a romantic one. Like they didn't know it was something they didn't have, something they didn't expect to get from life, but then found it with each other.

(Even when we found out Levi was an Ackerman, I was disappointed if it meant they were immediate relatives, but willing to accept it wouldn't be a romantic end to loneliness, it would be a familial end to loneliness. But... the author never explored that. Not once.)

In that forest scene, manga and anime, the way that Levi pauses to really look and see Mikasa and think about who she is, what she’s gone through, and how strong and dedicated she is now— that was a defining moment. It was also a visual demonstration of Levi breaking character, from aloof and ruthless, to considering and curious. I thought Yams was showing both of them do that on purpose.

Then, Levi getting hurt because of Mikasa in that scene felt like another clue. Sure, it was while saving Eren, and sure, it could have been meant to humanize super-soldier Levi, or sure, it could have been another aspect of how Mikasa rushing into things over Eren ends up hurting other people that later changes in her character development, but it felt like a very pointed statement about Mikasa being a vulnerability for Levi. And that's swoon-worthy, right? Most of us have been exposed to and conditioned by stories about how special and romantic it is to be the one and only girl who can make an otherwise disinterested or unattainable guy actually pay attention to her, and so admittedly I fall right for it.

I’m sure I’m forgetting plenty, but the opening of season 3 felt like confirmation. When Levi figures out Kenny's behind things and entrusts Mikasa with instructions to share with the others, instructions about fighting people instead of titans that ultimately everyone else besides her struggles with, and when Mikasa lets Levi hold her back from chasing after Eren, her most important way of trusting and having faith in Levi, I honestly took that as cues from the author that rivamika was endgame. I let myself get truly invested from then on. That’s that understated bond I was referring to. To me, that unspoken but undeniable trust is the most important dynamic.

Seeing them fight together or fight similarly has always been fun and powerful and fulfilling.

I'm newer to the snk club. I was originally an anime-only fan and started watching in fall 2019, I think. I wasn't on tumblr, twitter, or anything else to see fandom discourse. So, I didn't know that the rooftop scene of Mikasa fighting Levi over the serum was such a staple for our ship until much later. I love the scene just like many do for all the reasons we do, but I don't think the actual scene was pivotal for me, so much as it's aftermath. I thought it represented two things.

One, it was an important marker in Levi's characterization. Hands-down one of the most striking scenes to me is the one where Levi is in the alley, somber and alone, listening in on Eren, Armin, and Mikasa talking together. It artfully shows his longing for hope and connection. So, when Levi chose Armin for the serum, that represented Levi choosing hope. And when Mikasa ultimately gave up fighting Levi and didn't choose Armin, which Armin finds out about later on, I see that as an important marker in Mikasa's development. It puts a wedge between her and Armin/Eren [Armin, because he knows she would have let him die, and Eren, because Armin is too special to him and he couldn't look at her the same way after realizing she would have let him die]. That distance between her and her childhood friends is one I don't think could ever be healed completely, one of those painful lessons in growing up. By doing that, it then also puts a distance in Mikasa's own childhood self to her current self. I thought that matured her and separated her out in a way that was another clue toward eventual rivamika developments.

That's a whole other conversation on Mikasa, but I’ll stay on track. Her love for Armin was absolutely authentic and fierce, but at the end of the day, at the core of her being, she chose survival over hope. Meanwhile, Levi chose hope over survival. To me, that was soft, fertile ground for the reasons why eventually, if/when Mikasa found hope and chose hope, that could directly tie together with her inevitably in coming together with Levi. Again, less butterflies and fireworks, but more natural and in a way that was just a given.

I wrote Beyond the Walls before reading the manga from the Marley Arc and on, so that's why most of that story is her journey into embracing that hope. *manga spoilers* There's a lot of meta, criticism and talk about Mikasa's silent, off-screen and subtle style of character development in the Marley Arc and afterward. I won't go down that road, I'm still processing the end of the manga to be honest, but I think it's fair to say she does eventually end up choosing hope over survival when she lets go of Eren and saves humanity instead. I love the “Stay with Me” line and think it’s perfect; a simple but profound display of trust and their deep-rooted bond in a really understated way. *end manga spoilers*

Here's something I always wanted to talk about in full but haven't. It honestly reads to me like Yams was building toward rivamika, and didn’t do anything to stop that until too late. There are tools authors can use to ensure we stop shipping a pair or start shipping a new one; love triangles are commonly used in every artistic medium and we’ve all been persuaded by these tools. But Yams didn’t use these tools to make sure readers didn’t feel convinced by rivamika. For all the reasons I listed above, more I'm forgetting, and for the following:

If he wanted us to think they were family and it would be incest, he should have added in a conversation between them realizing they were (close) family and that they weren't the only ones left in their biological family like they thought. But he didn't.

If he wanted us to think it was completely inappropriate between a child-and-adult and student-and-teacher, then he could have done something to ensure Mikasa looked childish or Levi looked older, but no. They barely look ten years apart. I do think it's unacceptable and that there's a power imbalance between a child-and-adult relationship regardless of that, and that there can't be true consent when one is a superior and another a subordinate, so I personally age-up Mikasa in my head and try to handle his position of power responsibly in my writings... but the point being, by the end of canon, there's no inappropriate or non-consensual romance between them, yet there's a lot of history and chemistry that could naturally lead to an age-appropriate and consensual relationship. If Yams didn't want us to think so, he could have made it more clear that there were reasons it wouldn't happen.

The only thing that makes sense to me is the author planned on rivamika endgame but was shamed/pressured out of it (either internally or due to others) OR that the author somehow accidentally created such vibrant chemistry and an incredible dynamic between them. Like, he didn't put enough convincing substance of eremika in, didn't make Levi look old enough, didn’t have one of them do something unforgivable in the other’s eyes, etc. Those are some of those tools he could have used. Romance was never a key component in snk. And since we now know Yams planned or needed eremika endgame for sake of plot and the conclusion of the manga, I personally think he didn't know what to do with the riveting rivamika substance and chemistry being much more convincing to readers. Once he had them so well built-up, maybe the only option he felt he had was to just stop putting the characters together. We get little-to-no rivamika interaction, platonic or practical, after season 3 all the way up until the very end. But there was so much of it beforehand ?? So, it simply doesn't make sense. I think the author just straight-up cut any and all interactions out between them because it was too convincing and moving, more convincing and substantial than eremika. But, as the end of canon shows, we needed to have some eremika buy-in. It's messy writing and unskilled in the romance department, but considering for how long and how complicated snk has been in a creative process and how lackluster the eremika romance (the main and apparently pivotal romance) is developed, I think it’s plausible to say the author effed up.

As far as writing fanfiction goes, there's just so much room to explore them. In canon, we aren't given enough insight into their individual perspectives, let alone their dynamic together, so it feels like a blank canvas to work from. I think that's part of why I love to write them, and also why I don't necessarily read much of them. When I first started shipping them while watching the anime, I read a few of the classics that were canon-verse, but I haven’t really read much since. For me, exploring and discovering them as a writer is the most fun. (It's one of the reasons Naruto and Harry Potter have such large fanfiction collections. There's so much world-building and so many characters, but there's also so much left to the imagination.)

In general, I'm drawn to strong characters, especially women, who are multidimensional enough to be real, vulnerable and soft. Mikasa is the pinnacle of that. I don’t necessarily like to write about her love or infatuation with Eren, but I do respect and admire and consider it integral to her character and her amazing capacity to love. We can have strong, kickass women who falter when it comes to love but are still considered strong for it. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive and Mikasa is a beautiful example of that.

And Levi is strong, but real and vulnerable too; he’s honestly a fantastically developed character, from Petra explaining to Eren in the beginning how he’s not the amazing hero he’s painted to be to the public, to how Levi genuinely cares for Erwin and others and chooses hope despite all he’s suffered.

The end of the manga wrecked me a bit. Kind of like Games of Thrones. You have something that was so epic and well-done for so long, a rushed ending that isn't immediately sensical and isn't fulfilling is hard to stomach. Eventually, I'll move on from the denial of that and process what I think and feel about it. The whole reason we have fanfiction is to expand on canon, but it's made me put rivamika on the back burner until I figure it out. So I'm a little less hyper-fixated on the pairing right now even though interacting with you all and asks like this remind me what brought me here in the first place. 😊

To conclude, I’ll share that the very first rivamika content I wrote was a compilation of moments I thought could be inserted into season 3. These are still moments I plan to edit and publish one day. For anyone that actually read this far, I’ll put a rough and unedited excerpt of the first scene I ever wrote about them.

Thank you again anon 🖤😊

BEGIN EXCERPT [after the rooftop fight for the serum, immediately following the ceremony where Eren touched Historia by kissing her hand]:

Part of her was embarrassed at such a flagrant act of disobedience to a superior, especially to one who saved her and countless others' lives in the past. But mostly, she was anguished by the situation Captain Levi put her in once he revoked the serum meant to save Armin and planned to use it on Commander Erwin instead. Her current ostracization and self-loathing was not entirely her own fault. Anger she felt toward herself was just as easy to wield against him.

It must have shown in the grit of her teeth or defiant tone, because he turned to look at her, more aloof than curious.

Like a flint struck to steel, it ignited the fury she felt toward him.

“I shouldn’t have hesitated. I should have just killed you,” she answered him at last, piercing him with eyes darker than the night.

He wasn’t concerned. “You’re good, but not that good.”

Her hands fell to her side, fists clenched as she stood with a single, fluid movement. Before she could let loose a threat, he sighed.

“What’s the problem, Ackerman?” He was dismissive, his shoulders relaxed and posture loose.

The fire too furious to contain, she went sailing for him with the same speed from the battlefield. Her fingers already curled, she tightened her grasp as she swung her fist into his gods-damned apathetic face.

Levi wasn’t unprepared. He easily side-stepped her, then snatched her wrist to steal her momentum. Though he tried to toss her aside, she was no less fast; Mikasa dug her heel in and spun, her other arm shoving hard into his chest.

Too graceful to stumble, Levi used the chance to hook her second arm too. He caged both her wrists in a grip so strong, she was sure it bruised her bones. Still, he only looked at her warily, almost bored.

“Shouldn’t you be grateful? I chose Armin.” If his reminder was meant to ease her anger, it had the opposite effect.

Fury and desperation gifted her additional strength. She shoved into his chest hard. Levi shifted backward, nearly forced into loosening his grip; within that split second of an opening, Mikasa slammed her elbow into his chin, rocking his head backward.

“You did,” she seethed, but as fast as the fire inside her exploded, it was doused. Her next words came out broken and damp. “But I didn’t.”

Levi remained stern and otherwise unmoving as he attempted to flex his jaw through the spasm of pain. As the momentum of the fight died down, he loosened his hold on her wrists and evaluated her distraught frame.

Mikasa immediately released her own hands and turned away from him, eyes stinging from tears she refused to shed as she focused on the stars ahead. Admitting the harsh words aloud hurt her far more than any injury she could inflict onto him.

Not only was Armin one of the only friends she had, but he’d been a steadfast one throughout almost all she could remember of her life. After the trauma of her childhood, it was Eren and Armin who embraced her, whom she learned to love. Now, though, there was a wedge between her and Armin she was not sure could ever be removed. What was worse, as deplorable and selfish as she knew it proved her to be, was the painful wedge it now put between her and Eren too.

Once again, she found Levi standing at the peripheral of her sight, close enough to see but far enough to be a blur at the edge of her watery vision.

“You almost killed me.” Levi repeated his earlier words, but he said them with an odd bite, torn between frustration and patience. “You would have killed me to save him.”

Too late, Mikasa realized he hadn’t meant these words as an accusation, but an odd form of validation. She bit her bottom lip, teeth puncturing too hard; the tang of metal was sharp on her tongue when she swallowed blood.

“You thought about letting your closest friend die,” Levi said quietly, tiredly. “But I did let mine die. I left him for dead, when I could have saved him.”

Mikasa was startled from her selfish reverie, for the first time acknowledging the sacrifice he made on that fateful afternoon. She’d been too absorbed in her own relief, and then, her own regrets to consider what the decision had done to him.

For a brief moment, she considered turning to face him, but the stark reality of the matter made her refrain. How could she feel pity for his loss, when his loss enabled her gain? An uncomfortable knot tightened in her stomach.

“Tch,” Levi sighed. He was only one notch less taciturn, but for him, that was soft. “You’ll live with your guilt, and I’ll live with mine.”

His words granted Mikasa’s tears the permission to spill. She buried her face further into her scarf, both hands trembling at the worn threads. As quietly as he arrived onto the roof, Levi disappeared from it.

.

.

It was rare for him to indulge in alcohol or celebrations, but Erwin’s absence felt more tangible than his presence ever did. Levi distracted himself with the chaos of the few remaining Scouts that Erwin had died entrusting his legacy to, and attempted to drown the pain with whatever drink Connie Springer shoved into his hands.

He found Hanji with their ale long-forgotten about on the table as they half-stood from their seat, frantic while explaining some morbid experiment in great, vivid detail to an unsuspecting and slightly horrified MP officer.

Though Levi wordlessly took the seat beside them, Hanji paused their rant to slap him hard on the back, an enthusiastic greeting flying from their drunken lips. The MP took this chance to excuse himself, a pathetic attempt at politeness, but Hanji either didn’t care or didn’t notice.

“Ah, Levi,” they smiled at his drink, though it didn’t entirely reach their one eye. “Where you been?”

Levi didn’t answer. “You know, shitty-glasses, you’re even more unbearable about your experiments when you’re drunk.”

Hanji waved dismissively and reached for their ale. Years spent in battle and command together had gifted both of them with an eased familiarity, and sometimes, genuine friendship. In the same manner he ignored their question, Hanji ignored his lack of response and went on with their original inquiry.

“Careful, Captain,” Hanji warned lightly. “Now that there’s far fewer Scouts, you having a favorite might cause some division.”

Even though Hanji meant the words, there was a glint of mischief that twinkled in their remaining eye.

“It’s not favoritism,” Levi countered bluntly, turning his vision toward the young man on the far side of the room. “Eren is simply the best chance that we have in this war.”

Hanji laughed as if he’d made a joke and Levi looked back to stare at them, unable to be surprised at their quirks or oddities any longer, but still a touch curious about what spurned this current demonstration.

“I wasn’t talking about Eren,” Hanji said at last, a pointed nod toward his injured chin.

Levi blinked. He didn’t realize he was nursing his injury with the hand not on his drink. As though it were too hot to touch, Levi dropped his hand.

Hanji was not judgmental, nor inquisitive. In a war-torn life of losing too many cadets entrusted to him, the fact that Levi found a soldier with the strength and skill to remain safe was not only rare, but worth special attention. Still, it made him too lenient.

“Sometimes I think you’d let her get away with murder,” Hanji chided halfheartedly.

When he thought of Erwin dead in his grasp, sometimes he wasn’t sure if he already had.

[hermannsthumb]

As per our convo, Newt getting set up with Hermann via Hermann’s father’s binder full of pre-approved suitors for his son...

(from @k-sci-janitor 👀) easily one of our funniest concepts yet. I was going to end on newt coming over for dinner scenario but I like the ominous open ending. I'm not actually sure when kaiju attacks fall in the PR timeline so excuse my handwaveyness, LOL

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

Hermann’s relationship with his father is what one would call strenuous at best, but—Hermann must admit, to the man’s credit, and in spite of his many flaws—he took the news of Hermann’s sexual orientation as unflinchingly as if Hermann had told him the day’s weather. It was a bit annoying, in fact. Hermann had agonized over the proper way to breach the subject for months, certain it spoke to some sort of personal ruin (whether ostracization from the Gottliebs or being forbade following through on any attraction he may feel whilst still living under the family roof, he wasn't sure), before finally simply announcing it one day at the breakfast table on a whim.

It had been a long-standing tradition that Hermann’s parents compile a binder—effectively of dossiers—on all the most eligible bachelors (for their daughter) and bachelorettes (for their sons) to aid in the choice of the latest Gottlieb mate. It was easiest this way, or so Hermann and his siblings were told. Parental approval was already secured. The histories of each were already secured, which bypassed any nasty shocks that might emerge in the courtship stage. Most of them were children of his father's colleagues or bright minds in their own rights: surgeons, and dentists, and mathematicians. Poets were strictly forbidden.

The occasion of Hermann’s breakfast table announcement had also been the day Hermann’s father presented him with his very first binder of prospective mates—a few days after his eighteenth birthday, and shortly before he was to go off to begin work on his PhD. His father had slid him a hand-written binder of names, no more than a dozen, and all with accompanying photographs. “All are accomplished young women,” he assured Hermann. “We can arrange any meetings of your choice over your winter holidays.”

Hermann glared down at the row of frozen smiles. He stabbed his fork into his cooked tomato wedge. “I don’t want to marry any of these women,” he said, and turned his glare on his father. He still had a rebellious streak in him at that point, something nurtured by a charismatic young man he used to trail after in boarding school, who pierced Hermann’s ear with a sewing needle in the boys’ toilets and listened to songs about setting things on fire. In late this streak had manifested itself in Hermann in nicking packets of cigarettes from his father’s study, one of which was in his pocket now. The weight of it made Hermann feel bolder. “I don’t want to marry any woman,” he continued. “I like men.”

The binder was drawn away in silence, and Hermann was free to eat his toast and tomatoes. The next morning a binder of young men was in its place.

(In a way the acceptance infuriated Hermann. It meant he could not blame his father’s obvious dislike for him on an unfounded, homophobic prejudice; rather, it was a result of Hermann’s own personal failings.)

The binder was placed at Hermann’s breakfast plate every day until he left for his studies. It was placed at his plate when he returned from them five years later. Not even the emergence of the kaiju from the bottom of the ocean shortly after Hermann turned twenty-four dampened his father’s hopes, nor turning all their scientific efforts towards the new jaeger program: some names were removed from the binder (the reasoning Hermann shudders to think at), more still were added, though Hermann is expected only to consider it once a week now on account of his busy schedule. This was one of such days.

“Your brother is very happy with his wife,” Hermann’s father reminds him. “She was one of my first suggestions for him, in fact.”

Hermann is not fond of his sister-in-law. Too rude—too cold. Though perhaps that makes her perfect for Hermann’s brother. “Haven’t we got bigger things to worry about these days than whether or not I’m going to marry?” Hermann says. He adds milk to his tea. “I’m sure they’re all, er, marvelous selections, only—”

“Your sister, too, with her husband,” father says.

Hermann sighs. He hasn’t got much of the rebellious streak he used to in him anymore—too stressed. Not fancying a fight before they’ve even begun today’s coding work, he picks up the binder and begins flipping through it. Sons of engineers working on the jaeger program with them, prominent young chemists, many of whom Hermann has been presented with since he was eighteen. Plenty of them are even handsome. Half of Hermann wonders if he should just pick the least-unappealing one of the bunch and be done with it already. He turns the page over and freezes. “Oh,” he says. “This one is—new.”

“Hm?” father says.

Hermann holds up the binder, tapping at a new entry. “Newton Geiszler.”

“Dr. Geiszler,” father says, nodding. “A child prodigy from Berlin—he’s made tremendous strides in kaiju science in such little time. And,” he adds, “three PhDs. Two of them before he even turned twenty.” The unspoken implication was that Dr. Geiszler far surpassed Hermann in intelligence and Hermann should feel ashamed for not skipping as many grades as Dr. Geiszler.

Hermann feels he ought to resent Dr. Geiszler for it, but he's finding it difficult to summon up any animosity towards him. It's likely because Hermann finds Dr. Geiszler to be strikingly handsome in his photograph: cheeks which haven’t quite lost their baby fat (giving him the appearance of being a scruffy hamster), large, thick glasses, tousled hair, an easy grin. Three PhDs, and German at that. And a child prodigy? “I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned him to me before,” Hermann says. He seems precisely the sort father would. Geiszler’s photograph is black-and-white and a bit grainy, but Hermann swears he could make out the lightest bit of freckles across his cheeks.

“I’d not heard of him until he published an article last week on kaiju biology,” father says. “Besides—he’s moved to America.”

Geiszler has three piercings up the side of his left ear. “I am going to write to him,” Hermann declares.

Father nods, and picks up his newspaper, clearly already disinterested. They speak no more of it that day.

It is not hard to find Dr. Geiszler online (his name is not the most common, and his field of study certainly isn’t), nor is it hard to match his photograph to his faculty page on MIT’s website. From there, Hermann retrieves Dr. Geiszler’s email address. He takes the evening to read over Geiszler’s publications spanning back to 2003 before he gathers up the courage to type out an actual email.

Dear Dr. Geiszler,

You do not know me, but I have recently been made acquaintance with your work and find it—Hermann pauses—scintillating. My father and I are—Hermann backspaces this—I am currently working on the development of the jaeger program…

There’s a response waiting for him the next morning. It’s as enthusiastic as it is brief. Dr. Gottlieb- That’s so awesome!! Believe it or not I’ve been following your work too. I have a million questions for you about the jaegers. If it’s classified info I promise I won’t tell. -Newt

It makes Hermann smile like nothing ever has before.

Hermann’s correspondence with Dr. Geiszler does not transgress beyond the professional until the following January. By that time, Hermann and his father have successfully completed the coding for their first jaeger prototype, and Hermann has been offered his fair share of tenured university positions to pick from as he likes. He finds himself oddly disappointed that none of them are in America with Dr. Geiezler. This, which leads to the realization that he’s grown rather fond of Dr. Geiszler, is perhaps what drives Hermann to uncharacteristic sentimental extremes on January 19th: he orders Dr. Geiszler a birthday present. The first email Dr. Geiszler sends him after that addresses him as Hermann. The first email Hermann sends Dr. Geiszler after that addresses him as Newton. Things move rapidly after that.

“Are you still writing to that young biologist?” Hermann’s father asks him in March. Hermann has spent the last two months devouring every bit of information Newton has seen fit to divulge about his personal life: his dexterity with no less than three different instruments, his favorite loud monster movies, how he’d love to get a kaiju tattooed on him one day. Hermann suspects he might be falling in love with Newton. In hardly five months! These are war times, Hermann supposes, so it would make sense. People are meant to do such extreme things.

“I am,” Hermann says.

“I’ve asked around about him,” Hermann’s father says. His expression is stern—unimpressed. “About his character. I’m not sure it’s wise to continue your correspondence.”

The reasons are this. Dr. Geiszler’s methods are unorthodox. Dr. Geiszler is loud and uncouth, and has little respect for his intellectual superiors. Dr. Geiszler was thrown out of a convention once for storming up on stage and stealing a microphone from an engineer to shout about the destruction coral reefs. Dr. Geiszler was in a distasteful band for several years. Dr. Geiszler was once arrested for egging a politician’s house. Dr. Geiszler has gone on record as describing the kaiju as “kinda cool”. Almost none of this is news to Hermann; in fact, that which is only causes Hermann’s affection for Newton to grow. “I will consider your advice,” Hermann says, knowing he won’t. Besides, it's not as if his father really has Hermann's interests at heart—Hermann knows he merely wishes to preempt any scandal Newton Geiszler could possibly bring upon the Gottlieb name.

In April Newton goes on television and declares that he’s sure the kaiju are extraterrestrial in origin, on account of their great size and his brief examination of a sample from the second kaiju to make landfall. He’s laughed off by his older peers before he can get another word out. The email he writes to Hermann afterwards is furious, capslock-heavy, and expresses that Hermann is the only one who takes him seriously in the whole world. It leaves Hermann certain that he is in love with Newton.

“Dr. Geiszler was interviewed on some American television program,” Hermann’s father says a few days later.

“I know,” Hermann says, proudly. Newton was on television. “I watched it.”

“He made some extraordinary claims,” Hermann’s father says.

But Hermann is thinking only of the outfit Newton wore (skinny jeans and an oversized leather jacket, so out of place compared to the suited other scientists sitting around him), the shade of his eyes (hazel), his short stature (hardly taller than Hermann), and the cadence of his voice (high, but not unappealing). He’d been so confident, and carried himself with a self-assurance that was foreign to Hermann. It was marvelously attractive. “I’m sure they're correct,” Hermann says. "Every single one. Newton is a terribly brilliant scientist." All bold claims are met with derision at first, are they not?

Newton’s theory is proven correct after the next kaiju attack, when experts other than him get their hands on kaiju samples and validate his claims. The general consensus after that is that the kaiju are not of this world. And Newton was the first to propose the theory! Hermann sends Newton an email full of congratulations, and Newton responds with a heart emoticon in his sign-off. Newton isn't just a brilliant scientist. “Newton is a genius,” Hermann tells his father, dreamily.

The binder reappears on Hermann’s work desk a few months later, Newton’s page torn conspicuously from it. Hermann tips the whole thing straight into his trash can. He has more important things to worry about—arranging a meeting with Newton, perhaps. Hermann ought to have him over for dinner.

[leofiat-bunny]

the thing about leofiat in DSN is that…they do not strike me as unhealthy? In TTS2 definitely but now? I just don’t see it and I’m watching everyone call them an equivalent of dumpster fire cute and I’m questioning if it’s just me having a screwed up notion of what normalcy in romance is or ppl are exaggerating just a bit? Being codependent is not ideal but it’s not like they don’t navigate away from each other ever. I feel like there’s at least 50 more bl pairings that beat them in toxicity

Hi 👋😊

First off: sorry for taking so long to respond. I wanted to type it on my laptop rather than my phone and I wasn't on my laptop for most of the day. 🙇‍♀️

Next, a disclaimer: I don't do romantic relationships, so I'm probably not fully cognizant of the complete requirements to qualify as healthy.

So I think there's a fair few things going on here.

Exaggeration is absolutely one of those things. We in fandom love our hyperbole (and outright lies for that matter). Think: "absolute gremlin", "just the worst", "I hate him", "perfect angel", "never done anything wrong, ever", "invented romance"... they are a lot more fun than accurate, considered moderation. 😄

Another is protection: against other people and against the future.

Fandom in general is fairly unkind these days - the chances that someone will drop into your "here to have fun" blog and tell you off because "you know it's problematic™" are far too high. Saying it first is an attempt to ward them off. (See also: my constant disclaimers 😅)

As for the future: if you celebrate something as good and it deteriorates as the show progresses you get disappointed. If you celebrate it as a dumpster fire and it's better than expected... you probably won't be disappointed.

The next thing is as I saw in a tag today: "#being in a relationship is good but its not therapy" (from @gunsatthaphan)

Honestly, I'm not interested in characters I like getting therapy? But many of them do need it really. And Fiat is definitely one of those. I don't want to see him get therapy but as long as he doesn't his issues will affect all of his relationships. Which is fine by me, but not healthy.

As for other pairings beating them in toxicity: there's plenty to be sure. I think a major difference is often the toxicity is an aspect of the relationship you don't like. Like BohnDeun from My Engineer. Their issues aren't fun for me, they're tedious. They aren't a dumpster fire.

With LeoFiat the massive codependence is a draw. When we (maybe just "I"?) say "dumpster fire" it's an active celebration of their issues, whereas with others... they're just bad. They don't deserve the fun of a label like "dumpster fire".

What makes them a dumpster fire anyway?

@heretherebedork made an excellent post covering most of this.

Already mentioned above: Fiat needs therapy to deal with his serious abandonment issues.

Fiat only cares about Leo and his parents. And Leo likes it that way. They have school friends and they have teammates, but they don't go further than that?

Frankly, their friends are better than they deserve given their apparent disinterest in engaging with them on a deeper level. Maybe this series will bring them closer, but I think the previous year of friendship was pretty surface level? They were in shared classes; there grouped together the way students do (this has always been a mystery to me). Of course, part of that impression is their non-existence in TTTS. Maybe we'll get to see Leo and Fiat being the friends rather than just having the friends. 🤷‍♀️

Fiat has wanted Leo to have - and act on - rights over Fiat's body since they were 16. Forbid others from it, do anything to it; no need to ask permission. That's not inherently unhealthy but without communication it can be. And communication on this topic is new to them. I'm impressed with how well they're doing so far (given my previous expectations). 👏

If Leo's upset, distracted, or in need of help: it's about Fiat.

If something's going wrong for Fiat: Leo will fix it. They both hold this as absolute.

Leo didn't ask before getting Meth's permission for Fiat to move in with him, or before telling Meth that they were together, and Fiat is fine - even happy - with that.

He didn't ask Fiat's permission before telling Aek in order to get his help. We've yet to see Fiat's reaction, but it's all part and parcel of the same thing: "I'll deal with everything else", "Deal with what?", "You must sleep now".

Of course, others will have their own views.

I hope that was even vaguely helpful and correct?

Thanks for the ask!

🐰

[ligiawrites]

#EleNão

I never get tired of discussing politics. Online, I post my opinions, share ideas I find interesting, and I always try to be in the loop of what's happening around the globe as much as I can.

Most of the time, this much-needed exercise leaves me teary-eyed and broken-hearted. But THIS time, reading about the manifestations against Bolsonaro all around Brazil, I felt a profound sense of pride in my people.

Those of you who have been following me for some time probably know how much disgust I feel towards the current Brazilian president, Jair Bolsonaro.

(long post about Brazilian Politics after the cut. There's a list of amazing NGOs doing awesome work at the end of the text if you can/want to help the situation of the many groups at risk in Brazil right now. They include LGBTQIA+ groups, Indigenous people, Black communities, feminist movements, and NGOs focused on proper education and food for impoverished children).

In 2018, before the presidential elections, I was walking down Paulista Avenue with one of my closest friends.

Filling one of the widest avenues in Brazil, there was a mob of Bolsonaro supporters holding placards that read "É melhor Jair se acostumando." It's a small word-play with Bolsonaro's name; the idea is "You better start getting used to him". Stationed on the edges of the avenue, police officers stood with guns attached to their waists, crossed arms, and expressions that ranged from pure disinterest to clear enjoyment.

My friend stepped closer to me. He is strong, brilliant, and one of the bravest people I know, and yet he was clearly uncomfortable, so—after I managed to recover from the slight shock of seeing him like that—we linked our arms and avoided the mob in front of us, walking back to the intersection with Consolação Avenue.

Once we were away from the mob and the officers, he looked over his shoulders and sighed.

"If you weren't here, they'd probably have stopped me," he said.

The mob was mostly White. I'm White.

My friend is Black.

"I don't wanna think what will happen if that dude wins the elections," he completed.

His fear was justified. Bolsonaro is a racist, misogynist, homophobic ex-military who preaches in favor of the Military Dictatorship period in Brazil, which killed thousands of Black and Indigenous people while also torturing anyone who spoke up against the military government.

"He won't win," I answered. I was born and raised in São Paulo, one of Brazil's industrial, technological, and cultural hubs; I never thought people would turn a blind eye to how much damage Bolsonaro could make as a president. "He can't win," I added. "Not being who he is."

My friend nodded. We hugged and walked and laughed it off (tried to). And when Bolsonaro won, we both cried.

I guess I was a tad too naïve.

He won. He won, and I never got used to the idea of having such a terrible president. Here are a few things that happened in his government and that are directly connected to him:

(most of the links here are from news articles in Portuguese)

The number of neo-nazism sites in favor of white supremacy increased 400% in Brazil in 2020 compared to the same period in 2018 (before Bolsonaro was elected); this is one of the many consequences of his numerous racist speeches and a small proof of just how racist Brazil is.

The number of military police attacks on low-income communities increased along with the number of COVID deaths.

While, since February 2019, the world already knows that the rights of LGBTQIA+ people are threatened under the current far-right government, the advances in LGBTQIA+ rights n Brazil stopped after Bolsonaro was elected, and instead, there was a movement of retrocession.

The fires in the Amazon Forest further increased by 43% in April 2021 (in 2019, after an increase of 63% in comparison to 2018, I wrote about one of the most terrifying fires in Amazon and how I could see the smoke from it from my home in São Paulo, 3000 km away).

After promising to diminish deforestation in order to receive a large sum of money from the US, the Brazilian Senate is preparing to vote for a new Law Project that tries to make the licensing of land in the Amazon Forest more pliable. That means it'd be disgustingly easier for people to buy and explore the lands that should belong to the Brazilian indigenous people; all they'd need is an auto-declaratory license emitted online without the analysis of any environmental body.

Under the pretext of "helping" the indigenous people, Bolsonaro defends mining and agriculture in indigenous peoples' lands. This is one of the public declarations of repudiation written by the Yanomami people (one of the biggest indigenous communities in Brazil) about Bolsonaro and his visit to their land on May 27th, 2021.

And then we have women's situation, which you can see in the Brazilian annual of Public Security.

And this is just the tip of the iceberg. I didn't add the investigations of corruption (including embezzlement of money for COVID-related services), the liberation of guns, the nepotism, the problem with vaccines, the damage of the far-right religious institutions the president supports, and the disrespect and verbal aggression towards women.

... And that's why I felt so proud of my fellow Brazilians yesterday. :3 We're a young people (Brazil is only 521 years old, while England, for example, is 1094, if you think about the creation of the kingdom of England), but we're still doing our best. I might be away from my Land of Drizzle, but I carry my people in my heart, and I cry alongside them, as loud as I can,

♥♥♥ Fora Bolsonaro! ♥♥♥

---

And even though I can see Brazilians waking up and organizing themselves better, there are still people needing our help right now. If you want to help the situation in Brazil, please consider Donating! Here's a small list of NGOs doing a lot of good in Brazil:

+ APIB ("Brazilian Indigenous People Articulation") - to help the indigenous people in Brazil. (They also have a fantastic documentary subtitled in English you can watch here, showing the situation of the indigenous people in Brazil)

+ CUFA ("Unified Central of Favelas") - to help the impoverished communities and Favelas in Brazil. (I use my credit card to donate to this one; if you're outside Brazil, I think this might work for you too). If you want to help the Covid Relief specifically, CUFA has a project called "Mães da Favela" (Favela mothers), which you can donate to directly through this link.

+ Amigos do Bem - help with famine, donate drinkable water, and improve education in northeast Brazil, one of the areas more impacted by droughts.

+ Omolará (site in Portuguese) - amazing social project focusing on helping Black Woman find education and financial independence.

+ To help the LGBT+ community in Brazil, I'm still searching for NGOs and projects that receive international donations. If you're in Brazil or if you can make wire transfers, I suggest checking this list of fantastic projects (in Portuguese).

[whattheheehaw]

Hi! I’m sorry you’re getting shitty anons about this and you’re probably sick of it so I apologise for asking this but I’m genuinely curious what made you start actively disliking zutara? Like, considering how much excellent and insightful content/meta you yourself used to make/write? I get that interests change over time and you’re totally valid!! the anons sending you hate over it are really dumb, but if you’d be ok with sharing, I’d be really interested in hearing why you’ve done almost a complete 180 on the ship? Was is just burnout/end of a hyper-obsession? Or was it some of us in the rest of the fandom that turned you off? Or was it even something about the ship/characters themselves that you changed your mind about? xx

In short, it was a combination of burnout, dissatisfaction with fandom, and disappointment in myself that caused my disinterest for Zvtara.

I got asks similar to this one a couple of times before, but I never gave a comprehensive answer, mainly because I didn't know how to articulate my reasons why I don't like it anymore. But now that I've been out of ZK fandom for a month and have had some time to reflect, I think I can give a much more thorough response. Beware, this is long and I heavily critique the Zvtara fandom, so if you're a ZK shipper, keep reading at your own risk.

My first minor annoyance with Zvtara is that the fandom has a tendency to idolize certain fics and creators. And while there’s certainly nothing inherently wrong about that, I feel like the Zvtara fandom does it to such an extent that it influences the type of content that content creators make in order to get recognition. And to illustrate my point, I’m going to talk about one of the most famous Zvtara fics of all time: Once Around The Sun by eleventy7.

Don’t get me wrong, I love OATS. I think it’s a great fanfic and I think the author devoted a lot of time and effort to make it such an excellent fic. The plot, the development of the characters and their relationships to one other, and the messages about family and love were all brilliantly written. I mean, there is a reason why it’s regarded as the “Zvtara Bible”. This one fanfic had such a profound impact upon the ZK fandom, and I think the biggest impact that came from it is the dramatic influx of post-war Zvtara AU fanfiction. 

Because so many people kept reading OATS and recommending it to others, I think there was an overall interest in ZK fics that take place in a post-war setting. And I think that all of the high praise towards OATS made more fic writers start to write post-war fanfics because of this demand for post-war AU.* I normally wouldn't complain about it because more content is more content, but in my opinion, 99% of ZK post-war fics are the same fic but in different fonts.

Like, there's at least 3 of these elements in every ZK post-war fanfic:

Ambassador Katara

An assassination attempt (usually on Zuko's life)

A healing scene between Zuko and Katara (usually Katara heals Zuko)

Aang and/or Mai is pushed to the side or vilified to some extent in order to make ZK happen

A private journey between Zuko and Katara to facilitate #6

S L O W B U R N (that's not really slowburn and more like "I love you and I very much want to be vocal about my feelings but #7 is in this fic" but the love story takes up like 30 chapters so I guess it's a slowburn?)

Zuko's advisers don't want him to get married to Katara because ✨racism✨

Ursa is found

Azula is in the fic because a) she's going to get a healing arc ft. Zuko and Katara and thereby helps them get together or b) she's the villain and thereby helps them get together

ZK wedding happens in the FN

After reading multiple post-war fics back to back, I could tell that the format was pretty much the same across the board, which isn't very interesting for me to read. My only other fic options in the Zvtara tag on AO3 are canon divergence fics which almost always take place during The Crossroads of Destiny or after The Southern Raiders. And to some extent, those stories are pretty much the same too. There's nothing really new or creative going on in the ZK fandom fic-wise, and because of that, my interest in ZK fandom started to dwindle.

My second issue with Zvtara is that it's a very old ship from a very old show. Because there's been 10+ years since the end of A:TLA, every nuanced point about shipping and the show itself have been talked to death.** There's just nothing new to say. It's the same arguments being rehashed over and over again in the tag because there's no other interpretation one can come up with.

For example, there's so many people who talk about why Zvtara as depicted in The Southern Raiders is not toxic and that's great and all, but I (and most likely many others) have read those same points about five times already. And for some reason, each time this happens, people act like someone just discovered the lost city of Atlantis when they bring up their new-but-not-new argument in defense of Zvtara. Honestly, I'm ashamed to say that I'm not exempt from being part of the group of people that reiterate old arguments. I've done it with one of my posts about The Southern Raiders and I've done it again with my Zutara/Omashu parallels post.

There's no new content to really dissect and analyze (especially considering Zuko and Katara are rarely in the same panel in any of the post-war comics), and because of this, people are just restating points that someone else made several years ago.*** And even if someone did have a different interpretation of an episode, their ideas would most likely be shut down because for the past several years, the same interpretation has been recycled through the fandom repeatedly and people are resistant to new perspectives.

This brings me to the third thing that I dislike about Zvtara: the insistence that there can only be one way to interpret The Southern Raiders. For the longest time, I've read take after take that said if Katara decided to kill Yon Rha, it would be ok because that's her grief to deal with and if she thinks that's the best way to mete out justice, then good for her. And again, I'm ashamed to say that I perpetuated that idea in a few of my own posts. I have always thought that "Katara killing Yon Rha is ok" is just a bad take in general, but I didn't want to vocalize that opinion when so many people—so many of the nice mutuals that I made—all shared that same opinion. Taking down a popular opinion of your own ship is completely different from taking down a popular opinion of a ship that you dislike. The Zvtara fandom is the first fandom that I was actually active in and I wanted to fit in so badly with everyone else that I just parroted whatever other people said, even if I didn't agree with those sentiments.

This leads me to my final reason why I don't want to be a part of ZK fandom anymore. I think I established myself as a "meta" person pretty early on and because of that, I constantly felt pressured to come up with new takes on the ship. And when people started flooding my ask box with stuff like "Can you write a meta about your thoughts on the idea that 'Zuko only took Katara on that field trip in TSR because he wanted her to forgive him'?" and "What are your thoughts about antis saying Zuko and Katara are toxic because of TSR?", I realized that I don't need to come up with new takes. People just want me to paraphrase something that 10 other people said about the same exact topic, because if I said what I actually thought about the subject (i.e. there is some truth in what antis say about TSR and it's not as much of a "Zvtara episode" that most people make it out to be), I'd probably get ZK shippers in the replies telling me that I'm wrong because x, y, and z or "you shouldn't tag this as Zvtara".

And that was pretty much how my love for ZK turned into disinterest. I was and still am disappointed that I didn't stick to my personal opinions. For as much as I talk about herd mentality on Twitter, I certainly don't practice what I preach. In all honesty, the only reason why I held on so long to ZK fandom was because I had so many nice mutuals there and we all shared this collective distaste for antis. I think I started to become more anti-Zvkka and anti-Kataang than pro-Zvtara, which isn't what I wanted to do when I made this Tumblr blog.

The thing that made me joke about becoming anti-Zvtara was the fact that some ZK shippers just like to send shitty anons to people whom they've reblogged countless different metas from. Sending shitty anons to people in the first place is wrong, but sending them to people who tagged their posts correctly and did nothing wrong is just disgusting.

*I'm not a fic writer and can't speak for fic writers, but it definitely feels like a lot of ZK fic authors are pushing themselves to write the next OATS, and by doing so, they are proliferating the tag with post-war fics that have very similar aspects to OATS.

**I think that as more people point out the same nuanced points about Zvtara, it diminishes the actual significance of those points. Like, it's hard to explain but the more people talk about the subtleties of the ship, the more those parts become glaringly obvious and I become numb to their actual impact on the characters and the show.

***At this point, if someone wanted to make a new argument about Zvtara, I think they would have to look very closely at every little detail in every single one of their scenes together to find a crumb of new meta material. And speaking from experience, it's not very fun trying to make a mountain out of a molehill. Whenever I post a "meta" like that, I feel like I'm reaching to make a point that doesn't exist.

[adonis-koo]

tease

| 16 |

↳ Summary: You came with the intentions of your best friend landing a job as a stripper. You never meant to catch the eyes of the king stripper of the establishment- Jeon Jungkook, yourself. With what was supposed to be a harmless way of paying off college debt faster you find yourself falling into a very odd and passionate relationship with your new mentor. Between infidelity, passion and jealousy there’s never a dull moment at Cherry Bomb.

↳ Pairing: Stripper!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, drama, slice of life, relationship problems without the relationship, reader is such a shy baby protect her, MUTUAL pining, so much sexual frustration,  

Word Count: 12k

Previous | Next

Song Mood

Warning: This story touches on both sexual harassment and abuse, please read with caution if any of these things are triggers to you. Additional warnings will be given when a chapter presents them.

TW: There is a lot of implied dubious sex and implied rape/sexual harassment in this chapter, if any of these are triggers please read with caution 🖤

You wouldn’t deny, you felt extremely excited while standing in the large room, vanity lights in classic Vegas style were lit up above the long vanity table, the standing hanging rack had all your costumes on it and while your name wasn’t in plaque it was hastily written on a taped up piece of paper. These people actually considered you a soloist….only by definition considering it was your last week...But still, it was exciting!

Taking a seat in the cushioned chair you got to work on your makeup to begin with, it was Vegas, and considering this was a VIP party you figured it would be okay to really go all out cutcrease makeup, sharp wings and eyelashes that could be mistook for fans, the whole nine yards.  You had originally gone to skip a song on your phone, what you hadn’t expected was paragraph long message from the last person on your mind. 

Seriously? No seriously…? Annoyance twisted and snapped in your veins like a wildfire, as you continuously reread the text, did Seulgi ever truly know you at all? Where was this message when your relationship was toxic with Jungkook? Where was she when Hanjae broke into your apartment? Where was she when you completely ruined your first ever soloist performance? Where was she when you actually needed her? 

You hadn’t even realized your hands were trembling or heard the knock on the door until the familiar voice of Jimin interrupted you, “Y/n! Y/n? Hey, you’re on in ten, why aren’t you dressed?” 

Your gaze snapped from your phone to the blonde before you rubbed your forehead, you didn’t have time for her issues right now, it would just have to wait. Standing up you pressed your lips together before sighing, “Sorry, Seulgi just sent me a paragraph text,” You pulled the oversized shirt over your head as you walked over to the costume rack, you already had your lingerie set underneath but it was always more comfortable to get ready in loose clothing, “Out of the blue! Seriously, what is her problem?” 

You could hear Jimin snort behind you in amusement as you pushed your shorts down, looking over your shoulder with an ungrateful expression to which he straightened up at, “Ah sorry. Honestly? She’s probably just jealous...I mean, think about it, you were chosen to be trained by the most popular stripper in Cherry Bomb when you had no intention of even becoming a stripper at all, you were chosen to become a temporary soloist and now you made it on the list for Seasonella as a soloist and she didn’t even make the cut at all.” 

You stopped dead in your tracks, your fingers still coiled against the black pencil skirt that sat at your hips as you turned to face Jimin, “...She didn’t make the list…?” Yikes... Suddenly her message made a lot more sense...Not so much her message, but the timing of it. You glanced back at the costume rack, suddenly feeling a mix of both pity yet anger, this was your job, not high school cheer tryouts! “I honestly don’t know what to do with her anymore, I mean...Sure I feel bad she didn’t make the list, but is it really that big of a deal?” 

“Not really, but strippers are considerably catty,” Jimin leaned against the back of the couch as he shrugged, “Seulgi honestly fits the filler role perfect. It’s a shame really, she has all the potential to become a soloist.” 

You couldn’t help but tilt your head at his works, pulling the sheer button up top over your head before semi tucking it in, “Well somebody needs to tell her that so she’ll get off my ass. Don’t get me wrong, I understood at first Jimin, I really did,” Your eyes were semi glossed and pleading before you sighed, gritting your teeth, “But now it’s just petty.” 

“Well that’s the thing,” Jimin snorted a laugh as you pulled the brown trench coat over your shoulders, “Don’t you get it Y/n?” You paused at his words, his smile playful as he began laughing, as if he knew a secret you didn’t, “That’s her problem. Seulgi needs to constantly be petted, the only person that’s holding her back from becoming a soloist is herself, if she didn’t need to be groomed and the center of attention constantly, if she’d just shut up and do the work that’s needed without constantly being praised for it. She’d easily make it to the top. But because she can’t, because she’s used to everyone telling her how amazing she is, she’s never going to get there.”

Jimin tucked his tongue into his cheek as he scoffed, “People like that annoy the fuck out of me. That’s what makes you different from her, yeah you were coddled by Jungkook in the beginning, but you never expected that out of him. You never anticipated any of us drowning you in praise and telling you ‘you’d definitely become a soloist;. No, you struggled like most of us did in the beginning, you worked your ass off in the beginning and now it’s paying off. That’s her problem.” 

Your lips parted at his words, rather shocked to see Jimin feel so defensive for you. Pressing your lips together as you fiddled with your jacket, you never realized he felt so strongly about your situation with Seulgi, “...Do you think I’ve changed?” That was the one thing that bothered you, this whole time Seulgi kept proclaiming you had changed, was it really that bad?

“Yeah,” Your gaze snapped to Jimin’s figure as he shrugged, pushing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, presumably what he was wearing for the stage, “But change isn’t always a bad thing Y/n. Don’t let people hold you down just because they want to stay the same.” 

Sighing, you wrapped your arms around yourself as you leaned against the wall, thinking on his words. You supposed, Jimin was right, change wasn’t always a bad thing. And looking back, maybe you had changed? 

But it’s like he said, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, you needed that change to happen. Or else things with Jungkook would have exploded and you could have potentially ruined your relationship with him. Your heart trembled at that idea, the memory of him and you both distant but still fresh. Jungkook was so important to you, you couldn’t lose him, and you changed not for him, but for yourself. So had he. 

“I didn’t take you for a therapist Jimin.” You glanced up as a mutual smile pulled on both your and his lips as you shared a laugh, shaking your head as you stepped into your heels, “Thanks though,” You furrowed your brows before smiling a little, glancing up at him as you nodded, “I...I think I needed to hear that. I should make my way backstage, good luck!” 

Jimin tipped his fedora at you with a wink as he replied, “Too you as well, you’ll need it. Cya Y/n.” 

Keeping his words in mind you gave yourself a mini pep talk as you made your way backstage, it was even more crowded here then at a busy day at work and it was more chaotic than you could have ever imagined. You could do this. Being on stage wasn't what made you nervous anymore. It was getting off stage and finding out just what exactly Seasonella was. 

The stage manager nodded in acknowledgement as you stood off to the side, peering out from behind the stage where your heart did a little leap at the sight of Jungkook. Swallowing the lump in your throat at how good he looked in a three piece suit and his gelled, styled hair. He must have just started his routine, his music was bassy and slow and the floor he stood on wafted with smoke, presumably from dry ice off stage. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself you watched the way he easily swiveled his hips turning away from the audience, popping the jacket off his shoulders, oddly enough despite the large crowd nobody seemed to even be paying attention besides a few whistles here and there. Glancing over his shoulder he offered a sultry smirk, even after all this time he never failed to make your heart race and your face flushed as you dropped your gaze. He wasn’t even looking at you, in fact, he probably didn’t even know you were next in line up. Jungkook’s routine was slow and easy going as he began to shed his clothes, as if he was in no real hurry, soaking up his time on stage. 

He really was a natural.

Just the way his hips would slowly roll before snapping, those large calloused hands slowly running up against his chest to pop the first button of his white button up. You could easily see why Jungkook thrived in this environment, now thinking about it. It was easy because it was only skin deep, Jungkook was comfortable in his body and it showed, being a stripper was hard, but it was only skin deep, you didn’t have to get personal or open up to anyone in this business.

But even with all of that in mind, his eyes, it was always his eyes that showed when he wasn’t feeling his performance, when something was on his mind. Nobody ever seemed to notice it but you. No matter how many smirks and teasing smiles Jungkook flashed it was his eyes that seemed...disinterested? Maybe...maybe even upset?

You didn’t like it, it drove your instincts wild with a need to sit on his lap and grab his face to look at you and ask him what was wrong, but then again, did you really need to? Given what had happened this morning? He was upset when you pushed him away, hell he was upset when he left after his shower. Neither of you had spoken when he left either, he just kept looking at you, longingly, as if hoping maybe you’d speak to him, to give him a chance. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to speak to him, it was just...what was there to even talk about? He wasn’t going to convince you this was okay, because it wasn’t. None of this was okay. You didn’t like being on terms like this with him, but what else was there to discuss? It was what it was, all either of you could do was do your job. 

It wasn’t like you were mad at him, Jungkook was a stripper, but so were you. Yes it was upsetting and it hurt that he’d be sleeping with other people, but so were you...You sighed, massaging the temple of your head as you watched his hand slip down to squeeze the thick imprint that pressed against his slacks. You couldn’t stop the quirk in your lips at the sight, even when he was upset he still managed to sport a boner, of course he could.

It was odd watching him pop the button of his slacks, usually by this point girls were practically screaming, but instead it was quiet besides the song that played as the slacks fell off his thick muscular thighs that flexed. You were semi perplexed at the sight of Versace strapped against his skin rather than his regular Calvin Kleins, you couldn’t help but grind your teeth at the idea of that girl buying them for him. It had to be her. Eva.

Was she out in the crowd somewhere enjoying the show? Or was she intending on making him strip again just for her in private. The idea made you livid and the intense desire to jab her eyes out for even looking at what was yours. It was hard to imagine you were actually blushing and melting into your chair when you first laid eyes on Jungkook’s figure on stage. Now you just felt a vague sense of depression watching him hook his thumbs to the band of his boxers.

Maybe it was a sense of defeat that you felt watching him proudly flaunt his hardened cock on stage. A part of you couldn’t help but snicker though, it was so typical of him. Exibitionism was one of his biggest kinks after all. His song had come to an end, the stage lights dimming as people rushed past you, a robe in hand for Jungkook as he came off stage. 

No words were spoken, your gaze only catching his for a second before you were being ushered on stage. Nodding you hurried out in the blackout. Leaning against the pole you made yourself comfortable, it wasn’t time to think anymore. All you had to do was dance. 

The lights immediately flickered on as the intro of your music started out, the smirk immediately pulling on your lips as you turned your head to face the crowd. Most of the crowd wasn’t even paying attention to you, some people seated others standing and talking to one another. What even was Seasonella for? Just connection building for the wealthy?

Letting your hands drag up your body, you slide down the pole letting your legs open naturally before letting your knees drop to let your hands support you on the ground. Your face pressing against the ground as you let your hand circle around your face. Just who were these nameless faces? Just like Jungkook, you weren’t at your best performance. Not that anyone could tell as you rolled to your back letting your legs raise up and set against the pole before letting one slide down as your hands squeezed up your chest, the smile teasing on your lips as you sent a wink out to the crowd. 

That's when you saw him though, Jungkook fully dressed once more, hair damp from sweat and still adjusting the buttons of his loose black button up, his gaze not on Eva who was excitedly waiting for him, instead he was watching you as he ran a hand through his hair. 

Letting your legs open slightly you sat up with your thighs sandwiched between the pole as you rested your head against it, letting the jacket fall off your shoulders as you sent a flirty gasp at the crowd before letting it drop to the ground. 

Making your way to stand up you swayed your hips as you turned to face the crowd, a smug look twisting on to your features at the sight of Eva obviously not happy at your boyfriend checking you out. Keeping a wide stance you dropped slightly to circle your ribs while letting your hands drag up your thighs, teasingly pulling your skirt up higher. Turning to face the wall you curved your spine to highlight your ass as you teased even more, pulling the skirt up to flash the lingerie you wore before tugging the skirt back down. 

You noticed whatever position Jungkook was in he must have left, or maybe Eva had dragged him away at the short time span your back was facing the audience, regardless they couldn’t have left already, right? Pulling your shirt from it’s tuck in your skirt you pulled it out farther as you sunk back down to a slut drop, they couldn’t have gotten far.

Just as you stood back up, hooking your thumb beneath the fabric of your top, a smirk flashed towards the audience that only a few eyes watched you curiously with, that’s when your eyes tracked that messy head of hair again. Jungkook was sitting down, his arm wrapped around Eva who was more than happily snuggled against him, chatting away with what appeared to be her friends. The other person who had stuck out to you was Diego who sat at their table, his eyes however, unshockingly were roaming your body. 

You decided to pay him no mind as you pulled the shirt over your head, letting your upper body become exposed and the glittery, strappy push up bra become displayed. Maybe you were just imagining it but you could have swore Eva had jumped in Jungkook’s tightening grip. His eyes also on you while occasionally glaring daggers at Diego. God you would kill to be listening to that conversation. 

Letting your hips sway softly you strutted further up stage, your arms over head before they groped their way down your body. Turning to face away from the crowd you looked over your shoulder, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you reached for the clasp of your bra. Unhooking it before letting it drop to the ground leaving your bare back on display. 

Turning to face the audience you let your hips begin to sink once more as you let them sway hiding your breasts teasingly behind your hands that began to massage them. It was weird, being in a reversed role where it was your eyes that met Jungkooks from the stage, rather than the other way around. 

Except rather than squirming in embarrassment Jungkook had zero shame in letting his eyes roam all over your body, his lip catching between his teeth and you were all too familiar with that dark look in his eyes. His chin lifting a little in that standoffish, domineering way it always did when he got turned on. 

You however, weren’t yourself at the moment. Rather shy away from his gaze you welcomed it, letting your lips twitch back into a cocky smirk as your hands traveled down your body, your tits perking a little in arousal as your hands slid down your skirt. You could practically see the way Jungkook was eye fucking you, his hand that about been resting on the table curling into a fist and his expression becoming darker by the moment. 

You hadn’t said anything, hell you hadn’t even done anything, but you could tell he wanted to put you over his lap. And there was nothing he could do about it. Something about being aware of that practically made your confidence shoot through the roof as you sent him a playful wink. Effortlessly pushing down the skirt that complied, hitting the ground to reveal the almost light golden, sequin g string you wore beneath, the sheer gold stockings and garter belt to match on display. You could even hear a few whistles from the audience only making you that much cockier. 

And Jungkook was livid. So livid. Despite sitting far away you could see the way his jaw clenched and his fist uncurled and impatiently tapped against the table, as if itching to get his hands on you. Arousal instantly shot between your legs, his dark, lust filled gaze making your body anxious granted this was the most inconvenient timing ever.

If they saw you wet, then that’s just what was gonna happen, you’d just blame it on Jungkook given he was the reason you were in this state. There was no point in worrying about it now. With that in mind you sunk to the ground, crawling out on your hands and knees, letting your tits bounce a little as you dropped to your forearms. Jungkook leaned back in his seat, the vein on his neck popped and you could even see his chest puffing a little. 

The sight made you want to laugh, and for a split second a genuine smile wiggled it’s way onto your lips, before the seductive one quickly took back over as your thighs slid to the ground. Rolling on to your back your vision of him was upside down but that didn’t deter you from letting your hands drag back up your body, letting them squeeze against your breasts as your thighs rubbed together, warm arousal beginning to make your panties stick your folds as you let your body begin to roll as your hips thrusted upwards. 

Your hands sliding back down your body as you began to tug your panties off, gaze never breaking away from Jungkook’s figure, that looked close to a starved man ready to sit between your thighs at the moment. Your panties were unshockingly wet as you kicked them off. As if you weren’t aroused before you certainly were now, naked on stage for the whole floor to see. But with your eyes locked with Jungkook’s it wasn’t like that, it was just you and him at the moment. No party, no one else, just you and him. 

Pulling yourself to sit up you turned to face the audience once more on your knees, a cocky smile tugging on your lips as you let them slide apart. Your cunt was aching and glistening at being exposed as your hands ran up your body, playing with your hair as you heard another round of whistles.

But this wasn’t about them, this was about Jungkook’s clenched jaw and the way he bounced his knee impatiently, the way his fingers twitched against his glass and his eyes roaming all over your exposed body. You didn’t need to see his lap to know he was hard. Crawling back on your hands and knees one last time you sent a one more wink to the audience before rolling to the side. Sitting upright as you finished your last pose. 

The lights went black as you quickly stood up. Walking off stage as best you could in your heels as you grabbed the robe from one of the stage assistants. Wrapping it around your body you let a giggle escape your lips.

Jungkook was turned on, but so were you. You’ll forever have the look on his face stained in your head, maybe something you both could laugh over later and then bang because it would make him horny. 

Walking back to your dressing room you closed the door. Kicking off your heels as you pulled your hair up into a bun to focus on getting dressed. Sitting down you unclipped your stockings before walking over to your bag. You supposed your black mini dress would do, and maybe you’d wear a pair of your black fishnet stockings to go with it? Biting against your lip you figured that would do it before getting changed. Fixing the deep v neck that plunged, showing off your cleavage before pulling out a black pair of pumps to match. 

You wouldn’t be able to talk to Jungkook...but maybe taking Diego up on his offer meant you could see him more? It was a gamble. Nibbling against your lip you fixed your hair in the mirror, putting your phone in the cup of your bra before adjusting it to not make it look obvious. Would you even want to see him this weekend? 

Regardless Diego Friar might as well have been a pile of money sitting at your doorstep, he would be paying you for your company and you knew he’d pay well. This was why you were doing this after all. This was supposed to justify the means. Somehow. Nodding you stood up before heading out. Soloist’s seemed to do more of the entertaining for the guests than actually dancing, although you couldn’t say it was completely true for you. You still had five more dances to get through tonight but at least you had a good hour break before going on back to back. 

Did they really only keep you here as prostitutes? You couldn’t help but wonder about that question, hardly anyone even watched you show. Pushing the door open to enter into the main room you let your eyes wash over the crowd. Why not just hire prostitutes? 

It was legal here in Nevada, why make the strippers do it under dubious consent? Surely the clients budget wasn’t that tight. You supposed there was no point in making sense of it. While Diego would pay for your company, you wouldn’t lie if you said there weren't any underlying motives here. Diego was the client's son, surely he’d know what was going on...Not that you assumed he’d willingly tell you but...A little investigating wouldn’t hurt, right? 

You knew the only thing you needed to focus on was getting to the end of the weekend, but you couldn’t help but wonder, if something illegal was going on here, shouldn’t somebody stop it? Stopping in front of the table you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you to see Diego standing up, as if waiting confidently, knowing you would come to this table. 

“That was some performance doll.” He sent you a wink, his lips quirked into a smirk confidently, as if you had completely done that just for him. Had Diego not caught on between you and Jungkook? Or was he really that distracted by your body?

You offered a small smile in return as you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I told you I was saving my energy. So I was thinking,” You stretched your sentence as a playful smile tugged on your lips, “About your deal.” 

Diego’s smirk was only reinforced by your words as he confidently strode up to you, “And?” The idea of sleeping with Diego was... less than appealing... but you had a lot of options to weigh here. The first being you were likely to see Jungkook more often, the second being you wouldn’t be passed from creep to creep and the third and last option was the one which wasn’t a good idea. 

You wanted to know why the hell Seasonella existed, what was its purpose, who were these people? Diego was the client's son, if somebody knew the ropes of this party, it was him. 

‘I’ve heard all kinds of rumors about our strippers coming here and not returning to Korea because of being difficult’

That’s the same words Jungkook told you. He wanted you to just go with the flow so nothing happened to you. Going with Diego was both the safest and most dangerous option, depending on how you played your cards. But you were willing to make a deal with the devil to find out, “I’ll agree to it, with some ground rules,” 

Diego chuckled, shifting his weight from one foot to another, running a hand through his hair as he nodded, though it almost seemed vaguely patronizing, “Alright doll, that’s fair enough, what are these rules?”

“Condoms on at all times,” You immediately listed off, attempting to not wrinkle your nose at the idea of feeling him..raw...inside you...it made your stomach churn unpleasantly, “I’m not looking to get knocked up,” You offered a humored smile despite it feeling mildly forced, “And I want my mornings to myself,” You added, remembering Jungkook’s words, him telling you to ask for the mornings so you could at least be together then, “Two rules, and I’m all yours.”

You knew Jungkook wanted nothing more than to make sure you were safe. But you needed answers, you needed to know why this was happening. And furthermore, what part of this was illegal, if any at all. 

Diego gave you a smile, his arm immediately wrapping around you as he replied, “Your rules are gold baby. You won’t be disappointed. C’mon, let's get you a drink and sit down.” It felt weird being held by somebody else while sipping on your classic margarita, taking a seat down at the table where Jungkook’s eyes glared at the arm wrapped around your shoulder like it pissed him off. It probably did. You could only hope Jungkook didn’t get the wrong idea about this, you weren’t doing this to spite him. 

You did it for multiple reasons, none which even involved him...Well, none that involved him in a bad way. But to see Jungkook so...docile in a situation like this? In a situation  “This is Y/n, the lovely doll I’ve been talking about.” Diego introduced you to his friends, mutual friends of Eva as well you assumed. It was coincidental that you and Jungkook just so happened to be sitting on the inside of the table next to one another, a respectful distance between you both given you both were supposed to be closer to each sibling. 

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You gave a bright smile at the man- Lorenzo who was an italian with a strong accent and didn’t seem incredibly familiar with Koren, but enough that you could hold a steady conversation, he also seemed to be a considerably close friend of Diego’s compared to all of the others, “I hope you’ve been enjoying the show up on stage.” 

What you hadn’t expected was a large, wrathful hand to harshly clamp your inner thigh making you nearly choke on your drink, callous fingers digging into your soft skin while roughly massaging closer to your core. 

Your eyes sent sharp daggers to Jungkook’s figure, who was innocently on his side of the table, his free arm wrapped around Eva while conversing with her and one of her friends, acting as if he totally wasn’t groping you. This was not the time or place to be doing this! 

“Ah yes, you put on quite the show.” You gave a forced smile at Lorenzo as you tried to wiggle your leg from Jungkook's grasp, it was useless though as he squeezed harder, his nails pleasantly digging into your skin as if in warning to stop. 

It wasn’t even fair, Jungkook was speaking to Eva and her friends in english which you could only pick bits and pieces of conversation out of while he could hear everything you said. You tried your best, you really did. But Jungkook’s long thick fingers were making it difficult to focus, never quite making it to where you had hoped it would, but just enough to keep you on edge. 

Was this some possessive display or reminder to you? You wished you could just ask Jungkook what his problem was. Maybe he was mad you weren’t wearing your collar, but could he really expect you too when...You couldn’t help but shudder. This was going to be a long night. 

The night dragged on and admittedly, you couldn’t help but tense at all the pleasantries, you honestly assumed Diego would jump you the moment he got his hands on you but then again, he was from a prestigious family, clearly. 

You sighed as you glanced at yourself in the mirror, rubbing the towel over the back of your neck that had broken out in a sweat, you were used to dancing on stage but something about being here had made you nervous. You weren’t sure what it was but the whole vibe of this place put you on edge. Shaking your head you pulled the skirt up to your waist before finishing putting on the rest of your clothes. 

Dread filled your stomach but you couldn’t help it, anytime you weren’t dancing you were with Diego, you assumed the moment he got you alone he’d jump you but he had behaved well...But now your night of stripping was over, your body was tired and so were you but...Well you had a feeling the night had only just begun in other ways. 

Jungkook had disappeared a while ago with Eva and her friends, he had finished earlier in the night then you but given he was more social it wasn’t a surprise he had stayed to converse with her and her friends. Or maybe it was Eva who wanted to stay longer?

You couldn’t help but feel a simmering anger boil inside you at the idea of someone controlling and dictating the man you loved. You forcibly calmed yourself as you pushed your hair off your shoulder. This wasn’t the time to brood of this, it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. Could you even be mad at Jungkook? No, not when you were with Diego. 

Something about the situation made you grit your teeth as you pushed the door to your dressing room open. Why were you so powerless in a situation like this? You had never seen Jungkook let himself be powerless either. 

Pausing you glanced at the ground as people rushed past you, the night on stage still very much alive and even busier than you had ever seen before. If Jungkook was too scared to speak up or if he was worried for you, then you’d do it for him. You nodded affirming to yourself.

Whatever the Friar’s were up too....You weren’t just going to sit still and watch your friends get bullied by them. The idea made your lips twitch and your fist coil in anger, why the fuck was nobody saying anything to them!? 

Closing your eyes briefly you let your shoulders relax as you began to walk. It’s okay, they have all been there to help you on your feet. Now you’d stand beside them and defend them just as they have you. You didn’t know who these people were but you were going to find out. 

Walking out of the back and into the large lounge your eyes scoped Diego who seemed to be talking to two other men...He hadn’t introduced you so they must have been work related contacts. 

Walking over you gave a bright smile as Diego’s eyes landed on you, pausing conversation with the two men as he waved you over, “Finished up doll?” You nodded, feigning innocence to the two men’s stares that leered on you as Diego squeezed your chin, “Good. Tell you what baby, how about you head up to my room? I’ll catch up with you soon, I just have some business to take care of.” 

You felt an odd shiver down your spine at his words. Business? At three in the morning? You still gave a smile as you nodded, “Of course! I’ll see you soon then.” You winked as you took the passcard from his hand, a charming expression on your face as you nodded to the two men before turning around. 

You didn’t like this one bit. You glanced around in hopes of finding a familiar face but everyone seemed foreign to your eyes. Sighing, you shook your head a little, glancing down at the passcard to Diego’s room, number listed on it as you headed for the elevator.

Staying still you intended to enter the elevator only for your eyes to widen at the heated sight as the doors slid open, the familiar head of hair sucking harshly on skin as the woman moaned, Seokjin suddenly straightened up at the sight of you as he coughed harshly. 

The girl jumped before turning around as she gave a sheepish smile before glancing up at him with pink cheeks, “Thanks for seeing me down, i’ll see you later.” She winked as she stepped out of the elevator just as you stepped in. 

It was quiet for a moment as you and Seokjin awkwardly stood there, “I uh-”

“It’s cool.” You immediately cut him off as you both glanced at each other, unable to keep the awkward tense though as you both let out a small laugh, “She seemed happy.” 

“I’d hope so,” Seokjin scoffed, not going into detail but you could tell they obviously had just finished sleeping together, if Seokjin’s sweat drenched and messy hair was anything to go by, his eyes glancing up at the number that ticked up in the elevator, “I’m assuming you’re headed for Diego’s?” 

You gave a small nod before sighing, “Yeah...he had ‘business’ to take care of so he’s meeting me later…” You parted your lips for a moment before closing them once more, glancing up at Seokjin’s figure before asking, “...Seokjin…” Gaining his attention he glanced down at you as he raised his brows a little, “What’s going on here?” 

You watched his shoulders tense a little as he pressed his lips together, glancing away from you before letting his gaze flicker across the elevator as if searching for something, “...Sometimes...it’s better to be ignorant Y/n,” You frowned at his cryptic words, Seokjin’s gaze on you was like a heavy weight, as if they were drilling through your soul as he continued, “Don’t look for something you’ll regret finding out. I saw Jungkook earlier.” Your frown deepened at his abrupt change of topic. 

What was it that they knew that you didn’t? All you had heard were rumors thus far. It was obvious Seokjin and the others knew something was going on, so why weren’t they doing anything about it? Was it really easier to just turn a blind eye to whatever was happening? 

Deciding to drop the subject you held in a sigh as you glanced up at the numbers sliding above the door, “Yeah…?” You kept your tone neutral, not wanting to say you didn’t want to hear it, but on the other hand you were a little curious. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin clacked his tongue before snorting, “He didn’t look happy. Just kept staring at you on stage like a little puppy before Eva dragged him away.” You didn’t reply to his words for a moment. Were you surprised? No. Did it warm your heart?...Maybe a little...But still, you needed to play your cards carefully. The last thing you needed was Eva catching wind of your relation to Jungkook outside of being his trainee. 

“Well he’s just going to have to deal with it.” You replied, not intending to come off as cold as you did making Seokjin turn to face you, his brows raised in somewhat surprise making you sighed as your expression softened a little, “What can I do about it Seokjin? What’s the point in talking about it? It just…” You inhaled sharply before letting it out, “It’s already upsetting, why even talk about it?” 

You hadn’t even meant to project onto him, but you couldn’t help it, the early morning of what had happened with Jungkook was still fresh in your mind, what did he want from you? To say it was okay? That it would all be okay? It wasn’t okay! None of this was okay!

Seokjin frowned a little, his own expression softening a little as he nodded solemnly, “I can understand to a degree. But you can’t ignore him forever. What are you gonna do when all of this is over? Pretend like it never happened?” 

Glaring down at the floor you didn’t reply for a moment before answering, “I don’t know. And I’m not gonna think about it right now. I have a lot more on my plate to focus on.” The doors slid open with a ding as you glanced ahead. Seokjin frowned at your words, wanting to respond but not having the time as you turned to give him a small smile, “Good luck Seokjin, I’ll see you later.” 

Walking out of the elevator you kept a clear head as you walked down the eerily silent hallway, the elevator closed behind you leaving you all by yourself, the corridor was long and if you had gotten too close to a door you could hear soft moans from inside. 

Stepping back to keep in center only to jolt at the sound of a loud crash and a muffled scream, “Be quiet you bitch!” Adrenaline shot through your veins at the muffled snarl of a man at the you were about to pass, “I’ll be back soon and you better be fucking prepared to perform again.” 

You scrambled away from the door, heart pounding in your chest as the door ripped open, the sounds of sobs inside before the door slammed shut. 

Footsteps stomped down the hallway until they could no longer be heard, when you heard the distinct sound of the elevator you timidly turned around...Should you…? Of course you should! Whatever had happened, it didn’t sound good. Nodding to yourself you swallowed thickly as you  walked back to the door as you frowned. The sobbing was still muffled but could be heard inside and it was enough to break your heart...It wasn’t your business but…

You gently knocked on the door, no response sounding, just tears. Gently you opened the door, timidly gazing inside only to feel your heart crumble at the familiar sight. 

Chan Hee. 

Naked yet curled up, not on the bed, but on the ground against it with her knees curled to her chest and tears streaming down her face, an ugly welt on her cheek as her body trembled. Fumbling you closed the door behind you as you rushed up to her figure that seemed so small in comparison to any other time you’ve seen her.

Chan Hee, was the image of confidence, of not caring whether people saw her as bitchy or conceited. To see her so weak, so vulnerable, it crushed you more than you ever thought it would, “Chan Hee?” You weakly called out as you kneeled down, grabbing the throw blanket off the bed as she whimpered, her arms squeezing tightly around her knees, “Y-you should go.” She stammered, tears streaking down her cheeks as you wrapped the blanket around her body, “H-he’ll b-be back soon…” 

“I’m not leaving you here by yourself.” You gritted your teeth, brows pinching together in anger as she sniffled, yes you may not have been on the best terms with her but you’d never turn your back to someone in need  and right now she needed someone, “For all the differences we might have I would never leave you or anyone else here.”

Her fists coiled around the blanket as she lowered her gaze, trembling as tears dripped down her cheeks, standing up you gathered her clothes that were scattered across the floor before sitting down next to her, “Nobody fucking told me it would be a whore house here.” She sniffed as she gritted her teeth, wiping her eyes once more with trembling hands. 

“I was told…” You murmured as you glanced at the floor, Chan Hee glancing at you as she rubbed her eyes, “But I just didn’t listen, didn’t even think about it.” You gave a hurmorless smile at the floor before it dropped, silently berating yourself on how ignorant you chose to be despite the many times Jungkook warned you, “I was so naive and dumb, it didn’t even register in my brain until this morning.

It was quiet for a moment as you both sat in silence before you shuffled, “C’mon, let’s get you dressed. I’d rather not be here when he comes back.” Chan Hee shakily sat herself on the bed, surprisingly letting you help her get dressed.

Her legs were particularly twitchy, her eyes seemed glassy still and her gaze distant, “...I didn’t care at first,” She whispered under her breath, not looking at you as you pulled the top over her head, “...Sex is sex, it was just another tip under my belt...But after the first round...it was just too much,” Her eyes were beginning to water again as she scoffed despite her lips quivering, “...And even when I told him to stop he-” She inhaled, choking back a sob that made your own eyes water. 

Kneeling down in front of her you gently grabbed her hands, her gaze was down in her lap as fresh tears trickled down her cheeks, it was odd seeing Chan Hee seem so...ashamed, broken even, “Chan Hee, I know apologizing isn’t going to fix what happened, but I am sorry. It shouldn’t be like this, everything in Seasonella... Come on, where’s your room at? You shouldn’t be subjected to this anymore.” 

Chan Hee didn’t reject your movement as you helped her up, your pulse speeding up as you opened the door, timidly glancing around before walking up ahead to the other elevator, only praying you wouldn’t run into the man that did this, “Fifth floor, 32.” She murmured, her body trembling a little as you both got into the elevator. 

The strippers floor was quiet, almost all rooms vacant as everyone was out filling client rooms or dancing, you helped Chan Hee into her room as you set her on her bed, feeling a little lost until she weakly laid down, “I’ll be okay,” She murmured, curling up against her covers as she hugged her pillow, “...thank you.” Two words and yet they felt so hopeless and sad, you mustered a small smile as you nodded before reluctantly turning around. 

Your thoughts lingered on Chan Hee before flittering to Seokjin’s words, and then briefly they stayed on Jungkook. Sighing you pinched the bridge of your nose as you shook your head, pushing the cardkey into the slot before walking into the large room. 

What you didn’t expect was the room to be vacant. You had been gone at least twenty minutes and Diego still wasn’t here? You frowned as you warily stepped into the room, it at first appeared like a lodge of some sort, couches facing each other with a small kitchen at the back wall, up the two steps however was the large king size bed and a desk with a dresser nearby. Despite the room's large size, his main bedroom seemed almost small. 

Your eyes honed in on the messy desk, Seokjin’s words replaying in your mind before Chan Hee’s figure reminded you why you were here. Maybe they would pretend like everything was okay and bare it, but you weren’t. Not when stuff like this was happening. Carefully you glanced around the room before looking over your shoulder at the door as you walked up to the desk. 

Pushing through some of the paper you frowned as you picked up a document of sorts. 

Warehouse 15: Currently full 

Shipments will need to be made by the 22nd and deadlines for payments will be cut off by the 25th when the cargo has arrived, we’ll need to gain the last set of the cargo during the weekend of the 18th-

You jumped at the sound of the door closing, hurriedly dropping the document as you swiftly turned around. Diego’s figure was skewered by the corner of the wall, “You’re here.” You welcomed as you painted a smile on your face despite the back of your mind rampantly running at whatever you just read, warehouse 15? What was held in it that was full? And clients? Was this what Seasonella was about? Today was the 18th, the start of the weekend…

“Seems someone is eager to see me.” Diego sent you a wink as he pulled the jacket off as you felt your smile tense a little, he seemed tired as he loosened his tie. 

You slowly made your way down the two steps into the main lodge as you sat down on the couch, “Well it was getting a little lonely here...Did you take care of your business?” You asked carefully, keeping your eyes wide and doe like to appear innocent as you folded your hands into your lap. 

Diego chuckled a little, unbuttoning his waist coat as he sat down a little closer to you then you would’ve liked but you didn’t move away, “Yes, it’s all finished now. No need to worry about that doll, c’mere.” You squeaked a little at the way his hands grabbed onto your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap. 

It felt foreign as you had never slept with a client before and the only man you had slept with in months was...Jungkook...you felt somewhat nauseous thinking about him, thinking about what you were about to do, “You’ve got all my attention now,” Diego licked his lips as he pushed the hair from your face, your body tense as you resisted to pull away from his touch like you wanted. 

It wasn’t warm and tender like Jungkook’s, one that made you want to bury further into him. No, this felt somewhat condescending in a way, as if your hand was being twisted behind your back and his grip was lifeless of any sort of care or love, “Relax baby, you seem so tense.” Diego purred as his hands slid to your waist. 

You let the smile turn more charismatic as you giggled a little, shrugging as you forced your thoughts into the back of your head, “It’s just been a...long day...but incredible I mean…” You let your smile turn more coy, girlish as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “I’m in Las Vegas, it’s a little overwhelming...I just can’t help but wonder, how did Seasonella begin Diego?” You tilted your head innocently as you let your hands press gently against his chest.

 “Curious are we?” He chuckled a little, a smirk coiling on his lips as you rolled your hips a little enticingly, the more you gave the more willing he’d be to speak on this, or so you hoped, “Seasonella was originally just an annual meeting held between my fathers men yearly,” His hands rested on your hips as you swayed them against his, letting them roll along the hardening bulge of his cock,, “It slowly began to grow into his men bringing other references, and those references bring theirs until it grew even more, eventually it became more like an open party to the right people to come and do business with us. It’s what made our wealth skyrocket.” 

You were having a difficult time relaxing as he leaned in against your neck, lips trailing along your neck as your breath catched a little as you focused everything onto his words. You’d need more than that to go on. You wiggled your hips a little more as you pulled away, letting your lips tug into a cute pout before letting them twist into a playful smile, “And that’s it? That’s how you started taking strippers from across the globe to attend?” 

Diego placed his hands on your hips as you gave them a little sway, pretending as if you totally hadn’t felt his obviously lacking hard on, “When the meeting starting becoming bigger and more akin to a party we started hiring on entertainment,” You could see the way Diego was becoming more pliable, more willing to spill whatever you wanted so you could hurry up, “Of course it ended up benefiting us in the end, we invest they give us girls. It works out.” 

What…? 

Diego, perhaps realizing how his words sounded didn’t give you a chance to question him further, you squeaked as he pushed you down onto the couch, climbing on top of you as you swallowed thickly, “But enough of that doll. I’m more interested in how tight that little cunt is.”  You jumped a little at his lips attaching to your neck, the sharp moan leaving you before you could stop it. 

Diego’s hands dragged their way down your waist as you squirmed beneath him, controlling your breaths as adrenaline shot through your veins. Just today  and tomorrow, that’s all you needed to get through. 

“Kookie, why have you been so quiet?” Eva turned to face him with a pouty frown, shifting the blanket to cover her plump perky breasts as she laid her head against her arms, observing the way Jungkook laid on his back, his expression dimmed and the frown harshly twisted on his lips. 

The door had just closed and her friend who had joined them in such an incredible night in bed had taken her leave. Jungkook didn’t reply for a moment, unsure of how to before he finally shrugged, sitting up as the blanket fell off his chest revealing the broad chiseled sight that was making her rub her thighs together all over again, “Eva can I be honest with you?”

It was a dumb question, because while he was sure she was going to say yes despite the likelihood that she’d accept his words was….rather slim.

Eva gave him a wide, excited smile, as if she thought for sure he was slowly beginning to open up to her. Sitting up eagerly, she clutched the sheets against her chest as she gave him a timid smile, “Of course you can Jungkook, I’ll never judge you.” Rather than make him smile though Jungkook’s brows only furthered as he sighed, running a hand through his damp hair, “What do you think we are, relationally speaking?” He wanted to cringe at the question, but it was something he had been thinking about. Eva had continuously gloated to her friends about her ‘boyfriend when Jungkook had made himself clear several times before that he was not her boyfriend.. 

Eva’s cheeks dusted a light pink as she glanced coyly at the blankets, “Well...I thought I made my point Kook. If it weren’t for my studies I’d be in Korea...with you...I like you....a lot...I have since we met last year.” 

Jungkook didn’t mean to let the groan escape him but it was too late, Eva had stiffened somewhat as she glanced at him carefully awaiting his response, “Eva….” His words didn’t sound promising he knew it, but Jungkook wanted to make himself very clear, “You do understand that I’m only here because I have to be here? Right? You’re a nice girl but…” Should he bring you into this conversation? No...he’ll need to make it discreet, “I’ve met someone...Someone I really love...” 

Jungkook felt somewhat timid meeting her gaze, it was worse than he had hoped for truthfully. Eva was as stiff as a board and her gaze was darkening by the second before she gave a loud scoff that came out as if she was trying to force it into a laugh, her smile sharper than usual as she replied, “Love…? Maybe it’s just me but if you really loved someone, you wouldn’t be working as a stripper and sleeping with people behind her back.”

Jungkook had parted his lips to object but quickly snapped them shut, remembering he had told himself he was leaving you out of this. He couldn’t help but feel guilty though, did he really love you if he was doing this? He could feel it eating him alive inside as she gave him a snide smile, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I get it Jungkook I do, we’ve been apart a year, but just give it a shot!” 

Eva ignored the way his body tensed as she climbed into his lap, cupping his face as her smile softened a little, “I think we could really work Jungkook...besides...you know I can offer you anything she could and even more,” Jungkook’s jaw clenched against her grip and he refused to meet her eyes, “And you know it, I’ll take care of you, provide for you, my family will keep you safe from KOI and I know how much of a strangle hold they’ve had on you before.” 

Letting her forehead rest against his she leaned in, his lips were so soft and addictive. Eva only felt them for a few seconds before she was pushed away, her lips even parted in somewhat offense at the aggressive and cold glare he gave her, “I’ll sleep with you all you want, I’ll play boyfriend while I’m here, I’ll let you have your fun with your friends,” She whined a little as he shoved her against the bed climbing on top of her, “But don’t you ever fucking kiss me like you’re actually apart of my life. You know nothing about me or who I am and it’s going to be kept this way.”

Jungkook roughly rolled her onto her stomach as he growled, “Now I’m gonna spank this ass until it’s bruised and you’re gonna count you disobedient bitch.” He didn’t even wait for her to speak, she was already moaning and whining as his hand slammed against the delicate pale skin of her ass. Jungkook didn’t care how much she knew about him or how much she could dangle his past over his head, there would always be few things off limits and this was one of them. 

…

It was morning, you knew it was. Light streamed through the windows and it looked like a beautiful day outside, blue sky with billowing white clouds. If you were back home in Korea you would’ve begged Jungkook to take you to the market where you’d go to look for plants and succulents to add to your collection. 

But you weren’t home. No. You were in Diego Friar’s bed with thighs that ached and like they were on fire with your stomach churning for the past thirty minutes. He had left a while ago saying he had work to take care of and that he’d meet you in the cafe for breakfast. That was okay, you didn’t want him to stay anyways. You felt gross, every inch of your body felt disgusting and you knew a shower wouldn’t be enough to make you feel better. 

Trying to ignore the dull throb of your stomach you sat up feeling somewhat numb as you carefully dressed yourself. Glancing at Diego’s desk you deflated even more, all the paper that had been thrown across was gathered and most likely taken by him this morning. Standing up you winced as you forced yourself to walk. You weren’t going to break down...you weren’t going to break down crying…

No matter how much you repeated it in your head you still felt tears glossing in your eyes as you punched the bottom floor button, the elevator was making your stomach feel even worse as you groaned silently, the elevator was too small and there were too many people here. 

As soon as the doors slid open you pushed your way out, the churn of your stomach becoming too much and you needed to find a bathroom, fast, “Oh hey Y/n-” Jimin’s eyes widened a little as you shoved past him and into the bathroom. 

Unable to even lock the stall door as you lurched down onto your knees, the sour taste of alcohol and last night's meal coming up as you coughed rancidly, spitting out bile as tears trickled down your cheeks from the force of your cough as you began to dry heave up any last bits. 

Sitting down against the toilet you couldn’t help but let the tears trickle down your face as you let out a sob. God you felt disgusting, would Jungkook even want to be with you today after knowing...After seeing? Your hands trembled as you sobbed into them. Sniffling harshly as you forced yourself up to stand, flushing away the reminder of what had happened before wobbling out to the sink to fix yourself up. 

Your eyes still looked bloodshot but it wasn’t notable as long as someone didn’t stare for long, you rinsed your mouth out with the sink water, gurgling a few times as you gagged while spitting it out, the raw burn of your throat a reminder of what had just happened. 

Opening the door you jumped a little to see the sight of Jimin leaning against the wall with one foot, arms crossed as his eyes landed on you, a frown quirking onto his lips as he sighed, “...You...look like you’ve seen better days.” He picked his words carefully, “You good?” 

You closed your eyes briefly, trying to ignore the churn of your stomach already despite having just thrown up, “As well as I can be, I just...Sorry I didn’t mean to push you, I just uh...threw up.” You gave a weak smile as Jimin examined your figure, “Sorry. It’s just been a long night.” 

He nodded understandingly, “Well I’m sure your body is already going through a lot as it is, you should really lay down and rest.” You sighed at his words, glancing away from him as you rubbed your forehead. 

“I told Diego i’d be at breakfast in the cafe....What are you doing here?” You pressed your brows together as you tilted your head, why was Jimin here anyways? You had been in too much of a rush to think much of it before.

Jimin snorted, “I was going to breakfast but after you rushed past me I figured I’d stay behind to check on you. Like I said, you look like you’ve seen better days. Who cares about Diego? I’m sure he won’t be hurt if you skip.” 

“...Well yeah but…” You trailed off with a frown causing Jimin to peer at you somewhat confused as you sighed, stepping closer to him as you lowered your voice, “...You’re the only one I’m going to tell but...Something is going on here Jimin,” You glanced up at him, your gaze serious and even boarding harsh as you continued, “And I’m going to find out what it is and stop it.” 

Jimin’s gaze hardened a little as he frowned, “Y/n…” He shook his head a little in disdain as you scoffed while stepping away from him. Why was it everyone was so fucking scared? This wasn’t right! Whatever it was! “These people are dangerous...Be careful. I need to go get breakfast for myself and Rosé but...just be careful okay? There’s a reason a lot of us just leave it alone.” His gaze was a silent warning as you nodded reservedly before you let Jimin walk past you. 

Sighing you pinched the bridge of your nose. Why must everything be so secretive?

Breakfast hour was always Jungkook’s favorite part of Seasonella, free food and he could officially go and sleep off the ache of his body for the rest of the day before rinse repeat in this scenario. It was normal to eat with said client and no matter how annoying it was Jungkook would tolerate it when you were just in eyesight. 

No matter how much it pissed him off. You wouldn’t meet his gaze and he knew exactly why, your neck was shamelessly covered in hickies and there was a slight limp in your walk when you showed up, oddly by yourself and it for a moment made every sense in his body tell him to go sit with you and coddle you.

 It was like his conversation with Eva the night before hadn’t even existed, either she was truly dense or she was cooking something up. 

Jungkook didn’t like the way she smiled and laughed with all of her friends, some passing jokes to each other in hopes of maybe buttering him up about how good he was in bed to get one more round in before he’d call it quits. But no amount of jokes or compliments were getting him to budge. He had managed a few smiles and jokes as well but nothing more than playful banter. 

He kept his gaze towards you minimally, but he felt somewhat useless when his gaze met yours, had you been looking at him too? 

Jungkook could feel his outer charming mask begin to crumble at the way your lips quivered and your eyes shooting back down to your untouched food. The sudden need to touch you, to hold you filling his veins. His fingers began to thrum against the table in impatience before he checked his phone, he couldn’t wait, it was nearly killing him.

Jungkook swallowed thickly at how sharp and dry your words over text were, were you actually okay. You hadn’t looked at him once when you got up from the table, your food untouched as you left. He could only sigh and endure the rest of breakfast until he was finally free of Eva’s claws the rest of the day. 

Jungkook’s body was objecting to every sluggish step he took back to his room, it had been awhile since he actually pulled an all nighter, well into the morning hours without any sleep whatsoever. Rubbing his eyes he yawned as he opened the door, quietly closing it as he felt his once tense muscles relaxed at the familiar sight. 

You were curled up against the bed, the large hoody- his as a matter of fact, drowning your body and the hood pulled over your head while you buried in the large pillows. Jungkook felt his lips curve a little into a soft smile as he changed out of his sticky previously sweat stained clothes, feeling relieved to just be comfortable once more as he drew the large thick currents over the window to darken the room before he sat down on the bed. His hand gently stroking your waist. 

What he hadn’t expected was the violent jolt from you before jerking away making him frown. Jungkook had anticipated you wanting his touch after such an...intense night but, maybe he was wrong... His jaw clenched slightly at the way your body tensed and didn’t seem to relax at the realization he was in bed with you. He didn’t even want to think about what you went through last night. 

Not wanting to push your comfort zone Jungkook sighed as he laid down on his side of the bed, your back was turned to him and you hadn’t even greeted him yet. Oh well, words didn’t need to be spoken. Jungkook could only let his gaze longingly stare against your figure that was curled away from him. God he just wanted to hold you, now he couldn’t even do that. 

....

Your mind felt fuzzy, that kind of drowsiness you wake up with when you decide to take a nap at an odd hour and when you wake up you don’t know what time it is and if it’s day or night. You groaned as you rolled over, your muscles gripping at the sight of an empty bed. Where did Jungkook go? 

You were aware you hadn’t been...the kindest...but maybe you were just still reeling from last night. That didn’t mean you didn’t want to see him though...You felt yourself relax at the sight of Jungkook appearing from the bathroom, his lips quirking up a little at the sight of your half awake figure. 

“I have a bath running, we need to get you cleaned up.” Jungkook sat down on the side of the bed as he let his hand stroke through your hair, your body flinched a little at the contact, your poor scalp was still sore from how much Diego had pulled on your hair. Jungkook frowned before tenderly letting his fingers run along your scalp. 

“Thanks.” You replied dryly, a tiny bit of humor detected in your tone while letting your lips tug into a tiny smile, it was hard to keep a straight face when you were around Jungkook, even like this. It was something Jungkook seemed to return so easily, his fingers sliding down to your cheek to gently stroke along it. 

“That’s not what I meant,” He clacked his tongue, trying to give you a scolding look but failing as his lips twisted into a smile, “C’mere,” Jungkook internally sighed, his heart broke for you, he could see how much you were struggling to not instinctively push him away as your body tensed and flinched as he picked you up. You really were trying your best to relax in his grip as he carried you to the bathroom, “It’s not about you being dirty, it’s about me not wanting you to get an infection.” 

Jungkook already had a fresh set of clothes folded neatly on the closed toilet seat as he set you on the counter, tugging off the sweatshirt that covered your body as he sighed. His lips unable to stay smiling as they twisted into a sad frown at the hickies your body sported and bruises on your hips in the shape of fingers.

 “I get it. It was a lot,” He mumbled as he pulled out a hairbrush from his bag that laid on the ground, gently untangling your hair as he refused to meet your gaze, “But I’d never hurt you baby. You know that right? I don’t want you to ever think I’d make you do something you don’t want too. I don’t want to know what happened last night, but I’ll never treat you the way he did.” 

Your shoulders kept tensing and relaxing over and over again as Jungkook finished brushing your hair, finally glancing down at you as he sighed, tears were beginning to streak down your face as you closed your eyes, “I feel so fucking gross.” You finally relented, your hands shaking as you pressed them into your eyes, “I...I...Jungkook...I feel so disgusting.” 

And you did, you felt ruined. Like you didn’t deserve to even be in the same room as Jungkook at the moment. Why would he even want you now? After...after last night...Jungkook hushed you gently as he wrapped his arms around you tenderly pressing a kiss against your head, his heart lurching and it hurt with every beat at the tears you cried, “Shhh, it’ll be okay baby. Just tonight and we’re done. Shhh, don’t cry baby.” 

For the first time you had craved his warmth all over again, letting his arms tighten around you as he cradled you close, peppering kisses against your hair before eventually coaxing you into the nice warm tub. 

It felt normal, as if you weren’t at Seasonella or like Diego and Eva never happened. It was just you and Jungkook, his arms still loosely wrapped around you, his fingers dancing along your skin beneath the water soothingly and his lips occasionally pecking softly against the hickies. As if to make them feel better, as if to make them his even if they weren’t. 

After a hefty amount of coaxing Jungkook had finally gotten you to give in, your fists clenched as you sucked in a sharp breath, “What happens in this bathtub, stays in this bathtub by the way.” You heard him chuckle as you whined, pressing your forehead against the cold tile of the wall, “Do I need stitches? It feels like I do.”

Jungkook sighed as if him staring at your asshole with cheeks spread open was something he did everyday, “No you don’t need stitches. There’s some blood, yeah but that’s just because he didn’t properly prep you. Poor baby.” He let go of your cheeks before letting his hand gently rub against the bruised surface, “I’ll clean it up, outside of it hurting there’s nothing actually wrong. Luckily we can get you some medicine for that.” 

You winced as he spread them back open. You never in your life, thought you’d be in a bathtub with your asscheeks spread just so Jungkook could clean you up. You thought you had gotten past any sort of embarrassment you’d ever feel around Jungkook yet it seemed like he lived to prove you wrong. You sucked in another breath as you felt the soft warm bath cloth rub against the aching puckered ring. 

“There, all better.” Jungkook set the bathcloth down before tenderly grabbing your waist, guiding you to sit back down in the nice soothingly hot water as he pressed another kiss against your neck, “Can’t believe he’d actually do that to you.” He gritted his teeth as he muttered under his breath.

You shifted a little, nibbling against your lip, you knew that wasn’t his invitation to getting you to talk about it but… “It was dark….I doubt he realized it was blood…” You mumbled, you could feel his skin tense beneath you as he huffed. 

“If there was blood involved you can’t tell me you weren’t crying.” Jungkook tried to keep his voice a steady note but he could feel his anger beginning to rise, just the idea made him sick to his stomach. 

You didn’t have the heart to mention he was right, you had cried while mumbling your safeword a fair amount of times when anal got involved, maybe if you had just said something he’d....But did you even want his comfort though? No, you gritted your teeth and dealt with it because you wanted that disgusting human being away from you as soon as he blew his load. 

Jungkook pulled you out of the water, wrapping a warm fluffy towel around you as he carefully dried you off, saying no more on the subject as it was clear neither of you really wanted to talk about it. No, you just wanted to enjoy what time you could with him.

Pulling on the fresh pair of panties and Jungkook helped you tug on the comfy gym shorts before pulling the nice warm sweatshirt over your head, it smelt like him, your favorite smell. 

Sitting down in bed you patiently waited for Jungkook as he typed in the password on your laptop, intending to put something on for you both to watch as he set in on the bed, a knock on the door making you both alert.

You glanced at Jungkook in confusion as he gave you a weak smile, “I know you said you weren’t hungry but baby...you need to eat something.” You frowned a little as you tugged on a strand of hair. Opening the door he pulled out his wallet, paying for the food before closing the door behind him. Taking a seat on the bed as he opened up the takeout boxes, you wouldn’t deny the glee that entered your body at the sight of Chow Mein and Shrimp. 

One bite into your food though immediately made your stomach lurch, your hand squeezing against the wooden chopsticks as you forced yourself to swallow. Jungkook was right, you needed to eat something. It didn’t matter how tasty it was though, it made you sick to your stomach the more you ate. 

One more bite and you had to put down your chopsticks, Jungkook frowned as he noticed your hand covering your mouth, “Hey, you okay baby?” He couldn’t even finish his words before you were already scrambling off the bed at your stomach lurching and your throat constricting. You barely made it to the toilet before you were already throwing up what little you had eaten, dry heaving despite nothing coming up.

You couldn’t stand when people tried to comfort you when you were throwing up and Jungkook got a good taste of that when he attempted the first time he witnessed you hungover. Your vision was blurred with tears as you spat up the vile taste that lingered in your mouth, after a few moments Jungkook entered the bathroom as you wiped your mouth with toilet paper, tossing it carelessly in before weakly pulling the handle. 

Your body trembled as he sighed, pressing a kiss on top of your head, “You good?” He sat down as he wrapped his arms loosely around you. 

“Y-yeah, I just haven’t been able to keep anything down.” Your body trembled once more as you curled against him, letting him pick you up before delicately carrying you back to bed. 

Leaned against him you weakly curled up as you sighed, your head was beginning to throb once more and your stomach ached with a lingering aftertaste of vomit, god you felt so weak and Chow Mein was not as good as you remembered it tasting. Closing your eyes once more you relaxed on top of Jungkook’s laid out figure, his hand tenderly stroking your back as you nudged into his neck. You’d be happy when all of this was over.

Note: I got way too impatient and just decided to post this chapter a few hours early, not that y’all are complaining 😂 Let me know what you guys think about everything going on! It’s a lot to take in! 🖤

(Taglist: Due to a bug on my blog nobody will receive notifications from my taglist so I’ve decided to skip it this update, should things return to normal on my blog the taglist will resume!)

[thiefakefia]

TKB: Post-Dawn of the Duel

So, because I’m going to be referring specifically to how I choose to write TKB, and how my TKB responds to losing, I will call him Akefia/Kef throughout this post. This is how I write Akefia in my main verse, when dealing with waking up in a new world. I’ve sorta structured this around the 7 stages of grief, but changed the order as appropriate, because it resonates. He is grieving the loss of his village (properly, without the hyperfocus on revenge), and he is grieving the loss of everything he’s worked for. He’s also grieving for his previous view on the world, in a way. He felt he was right, and now in the silence, he has to face what he’s done.

I should probably point out at this point that I don’t subscribe to the idea that TKB was 100% right in what he did. Neither does my Kef (although it takes time for him to accept it). Was his anger justified? Absolutely! Was the chaos justified? Not at the extreme it went to. Not with the innocent people that got involved. I don’t believe it was meant to go that way - and TKB’s confusion as to what was going on when Yami Bakura lets control of him go says a lot to me. He was a pawn - but I don’t believe he’s innocent, either. I think his anger fuelled so much of what happened.

Stage 1: Shock and Disbelief

I mean... what do you do when you’ve revolved your life around a plan of vengeance for so long and now it’s just... gone? There’s a serious sense of shock that goes through him. Everything that’s happened hasn’t caught up with him. He’s not even begun to analyse it - if he was wrong, or right. He’s numb, and lost. 

Stage 2: Denial

He’s already a touch removed from the circumstances, having been possessed for a significant portion of it. The way I write him, Kef remembers the majority of it (but later describes it like he was watching it happen, more than controlling it). That sense of derealisation from it means he doesn’t really believe this is happening. His next instinct is to find a way home and effectively fix it. He doesn’t believe he’s lost - and he certainly doesn’t believe it’s over. He will drive himself positively nuts, trying to find a way back.

Stage 3: Anger

Anger at everything but himself starts to settle in his bones. This is the Pharaoh’s fault- those damn Priests- the Gods- this city- these strangers in the streets. Somebody has to pay for it, and Akefia erupts in violence during this stage. Whilst my TKB has a strong history of violence, his anger reaches a level of pointless overkill. The sense of derealisation continues, and he’s removed from his victims as a result. He’s not seeing them as people, but fictional ghosts in a world that isn’t real, which allows the violence to escalate further. This stage tends to be shorter under a good influence if he meets someone. Seeing just one person in his new world as a real, genuine human being allows him to realise the other people are actual real humans he’s harming. 

Stage 4: Guilt

This is the longest stage for Akefia, as he battles with what he’s done. The reality of living a new life is starting to sink in, and it begins with the guilt for what he did during the anger phase. It’s only then that he starts to analyse his past behaviour, and picks apart the battle and what he remembers of it. Left to his own devices... this is a pretty long struggle where he swings between stubborness of “not my fault” and realisation of “I really messed this up.”. With the help of a friend he feels comfortable sharing with, it’s a lot easier for him to manage the negative feelings that come with this stage. By himself, it delves into “Am I bad person?” to an extreme that isn’t productive.

He will absolutely settle into the conclusion that he’s responsible for everything that happened - even picking apart what he remembers of the connection between Y!Bakura and Ryou and holding himself accountable for the devastation of Ryou’s childhood. If left to come to his own conclusions, he will take on responsibility to an overwhelming amount to a degree that begins to cause panic attacks and a level of anxiety he has never experienced before. There is no fixing those mistakes - and he has no idea what to do with them, or any idea how to conceptualise a new life after this.

He swings rapidly between feeling he deserves the punishment of being dumped in a new, confusing world, and wishing he had just died and feeling he should have.

With assistance, he’s able to parse through a little better. Whilst still taking responsibility for everything involved - and absolutely refusing to accept anyone telling him he isn’t, or that everything he did was justified - he is able to manage his own feelings better with much-needed comfort. He’s able to maintain some level of calm and composure, rather than being completely overwhelmed by his own negativity. During this stage, he’s also inclined to ask vague, often nonsensical questions and get frustrated when the other person is confused. His ability to function around other people is not yet at a level where he can actually verbalise what he’s thinking/feeling properly. 

There is also the added difficultly of feeling he doesn’t deserve assistance and, as he realises more and more that he Done Fucked Up, worrying that this person really shouldn’t be involved with him - and would they if they knew everything he’d done? Akefia, although he will share bits, is hardly the most forthcoming about everything with the majority of people.

The guilt goes on so long because it has so many layers to it. Right from the very beginning, there is a survivor’s guilt from Kul Elna. To guilt for things he had to do to survive before Dawn of the Duel. To the damage he did to Ryou’s life - a completely innocent child. To the innocent people who got swept up in his attempt at vengeance. And in spite of knowing he shouldn’t have let it get that far... the guilt at feeling he failed his village, even so. It, frankly, would take a professional to sort it through with him properly - but Akefia will never do that much to his own disaster (frankly). I know I could personally go deeper into this but I feel like I would never stop!

Stage 5: Depression

I mean, I think this is self-explanatory given what he goes through with the grief stage. That’s a LOT of emotions to swallow, and it causes him to become withdrawn and depressed. Akefia, who has never wanted to laze in his life, who has always enjoyed being outside and hates feeling trapped... now wants nothing more than to retire to bed, pull a blanket over his head and block out the world. Having previously only woken up crying with nightmares, he now finds himself prone to random fits of tears.

He never ‘gets over’ this stage, so much as it becomes episodic as he learns to feel things other than anger and frustration, and how to handle those emotions. The depression never fully goes back in its box but it becomes shorter periods of times, days or weeks rather than months where he refuses to do anything but lay down. He becomes disinterested in food, water or any form of caring for himself - which is also very uncharacteristic of my Kef, who has always prioritised surviving over emotion. 

Stage 6: Reconstruction

Akefia starts to see his new life as an actual life - not a prison he’s trapped in. He begins to focus on any connections he’s made and how he can move forward with them. Rather than obsessing over whether or not he deserves them, he starts to search for ways to earn them. This isn’t always healthy for him, and he needs help moderating it as he learns to interact with people around him after a lifetime of refusing to engage with them.

It’s messy, it’s chaos and it’s full of emotion Akefia has no experience dealing with. It’s also... beautiful (to me, anyway). From an intense hyperfocus on vengeance to actually finding joy in life. To enjoying the things he’d considered stupid, and pointless. Whether it’s platonic or romantic, Akefia learning to live a new life with other people in it is not always simple but it’s usually worth it for both parties involved.

Stage 7: Acceptance

Although his past will never be forgotten, Akefia accepts every bit of it as his story. He’s more honest with himself, and others. To the right person, he’ll answer more questions honestly, and he’ll bring up more stories when he trusts someone to give him insight into his own behaviour.

He starts to fully engage in his future, looks to make actual plans and learns more about the world, and people, around him. Instead of only showing interest enough to find a way to survive, he becomes curious and invested in the world around him. He mellows as he begins to fully accept life for what it is - and for what it was. As previously mentioned, he continues to battle periods of depression (and anxiety), and he, unsurprisingly, is traumatised from many of the events in his life. It’s not always an easy life he lives, but he does find his centre, and often a slice of happiness he never thought he could have. 

[kiarcheo]

Omne Trium Perfectum   

The Clarrward fic I promised @pikapals16.

Arranged Marriage AU, set in an imaginary past and world where women can rule and homophobia is not a thing but arranged marriages are.

Can read it on ao3

                                      —————————————

‘Cheer up, lass, you will want for nothing.’

It takes all the etiquette training she had ever gone through to stop her from rolling her eyes at her chaperon’s words. She knows he means well, but he is just telling her what she already knows. What is pretty much the only thing she knows. Or that she has been promised, at least. That her future spouse is abundantly wealthy. Enough to make the arranged marriage seem like a pondered, planned and advantageous choice for her family rather than what actually is. She has no misconceptions. She is on her way to a foreign land to marry someone she has never heard of before because her family hopes that over there the echoes of her....missteps will have not been heard. If you can call trusting the wrong guy a misstep. She protected her virtue, she is not an idiot. Even when she expected to marry him, she still would not give in, no matter how much he pleaded and asked and cajoled. And she has never been happier considering how it ended. But apparently nobody cared for that. Nor that she had been unaware and completely foreign to his actions. She had been his intended for years, everyone knew that, and that simple fact was enough to ruin her and her reputation.

So her family, the very same people who had chosen him for her in the first place, are now acting as if it is her fault that Thomas revealed himself to be a sorry excuse for a human being, and as if she should be grateful that they managed to find her a spouse despite everything. All the while not so subtly implying that she better not mess up this opportunity too...because they have no intention of taking her back.

And that’s how Catherine Parr finds herself travelling across nations to marry the head of the House of La Marck.

Why someone who holds three duchies and two counties needed to look so far away to find someone to marry, a complete stranger who will bring no lands, no political power, and no exceptional dowry is beyond her comprehension.

Age, looks, health, they all count nothing compared to power and money. Not matter how ugly, stupid, old or sick...if someone is wealthy enough, or powerful enough, there will always be someone willing to marry them. So why could they not find a single willing woman in the vast lands under their control? Or even nearby?

Did they look for someone who would have no knowledge of what she was getting into? For someone who would be so far removed from their homeland and family that she would have no way to escape?

Nobody will ever accuse her of lacking imagination...and none of the answers Catherine comes up with are comforting.

But then she arrives at what is going to be her new home, at least according to her chaperon. The same man who seems to decide that it might be important to let her know that her spouse is going to be a woman before leaving her in the hands of a welcoming committee that does not include her future wife…and...everything is nice.

The palace is impressive but not intimidating, and she looks forward to the tour promised by Lady Joan, who had introduced herself as the one in charge of her personal attendants. She is informed that her name is Jane but to distinguish her from another Lady Jane, who is momentarily absent, and apparently higher in ranks, she is known as Joan.

From Lady Joan to Lady Elizabeth, who fills the same position but for her spouse, to every staff member she encounters, they all seem nice. They greet her cordially, spare her too long introductions in favour of leading her to her chambers. Leave her food so that she can rest and eat when she feels like it, rather than having to put up appearances.

And yet, there is something....off. They are all pleasant and kind, but they all look at her with something akin pity.

Which she doesn’t get.

At first she thinks it’s because she looks dreadful, exhausted from the long trip.

But it doesn’t change once she is fully rested and she makes herself presentable. No, not just presentable, but putting extra effort to impress, both the household and her betrothed.

Then she wonders if perhaps it’s because of the situation she finds herself in, but all the staff has nothing but good things to say about her fiancée. Just like they seem to enjoy working at the palace. And she thinks it is genuine.

Her interactions with her future wife are sporadic and impersonal, but always cordial. Just like the first time they had met, the duchess nothing like she had expected.

‘Lady Catherine,’ the woman had bowed her head shallowly, ‘I hope you found your accommodation to your satisfaction.’

‘I did, Your Grace,’ Catherine had curtsied, ‘thank you very much. Lady Joan has been most helpful, just like everyone else.’

‘I’m pleased,’ the duchess had nodded in appreciation towards the attendants, ‘let her know if you need anything. Or anyone else. We will do our best to make you feel at home.’

Then she had swept out of the room.

She had been utterly polite the next few times they had met. Even going as far as graciously telling her she could call her Anna if she wished so, forgoing formalities. Not that she had many chances so far. Catherine imagines she is very busy. The alternative is that Anna is going out of her way to avoid her.

Still, there is nothing alarming or worryingly. She isn’t sure if she should trust her gut feelings and her reading people skills, considering how they failed her for years, leaving her blind to who Thomas really was. So she wonders if she is wrong. Maybe they are not pitying her. Perhaps they just...know things she doesn’t. Easy since she just arrived, with barely a clue about the new life she was getting into.  

She certainly feels her inexperience days later, when the palace seems to be buzzing and she has no idea why. Nor she has any idea who the young woman at the center of the activities is. Or why everyone seems to be waiting on her words. Even Lady Elizabeth seems to defer to her.

She has barely asked Lady Joan if she could make the introductions when she is spotted. Everyone seems to move aside, letting the lady approach her, an older woman at her side.

‘Lady Parr, it’s a pleasure to meet you,’ she curtsies, ‘this is Lady Jane Rochford,’ she motions to her companion, ‘and I’m Katherine Howard. I hope your stay has been pleasant so far.’

Catherine curtsies back, suddenly aware that everyone’s attention is on her. She keeps feeling eyes on her as they exchange pleasantries. It doesn’t feel malicious, like they are waiting for a misstep, but rather out of curiosity...and she is curious herself, as well as confused. Why the interest? Lady Howard had said similar things to those her fiancée did...albeit the interaction had been much warmer and longer, the young woman enquiring about her trip as well as how she is enjoying her new home and whether there is anything they could do to make the transition easier.

She soon starts to understand. Because Anna might be the head of the house, but it is Katherine who runs it. It sort of makes sense. Anna has political responsibilities as well as administrative ones for five different territories, it is not surprising that she doesn’t have the time or desire to be bogged down in running the household. And Catherine certainly doesn’t resent that she had chosen Katherine to do so, not when it clearly had been going since long before she appeared on the scene, and Katherine had been doing an excellent job at it.

As she liaises with her to organise the wedding, her future bride apparently completely disinterested in the matter, she can see why everyone looks up to Katherine, and she dares say, even loves her. Spending so much time together, especially compared to the amount of time she spends with Anna (who, however, seems to be around much more often, if the glimpses she catches are any indication), it comes to no surprise that she is closer to Katherine than to the woman she is going to marry.

Perhaps that’s why on a wedding day that sees none of the brides happy, what hurts Catherine the most is how utterly sad Katherine looks, despite her best efforts to hide it.

She only has to wait until the next day to find out the reason.

Whenever Catherine had thought about her wedding night, whether with Thomas, with a mystery spouse when she didn’t know about the identity of the new match arranged by her family, and then with Anna, she had a lot of mixed feelings. Anxiety. Anticipation. Dread. Curiosity. Nerves. What she had never expected was that she would spend it completely alone, no trace of her new spouse.

The staff doesn’t seem surprised to see her leaving her rooms by herself...nor by her asking where her wife is, making it even more obvious she had not spent the night. She is grateful they don’t comment on it...and that they don’t direct her towards Anna’s chambers because she has no idea where they are exactly, besides in which wing of the palace they are in. Luckily she is much more familiar with the library location.

‘You were not in your chambers last night.’

‘You should not have been looking for me. Not on your wedding night.’

At least someone else seemed to share Catherine’s expectations.

‘Bessie told me you were crying.’

‘Bessie should mind her own business.’

‘Kat,’

Catherine had never heard her wife so gentle.

‘What?!’

Nor Katherine being less than gracious.

‘I’m sorry.’

Katherine lets out a heavy sigh. ‘Don’t apologise. I’m sorry for snapping at you. It is not your fault.’

‘I wish it could have been you.’

‘We always knew it was impossible…’ from her tone Catherine can imagine a bittersweet smile on Katherine’s face, ‘doesn’t hurt any less.’

‘I love you.’

‘I love you too.’

Catherine silently walks away. She can talk to her wife another time. She needs to process what she learned, anyway. She never had grand expectations of love from this marriage. Not with her family not even telling her whom she was going to marry, just sending her on her merry way to a foreign land to wed a complete stranger. Not after meeting Anna and being treated with polite, cool detachment.

Still, she surprises herself a bit when all she feels for Katherine is a new appreciation. She had been unfailingly courteous towards her. She went out of her way to make her feel at home, certainly more than her wife ever did. Not once she had betrayed her hurt or any kind of negative feelings towards Catherine for marrying the woman she loves.

Many things appear under a new light, giving Catherine a different understanding, from the way Katherine is in charge and treated as nothing less than the mistress of the house to why Anna keeps her distance, formal and aloof, seemingly completely disinterested in her.

Which is a far sight from the bad mood she seems to be few days later. When she cautiously enquiries where Katherine is, all she gets is a curt reply that she is away on business...it doesn’t feel her place to ask what kind of business or where, but it is evident to her the absence is the cause of Anna’s discontent.

Catherine resolves to steer clear from her wife, which is usually quite an easy feat. That’s why she starts to retrace her steps as she hears Anna’s terse ‘I’m sure that Lady Anne was only too willing.’

She is out of earshot when she stops. This is her house too now. If she wants to get a book from the library, she will. And if her wife has a problem with her entering a room she is in, she can vacate it herself. What she doesn’t expect approaching the library once again is to hear Katherine’s voice.  

‘-with your wife.’

‘You did it on purpose.’ Anna’s statement sounds like an accusation.

‘I had some business to deal with,’ Katherine doesn’t come across as fazed, ‘but the timing was propitious, I admit. Giving you the time and space to get to know her.’

‘She is not you.’

‘And that’s not her fault,’ Katherine rebukes her, ‘Anna, you can’t punish her for that.’

‘I’m not.’

‘We both know that there are many ways to hurt someone-’

‘I’m nothing like-’

‘Of course not!’ Katherine interrupts her. ‘Of course not,’ she repeats softer, ‘have you at least talked to her? Explained the situation?’

‘And tell her what?’ Anna scoffs.

‘That she should feel free to find someone else too, for starters. It is unfair for you to enjoy...well, me, love, companionship, while condemning her to solitude because she thinks she owes you fidelity when you don’t give her the same. Catherine is smart. Caring. Beautiful. She will have no problems finding someone to appreciate her if you don't want to.’

‘Someone like you?’

‘Why not?’ Catherine barely suppresses a gasp because that is not what she expected Katherine to say. ‘If she’ll have me, of course.’

‘Where are you going?’ Anna calls after her. ‘Kat. Katherine. Lady Katherine!’

Katherine stops by the door, just in time for Catherine to slip into the adjacent room without being seen.

‘Be careful. One might think you’re calling for your wife.’

And with that parting shot, Katherine leaves.

.

Catherine tries to convince herself that Katherine had been joking. Or better, that she had talked like that just to needle Anna. But Katherine never makes her feel like she is spending time with her to spite Anna or to make her jealous. As a matter of fact, her wife is never discussed and most of their interactions seem to happen out of her sight, although she has no doubt that Anna knows they are taking place. So Catherine just tries to enjoy the very pleasant company and the warm feelings it brings her.

‘Lady Catherine, would you like to join me for a stroll in the gardens?’

‘What could I get you to make you call me Cathy?’ she asks putting down her book. She had obviously known about it before, but since overhearing Katherine’s comment, it has been on her mind, how there is no way to differentiate their names when spoken aloud.

‘What are you willing to offer?’ Katherine cheekily counters back. ‘Only if you call me Kat,’ she adds, taking pity on a flustered Cathy.

‘If you like this, I’m going to take you to another property, it has a path lined on both sides by cherry trees, and another with camellia. They are stunning when they are all flowering,’ Kat tells her as she looks in awe at the surrounding colourful scenery. ‘If you want, of course,’ she adds, sensing Cathy’s hesitation.

‘Just...I wouldn't want to upset Anna,’ Cathy is aware that the more time Kat spends with her, the less she spends with her wife.

‘She is welcome to join us if she wishes so,’ Kat doesn’t seem to see any issue. ‘Besides, it will be good for you to get an idea of what you are the lady of. I don’t want to presume anything, but personally I would be bored to death in your situation...so perhaps you would be interested in taking over some duties. Either from me or from-’

‘I don’t want to take anything away from you.’ Not anymore than she already did, Cathy thinks to herself.

‘What if I tell you that I would appreciate the help?’

‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ Cathy can’t stop herself from asking.

‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ Kat looks at her genuinely confused.

Cathy flounders.

‘I know how it is to be a girl in a foreign land, trying to find your place, barely knowing anybody, not even your spouse...not chosen nor liked.’

‘I like Anna.’ She doesn’t say it just because she is talking to her lover. Anna might be distant, but she has always been pleasant to her. And she has never seen nor heard of any ill-behaviour towards anyone else either.

‘She is very likeable, isn’t she?’ Kat smiles softly. ‘But it doesn’t mean it is an easy situation for you,’ she gives her an understanding look, ‘I know you are aware of me and Anna.’

Cathy gasps. She hadn’t realised Kat knew she knew. And she certainly didn’t expect her to broach the topic so openly.

‘You don’t seem to mind?’ for the first time Kat sounds hesitant.

‘I- it makes you two happy. And it doesn’t make me unhappy,’ Cathy tells her. Love would be ideal, but- ‘I count myself lucky for what I got.’

.

‘There you are!’ Anna sweeps into the library.

‘We have been going over the books.’ Kat had been showing Cathy the ropes.

Anna pointedly looks between the table where the accounting records are spread and the couch they are currently sitting on.

‘We are taking a break.’

‘You have been at it for ages, didn’t know we had so many books.’

Cathy dares say Anna sounds grumpy more than sarcastic.

‘If I am to seduce her, I will take my time,’ Cathy chokes on her own breath at Kat’s reply, ‘you should know better than to expect her to jump in my bed quickly. You should know better than to expect that from both of us.’

Anna merely grabs a nearby book and sits down next to Kat, huffing.

.

‘What can I do for you?’ Anna enquiries.

While they had been spending more time together, it had always been the three of them.

‘I was looking for Kat,’ Cathy admits. ‘She told me she would be unable to make our usual meeting, but I haven’t seen her at all since two days ago.’

‘She is away on business.’

‘What type of business?’ It comes out sharper than intended, but all Cathy can think is what could require staying overnight. ‘Where?’

‘You better not be implying what I think you’re implying.’ Anna’s reply is equally pointed. Then she peers at her wife curiously. ‘Are you jealous?’

Cathy doesn’t know what to say. It’s her wife. Asking if she is jealous of someone else. Who happens to be her wife’s lover.

Anna laughs, the lack of reply seemingly speaking for itself.

‘Proper business. She has a mind for it,’ she then graciously informs her. ‘Why do you think she runs the show around here?’

Cathy opens her mouth to answer before thinking better of it. She could be a lover without responsibilities. And she knows Kat doesn’t run just the household, but she also keeps an eye on other properties belonging to Anna too. She doesn’t know how she balances all she had shown her with other additional, apparently personal, businesses. But she understands even more why she was not upset about the idea of sharing some duties with Cathy.

.

‘I know I can’t compare to the one you’re wishing for,’ Cathy had not realised she was staring longingly out of the window until Anna’s voice brings her back to reality, ‘but would you like to go to the gardens with me?’

As they walk side by side, Cathy considers how, of all things, she had never expected to bond with her own wife over their shared fondness for another woman.

‘Speak true,’ Anna interrupts her musings, ‘you might have realised with Kat that I value honesty over politeness, especially when it’s fake.’

Yes. That should have been the first hint, how brazen and frank the younger woman was while talking to her wife, in a way no other at the palace would do, not even Bessie – Lady Elizabeth – whom Cathy had learned had been with Anna for a very long time.

‘Why call for me? When you had Katherine. And I’m sure plenty of other women around would have been willing to marry you too.’

‘Are you saying I’m an attractive prospect?’ Anna teases her. Then she gets serious. ‘Lady Catalina said you needed an out.’

‘You know my godmother??’ Will surprises ever cease? Catalina had promised that they would see each other soon in her last letter, but she had made no mention of knowing her wife.

‘Kat better than me,’ Anna doesn’t elaborate on the matter, ‘I needed a bride. Possibly one without expectations because-’

‘Kat.’

‘Yes.’ Anna had never been one for cruelty. She was getting a wife, but her heart was already spoken for.

‘We thought that someone just happy to leave, to start anew, would not care too much about love, as long as property and discretion was maintained.’

Cathy doesn’t miss the we. She can’t imagine being involved and planning for someone she loved to get married to someone else. But then again, Kat had planned their wedding...not for the first time she gets the urge to apologise to her.

‘Although perhaps we failed in that respect.’

‘Kat behaved exemplarily.’ Even while spending time together organising the wedding, Katherine had not let slip the tiniest negative feeling towards Cathy...or her affection towards Anna, not even once. Cathy would have not known if she had not overheard them...not that she will share that anytime soon.

‘And I did not?’ Anna asks, faking offense.

‘But why not marry Kat?’ Cathy has been asking herself that since she had heard them saying it was impossible. Can’t be a matter of status, Cathy had not much of it either. Kat clearly has the education and training of a proper lady. And it’s not like Cathy brought money or land or power.

‘That’s not my story to tell.’

Cathy adds it to the list of things to ask Kat, which range from how she knows her godmother to what her business is, exactly.

.

‘What a sight to come back to!’ Kat exclaims from the doorway seeing Anna and Cathy together.

Anna is immediately on her feet, reaching her in quick strides and drawing her in a hug.

‘Did you miss me?’ Kat wraps her arms around her with a laugh.

‘You know I did. I always do,’ Anna releases her from the embrace, ‘and someone else missed you too.’  

.

‘If your aim is reached,’ Anna asks, a lady on each arm, as they are walking through the gardens together, ‘does it mean that you won’t leave on business again soon?’

‘The timing was purely coincidental. Of course, I’m pleased that my absence brought fruit. But I truly had business to attend to.’

‘Was it a productive venture?’ Cathy politely enquiries, still no idea what the business is.

‘Very.’ Kat gives her a shark-like grin.

‘Nothing illegal, right?’

‘Who do you think I am?’ Kat sounds amused rather than offended at Anna’s words. ‘There is no law against what I did.’

It doesn’t sound reassuring to Cathy, who squeezes Anna’s bicep. Her wife shakes her head. Sometimes it’s better not to ask. She doesn’t look worried, so Cathy lets it go, figuring she certainly knows better than herself.

.

‘Would you like join us for a nightcap in our chamber?’ Anna surprises Cathy with the invitation.

‘Nothing untoward.’

‘Unless you count drinking. Because there will be drinking. Plenty of that.’

‘Not that much,’ Kat smiles at her reassuringly, ‘it can be in your room if you prefer.’

Cathy has never seen their quarters. Their shared ones, since they also have separate rooms, she always thought for appearance’s sake...not that she had ever visited those either. And she can't say what she expected from her first visit...but it certainly wasn’t that the three of them would be lying around, just in their nightclothes, drinking and chatting.

‘How did you meet?’ Alcohol fuels Cathy’s curiosity. Or better, it removes her usual restraints that keep it from being sated.

‘I was sent away in disgrace. For sullying the good name of the family.’ Kat rolls her eyes.

‘Kat.’

‘You’re not the only girl married off and shipped to a foreign country to be hidden like a dirty little secret,’ she continues, ignoring Anna’s slightly scolding concern, ‘sorry,’ she apologises to Cathy after a beat, realising how it came across.

‘Unfortunate but true.’ Cathy shrugs it off.

‘I was married to the former secretary of my step-grandmother, before he oh-so-conveniently left the country. I was part of his severance pay, apparently. Though I’m sure they would have given me away for free if they were not so money-hungry.’

‘She gets bitter when she drinks,’ Anna tells Cathy, who is surprised by this new side of the usually sweet Kat.

‘I used to help him in his office,’ Kat lets out an unladylike snort, ‘at least he taught me something. Which got me a job here...and away from him most of the time.’ Cathy frowns. She doesn’t like the sound of that at all. ‘And then he tragically died and I found out that he had amassed quite some riches...though I’m not sure I want to know exactly how. And he left them all to me, as long as I do not remarry. Only good thing he did besides teaching me stuff. Leaving me everything, not the clause. And coming here so I could meet Anna, I guess.’

‘And dying,’ Anna adds.

‘And that too.’ Kat nods.

Legally married is different from promised to someone like Cathy was. Marrying a widow, for someone of Anna’s status, was perhaps frowned upon, but certainly not illegal. And even if it were to set tongues wagging, Anna has enough clout to ignore them.

‘Can’t believe I’m asking,’ Cathy’s head feels fuzzy, her own brain processing the words leaving her mouth with some delay, ‘but why didn’t you marry her? I would have married her.’ Even if Kat was to lose her inheritance or whatever, it’s not like Anna could not provide for her.

‘Thanks,’ Kat giggles, ‘I would have married you too.’

‘Oi!’ Anna protests. ‘What about me?’

‘You know why I can’t marry you.’ Kat reaches out to pat her hip sympathetically.

‘Why?’

‘Do we really have to bring politics in our bed?’ Anna complains.

Cathy blinks at the possessive pronoun before turning to Kat, waiting for explanation.

‘Francis left me some lands. Quite small, but the position is…strategic. Without getting into too many details, they provide access to the sea to various inland territories. Including this one. I’m keeping the area neutral. Despite common knowledge of my...links to House of La Marck, with no official connection and no proof of favouritism…nobody will support an attempt to invade or conquer it. They like the neutrality. If I were to lose the lands, they would go to someone who will block our access to the sea. Not to mention that if I married Anna, they would probably see it as an attempt on her part to expand her territories and get sole access to the sea blocking others...and I’m sure an attack or more would soon follow.’

‘You might have to repeat that another day,’ Cathy admits drowsily, realising she had lost focus a couple of times during Kat’s speech.

Kat chortles kindly, ‘Not used to drink?’

Not used indeed. Cathy wakes up in the morning confused by the warm presences beside her but more than that annoyed by their chatting. She turns, hoping to find a pillow to hide her head under...only to roll over a body. A hand comes up to rub her back and...fine. This is good too.

‘Good morning,’ Anna’s voice cheerily greets her.

‘Why?’ is her groaning response.

Cathy feels the chest she is resting her head on vibrate against her cheek as Kat chuckles. ‘Anna has a Teutonic constitution. I learned my limits years ago. You will too with time.’

They lie in bed quietly until a knock interrupts their peace. Cathy tenses, but Anna calmly calls to come in without hesitation.

‘Oh. Should I move Lady Catherine’s chambers?’ Lady Elizabeth doesn’t sound surprised to see Cathy in bed with the two other women. As Kat doesn’t loosen her hold on her, Cathy peeks up...and yes, she doesn’t look surprised either.

‘Not so fast. Give her some time to figure things out...she might want to keep some distance from Anna.’

‘Me? Why from me?’ Cathy’s rooms are in a different wing than Kat’s too, not just Anna’s…or their shared ones.

‘I can see you point,’ Bessie agrees, ignoring Anna’s protests. ‘Would you like to break fast?’ She then asks what she had come for.

‘Could we have it brought here? Something to settle the stomach...and the head.’

Hearing Kat’s request, Bessie gives her a once-over.  

‘Not for me.’

‘Ah,’ Bessie nods, almost to herself, ‘I remember those days and you don’t look like then.’

.

As days pass, the three of them can often be found in the same room, whether working (with Cathy taking on more responsibilities for the household) or just spending time together. On one of such days, Lady Jane arrives bringing in correspondence. She hands one envelope to Anna, one to Cathy, and two to Kat.

‘Why does she get two?’ Cathy blurts out, prompting the others’ laughter. Blushing, she busies herself opening her envelope. She quickly reads the letter inside. Then she does it again. It’s from Catalina! She is going to see her soon! At a...ball? ‘Uhm, Anna?’

Before she can ask any further questions, her wife hands her her own letter. The invitation to said ball. Then Cathy looks at Kat, to see if she got something similar. After all, invitations commonly include spouses, so it makes sense that Anna would get one but not Cathy, and following that logic, Kat should get her own. But the younger woman is instead unfolding several sheets from one of her own envelopes.

‘Everything alright?’ Anna asks before Cathy can do it as they both watch a thoughtful frown appearing on Kat’s face.

‘Yes. I need to make a detour to take care of something before joining you at the estate,’ she replies while sending a meaningful look to Lady Jane, who nods in response.

‘Be careful.’

‘Always.’ Kat reassures Anna. ‘Besides, I have Rocky with me.’

Lady Jane gives them a feral grin that leaves Cathy half-terrified and half-reassured.

.

‘Tell me again?’

‘It’s the biggest ball in the land. It happens once a year and everyone who is someone is there. The ball is mostly an excuse to...trade gossip and make deals,’ Anna explains.

‘And my godmother will be there.’

‘Yes.’

When Cathy had learned of her arranged marriage, she didn’t know Catalina had been involved in organising it. She just knew that she would be able to see her again because she sometimes visited what would be her new country. During Kat’s absence, while talking to Anna, she learned that Catalina would visit them at least once a year – now she thinks in time for the ball – if not more...because apparently she is married to Kat’s cousin.

.

‘Who is that?’ Cathy hisses to Anna, glaring at the woman warmly hugging Kat for longer – and closer – that is appropriate.

‘Who knew that such a tiny body could contain so much jealousy.’

Cathy turns her glare to her wife, harrumphing both at the lack of jealousy and at the dig at her height, thus missing the object of her displeasure approaching.

‘Your Grace.’

‘Lady Anne, always a pleasure to see you again,’ Anna greets her.  

‘I trust you are treating my Katherine accordingly.’

‘Like a queen.’

‘What about your wife?’ She enquires with a fleeting glance towards Cathy before giving Anna a pointed look.

‘She treats her like a queen too.’

Cathy gasps at Anna’s reply, but Lady Anne doesn’t seem fazed. She tilts her head, ‘Is that so, Lady Catherine?’

Before Cathy can say anything, the other woman is already turning around, ‘Elizabeth! What did I tell you about this kind of behaviour?’

‘To leave climbing her to Aunt Anna.’

‘Maybe don’t say that around other people,’ Kat puts the child down, smothering a laugh.

‘Why?’

‘Because then everyone will want to climb Aunt Kat,’ Anne replies.

‘I want to climb Aunt Kat,’ another child announces entering the room.

Anne gestures to the boy, ‘See.’

Kat leans over to hug him, before standing and moving to hug another woman....And then Catalina, as she appears behind them.

‘Well, we have some last-minute matters to discuss, so we’ll leave you to it,’ Anne announces, moving to grab both Kat and the other woman’s arms.

‘Can I least introduce my wife to my goddaughter?’ Catalina stops her.

Anne rolls her eyes. ‘If your wife wants.’

Catalina holds out her hand and the third woman steps forward, a warm smile on her face.

‘Catherine, this is my wife, Jane,’ her godmother says once she leads her over, ‘and this is her son, Edward.’

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘I look forward to getting to know you,’ Jane reciprocates.

‘But not now,’ Anne reminds her, piping up from her position next to Kat.

‘Not now,’ Jane agrees.

‘Well, kiss goodbye and we will see you at the ball.’ Anne leans down to kiss the top of Elizabeth’s head.

Jane gives Catalina a peck and whispers some last recommendations to Edward, while Kat goes up to Anna and Cathy, kissing them both on the lips.

‘Guess that answers a question of mine,’ Catalina comments as the three women leave.

‘What?’ Cathy asks, once she recovers from the surprise. She had not expected to be kissed in front of people who are not in their household. Or perhaps they are, if they are Kat’s cousins...

‘Anna and Katherine are...not an open secret, but...if you know them, you know about them.’ Catalina gives Anna a meaningful look.

One day Cathy will ask her godmother why she suggested her for the marriage knowing Anna was taken...or perhaps it was exactly that. No hope for love, but also no risk of...unwanted interest? But that’s not the day. Besides, she got love. In spades.

.

‘Heaven helps us,’ Catalina mutters as a hush falls over the ballroom at the cousins’ grand entrance.

Cathy gapes. She thought Kat was beautiful at the wedding, but she had clearly gone for understated because that was nothing compared to how absolutely stunning she looks now.

Anna squeezes arm, ‘I know, but get a hold of yourself.’

Cathy closes her mouth and then turns surprised eyes to her wife.

‘I just have plenty of practice acting as if her beauty doesn’t leave me speechless,’ Anna whispers to her.

However, that doesn’t seem to be what had prompted Catalina's reaction. ‘They truly went all out this time,’ her godmother comments. ‘Don’t look at me,’ she continues, aware of their curious gazes. ‘I might be married to Jane, but it doesn’t mean I have any idea of what goes on in that mind of hers. Even less when all three cousins are involved.’ She chances a look at Anna. ‘Do you?’

‘She has been unusually busy lately but hasn’t shared so far.’

.

Catalina raises her head as they join her for breakfast, ‘Katherine was a no show too?’

It might take a while for Cathy to get used to her godmother knowing and not caring about her and her wife sharing...a lover? Mistress? Partner? Well, Kat.

Anna shakes her head. When they had left the ballroom to retire for the night, Kat and her cousins were still flitting from one guest to another, the remaining ones at least, weaving connections and networks as they had been doing the whole evening.

‘Lady Margaret, Lady Jane,’ Catalina calls their attention, ‘do you know where-’

‘They were in the library when we passed it,’ a third woman replies.

‘Thank you, Maria.’

Indeed that’s where they find the cousins, mess of papers on the table in front of them.

‘Did you stay up all night?’

‘We needed to check that everything was correct, make sure the deals are closed properly, didn’t miss anything.’

‘Deals,’ Catalina repeats.

‘Exchanges. Contracts. Transactions,’ Anne says.

‘Of course,’ Catalina mutters. As if she should have expected anything different. ‘Is it another gamefowl farm?’

‘I still don’t see what you have against that. It’s making us a lot of money,’ Jane points out. ‘But no. You have been talking about wanting to be closer to Cathy.’

‘And you about missing Catalina,’ Kat joins the conversation, addressing Cathy. ‘And I never gave you a wedding gift.’

‘But about me?’

‘You got Cathy,’ Kat tells Anna, who nods.

‘And she stayed,’ Anne adds, receiving a small glare from Anna. It is no secret that there is an open invitation for Kat to go and live with Anne...Invitation that has been repeatedly extended since the older cousin had first heard about Anna getting married…not to Kat.

‘But the new house comes with extensive stables. Horses included. All yours,’ Kat continues.

‘New house?’

Kat rummages through the papers. ‘Where is the map?’

Jane hands it to her.

‘No, not of the land. The one of the region.’

Another one is fished out from the mounds of papers strewn around.

‘So...Anne is the new owner of this area.’ Kat points a spot on the map, then another one. ‘Jane got this. Neither have legal connections to you-’

‘So nobody has ground for complaint.’

Jane looks at them expectantly.

‘I would say it’s the lack of sleep, but it’s not,’ Anne informs the married couple less acquainted with Jane’s love of puns.

‘Catalina loves them!’

‘Why don’t we let Kat continues?’ Catalina eagerly suggests before Anne can open her mouth and get her in trouble. She loves her wife, but she is not as fond of puns as Jane is...although she has yet to find anyone with the same love for wordplays.

‘As I was saying, officially they are completely independent, but we’re still securing the borders and sea access even more,’ Kat continues, ‘and everyone lives closer. Also I got this.’

Anna looks at the contract Kat hands her, then at the map. ‘Is this the one you have been eyeing for a while?’

‘Yes.’

‘And all of this...you got it legally, right?’

The three cousins in unison bring one hand to their chest. ‘Do you doubt us?’

.

‘Lady Catherine, a minute of your time.’

Waiting until they are alone, Anne then asks, ‘What do you know about Jane’s husband?’

Cathy is taken aback by the question. ‘Not a lot. Short-tempered. Openly pursued Kat despite being married to her cousin. Died falling from a horse.’

‘What about Kat’s?’

Cathy grimaces. 'Few things.’ Kat doesn’t like to talk about the matter so she never presses. ‘None too good. Or any good at all.’

‘I’ll tell you three things they had in common: they claimed to love my cousins, they hurt my cousins, they died in unfortunate accidents.’ Anne counts on her fingers. Then she looks at Cathy straight in the eyes. ‘Would be a shame if something were to happen to you...’

With her words hanging in the air, with a casual stride Anne leaves the room...and a gobsmacked Cathy.

Seeing her standing still, stunned expression on her face, Anna approaches her wife, ‘Are you alright?’

‘What happened?’ Catalina asks, joining them.

‘I’m not sure,’ Anna answers as Cathy gives no sign she is going to do so, ‘I saw Anne leaving and found her like this.’

‘Did she threaten you that if you hurt her cousin, you will meet your untimely demise?’ Catalina asks knowingly.

‘Oh.’ Anna nods in understanding. ‘Should have thought about that. I’m sorry, I didn’t think about warning you in advance.’

‘She did the same with you?’ Cathy finds her voice again, directing her question to both women.

‘Consider it the official welcome to the family,’ Anna grins at her.

Cathy smiles at the thought before it falls. ‘Wait- did she actually kill them?’

She thought it was merely a threat. A warning. Not-

‘I have no intention to find out…do you?’

                                  —————————————

Not sure if I’m happy with this as I'm struggling to get a read on this trio, but I wanted to write some OT3 for Pika so this is what I got.

[soartfullydone]

No. 4 - TRUST FALL “Do you trust me?” | taken hostage | pushed You/Bastion requested by @zacksfairest

Thank you for giving me an excuse to write more Bastion things. I don’t know if this is good, but here I go, fellas!

*

“After all this time, don’t you trust me, darling?”

Melody should have smiled at Bastion Winalils and answered, “No.” Instead, she’d asked questions, allowing her damned curiosity to take her by the hand and pull her into one of the Jet’s schemes.

This one, she thought, is the one I’ll have to kill him for.

Large, rough hands gripped her arms on both sides. Her bare feet skidded uselessly across the uneven floors as she was half-carried, half-dragged to who-knows-where. A burlap bag covered her head, and they had taken so many turns to get here. At last, she heard a door open. One of the men removed the bag, and the other pushed her forcefully into the room before she could get her bearings. She tripped and fell onto her side.

Melody’s arms and legs weren’t bound, so she scrambled to her feet, wanting to curse at them so filthily their own mothers would shrivel up and die to avoid the words. A pitiful sniffling sound beat her to it. She wasn’t alone in the room.

Other women were crammed into the space with her, each of them youthful, some more than others. Most of them had pure white hair of varying lengths. Plats. Melody spotted a few Silvers and Golds, even a Jet, though the latter’s skin was darker than what was typical of her caste. No Coppers. And, of course, Melody was the only one here who could pass as a Bronze except, unlike the rest of the women here, she was no Ald.

Half the women watched her just as warily as she watched them. The rest were either staring unseeingly at the floor, sobbing into their hands, or trying to not exist.

The oldest profession, Melody grimly reflected. So far, it looks the same here as it does in Sharteshane.

Before any of them could console each other, forge alliances, or put her own survival first, a side door opened, and an olive-skinned man with black hair and blue eyes entered. His clothes were modest, pressed, and shiny in a way only expensive fabrics were. His mouth was shaped in a permanent frown, and he looked both disinterested and unimpressed with the collection of women—some of whom were barely dressed or were completely nude—in the room.

“Quit your sniveling,” he spoke in a reedy tenor. “Save it for the customers. Some of them like to feel useful. Or cruel.” He snapped his fingers. “Aye, we don’t have all day. Line up.”

The women did as they were told. With the room being small for ten women plus the Jet and his two thugs, two lines were formed. Melody’s body was shaking, but she clenched her jaw and fell in line with the others in the back. She would endure inspection with the rest of them.

The Jet wasn’t the one who was actively performing the inspections. Instead, he directed one of his thugs—also Jets—to manhandle the women for him with lazy commands or the careless wave of a paper fan. He’d be considered hopelessly effeminate in Sharteshane and would pay for it in her streets. Here, he was what Melody viewed as the Foreman, the man in charge, the word of god.

He was also the target.

“If the back tooth’s rotted, it hardly matters,” Foreman was saying, not even looking at the Plat woman he was disparaging. “She won’t be doing much smiling, I expect.”

The worst part of the inspection was the purity test. Melody hadn’t anticipated it, and it happened to the first woman before Melody realized what she was watching. Before she could look away. The Plat gasped as the thug reached under her dress, then flinched hard with a broken, pained whimper as he drove his fingers inside her.

Melody didn’t have to see it happen to know that’s what the Plat endured. Every whorehouse conducted their affairs differently, but there were commonalities. A quality of standards one had to follow if one wanted to stay competitive. And here was Alderode, competing with Sharteshane and competing well. Just because the Alds hid all the dirty business in back rooms didn’t make them any less filthy.

The Plat woman “passed.” In Melody’s mind, it meant she’d failed. It meant her virginity would be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Numbly, she could hear Foreman making those very arrangements as another thug led the woman from the room. 

I did not sign up for this, Bastion!

Tough, she could almost hear him saying. They have to endure it. Why shouldn’t you?

She fought the urge to run as woman after woman was inspected and taken from the room, some for the bidding, others to start whoring immediately. Belatedly, it dawned on her that she would be the last.

Melody preoccupied herself with thinking how she could fight back. The walls of the room had plenty of Solidity, which, if taken, would likely result in the khert backfiring on her and killing her. If she wanted to Core Leech anything, it would be simpler to remove the Density from the Alds’ arm bones or something, but she didn’t want to resort to that. She had some pride as a wright, and besides, she didn’t know if she could manage all three men at once. Maybe… Maybe she could take the Edge aspect from Foreman’s belt knife and… Bah! It’d be easier to steal the damn thing. She’d get more uses out of it, too.  

Pymary wasn’t the answer to everything.

The folded tip of Foreman’s fan swatted her under her chin. Her notable blue eyes found his bored ones, though a degree of intrigue slightly warmed them. 

“Thought you were bringing me another semon girl,” Foreman remarked to his thugs. “This one’s missing quite a lot of shit on her.”  

“We like variety where I’m from,” Melody replied in accented Tainish. “Though we have our share of seamen, to be sure.” 

Foreman snatched back the fan, snapping it open with a flick of his wrist. “My, my, a Sharte! You’re an awfully long way from home.” His tone lifted slightly on the end: a question.

“Got a tip,” said a thug. “Found her near one of our storehouses.” 

“And you thought to bring her here?” Foreman sighed. He waved his fan across his face so vigorously that Melody could feel the burst of cool air on her face along with the roasted meat he’d eaten for lunch. Abruptly, he stopped, coming to a decision. “Put her with the exotics then. It’s not like she’ll last any longer than the others.”

Before Foreman was even finished speaking, a thug forced open Melody’s mouth with a bruising grip on her jaw. Other hands roamed her body, and her pulse spiked. She felt murderous, and she tried to fight the feeling down, but then one of the men started hiking up her dress—

“Ach, no need for that!” Foreman snapped, turning back halfway from his withdrawal of the room. “The last thing we need is to advertise we’re putting an illegal’s cunny on the market. Besides, you know Sharteshane. Her own father’s likely had her first. Now, let’s go.”

The moment the thugs reluctantly took their hands off her, Melody lunged forward. 

“Please!” she cried as she fell against Foreman, her hands lost in the front of his robes until she found his inner lapels to cling to. Almost kneeling, she peered up at him, tears running unhindered down her cheeks. She barely recognized herself as she fell into more desperate supplications. “Please, don’t do this! I’m not supposed to be here. Let me g—”

Foreman backhanded her. The force of the blow ripped her hands free from him, and she dropped to her knees, catching herself on her palms. Quickly, she balled her hands into fists, clenching one around the small cylinder she now held in her right hand.

“Whores!” Foreman declared, slapping his closed fan against his palm. “They’re the same everywhere.” He sneered and for once spoke directly to her. “You won’t say one word to the customers. You’ll be silent and demure, like a proper Aldish woman. If I hear even a hint of speculation from anyone that you’re from Sharteshane, I’ll cut out your tongue and hand you over to the authorities. Understand, lass?”

Melody didn’t respond. She wasn’t expected to. She was only to obey.

Foreman had already moved on. “Get her in someone’s bed now before she bruises. When it shows, we can charge him extra for it.”

Without another word, the thugs grabbed her by the arms and hauled her away.

*

Maybe it was the same throughout Alderode, or maybe it was this brothel in particular, but there were no pimps forcing their whores to roam the streets, finding customers and servicing them where they could. Instead, they were positioned in various rooms, often grouped by caste or—in Melody’s case—exotics when they possessed traits that were rarer or “off” within their respective caste. There was a Gold who had fair, blond hair but golden eyes rather than the typical green. Another, that earlier Jet she’d spotted with the warm, brown skin. As for Melody, she didn’t have the brown eyes and light-brown skin a Bronze was expected to have. She fit right in.

All the customers, however, were Jet men, and they roamed from room to room, glasses of wine in hand, searching for the choicest ware to take to bed in a room upstairs. 

Every time she felt someone’s eyes on her, lingering too long, her skin crawled. She fought to control her breathing as she tried to figure a way out, but she was unarmed, and there were so many people. Even being a wright didn’t give her much of an advantage. Unlike Sharteshane, Alderode was full of them. Being a woman with experience in spellery wouldn’t surprise them for long; in fact, it may inspire many of them to kill her faster, lest any of the other women decide to get ideas.

It was Foreman who wound up approaching her. The cylinder burned in her hand, but he didn’t demand it back. Merely said, “Come with me,” from behind his fan. She couldn’t get a read on him at all.

She followed him upstairs, her stomach dropping as he took her to a room. The door swung open, and she saw that it wasn’t the grandest in the place by any means, but the furnishings looked cleaned and dusted.

However, the bed was disturbed, as it was also occupied. A Plat woman was there, her dress falling off her arms as her mouth was ravished by a Jet man with chin-length black hair. He was bare-chested with his black pants unfastened. Foreman clicked his tongue, and Bastion Winalils opened his dark eyes. They fell on Melody standing in the doorway, and she could swear his smile was aimed at her even though the Plat was keeping his mouth well-occupied.

“This will be going on your tab, I trust you know,” Foreman pronounced and pushed Melody forward. “Here’s the one you requested. The Plat can stay if you prefer.”

“Ah!” Bastion replied once he came up for air. “If I only had the coin. You can go, darling,” he directed to the Plat woman fondly.

“You know where to find me,” she flirted back.

Melody, disgusted, shifted aside when the Plat woman left the room. Bastion half-followed her out, his languid gait taking him as far as the new prostitute he was paying for, Melody herself. Shadows still clung beneath his eyes, which inspected her with polite interest. Her dress was scandalously short—for Alderode, at least—showing off her legs. Even though they were acting like they were strangers, heat entered his eyes, and Melody reminded herself that this, too, was an act for their audience of one. She ignored the urge to pull down the dress’s hem.

“And does she meet with your approval, my lord?” asked Foreman. “You don’t usually favor semon women.”   

“You won’t mind, then, if I double-check.”

It was all the warning Melody had. Bastion took her face in both his hands and brought her mouth to his.

She went completely rigid, the edges of the cylinder biting into her right hand as she clenched both fists. But their audience was still here. Bastion’s lips moved against hers, and she opened her mouth, starting to kiss him back. That simple movement seemed to change everything. Bastion moaned, and his kiss turned rough, consuming. Dimly, Melody heard Foreman mutter something and close the door, leaving them alone, but it didn’t seem to matter. 

Bastion’s tongue stroked hers, and she was caught up in the taste of him. The sweet smoke from his pipe. The bitter drink he consumed. The notes were there but faint, saturated by something sharp like mint. 

Or maybe like blood. In a rush, Melody came back to herself and bit him.

“Ach!” Bastion drew back, a hand covering his mouth. “How easily I forget. My favorite Sharte is an Epheby, waiting to strike.”

“You’re a bastard!” This time, she did strike. Her knuckles clocked him under his chin, him moving to avoid taking a full punch to the face like she planned. He seized her wrist in a vise-like grip and brought two fingers to the side of her neck. It was enough to make her stop in her tracks.

“Calm down,” Bastion warned. The faint red light of spellery glowing from his fingers reached his eyes, granting them a deadly coldness. “Or I’ll sever your artery and leave here without you.”

“If you were going to do that, doctor, you would have done it. Don’t act like you’re here just for me.”

“That’s exactly why I bothered coming to this shithole, you ungrateful wretch.”    

Melody huffed a breath of disbelief and tore herself away from him. Suddenly fatigued, she scrubbed her face and shoved past him toward the bed.

“I warned you this would be dangerous. You were all assurances, as I recall.” He was quiet while Melody stripped the bed of its sheets. “What hap—”

“Like you care. Here.” She threw the cylinder at him, which he managed to snatch out of the air. “This is what you really wanted, right? So take it, and leave me alone.” 

Melody occupied herself with her newest project while Bastion examined the cylinder. Alderode was freezing outside. She would need coverings when she escaped. She began measuring the sheets with her hands, tearing them as she went. 

Bastion came near her, sitting on the bed to watch her work. “I’ll owe you a hell of a favor for this. I’ve been after his seal for years.”

It was like a peace offering or the closest she might ever hear to an apology coming from him. Melody almost asked why he wanted some brothel-keeper’s seal, but she was done with being curious today. “You could have gotten it yourself. It wasn’t hard. It didn’t demand”—she gestured down at herself—”this.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried, but that man won’t let anyone get too close to him. He possesses a touch aversion, you see.”

“I noticed.” Her face still stung from where Foreman had hit her. She felt Bastion’s gaze find that very spot before sliding away. Melody tore at the sheet just to destroy something.

The silence between them grew awkward. After all, they were in a room inside a whorehouse, the sounds of fucking drifting to them through the walls. It would’ve been funny if Melody didn’t feel so fragile. If she couldn’t still feel and taste Bastion whenever she licked her lips, finding she wasn’t as turned off from it as she thought she would be. Not even after he threatened her.

“Won’t it be suspicious, you being here when he finds it missing?” she started, mentally kicking herself for being the first to speak, but her thoughts were becoming too dangerous with which to keep company. 

“Not to worry.” He tossed the seal up in the air and caught it. “Shithole comment aside, this is only my fourth favorite brothel.”

She didn’t laugh. “Right, and you usually just bring your favorites home with you.” Melody glared side-long at him. “I should’ve timed it better. Made you squirm by having to explain to all the vibrant prostitutes that you can’t get it up without a six-titted bird’s permission.”

“Aye, well, you almost had your wish.” Bastion shot a vexed scowl southward. “The Lady is being particularly stingy tonight.”

“Why did you even come, then?”

“Like I said, I could hardly leave it all up to you, darling. I’m painfully aware you have no idea how to whore.”

It always came back to this with the two of them. No matter how much Melody got on Bastion’s nerves or how much he made her want to wring his neck, they always ended back at somewhere level. Easily teasing or mouthing off at the other. Tonight, it was particularly unsettling, and she didn’t know where to place the blame.

Off balance, Melody blurted out, “So are those real pants or a glamour?”

He smiled a beguiling smile. “Would you like to find out?”

“Why bother,” she taunted, “if you can’t do anything about it?”

“Aye, but that’s the perplexing thing.” Bastion stood and leaned over her with predatory keenness. “I felt something when I kissed you. A stirring. It’s happened before, when I’ve looked at you,” he admitted easily, as if it meant and cost him nothing. “But tittybird seems to have no objections if it’s you stoking my desire tonight, and you liked it, didn’t you, my lips on yours.” He placed the tip of his finger on the sheet stretched between her hands. “Don’t I tempt you, even a little? Don’t you want to know what it feels like to be wanted?”  

“I want…” began Melody, her gaze caught on his smiling mouth so close to hers. 

When she processed his final words, it felt like being buried under six feet of Aldish snow. Tonight, she had felt what it was like for men to want her. For them to put her hands on her without her being able to do anything about it. For them to assess her like she was no better than a Plod used for cheap labor or a saddlehound to keep as a favored pet. She’d had enough.

Firmly, she said, “I want to leave. I want to—” She almost said, go home, but Sharteshane was miles and miles away, and the thought of it didn’t stir up much warmth. In truth, she didn’t have a home.

The smile slid from Bastion’s face. He withdrew, giving her blessed space. Shadows wreathed around him until, suddenly, he appeared to be wearing a red, fur-lined winter cloak. 

“Let’s go then,” he said briskly. “We’ll walk a few streets, you playing the part of a proper escort. After that, you’re on your own getting back to the safehouse. I have somewhere to be.”

She expected as much, so why was part of her so disappointed? “Right,” she agreed, lifting the torn sheet so she could wrap it around her. Bastion stopped her with a hand over hers.

“I’ve a better idea,” he offered. “Let’s steal you a cloak and some boots on the way out.”

“And some pants?” she said hopefully.

“Madam Sharte,” Bastion replied, waving a hand to the brothel at large. “Take your pick.”