#SO in a way he shouldn't even be surprised that in a world of kings and rules they want to get rid of him?

[shcdevl]

I could be wrong but I felt like it was meant to symbolize Siegfried in a way? Like, a creature that is rare and special and could be seen as a sign of the gods or something similar. But it still doesn't have a place in the world of kings and men (where everything is ordinary) unless they "own" it, so it is killed?

Can we talk about the elephant in the room?

The white deer.

I love the stylistic choice of putting a *white* deer in this hunting scene. The movie surely wasn’t perfect, but it added to the tension

[yanderes-galore]

How would yandere Ace from OP get rid of his rivals ? 

ACE! I love Ace sm, ngl....

Yandere! Portgas D. Ace getting rid of rivals

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Burning/Burning others alive, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Murder, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Blood, Dubious relationship.

While Ace is similar to his brother Luffy, He's more mature.

He's still impulsive but way less oblivious.

He's intelligent and polite... yet can still be reckless and impulsive.

He's like a... more controlled Luffy?

He's oblivious occasionally, like when he acts too clingy or perverted.

Yet he's aware of his own jealousy.

He knows why he's on edge with others around you.

Ace no doubt has a better understanding of romantic attraction than Luffy.

Inexperienced... But he understands what feelings you stir within him when he sees you.

He knows you're an addiction, one he watches every single move of.

He's strong, charming, and a loyal fighter.

Although... He has a temper like Luffy.

He has a tendency to get into fights.

He doesn't want those close to him hurt and is easily set off by it.

Ace would originally try to rein in how he feels.

It shouldn't be his business... You deserve better and should talk to others.

Meanwhile he's over here being clingy or watching you from afar.

Although... Ace is capable of being terrifying when jealous.

Sure, with you it seems cute.

He plays it off as being petty pouting to try and get you to pay attention.

It works more than you think.

To others?

He's the devil.

Due to his parentage, many already see him as the spawn of the devil.

It's no surprise with his Devil Fruit powers that he looks like a demon.

It's small at first.

Ace is the type to insert himself into conversations.

He always seems to be watching over you like some twisted guardian.

When he feels he doesn't like the person you're talking with, he slips in.

He wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his head either on your shoulder or head.

He grins at the other person, yet his gaze isn't welcoming.

It's threatening... Ironically cold.

Ace is someone who can seem subtle with threats.

He's grinning with barely restrained irritation, seeming all happy with the other person.

They have to leave at some point, right?

Although eventually he's going to try and push them away, annoyed they're with you.

Ace, while easy to provoke, tries not to harm someone when you're in sight... Much.

But if someone was flirting, too close, threatening, etc...

It's enough to set Ace off.

Ace, like Luffy, is brutal.

He can be blinded with rage.

What makes him worse than Luffy?

The fire.

Jealousy and rage course through Ace's flames.

If you're in sight and some poor fool sets him off, at least you can stop him from searing them.

He gets to the point of his fists covered in blood before you stop him.

When you notice his skin heating and beginning flames licking across it...

You get his attention, sparing the person.

They've no doubt learned their lesson.

Other times... They aren't so lucky.

Other times, Ace is destructive.

He's used to being in the shadow of others, to being treated as unwanted.

We've seen him destroy whole ships with his power.

One measly person?

A rival?

Someone who hurt the one who saw him as something other than the Pirate King's son?

Ashes.

Ace doesn't even really feel bad about it, viewing said people as scum.

He isn't much better... but he views it as sparing you from the worst people of the world.

Ace wouldn't mind punching someone's lights out... watching as his flames consume them like kindling.

They should've known better in his mind.

Ace is infamous and pirates have to kill at some point.

Removing a challenge in his way is no issue.

Especially a nuisance in your life.

No one can touch you with him around.

He gives warnings and subtle threats to others before he does anything rash.

It's their choice if they continue in his mind.

Their punishment is becoming a fine ash to be whisked away by a strong gust of wind.

Afterwards, Ace acts like nothing happened.

He could probably burn someone and their life out of existence...

Then come back to you with a smile, nuzzling into your hair with a relaxed exhale.

It feels pleasurable knowing you're only his.

He simply goes back to clinging and watching over you.

You give him purpose... He needs you...

Yet the moment he sees a new threat to the obsession he has over you...

The process repeats all over again, with little regret if it means he has you.

[somepsychopomp]

More omega!Odysseus & alpha!Penelope thoughts

Continuation of my omegaverse ideas (found here)

Also while nothing explicit happens there's a little spice down the line.

Odysseus and Penelope definitely had their first serious argument before they were even married. While still courting/betrothed, it turns into a huge fight over who's going to be bearing the children once they're wedded and mated.

Not that Odysseus thinks his wife should be doing it, but that he should be the sole bearer with no exceptions! And the problem is that Penelope insists on the exact opposite...

Penelope was raised as a woman in Sparta so no matter her secondary gender, she was going to be taught to be tough. Her being an alpha just so happened to give her all sorts of special privileges and respect when she saw with her own eyes the many ways omegas were disregarded and looked down upon. (And let's say that Sparta has a famously low population of omegas because they view them as too weak to survive & just don't choose to keep most omega babies)

So growing up in that environment, when Penelope finds the omega she wants to spend the rest of her life with, the omega who's as precious to her as all the jewels in the world and as beautiful as the stars in the sky, there's no fucking way she's going to treat Odysseus as a slave or pet. She's going to defy Sparta's crusty traditions by carrying their children, even as an alpha. She doesn't care if it's "emasculating" (or like, the equivalent of emasculating for alphas).

Penelope loves her soon-to-be husband and will not make him carry her children or be treated as if that's all he's good for.

In contrast, Odysseus grew up in a culture with more omegas where he wasn't as much of an oddity. Yes, it's still a bit strange for the crown prince to be an omega, but he's more than proven his worth through his intelligence, cunning, and his surprising degree of physical strength for an omega (thanks to him being a prince, he was taught to hunt. And thanks to Athena, he was taught to fight).

As he grew up, Odysseus rejected alpha after alpha, suitor after suitor, not at all appreciating the ways they tended to underestimate or belittle him, until he met a particular Spartan princess. He becomes convinced that they were made for each other. There was no feat of strength that the other could not match, for each was a skilled athlete. There was no riddle one could propose that the other could not answer in time. The one way they differed was when it came to strings; Penelope was a fabulously talented weaver while Odysseus was a masterful archer.

(At first, Penelope tried to court Ody with a newly woven cloak and he attempted to impress her by doing cool trick shots- basically trying to stifle their secondary genders by doing what "typical" men and women did to court each other. Then they figure out the other is down bad and they stop trying to hide their true selves.)

And by the gods, Odysseus was going to make Penelope his and he was going to treat her right. And that includes giving her strong, healthy children.

The fact that childbearing was a dangerous and oftentimes deadly event was no secret to either of them. As Ithaca's future king, he would gladly protect his wife from such danger by having their children himself.

Which, Penelope points out, is exactly why he shouldn't be the carrier at all! His people need him- he cannot risk his life for something so unnecessary when his future wife & alpha is more than willing to take that risk.

Aha! Odysseus says, already having his retort ready. Is Penelope insisting that he, an omega, is not fit enough to take up such dangerous work? That he is weak?

Oh, Penelope says, rising to his challenge. Then is Odysseus content to enforce his will over her as a man? Will he deny her her own freedom by refusing to grant her the opportunity to carry their children?

(AKA they basically invent a super weird field of gender politics and keep trying to one-up the other and twist their words around)

Their whole debate goes on for weeks or even months on end, with the core of their argument being, "I love you, I want to be your mate, and I will not let you suffer needless pain if I can take it in your stead."

But they can't keep debating forever when both their parents want to see them married sooner rather than never.

They have their wedding on Ithaca when Odysseus' next heat draws near, just to increase the chances of successful consummation. And let's just say that while the wedding itself goes by smoothly, their wedding bed basically sees war as these two have some of the craziest, nastiest, most confusing sex ever as Odysseus desperately wants to bottom and Penelope really, really wants to top the banging hot omega begging her for it. But at the same time, Penelope keeps trying to ignore her instincts and coax him into topping and it happens to feel really strange but really good for them both but also Ody desperately wants to be the one to conceive–

By the time Odysseus' heat is over, they honestly have no idea who's gotten who knocked up. And hey, wouldn't it be hilarious if they happened to get each other pregnant?

Thankfully, or not, they get their answer soon enough. Penelope waits and prays for the telltale signs of pregnancy to kick in- the fatigue, hunger, morning sickness, etc...

Only to wake up to the sound of her beloved Odysseus dry heaving over the side of the bed. A little visit from the palace healers confirms it.

He won.

Penelope wishes she could sulk or complain, and for like 2 whole seconds, she contemplates telling the healers to mix an abortifacient right there and then because she's not thinking about the baby. She's thinking about her omega's future health/safety, but she takes one look at Odysseus' face and his tears of joy & she simply can't deny the fact that her inner alpha is jumping up and down, elated to know that her mate is with child.

"Don't be so disappointed, my beloved." Odysseus says, laughing as she holds him in her arms and kisses his hair, eyes, lips, nose, and wherever else she can reach, "Why don't you take the honor of naming them?"

Her?

Penelope is shocked. She will not have her omega go through the pains and difficulties of birth just to refuse him the right to name his own child!

And thus, a whole new debate begins.

[crystal-moon-101]

A while ago I had made up a Zak for each day of the week to match Zak Saturday and Monday for fun, and because I wanted to give Zak some more AU similar to how Ben gets a lot of them. So not only do they all have different last names, but each have their own backstories and colour theming! So I hope you enjoy my little AU concepts.

-Zak Saturday-

Classic original Zak. I decided to draw them all when they're 11, start of the series vibes. So that's why he doesn't look like the ways I normally draw him currently, since those are when he's 14. Nothing different with his design here, beyond still giving him those vivid orange eyes.

-Zak Sunday-

Also known as Zak Argost, having been taken in by the man after he had a certain encounter with Zak's parents, resulting in their deaths. When Argost found the young toddler, seeing the start of Zak's power, he was happy enough to take the child with him and use his powers to his benefit. Due to being taken when he was very young, Zak doesn't remember his parents at all, fully believing in anything Argost tells him, the only family he has. So he happily helps his guardian in keeping cryptids tamed during Weird World shows, or during trips to learn about them, even if Argost puts Zak in more danger than he should. Due to his appearances on Weird World, Zak is a celebrity of sorts, even if he doesn't get to go out often. Argost also gives him a lot of gifts, keeping the child in a positive mood to keep him under his thumb. So Zak truly believes that Argost cares about him.

Though things start to turn when Argost finally decides it's time to hunt down Kur and take his powers, hiring Van Rook and Doyle on the mission. This leads to Zak and Doyle getting to know each other, with Doyle feeling protective over this random kid for some reason. Eventually this leads to him taking Zak away when this whole Kur business gets out of hand. While Doyle can't seem to convince Zak that Argost doesn't care about him, the pair do at least agree to try and find Kur first, Zak worried that even Argost shouldn't handle such powers. However, only time will tell if the pair discover the truth behind their unknown family history.

-Zak Monday-

The good old twisted gremlin of a child, Zak Monday and his family were a result of the smoke mirror. They come from a world that twists the very nature of people, a poor reflection of their negative aspects. If you're naive, then your mirror self is incredible dumb. If you're a bit of a perfectionist, then your mirror self is a control freak. And Zak Monday represents the twisted doubts of Zak feeling like a monster, so why have any doubts when you can be the monster?

I decided to change Zak Monday a bit to have the green eyes and green shirt with his own logo, cause I liked the idea that after his first appearance, they switch back to what they're suppose to look like. But other than that I kept the concept of him looking just like Zak, minus the inverted hair colour.

-Zak Tuesday-

The young naga is the son of Rani Nagi. Born solely to have Kur's soul enter and be a host, but whoops! Looks like Kur's memories aren't there, but that wasn't going to stop Rani Nagi, who thinks if she keeps at her plans, eventually her son will become the old cryptid king she once knew. Even going as far as to solely call her child Kur, who secretly calls himself Zak due to him often watching humans in the shadow, curious about them and wanting a name for himself. Zak Tuesday has a lot of identity issues, not helped by his mother's teachings towards him, ignoring all his dreams and personal thoughts. Eventually he just got really good at lying rather than convincing Rani Nagi.

However, the young cryptid prince is suddenly kidnapped by Argost one day, as he figured out where Kur's soul was currently living. Zak knew he would have died that day if not for Drew and Doc recusing him, having been chasing Argost over this Kur situation. Though they're a little surprise that upon meeting the new Kur, they find it's just a young naga who really doesn't know who he is. At first Doc and Drew didn't know what to do with him, but Zak begged them to not send him back home, and let him stay at their place until he could figure things out. He wasn't foolish, he knew the nagas were planning a war, and he wasn't keen on being the face of it all. So now the Tuesdays just have a snake living around the house, but they can't exactly complain as he is a well mannered guest at least. And perhaps the house doesn't feel so lonely with him around either.

-Zak Wednesday-

Some of you might recognize this one, but this Zak is from my old Zur AU, where Kur was reborn via the Kur Stone due to it being an egg, and Zak is a dragon that shapes between human form and dragon form. I decided to update him, making him Zak Wednesday now, with a pink theme! I also decided that instead of Kur being reborn, I wanted to shake things up a bit and have it that Zak was directly Kur's son. His mother is unknown, and as Kur saw how the world was at the time, he put Zak's egg into a stasis situation until it was discovered again. After saving it from Argost, the egg hatched among the secret scientist, leading to them chasing the child of Kur. But upon using his shapeshifting abilities to look like a child of Drew and Doc, they just couldn't help but adopt him on the spot, siting there was no sense in blaming Kur's son over what happened years ago.

The growing dragon is very playful with a cheeky personality. He exhibits a lot of draconic behaviors, with a wild and free spirit. He is aware of his family history, but he doesn't like to think about it, unsure in how to view his father based on the stories he's heard. Besides, Doc and Drew are his parents, and that's all that matter to him. Though perhaps this sudden appearance by Argost, claiming he was going to far Zak's father, has been a bit rattling to deal with.

-Zak Thursday-

When Kur knew he was going to die, and also knew his soul wasn't able to live the mortal realm, he made plans to make it so his reborn self would both be born in hopefully a better time, and be without his memories. It was better that way, so that his new self could live a lovely life without the sins from his past. But that didn't exactly pan out properly, as Kur was reborn and sadly remembers everything. It took him a while to understand this growing up, his young human mind not processing it until he was roughly 7-8, and even then he needed time to think about it. And now he's a depressed 11 year old who now has to be stuck with the fact his plan didn't work, unable to run away from the person he once was. Doc and Drew found out the truth when Zak tried running away one day, their son sitting them down and telling them the truth in hopes they'd just leave him, it would be better that way. But to his surprise they disagreed, as he was still their son, Kur or Zak, and it would be too dangerous to leave him alone.

So now Zak lives with his parents? Are they really his parents? The family keeping this dark secret to themself, even from the other scientists. Doc and Drew still reach out to their son, doing their best to connect with him, but he can't help but push them away. He doesn't deserve this, and they deserve better. However, their secret might come out after Argost stole the Kur Stone and now hunts for Kur, not realizing the truth right in front of him. So now the family tries to get the stones back, wanting to protecting Zak/Kur from others finding out. Doesn't help that he has to go through being a child again with such dark memories lingering in his head, feeling tired and overwhelmed with the world. Hasn't he suffered enough?

-Zak Friday -

In a world where Kur and cryptids successfully wiped out humans, the king ruled the lands for a while after, before one day he mysteriously vanished. Many concluded that he had died somehow, the details unknown, but this lead to a prophecy that one day their king would return, leading to many claiming to be him, or praying that they will be him for the power and wealth. In this universe, Zak and his family are all cryptids, with Zak being a a Chuvash Dragon, Drew and Doyle are Epimeliads, and Doc is a Gargoyle (Other characters are also cryptids in this timeline). Zak is a serpent like dragon that breathes fire, as a very twistable body, and can freely shapeshift. He's heard about the legend of Kur returning, but frankly he thinks they don't need him, even if the cryptid world has been shattered without a king for years now.

But when a yeti named Argost claims that Kur is back, being backed up by the Nagas, everyone starts to gossip and run around trying to figure out who the new Kur is. So maybe it's best that Zak doesn't tell the whole world about his sudden new powers to control and communicate any fellow cryptid is walks by.

[bellarkeselection]

His Compass of Harrenhal part 4

Part 3

- do y'all want one more part to this mini series???

Tag list - @only4thefics @superintenseart @universallyrascaldreamercookie @uniquecroissant @vavafaure1994

Daemon and I silently stood there just staring at the old caretaker of the crumbling castle.  The weight of the words that had just come from his mouth was very clear in the forefront of our minds.  I knew that this day would come, but I never imagined that it would be as sudden as this.  This visitor was not simply us meeting a friend for a chat. No, this was the Dragon Queen Rhaeynra Targareyon.

She is a fierce dragon and I am simply a fish out of water.  She could kill me probably without even blinking and walk away if she wished to.

She is also Daemon's former wife or maybe in her eyes they are still together.  There's no possible way that she knows about me.

"Daemon, what do you think she's going to do to me?" I mumbled lifting my head up slightly with a very nervous expression crossing my features.

He squeezed his fingers into my hips where his hands were resting on my body. "I don't know.  But you shouldn't worry your head about it."

"But she's your wife."

His bright purple eyes meet my gaze. "Y/n, don't worry about it because I will make sure she doesn't touch you or the baby in any capacity."

"Daemon! She's your wife. She needs you to get the support of the lords of the realm. I don't help give her any assistance-"

He covered my mouth with his right hand closing most of the gap that was still between us.  His voice went deeper yet remained in the gentle side that he only showed around me.  "Listen to me, little fish.  You are important to me.  I wouldn't have the support of the Riverlands if it wasn't for you.  So I never want to hear you say she doesn't owe you anything when she does owe you some grattitude."

"I'm still afraid, Daemon." I whispered to him under my breath.  The dragon prince nodded his head wrapping his strong arms gently around my waist, bringing me in closer.

Simon, who was standing in the doorway spoke up once before announcing his presence.  "My king, my lady, we should address the princess before she wastes anymore time."

"You should go.  I'll stay back-"

"You won't dare do any such thought.  We're in this together you and I.  I want you by my side."

"I wasn't expecting you."

Rhaenyra eyed her husband then the crowd of men behind him. "Seems rather a lapse in foresight.  I see you have done well here."

"They are sworn to me and not a moment too soon." Daemon admitted to her proudly, knowing she needed this army to have any chance of getting the Iron Throne.

Rhaenyra lifted her head up slightly to send him a deep glare asking the question.  "And to whom are you sworn?"

"The world is not what we thought it was.  This war is just the beginning.  Winter is Coming with darkness and doom.  ( Se vys iksos daor skoros īlon thought ziry istan. Bisa vīlībāzma iksos sepār se beginning. Sōnar māzis rūsīr darkness se vējes.)"

Rhaenyra made a confused expression.  "You sound like my father. ( Ao sound raqagon issa kepa.)"

"I saw that we cannot withstand it..and yet, somehow we must. ( Nyke ūndan bona īlon daor withstand ziry. Se yet, somehow īlon līs.)" Daemon clicks his tongue glancing over his shoulder at me for a brief second before looking back at her.  He lowered himself down onto one knee catching her by slight surprise. "The realm's only hope is a leader who can unite it.  And my brother chose you.  You are the true Queen.  Rhaenyra, the first of her name, Protector of the Realm.  I am meant to serve you and all of these with me until death or the end of our story."

Slowly every single lord around me bent down on one knee to address her properly as their Queen.  I placed one hand on my swollen stomach and did the best I could to be down on one knee like the others. Squinting my eyes I was still trying to understand what they were saying in High Valyrian, I was still learning the language from Daemon. "Leave me again at your peril. ( Henujagon issa arlī rȳ aōha peril.)"

"I could not. I tried. ( Nyke could daor. Nyke sylutan.)" Daemon rose from the stone ground addressing her before her dragon made a noise.  "My Queen."

"For every one of us who falls a hundred of them.  There will be no mercy." Daemon put his back to the two of us, drawing his sword out and declaring to the massive crowd of men.  "We fight for our Queen!"

The crowd drew their swords and cheered alongside him till Rhaenyra noticed me standing at the front of the crowd with my hands resting on my stomach and I was only really looking at her husband.  "Daemon, who in the realm is the pregnant woman standing before me?"

"You're grace..." I nervously bowed my head down to address the dragon queen before me.

The queen slowly walked forward scanning her eyes down my body and held her eyes solely on my pregnant belly.  "What is your name, my lady?"

"Y/n Tully, your grace." I simply responded to her.

She questioned back softly.  "Who is the father of the babe in your belly, Lady Tully?"

"Um.  I must admit I am not comfortable sharing that information, your grace." I lowered my gaze from hers and accidentally took a few steps away from her showing I was afraid of her next response.

Rhaenyra bites her lip in a tight line.  "Daemon, I demand to know what else you have been doing here while working to secure me an army of Riverlands men and I demand to know now!" 

"Rhaenyra, she's my - the baby growing in her womb belongs to me." Daemon placed his sword back inside its holder coming over to the two of us.

The dragon queen clicked her tongue.  "There's more you're leaving out.  Tell me now."

"She's my wife." Daemon finally mutters under his breath.  This caused everyone else in the crowd to gasp and take large steps backwards in utter shock.

Rhaenyra whipped her head around glaring at me and I shut my eyes thinking she would lay a hand on me.  Yet when I heard a harsh smack where I peaked one eye opened seeing Daemon holding his cheek with one hand.  "You promised me you'd be loyal to me.  You led me on when I was a child and I believed you and yet you still do this.  You betray my trust by marrying and bedding another woman!"

"I now see what my brother saw in you when he named you heir.  I see that you will be the realm's protector even if you no longer are the object of my desire." Daemon made his way past his former wife stopping directly in front of me.  He cupped my face in his hands resting his forehead against his.  "I've never thought that a woman would change me, make me truly care about her safety, want to bear her children and not simply to further my house.  She brings out the best version of me."

"And where does your loyalty stand, Y/n Tully?" The black Queen questioned me after we had broken away and I was standing beside my dragon husband.

"My loyalty will be to your cause, my Queen." I gave her the best curtsy I could, sending her a weak smile.

Rhaenyra glared at me and her former husband but bravery pushed her jealousy aside knowing we had bigger problems if she wished to take her throne back from her half brothers.  "Our focus needs to be on getting my throne back from the Greens.  But don't think for a moment that this conversation is over between the three of us." She spun on her heels being escorted into a separate room by Simon leaving me, Daemon and the lords behind us all thrown for a loop by how she ended the conversation.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[keelt9]

Chapter 2

Masterlist

It’s what I like to call my day off; Anton gives me Sunday so I can rest and enjoy the day. I would love to see his face if he knows that instead of going out, I’m sitting in the living room seeing my little sister Mia struggling to brush her hair while we do our daily video call.

“That’s why you should use a conditioner.” Mia is a diver, even though she has practiced since she was 5 years old, she normally is careless with her hair, she takes a deep care of her body but her hair seems to be in another world. Mia keeps making funny faces as she tries to get the comb out of her hair. 

“Auch!” 

Liam even getting his keys, he chooses knocks first, waits for a couple of seconds and opens the door.

“Morning, morning.” Liam enters with my new supplies of ice bags, bigger ones. 

“What about if…” As he passed to the kitchen leaving the bags in the cooler, he noticed who I’m speaking to. “Oh, hi Mia.” 

Mia with a comb stuck in the top of her hair and taking a bite of her sandwich smiles and waves her hand. 

“Hi Coach.” Liam smiles and lets us talk. 

“Show me, show me.” My hands fake the sound of tambourine on the table, Mia takes out a silver medal under her shirt, she got it this afternoon. “Congratulations! Oh, I would love to be there.” 

“I love having you here too, but first you need to recover, I mean, I want the next medal we celebrate be from you, and if I don’t ask too much, a golden one.” Mia is my personal cheerleader and I’m hers, since she was little it was easy to recognize her in my junior competitions for her big pink poster in the crowd.

“Breathe and feel the air in your lungs.” We spoke at the same time, the words our dad always repeated to us when we were so overwhelmed. 

Talking about the king of Rome, we hear him shout for her. “I have to go, I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?” Mia smiles before ending the call, still I was able to see her picking her sandwich and running to dad.

“Hey, you have really cleaned the apartment.” Liam is observing the kitchen and the living room, I stand not before grabbing the ice bag one more time and putting it over my shoulder. 

“It’s my way to pass my free time.” Liam lends his head and his face turns serious. “Come on Liam! Don’t look at me like that, I go out for groceries… Oh! And I found a really nice place where they prepare delicious french toast.” 

He doesn't need to tell me anything just grabs the keys one more time, takes the ice bag from me and drags me out of the apartment. 

“Fuck” I whisper lowing my head not before dropping the scapular to the floor. “Sorry, it's just…”

“It’s ok Y/N, it’s a different exercise, take it easy.” This week the towel is left aside and I start to use the scapular, for a scapular stretch. To be honest I try to use scapulars. 

“Here.” Liam gave me an ice bag, and lately it became my best friend. The ice bags help to reduce the swelling and minimize the pain, always wrap around a towel. “Let us talk a little, I will make sure to call you for a check up.”

That means they will talk about things I shouldn't hear, yet. So, I grab my bottle of water, my phone and the ice bag with me walking straight to the garden. 

“That’s a better hack.” I turn around when I hear Max's voice. My bottle now has a strap avoiding it rolls out of my wrist. 

“Oh, yeah, it makes my life easier.” Max nods and points to the chair next to me. 

“Can I?” I nod so he can sit. “Are you all right? I mean, the ice bag is not a good sign, right?”

“It’s a small inflammation, I’m ok, thanks for asking.” I don’t want to mention right away anything he probably hears the first two minutes someone mentions when meeting him for the first time. 

“You? Are you all right?” My questions take him by surprise but he presses his lips in a smile and nods. 

“Just a little bit of physical conditioning.” The silence that follows, he cut it out with a question. “You mention about being ready, what do you mean?” 

“Amm, well, there is a competition in a year, but the test begins in 10 months, so if I want to be there, first I need to be in the tests. It's a long story.” 

“I love to hear it.” I am getting goosebumps all over my body.

We talked for 40 minutes, in the middle of our talk he already mentioned what he does and his really impressive achievements and his goals, naturally, not trying to brag about just as he’s telling his day by day. 

I felt comfortable talking with him about my goals too, how I terribly miss grabbing a bow and shooting arrows over a field, even allowing myself to tell him things I usually don't tell anyone who I just meet. 

“Y/N, ready?” Liam appears in the crystal doors with my bag over his shoulder and his in the other one.

“I have to go, thanks for listening to me.” The ice bag stops being ice now just a liquid gel forgotten in my lap.

“Please, thanks for hearing me too, Y/N” Max stands with me, however he remains in the garden as I walk where Liam is waiting for me. 

“Ready.” I plan to take my bag but he moves faster and takes it out of my hands. “Is everything alright?” 

Liam smiles and puts his hand carefully over my right arm. “Just good thighs, just good things. So…”

“HEY Y/N!” Max shouts at me. I don’t know if Liam recognizes Max or he is pretending not.  

“I’ll wait for you outside.” Let me alone so Max can reach me.

“It’s ok if I… well… If I talk with you when we meet here, you know, just a simple talk.” 

“Are you really asking me if you can talk with me?” Eyes hide just a little bit between his eyelids, smiling.

Can it be cuter?

“I mean, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me.” He jokes, making me laugh.

“I'm already feeling the pressure.” 

Max’s smile is contagious, now I know that.

That's how our small talk happens every time we meet in the center, varying each one of them; sometimes long, sometimes short but each time I get something meaningful from him and I give him something meaningful from me.

“That's nice! Well done Y/N.” My exercises of internal rotation have been pretty well, the swelling slowly decreases; Anton hopes in a few weeks, we will introduce advanced ones.

A soft knock on the door calls for our attention, one of the nurses of the center told us she has an envelope for me. 

Mia has been sending me photos, not for email, not for a message, a palpable ones; for at least I make the apartment look a little bit like home.

“I have to fill some papers, I’ll wait in the reception.” By the time Liam ends that phrase leaving the room with Anton, the third beep of the call I made was interrupted.

“What about if instead of a boring Sunday shut in your four walls you spend a full package all included for a F1 race?” The train tickets, the name tag with my photo, and a strange brochure from 3 different restaurants are in my hand. 

“Max, I really, really appreciate it…” He won’t let me reject him so easily.

“No, no, wait, let me finish, have you ever been in a F1 race?”

..............................................................................................................................

Thank you so much for reading.♥️

[hairmetal666]

A continuation of the childhood sweethearts first kiss fic...

Eddie is 10 when he get his first kiss. A lot of people wouldn't consider it a real first, It's a dry press of chapped lips, chaste and sweet, but it remains the best kiss he's ever had, the one that means the most.

It's the summer before he moves to Hawkins--spending the school break with his Uncle Wayne--before he's known to the town as a loser weirdo freak, and he makes a friend. A boy golden bright as the sun, who steals Eddie's heart at first glance and keeps taking it again and again and again--not by force, but by his pure kindness, by his surprisingly wicked sense of humor, by the joyful way he experiences the world.

They run through the woods of Hawkins, ride bikes until the streetlights glow, swim until they fall asleep on a pool lounger, spend their nights in a tent in the wide Harrington backyard. He's not known around town yet, so the parents don't hate him, call him trash, fear for their child's reputation. He's just a boy still, his faded clothes and worn tennis shoes can be blamed on northing more than the consequences of a summer spent outdoors. Though, maybe it's just that Mr. and Mrs. Harrington aren't around enough to notice.

On his last night before he returns home to his parents, they make a fort in Steve's bedroom, find all the blankets and pillows in the house, create a cozy structure just big enough for two. They share all their secrets, their hopes and dreams, and as night becomes morning, Steve whispers, "Eddie...can I kiss you?"

Yes is the only possible answer he can give, and as Steve's mouth touches his, Eddie knows he will never love anyone else, not for as long as he lives, not if they never even see each other again.

He belongs to Steve Harrington, body and soul.

---

Eddie moves to Hawkins a year later. His first day of school, two months into the semester, he sees Steve in the hallway. Eddie's whole face lights up as he sees his friend, but--Steve's eyes slide right past him. He sees Eddie, no doubt about it, but there's no light of recognition, no excitement, no joyful reunion.

After a few years he accepts that Steve will never acknowledge him. He almost succeeds in not letting it bother him, and it's for that reason that it doesn't break his heart when Steve falls for Nancy Wheeler. It doesn't kill him to see Steve's beaten face after his fight with Jonathan Byers. It doesn't keep him up at night, watching Steve lose all his other friends. He doesn't hate jocks and rant on cafeteria tabletops just in the hope that Steve will look his way.

Everything changes after Nancy and Steve break-up and Hargrove beats the shit out of him. Whatever high school social cachet Steve still has disappears overnight, but dethroned King Steve still doesn't notice Eddie. He's made his peace with it. Moved on. He's an adult now, basically. He's going to graduate high school and move to the big city and he'll meet so many guys and never ever think about Steve Harrington ever again.

---

He's smoking a cigarette in the little-used bathroom up by the auditorium. His eyes are half-closed, imagining shapes in the tendrils of smoke.

The door bangs open, shocking him upright, the cigarette falling to the floor.

Steve Harrington stumbles inside, hands covering his face, blood pouring through his fingers.

"Steve!" Eddie yelps, can't help it when there's blood, when Steve is hurt.

Like always, he doesn't even bother to look at Eddie. It shouldn't shred his heart to pieces but Eddie's always been weak for Steve.

"What happened?" He asks, even though he knows he shouldn't care.

"Doesn't matter," Steve answers. He's standing at the sink, blood splattering the white porcelain red.

Acting against each one of his sharply honed instincts, Eddie rushes to the nearest paper towel dispenser, ripping half the roll off.

"Move your hands. Relax your head." He's surprised when Steve does as he says.

Eddie uses the paper towels to staunch the flow, pinches at the bridge of Steve's nose with his thumb and index finger. "How do you not know how to fix a bloody nose?" he mutters.

"I know how," Steve argues. "I just--" he pauses, swallows hard. "Why are you helping me?"

He doesn't know how to answer this question. He shouldn't be helping Steve.

"I don't know."

They don't talk again, not until the bleeding stops, and then Steve says, "It was Hagan, the motherfucker. He shoved me into a locker and I didn't have time to get my hands up."

"He's a dick," Eddie agrees. "It's not broken, though."

Steve shrugs. They fall silent again, neither moving. "Thanks," he says. He doesn't look at Eddie.

"Would have done it for anyone."

Those hazel eyes stay fixed to the linoleum as Steve nods. Eddie doesn't know what to do next. If he should leave or press for more that he shouldn't want.

But then Steve lets out a gulping kind of sob, is falling against Eddie's chest, and Eddie wraps his arms around him, holds him so tight even he can't breathe.

"Oh, Stevie," he whispers, and without really thinking, he pulls them into the nearest stall, shutting the door behind him.

Between his cries Steve repeats, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Eddie can't tell him that it's okay, so he combs his fingers through Steve's hair and holds him, fighting off his own tears.

Eventually the sobs stop and the tears dry up, but Steve doesn't break their embrace.

"I shouldn't have ignored you, Eddie," Steve says into the quiet. "You didn't deserve it."

"Why did you?" Thinks it's his right to an explanation, after everything.

"I wrote to you. After you left. Was gonna visit Wayne and get your address, but then my dad found them. He said, 'boys don't write letters,' and ripped them up. He told me if you ever showed up in Hawkins again we weren't allowed to be friends. The next week he'd signed me up for every available sports league in town.

"I was so excited when I saw you at school, Eds. I couldn't believe you were here. I panicked, though, and decided to pretend like I didn't recognize you. It was easy, not having to decide what to do, so I just...kept doing it. I wanted my dad to be proud of me."

"I'm sorry he did that to you, Stevie. For what it's worth, I would've loved to get those letters. I would've written back."

Steve laughs a little. "I know. I'm so sorry I hurt you. I've regretted it every day, but I had no idea how to make it right."

Eddie shouldn't want more. He knows that he's lucky they've even had this moment, but he always needs to push.

"You could try now," he says.

"Hmm?"

"To make it right. You could try now."

A smile illuminates Steve's perfect face. "You mean it?"

Steve's hand slips against Eddie's cheek, moving up to card through his hair. His thoughts scatter like fractures of light, as Steve touches him in a way he only imagined in the midnight depths of his wildest fantasies.

Their second kiss is just as soft and sweet as the first, their lips coming together in a gentle press.

They separate, and his fingers immediately go to his mouth. "You--did you--" He squeezes his eyes shut, takes a few deep breaths. "You can't kiss me like that unless you mean it, Steve. You can't just--"

"I meant it. I meant every second. I never stopped missing you. I hated that I made it impossible to be your friend. It's been eating me up for years. I want to make it right."

"I need time," he says. His voice trembles. " I want that too, Steve, but after everything, I need to know I can trust you."

Steve nods and gives him a small smile. "I'll do anything, Eds."

---

They hangout almost everyday, and Eddie finds that, underneath all that King Steve bullshit, he's still the boy Eddie fell head over heels for at 10, golden and bright and so lovely. Still mean, still funny, still owns Eddie's heart.

Steve doesn't kiss him again, and that's for the best no matter how much Eddie longs for it.

A little over a month later, Steve invites Eddie to his house again.

He follows Steve up to his bedroom--just as terribly plaid, just as empty of things that made it Steve's--except there's a pillow fort built against the bed.

"What's this?" Eddie raises an eyebrow and stifles a smile.

Steve rolls his eyes. "You know what. C'mon, get in."

They're a little too big for a fort now, but they squish inside, limbs tangling until they end up in a giggling heap.

"A fort, Stevie?" Eddie asks once he can talk again.

Steve's smile is soft. "These last few weeks have been the best of my life. You're my best friend. And I was just wondering--" he falters here for the first time, breath stuttering. "Can I kiss you?"

Sparks erupt in Eddie's chest, his smile so big that it hurts. What a fool he was, to think he would ever stop loving Steve Harrington.

"Please," he answers.

[darkinfinity]

Happy 28! Here are all the fics I read and enjoyed this past month!

☁ Call out my name by lesbidirection (E, 101k)

Apparently, it's bad PR to fall in love with the omega you hired to help you through your rut.

Harry Styles begs to differ.

A soulmate AU where two lovers find each other entirly by accident, featuring photoshoots, Gucci suits, too many takeaways, having sex and feeling sad, an alpha who feels lost, and the omega that finds him. It shouldn't be this easy, but it is.

☁ don't be afraid to love (and love again) by @voulezloux (T, 83k)

All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different. There’s always been something at odds about how he felt.

As the eldest daughter of seven kids, he knew something was wrong with his body. Something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His mum dressed him in dresses and tights, plaits in his hair as he wandered around with the local neighborhood boys. They called him a girl, called him she and Rosemary when his name is Louis. He had told the boys as such, but they would tell him Louis is a boy’s name, not a girl’s.

Louis is a boy. He knows he is.

or the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.

☁ Wither & Bloom by @dizzy-pixie17 (E, 65k)

No one knows that legendary Harry Styles is an omega. The record label, the fans, and even his family have no idea, leading to a very isolated and very lonely life for Harry. He knows it's for the best. Otherwise, he'd never have the career he wanted and he contents himself in the knowledge that he's not the only one. But when Harry injures his voice during a performance, his manager hires a new vocal coach to help put him to rights. Cue Louis Tomlinson, the sweetest, sexiest, kindest alpha in the world, stepped right out of Harry's dizziest daydreams. While Louis tries to figure out why there's something so incredibly un-alpha-like about 'Alpha-King of Pop' Harry Styles, Harry is busy trying to control his omega's undeniable urge to throw himself at the object of his infatuation.

Amid an accidental misgendering, getting slick in public, tour bus snuggles with awkward boners, and unprovoked drops, Harry will have to choose whether he wants to keep living a lie for the sake of remaining in the spotlight or if he'll sacrifice everything to be with the man he loves… Assuming Louis ever comes back.

☁ Give me love by @falsegoodnight & @soldouthaz (E, 41k)

Despite being an omega, Louis’ always had a blatant dislike of alphas.

Or, Louis doesn't feel like a good omega, Harry doesn't remember how to be an alpha, and they figure it out together.

☁ Freeway of love (in a pink Cadillac) by @mizzhydes (E, 33k)

Louis was on his way to Miami to visit an old friend. Harry was going there for a little R&R and take in the sights and sounds. A sudden upgrade in seating brought these polar opposites together. The universe works in mysterious ways and they are unknowingly about to embark on an adventure they will surely remember for a lifetime.

Prompt 107: Sugar daddy AU inspired by this tweet: “going to sit next to the richest looking middle aged man on my flight and scroll through my nudes for three hours straight” with rich daddy Harry and bratty baby Louis

☁ this brokenness inside me might start healing by @loveislarryislove (T, 29k)

Louis grew up in a tiny town, where everyone knew everyone -- or at least, they think they do. Then he left, and became a successful singer-songwriter, a star that everyone in the country knows -- or at least, they think they do.

But when Louis returns home for the birth of his first nibling, he meets a librarian who doesn't know him at all. And that's all Louis could ask for.

☁ Cuddlebug by sun_flowr (Not rated, 19k)

When the call from the adoption agency finally calls, Harry and Louis are surprised to discover that they have been tentatively paired with a young pup named Rami, who suffers from a multitude of issues stemming from the abandonment he’s suffered. But no matter the challenges, they know they will do everything they can to care for and love this pup as if he was their own.

Prompt: a/b/o established relationship where they finally go adopt a child and find a toddler with touch depri/abandonment issues and they build him a nest and comfort him

☁ Stars will align for us by @2tiedships2 (Not rated, 15k)

"The serial monogamist is single," Niall said by way of introduction when he sat down across from Harry in the canteen.

Harry sipped his chocolate milk. "What are you going on about?"

"Your alpha dream boat," Niall said. "That tiny little footie player? I heard from Hannah that he's broken it off with his boyfriend so he’s single and ready to flamingle. Now's the time to make your move."

Harry sipped his chocolate milk harder to keep himself from replying.

Or the one where Harry is an omega at a loss of how to get past his pining and gain the attention of Louis…especially considering the alpha is always in a relationship.

☁ now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie (T, 5k)

Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest. There's only one slight problem -- Harry and nesting aren't exactly on familiar terms. At all.

This does not stop Harry from borrowing ("borrowing") Louis' things all throughout summer, though. Oops?

☁ Send me your pillow (the one that you dream on) by fairytalefemme (G, 3k)

Harry is embarrassed to realize he's nesting but can't stop stealing Louis' things for his nest.

Short fluffy o/o gaybo drabble with lots of cuddles and softness and sock stealing <3

[overthattwilight]

Just some lines changed in the Korean dub of Ninjago

(Only for lines I can remember I was bored lol)

Season 1 Episode 5: Can of Worms

(When Kai finds Wu's lesson book from Lloyd and takes it)

Original

Lloyd: It was the perfect plan, until you had to show up and mess everything up-

Korean dub

Lloyd: I was having fun! That's my uncle's, so give it back to me!

Note: When the door is closed, Lloyd's voice doesn't get muffled. You can still hear him saying his words

Season 1 Episode 6: The Snake King

(When Kai drops off Lloyd at the arcade and leaves)

Original

Kai: Sorry, shorty!

Korean dub

Kai: I'm busy. Bye!

Note: I made the translation like this, but actually, instead of "I", Kai calls himself Hyung(형), a word for big brother in Korean. Even when not siblings, this can be used for boys older than boys. Sometimes in Korea, we would replace "I" with other words depending occasions. This is that case

Season 1 Episode 7: Tick Tock

(When Wu explains his past, and Jay is surprised Wu and Garmadon were friends when they were little. Then Jay explains about Lord Garmadon)

Original

Jay: The King of Cruelty, the Doer of Destruction, the Captain of Chaos...and you two were friends?

Korean dub

Jay: He has a face like a demon, his hobby is destroying, and his speciality is taunting ninjas! But you two were...in a good relationship?

Note: Personally, I find the descriptions in the Korean dub fun

Season 3 Episode 3, Blackout

(When Kai encounters Tech Wu)

Original

Kai: Sensei? What have they done to you?

Korean dub

Kai: Sensei? What happened to your face?

Note: So in the original, Kai realizes what happened to Wu. But in the Korean dub, it sounds like Kai is still processing to understand what happened to Wu

(When Cole and Jay goes to attack Tech Wu)

Original

Cole: More like Tech Wu!

Jay: Bad Sensei, bad!

Korean dub

Cole: Yeah, it seems like that!

Jay: Yeah, he's not Sensei! Attack!

Note: By the way, in Korea, Tech Wu is "Evil Wu". Kind of something more direct so the children audience can understand better? Also it's fun to find how Jay in the original said "Bad Sensei, bad!"

Season 3 Episode 6, Codename: Arcturus

(When the Lloyd gives the Golden Power to the ninja, and they show off their powers)

Original

Jay: Anyone shocked to see me do this? Huh?

Cole: No dirt of my shoulder!

Zane: Chill out!

Korean dub

Jay: Hey, you guys can't do this? Huh?

Cole: Oh say that after seeing me!

Zane: Look at me, too!

Note: The puns related to the elements weren't kept in the Korean dub. It might able to make those element related puns in Korean, but I think the process would be hard

(When the ninja goes to space and the others find out. Garmadon being angry to Wu)

Original

Garmadon: You wanted them to take risks, to see how far they'd go. Is this what you had in mind? How far? How far must they go?

Korean dub

Garmadon: I told you the ninja shouldn't be left doing what they want. You said to have trust in the ninja, and now this happened! What are you going to do now? The ninja went to space!

Note: Actually in this part, Garmadon called the ninja as "the kids", not as "the ninja". Either can be interpreted as the ninja are kids Garmadon has responsibility, or the ninja are little kids who are still immature in Garmadon's eyes

Season 4 Episode 2: Only one can remain

(When Master Chen appears and he greets the elemental masters)

Original

Chen: Now, everyone can all DI-RECT your attention to me!

Korean dub

Chen: Now, say goodbye to the world! A new world will be unfold!

Note: Considering the original was using a pun by using the syllable(which di from direct sounds like die), it was hard to use the same pun in Korean. Therefore the line was changed

(When the Kabuki people appear to lead the elemental masters to their rooms)

Original

Jay: Ugh, just what this place needs. Creepy Clowns!

Garmadon: Not clowns, Kabuki. Chen's jesters.

Korean dub

Jay: Ugh, who are those people? With faces white as heck!

Garmadon: They are dressed up as Kabuki. Actors for traditional Japanese drama.

Note: I believe the reason why Garmadon in the explained what Kabuki is because the children audience won't know what Kabuki is. But...isn't Ninjago different from our world? Even if there are many Japanese features, are they called as 'Japanese'? Or another word?

Season 4 Episode 7: The Forgotten Element

(When Nya reunites with Zane)

Original

Nya: Zane! You're back!

Zane: What? What is on my back?

Korean dub

Nya: Zane! You've changed a lot!

Zane: What? You're not saying I'm old, right?

Note: Since the original made a pun using "back", it was impossible to keep this pun in the Korean, due to language difference. Therefore it was changed to what is seen. Also, Nya's line can somewhat be seen as greeting someone who you haven't seen for a long time. In this context "you've changed a lot" can be seen as "you've grown a lot". I guess that's why Zane said about being old

[olivialau]

Shadow's Embrace Ch.29

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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

CHAPTER 29 - The 5 Stages of Drinking Alone

That night marked the second time you had cooked for Sukuna.

The rich aroma of stir-fried beef and vegetables simmering in a spicy, savory sauce prickled at your nose as you set the knife down on the counter with a soft clink.

You tuned the faucet, letting the hot water run over your hands, so lost in thought that you hardly noticed the heat nearly burning the tips of your fingers.

The whole day you'd been mulling over how comfortable this all felt, how familiar—when it absolutely shouldn't.

You had put in a lot of effort, going as far as preparing an assortment of side dishes that you had meticulously arranged on the coffee table. And honestly, it was mostly due to the thrill of finally eating something other than overly salted, greasy takeout for the first time in days.

But there was also the fact that you would be sharing this meal with Sukuna...

Let’s just say you didn’t hate the idea.

It was ridiculous, really—you didn’t even know if he was serious about you keeping your end of the bargain. Yet, the desire to impress him was so persistent, so undeniable. You imagined his brows unfurling, his hands unclenching, his eyes widening slightly in surprise at the taste. You wanted him to soften toward you, to see you.

You craved it so intensely that you barely felt guilty about cooking for a monster like him, using ingredients bought with stolen money, in an apartment where you were essentially confined.

And you hated him for that, you truly did.

Though, perhaps it wasn’t even him you hated, but rather, the impenetrable block of ice around him. Or even more fittingly—the raging fire that burned everything in its way.

You knew extinguishing that fire was an impossible dream, a goal forever out of reach. But maybe, you could contain it, shrink it from a forest blaze into something smaller, something more manageable, like a house fire. Maybe then, wanting him wouldn’t seem so foolish. Maybe then, reaching for him wouldn’t feel so impossible.

They do say the way to a man's heart is through his stomach, so it was worth a shot, right?

You left the pan on a low simmer as you waited for Sukuna. Despite his completely erratic personality, you'd noticed over the past few days that he returned home at almost exactly 8 p.m. every night.

So you'd started preparing about an hour in advance, and sure enough, at five minutes past eight, the door swung open.

Sukuna walked in, with a black undershirt clinging to his muscular frame, and his robe slung casually over his shoulder. He sniffed the air, his gaze tracking down the source of the aroma. As his eyes landed on the bowls and plates you had arranged on the small table before the couch, his brow arched in surprise.

Maybe he hadn’t expected you to follow through on your promise. Hell, maybe he didn’t even want you to. The sudden rush of anxiety that came over you was laughable. You hated how easily he could make you feel like this—anxious, second-guessing yourself.

From the corner of your eye, you tracked his movements as he strode past the kitchen, completely ignoring you. Without a word, he disappeared into his 'quarters,' slamming the door shut behind him.

You cringed. Great. This was embarrassing, but you weren't going to let him ruin this for you. You deserved to enjoy this meal with or without him.

Grabbing the kitchen tongs, you scooped a generous serving into your bowl of rice. But just as you were about to sit down, the door creaked open once more.

Sukuna reappeared, now without the robe over his shoulder, and—curiously—carrying two silk pillows in his hands. You watched him, uncertain of what to expect, as he placed a pillow on either side of the coffee table. Then, with a gracious movement, he crouched down and settled onto one.

“Are you done yet? The smell’s tolerable, I suppose.” he grumbled, eyes narrowing at you in what was probably his version of an invitation.

Your lips quirked up in surprise. So, he was joining you after all.

You quickly loaded another bowl with rice and beef, walking it over to the table and setting it down in front of him. He sat casually with one knee pulled up, and the other leg stretched out under the table, his calf brushing against your designated pillow.

You sat down opposite to him, cautious to avoid touching his leg, as you waited for him to take the first bite.

When he raised the chopsticks to his mouth, you couldn't help but notice the way his arm flexed with the movement, his muscles thick and well-defined under his tattoos. It was... distracting, to say the least.

And in your distraction, you almost missed it—the subtle shift in his expression as he chewed. How his brows relaxed, how his eyes seemed to brighten, ever so slightly. It was nearly imperceptible, but you'd spent enough time studying his face to catch even the smallest change.

You smiled to yourself, only for him to snap back to his usual self, glaring at you as his grip tightened on the chopsticks in his hand. “What are you laughing at, woman?”

You waved a hand dismissively. “Nothing. Just wondering if you liked it, that’s all.”

You leaned back, intending to rest your hand on the floor behind you, but instead, your palm landed on something warm—Sukuna’s ankle.

Fuck, of all things.

You jerked your hand back in shock, knocking your chopsticks to the ground in the process.

“Ah, I—” Flustered, you quickly ducked under the table to retrieve them. But as luck would have it, the chopsticks had rolled in the most unfortunate direction—about ten inches away from Sukuna’s... well, his crotch.

You swallowed, trying to stay calm, and reached for the chopsticks without drawing any attention. But when you finally grabbed them, your eyes involuntarily flicked up—and... there it was, staring you in the face. The fabric of his pants stretched over him, outlining everything.

Oh.

You quickly looked away, cheeks burning.

If that’s how he looked soft, then—no. You were not going to go there. You were not some kind of depraved pervert.

Clearing your throat, you slid back up, holding up the chopsticks to emphasize that they were the reason you'd disappeared under the table for a good minute. "Uh, sorry about that," you mumbled.

Sukuna, however, seemed entirely unfazed, already back to devouring his meal, side dishes included. Did anything embarrass this man?

Probably not.

He was such an odd creature.

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

In the days that followed, life became a touch more engaging, with a wider array of options to fill the endless hours of this painfully dull house arrest.

With Sukuna’s permission, you'd ventured a block beyond your set limits to the grocery store, where you picked up a cheap TV from the electronics department at the mall along with a handful of DVDs.

Using such a large amount of stolen money at the checkout felt morally questionable, but given everything you’d been through, a small bit of comfort wasn’t a crime, was it?

Now, your daily routine included trips to the supermarket, afternoons spent watching cliché movies, and evenings cooking dinner for you and Sukuna.

Those dinners were mostly spent in silence—Sukuna wasn’t much of a conversationalist at the table—but every now and then, he’d grace you with what passed for a compliment in his book: “This doesn’t taste as terrible as it looks.” “I’ve had worse.” “I suppose you’re good for cooking, at least.”

It was progress, wasn't it?

After dinner—came training. As brutal as ever, Sukuna never went easy on you, but at least you were getting better. Your cursed energy was slowly returning to its former level, and you were regaining control, little by little.

Three more days passed in this relative peace, but you were still desperately counting the days until Sukuna’s promised 'reconsideration'. While you had adapted to the routine, you still felt like a dog in a cage—it wasn’t really living.

You missed your friends, your parents, and all the people you cared about. The guilt of hurting them gnawed at you, especially in the quiet moments...

This particular afternoon, you found yourself sprawled across the couch, legs dangling over the armrest, half-watching a predictable romance movie on the new TV. While the plot was utterly, utterly cliché, the male lead didn’t look half bad, so you were content enough to keep watching.

Sukuna had spent the morning holed up in the basement, a change from his usual habit of disappearing elsewhere. You couldn’t help but wonder what kept him busy down there, but you knew better than to ask. It wasn’t worth the trouble—he’d just snap at you for prying.

The movie was nearing its climax, the moment where the estranged lovers were finally about to reunite after years of heart-wrenching separation. But right then the familiar, heavy thud of Sukuna’s footsteps on the basement stairs pulled your attention away from the screen.

He strode into the kitchen, grabbed his keys off the counter, and headed toward the door. But along the way, he paused, his hands slipping into his pockets as his attention drew towards the scene on screen.

The male lead was in the midst of his grand declaration, confessing how his lover had haunted his thoughts in her absence, how his face burned whenever she was near, how his chest tightened, making it hard to breathe unless she was in his arms. Classic, over-the-top romance movie stuff.

You braced yourself, anticipating Sukuna to scoff or hurl an insult from behind the couch. But instead, he appeared... reluctantly intrigued.

His gaze flicked from the screen to you, and he pulled a hand from his pocket, pointing it toward the scene. “What’s this garbage?" he asked, his voice difficult to read. “That scrawny idiot... what’s he blathering about?”

You nearly laughed out loud. Of course—Sukuna had probably never sat through a romance movie in his thousand-year existence. But to not even recognize what was happening? That was rich. You stifled the chuckle threatening to break free as you replied, “It’s a romance movie. He’s confessing his love to her.”

“Hmph,” Sukuna grunted, his jaw tightening as he averted his gaze. His fingers tugged at the fabric near his chest, and he muttered under his breath, “Sounds more like he’s describing a curse.”

You smirked at the odd observation. You certainly considered your crush on Sukuna to be somewhat of a curse, so you didn’t argue. “Yeah, I guess you could say that,” you said, shifting to sit up.

Right then, the characters on screen leaned in for a dramatic, passionate kiss—the kind of lip-smacking, moaning kiss that would make anyone flush with embarrassment, and that was especially true with Sukuna standing right behind you.

You reached for the remote to switch it off, but before you could press the button, he interjected with another remark.

“I’ve never grasped why you brainless pigs bother with that,” he spat with disdain. “When I took my concubines, I didn’t waste time on pointless gestures. Fucking is a necessity—like food, combat, or breathing. Nothing more. Why complicate the matter?”

You nearly choked. Not only had Sukuna casually brought up his sex life, but he also managed to sound like the most emotionally stunted man alive while doing it. You turned to face him, unable to contain your lecture about how narrow-minded of an opinion that was.

“It’s more than just 'fucking.' It’s about knowing every part of each other—touching, feeling, connecting... You wouldn’t understand.”

He cackled, dragging a hand through his hair. “That sounds ridiculous.” And with that, he turned on his heel and slammed the door behind him.

You sighed deeply, sinking into the couch cushions. That man was impossible. But no matter how much he grated on your nerves, you couldn’t get him out of your head.

With a groan, you grabbed your phone, determined to focus on anything else.

You pressed the button on the side, waiting for the screen to light up. With squinted eyes, you quickly punched in your password, deliberately avoiding the missed calls and messages from your mom. You couldn’t handle that pain right now.

You opened your feed, scrolling through the endless recipes in search of inspiration for dinner. Cooking for someone else—even if that certain someone didn’t bother to pretend he appreciated it—had somehow reignited your love for it. It gave you a sense of control, turning the lost time locked away into something... slightly meaningful.

After sifting through a bunch of bland or overly complicated dinner ideas, you landed on a recipe for a mouth-watering mushroom risotto.

Perfect.

You copied the ingredients into your notes and grabbed your coat for a quick grocery run.

The walk was short, and soon enough, you found yourself wandering the aisles, hunting down rice, mushrooms, parmesan cheese, and a bottle of cheap white wine. To your delight, there was a buy-one-get-one-free deal on the latter, and, well, you weren’t one to turn down a bargain.

Back home, you unpacked, took a long, hot shower, and began preparing dinner. The risotto simmered gently over low heat in the pan as you poured yourself a glass of wine—the bottle was already uncorked for the recipe, so why not indulge?

By the time the risotto was finished, it was perfectly creamy and fragrant, with just the right consistency, and just in time for Sukuna’s expected arrival. You sank into the couch with your glass, basking in the satisfaction of a job well done.

But as the minutes ticked by, your satisfaction slowly began to fade.

8:10 PM. Nothing.

8:30 PM. Still nothing.

By 9:30 PM, you were starving and long past the point of caring. You stomped into the kitchen and scooped a generous portion unto your plate—more than half, because screw him. You weren’t going to wait around for someone who clearly didn’t give a damn.

As you wolfed down the risotto, the exquisite taste was drowned out by the disappointment gnawing at you. It wasn’t just about having to eat dinner alone—you were used to that, having grown up with parents who were always away for work.

No, it was the fact that you had put effort into this, that you’d wanted to impress him, even if you hated admitting that to yourself.

You’d wanted one of his backhanded compliments. One of those smug remarks that somehow managed to make your heart thump in your chest. Instead, you were left with cold food and an even colder sense of rejection.

After finishing your plate, you dumped it in the sink, the half-empty wine bottle catching your eye. Well... if he wasn’t here tonight, you might as well enjoy the evening, right?

That stupid decision marked the beginning of the familiar 5 stages of getting drunk alone.

Stage one: Anger.

You grabbed the bottle and took a few bold swigs straight from it. “Who the hell does he think he is? Some kind of king?” you muttered, pacing the room with the bottle in hand. “Fucking idiot. He could’ve at least let me know he wasn’t going to join for dinner.”

With your free hand, you scrolled through your phone, looking for music to match your mood. You cranked the volume up, letting the pounding bass and angry vocals blast through the apartment.

By the time you emptied the first bottle, you were drained. You collapsed onto the couch, the playlist fading into the next, as if on cue; A mix of heart-wrenching ballads.

Which led to stage two: Sadness.

Your near-death experience, failing Ayumi, the guilt, the fear, the unanswered calls from your parents and friends—it It was like a dam broke, and you couldnt control the outbreak of tears. It wasn't the dignified kind of crying, either—no, this was the ugly, snotty, full-body sobbing that only seemed to happen when you’d had just enough alcohol to stop caring how you looked.

By the time the sobbing subsided, your face was puffy, your eyes swollen, and your sleeves tear-stained.

And that’s when stage three hit: Desperation.

Suddenly, you scrambled off the couch, horrified at the thought of Sukuna walking in and seeing you like this—like a complete wreck.

No way. Not happening.

You rushed to the bathroom, splashing your face with cold water, changing into something more flattering, something less… tear-soaked. You brushed your hair, checking your reflection until you looked somewhat presentable again.

Good. Crisis averted.

But when you stepped back out, your eyes drifted to the second bottle of wine still sitting on the countertop, staring you down...

Maybe just one more glass wouldn't hurt?

You poured yourself a generous serving and settled back onto the couch, opening your phone's selfie cam to ensure you still looked decent.

But just as you raised your glass to take the first sip, the sound of a key slipping into the lock startled you. Your phone nearly slipped from your hand, and you quickly sat up straight.

Sukuna stepped in, blood splattered on his clothes—more than usual.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised to see you still awake, before his gaze shifted to the wine glass in your hand and then to the empty bottle on the floor.

You knew that look. He was about to say something snide, some smug comment you weren’t in the mood for. So before he could get a word out, you beat him to it.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up. You could’ve at least told me you weren’t going to be here for dinner.” you hissed.

Sukuna huffed, clearly unimpressed as he tossed his keys onto the counter. His eyes flicked toward the stove where the risotto sat, cooled to a lukewarm temperature. He removed the lid and took in the smell, completely ignoring your remark.

“Hey!” you snapped, your frustration reaching a boiling point. “You could at least explain yourself! Or say sorry!”

He turned, red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of the apartment. “Huh? I don’t owe you a damn thing,” he said, his voice a low, condescending growl. “As I recall, you're merely a tool in my arsenal, not my wife.”

The audacity.

You marched over to the kitchen, standing beside him as he casually grabbed a plate and served himself some risotto, completely oblivious to your anger.

“A tool?” You seethed. “Fuck you, Sukuna, I’m a human being.”

He didn’t even glance at you. “Exactly. You're an insignificant human. That's why you're owed nothing. I don't answer to humans. Or to anyone, for that matter.”

You clenched your fists, barely containing your booze-fueled fury. But even in your drunken state, you knew there was no point in arguing with him. With a huff, you stomped back to the couch and took a long drink from your glass.

To your surprise, Sukuna sat down beside you with his plate in hand. You shot him a sideways glance, irritated by his presence yet unable to resist gauging his reaction to the dish.

But instead of reaching for his first bite, Sukuna suddenly lunged towards you, roughly snatching the glass of wine from your hand. “You're intoxicated. Put down the wine, fool.”

Oh, so now he was sticking his nose into your business? You quickly yanked the glass back from him, the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim. For a brief moment, he looked a little humbled that you’d caught him off guard, but that expression quickly vanished, replaced by a deep, dangerous scowl. He slammed his plate down on the coffee table with a sharp clatter, clearly gearing up for a fight.

Well, he was in for one.

You defiantly gulped down another mouthful of wine, but Sukuna was fast. He seized the glass once more, gripping it so tightly you were surprised it didn’t shatter in his hand.

He shot you a deadly glare, a final warning that he wasn’t joking. But you couldn't care less. You reached out with your right hand as a distraction, and when he moved the glass away, you intercepted with your left, convinced you’d outsmarted him.

But of course, Sukuna’s speed and strength were far superior to your little trick. Your own fault for forgetting who you were up against... In an instant, he snatched your wrist, forcing you to let go when your bones crunched together.

As the glass slipped from your fingers, the wine splattered all across your chest, completely soaking your white shirt.

“Ugh, look what you did!” you snapped, wrenching your hand free from his grasp.

Sukuna shrugged, clearly of the opinion that you’d invited this disaster upon yourself. He tossed the glass over his shoulder, where it shattered against the floor in a million pieces.

Though you barely registered the sound, too busy fumbling with your drenched shirt. It clung to your skin, sticky and cold, while the sour smell of wine wafted up and overwhelmed your senses.

It was gross.

And so, in a bold move you would have never—ever—considered sober, you decided that if Sukuna had already seen you naked, what difference did it make if he saw you in just a bra?

Completely oblivious to how inappropriate this was under the influence of so much wine, you grabbed the edges of your damp shirt and peeled it off over your head.

Sukuna caught the whole thing and didn’t bother to look away. For a brief second, the corner of his mouth twitched, a certain curiosity battling against his usual indifference. But just as quickly, he masked it, settling back into his stone-cold facade as he let out a soft, irritated groan.

You shot him a glare, gripping the wet shirt tightly in your hand. "What are you staring at? It’s nothing new, right? ‘Nothing special’ ?”

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened—as if he were barely restraining himself from punishing you for that attitude. But instead of rising to the bait, he turned his gaze away and dug his nails deep into the armrest.

Meanwhile, you got busy wiping the remaining wine from your chest and hands with the dry part of your shirt, your thoughts muddled as the effects of that last glass of wine hit you—hard.

In your haze, you failed to notice Sukuna bending over to reach for his plate on the coffee table. And without a second thought, you tossed the wine-soaked shirt aside, completely unaware he was directly in the line of fire.

In a most cruel twist of fate... the shirt landed right on his face.

You froze.

In an instant, the athmosphere shifted. Sukuna's aura darkened and it was as if a thunderstorm had suddenly eclipsed every ray of light. His hand curled into a claw as he peeled the shirt from his face, revealing his eyes.

They were burning... fiery red flames.

You could barely discern his words through the gutteral growl that ripped from his throat. "Oh, you've done it now, little sorcerer."

Before you could blink, he had you pinned down against the couch, his large hand gripping your jaw so tight it was impossible to move. The sharp tips of his nails bit into your cheeks, and his musky scent mingled with the lingering remnants of spilled wine.

His chest pressed down against yours, the weight of him pushing you into the cushions. You felt the straps of your bra strain under the pressure, barely holding your squashed boobs in place.

Trapped like that and utterly at his mercy, you should’ve been scared—terrified, even—but instead... the next stage of drunkenness decided to hit.

Stage 4: Lust.

Each breath, each shift of his body caused a shot of adrenaline to rush through your veins, but not from fear—no, it was excitement. The kind that made your heart race, your body flush, and your skin tingle. The electrifying kind that made you look away because you knew that if you met his gaze... you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from closing the distance between your lips and his.

He hovered so close above you that his warm breath brushed your skin when he hissed through gritted teeth, “You truly believe you can escape any consequences, don’t you, you foolish brat?”

Sukuna tightened his grip on your jaw, and you could sense the raw strength of his hand—how easily he could crush your entire skull with it.

But the fact that he chose not to… oh, that was exhilarating.

"Look at me," he snarled. His whole presence exuding such an overwhelming authority that your body obeyed before your mind could process.

Your gaze shot up to meet his, and the moment your eyes locked—something in you snapped. A heat rose in your core, and you pushed your body against his, overcome with a sudden desperate need to be closer to him.

Sukuna’s eyes widened—not in anger, but in surprise. The fact that you weren’t trembling or shrinking away like a coward, but instead leaning into him, fascinated him in a way that was completely foreign. It was like a spell—a curse—had taken hold, and he couldn't stop himself from pushing back, his hips grinding into your lower belly.

His grip on your jaw was now so tight, that it forced your teeth apart... You looked up at him through your dark lashes, a red-hot glow spreading across your cheeks

And then the most unexpected thing happened.

Sukuna’s mouth crashed down on yours, leaving you utterly breathless. His hot, wet tongue pushed past your lips, claiming you in a way that was beyond overwhelming.

He wasn’t just kissing you; he was devouring you, forcing your attention on him and him alone.

You gasped against his mouth, unable to keep up with the intensity as his free hand slipped to the back of your head, roughly yanking on a fistful of hair and pulling you closer. He was demanding your lips stay locked with his, while his tongue explored every single corner of you.

It was as if he’d taken your words from this afternoon fully to heart: 'It’s about knowing every part of each other.'

The sharp tug of his nails at your scalp, the crushing weight of his body pressing you deeper into the couch, and his pointy corner teeth grazing your lips with every attempt to invade deeper—to the point of drawing little droplets of blood.

It was clear that he kissed in the same way he fought—cruel, harsh, and unrelenting.

Your chest heaved as you fought to get a breath in between the frantic meeting of your mouths. Your arms and legs beginning to tremble from the intimate skin-to-skin contact against a man so loaded with cursed energy.

“Sukuna—can't—breathe,” you managed to moan against his lips, your voice barely audible between the lewd, wet sounds of your mouths colliding... But instead of pulling away, he pulled you closer still, tugging your hair once more as he sucked on the tip of your tongue.

Until he finally pulled back, leaving a thin string of saliva connecting you as you both gasped for air.

Sukuna wiped the slick from his lips with the back of his hand, shifting his eyes away from you, as if he couldn't face what had just happened. His flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the ragged rise and fall of his chest made him look.... unmistakably human right now, despite how hard he pretended to be otherwise.

You swallowed, heart still pounding in your chest. Unable to get your voice above a whisper to ask him. “Are you oka—”

But he shut you up before you could finish, slapping his palm over your mouth. His left hand, still tangled in your hair, yanked harder, forcing your head back as his lips found your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, nipping as he moved down until they met your collarbone.

He slowly dragged his tongue along the skin, causing a low moan to escape you from under his hand, before he continued his trail.

When he reached the top of your breasts, just above the edge of your bra where they spilled over, the nipping turned into harsh bites. This was his way of releasing his anger—of punishing you, without having to kill you...

Your body jerked under the sharp pain, your hips arching against him as a low, dangerous growl rumbled from his throat.

You felt his cock harden at his crotch and push into your belly with a tantalizing force. The earlier encounter under the coffee table had already given you a faint idea of his size but damn—this was even more impressive...

The damp heat of your breath, trapped beneath his hand, started to mirror the growing warmth between your legs. It left you shifting uncomfortably, rubbing your thighs together in a futile attempt to relieve the ache building inside you.

Then, suddenly, Sukuna released his hand from your mouth, allowing you only a second to recover before his lips were back on yours—this time softer, giving you some space to breathe. It was no less intense but tender in a way, if you could call anything he did that.

His tongue danced with yours, finally letting you match his rhythm. Caught up in that flow, you managed to free a shaky hand from beneath his weight and slide it behind his neck, pulling him closer.

But as you did, his body tensed, and without warning, Sukuna tore himself away from you. The cool air of the apartment touching your skin where he had been before, leaving you cold and exposed.

A horrible, empty feeling.

“Hey,” you called out, brushing a strand of sweaty hair behind your ear. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer. He only growled as he rose to his feet and kicked the empty wine bottle beside the table with enough force to send it crashing into the wall, shattering into pieces.

You pushed yourself up, suddenly feeling extremely vulnerable as the flush of drunken confidence faded. You instinctively covered your bra with your arms.

And just like that, you’d reached the fifth, and final stage of your drunken odyssey: Regret.

Sukuna's back was still turned towards you, and his fists were clenched tight at his sides. You knew you'd crossed a line, and now everything had changed.

What if he hated it? What if he hated you?

You could sense he was about to speak, but the thought of hearing those words from his mouth—of him closing off any opening, if there ever was one—was too much for you to bear. Desperate to avoid that outcome, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

“This was stupid. We shouldn’t have done that. Let’s just… forget it, okay?”

Once again, Sukuna didn’t respond. He didn’t even turn around. He simply... walked to the front door, opened it and disappeared into the cold night air—without a single word.

And you? You were left alone, with the shards of broken glass on the floor, the plate of risotto still untouched on the table—now as devoid of warmth as you were.

And worst of all? He never even got to taste it.

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

Okay hope y'all enjoyed that extra long, extra juicy chapter imma leave you with that 🫡

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[nekohime19]

Heart behind the lie # 13 : end of the dream

Wukong reveal the truth

TW : Depressive thoughts

He was supposed to be a pillar, the weapon wielded against the strong, made of the sturdiest stones, and filled with the mightiest of blood. He was a King, the protector of a land, of a tribe, the defender of the monkeys. He was a sage, the one that gained enlightenment, that stood equal to heaven, and some would even say above it. Sun Wukong wasn't supposed to be this frail, to flee like a coward the second his lies unraveled. To hide away, curled inside of a cave, veiled by the raging storm and the blooming thunder. 

But it didn't matter how many times he tried to lie to himself, Sun Wukong knew that under all his fancy monikers, all his empty glory, laid a bleeding heart, weak enough to shatter at the slightest of touch. He wished for his heart to be of gold, like many believed it was. For this pitiful, crying organ to be coated in liquid metal, so it could be still, and devoid of unnecessary feelings. But his heart was made of blood, and he was unable to harden it enough to keep fear at bay. 

He was doomed to live at the whims of his own feelings. 

Sun Wukong was old, tired by time itself, too tired to fight against the onslaught of tears surging in his eyes. He didn't have the strength to keep them inside of him, he didn't have the will to repress the feelings tormenting his heart. So he cried as if he was dying, maybe some part of him was, the part that basked in the warrior's fondness, for he knew it would be nothing but wishful thinking from now on. Macaque would never treat him that way again, he would disappear in his shadows with a scornful face (maybe he already did), and his love would remain unattainable. It would've been better, perhaps, if he never knew how the other smiled, how his fingers felt in his fur, how his purr sounded like, how he woke up after the first rays of light. It would've been better if he kept fooling himself with lies, if he never knew the shape of the warrior's heart. 

How was he supposed to live with this longing?

The sobs racking his throat were like earthquakes, they seized his entire body, made him tremble and cower in the shadows of the cave. He couldn't recognize his own voice, the wails sounded wrong, something unnatural, something that shouldn't pass his lips, that shouldn't even exist. His heart hurt, abused by his own feelings, eaten by fear, drowned by sorrow, pierced by anger, the pathetic organ struggled to even beat properly. 

Sun Wukong dived further in his knees, face hidden by his arms, tail tied around his own leg, he looked like a shaking newborn, afraid of the air itself, of the world around him, wanting to curl and take the least space possible. Some selfish part of him wanted to disappear, to never face the disappointment of his mentee, and of his ex-best friend. He prayed for someone to wipe away his whole existence, to let him rest, to let him bask in the peace he had longed for all his life. But no-one was kind enough to fulfill his wish. It wasn't surprising in itself, which god would be mad enough to lean over the pathetic monkey drowning in his own tears and decide to grant him mercy? He was doomed to wallow in pain until someone found him, a fitting punishment for the fool he was. 

He spent hours there, not even moving an inch, curled upon himself as if everything around him was made to hurt him. He found himself pathetic, to react like that, to cry and shiver as if he was a cub. It was like he was back inside of his mind, back where he cowered behind his walls, unable, unwilling to face the world. How the mighty have fallen, what would the ones that admired him would say? What would the ones that feared him would say? He was not the gold coated legend they hoped for, he was not the ruthless mightiest monster they despised, everything about him was a well-made lie. He was nothing but a monkey, and he hated that, he wanted to be more than that. He wanted glory and power, he wanted love and wisdom, he wanted to be seen, to exist in the eyes of others. But his nature always caught up with him. 

In the end, this is what he was : a scared beast. 

"Monkey King?" The sage jolted, he looked around and his breath hitched, MK was there. The kid looked like a mess, soaked wet, eyes reddened by uncried tears and breath stuttering. The King sprang on his feet and wiped away his tears, trying to look like everything was fine, when everything felt like it was crumbling. MK sat beside him and took a few seconds to catch his breath. "I was so worried, Macaque is still looking for you."

The King gulped, trying to gather himself, and failing to do so. Everything around him felt wrong. 

"Are you…are you awake ?"Mumbled the kid, he put his head on his knees, eyes lost in the storm. "Not like, awake as in you just woke up but… are you actually there?" MK's voice was tentative, as if voicing his desire any louder would be a sin. It shattered Sun Wukong's heart to see him so meek. He hated himself for daring to make his kid worry, he hated himself for daring thinking of lying again, for being happy that his lies were not fully discovered. "Maybe I'm just delusional, but I swore I saw… I swore I saw your magic being all calm and controlled, like it was when you were… there. It was a mess these last months after the LBD fight, but now it's… normal." MK looked at him, gaze searching, he turned away after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence."Forget it, it's nothing, I'm just desperate."

"I’m sorry." Croaked the sage, voice rough, abused by his prolonged silence. Unable to keep lying after seeing his mentee hurt this much. It felt good, in a way, to apologize for his lies, it soothed something inside of him. 

"You're really–" MK lightened up as if someone just gifted him the moon. His joyous face dimmed slightly after a few seconds. "Did… did you just wake up or…" and this was the dooming question, wasn't it. But Sun Wukong didn't want to lie, he lied enough to this boy. 

"I have been for two weeks and a few days." The silence following his confession was daunting, it was as if MK was trying to process his words, to understand the meaning behind them, it was unnerving. 

"Two weeks ?" Whispered the boy, gaze dimmed by thoughts. 

"I…" the sage gulped, words on the tip of his tongue. But admitting his own weakness, especially to the boy he was supposed to protect, was daunting. "It felt good to be… cared for."

"Good? Why do you mean–"the kid cut himself, eyes widening in realization. "Gods, you’re both messes."

"I'm sorry."

"I…Monkey King you have to tell Macaque. He's still searching for you, he doesn't-"

"He doesn't know I'm back." Cut the sage with a tight voice. He felt disgusted with himself to ever be happy about this fact, about selfishly keeping the warrior in the dark. It was comforting to know Macaque didn't learn of his lies through another, but it also meant he would be the one to tell him. And even if some part of him wanted to keep lying, mayhaps to pretend he only just woke up, he knew it would only hurt them more. In his long years of living, he learnt that the truth wasn't something you could hide forever. 

"No…"Sighed the kid. "You gotta tell him, it’ll be worse if you wait, trust me." 

"Yeah, yeah I know. I never wanted to lie for so long, but he was so… It’s been a long time since he was like this with me."

"Hm, well maybe you can try to patch things up with him." Suggested the kid with a hopeful gaze. 

"It's not gonna work, bud."

"You didn't even try."

"I know it's useless. He hates me, he doesn't want to be here."

"And how are you so sure about that?" Replied MK. "He treats you so well now, it has to mean something."

"He… doesn't know that I'm me, it's not the same."

"So you think he's just gonna… disappear if you reveal the truth?"

"Essentially yes. He made it very clear that Flower Fruit Mountain is not his home and that he doesn't want to be here." Mumbled the King, mind drifting to all the times Macaque came to demand blood. 

"Not his ho- how can this misunderstanding even exist !?" Groaned the kid. "Look, I'm not supposed to tell you that, and Macaque will be super mad if he learns of this, but trust me when I say that Macaque wants to be here. If anything he's afraid you're going to kick him out. You want him to stay, and he wants to stay, you see where I'm going with this ?"

" I somehow doubt he feels like that."

"Come on! You're kidding me. Just try, besides you can't keep lying, you know that, right ?"

"I know, it's just, maybe it'll be easier for everybody if I keep lying." Sighed the sage.

"Monkey King you… you know you can't keep lying forever, Macaque is gonna catch up, and he's gonna be more mad if he realizes what’s going on without you telling him."

"Sorry." Mumbled the King, he turned away, unable to gaze at the kid's hopeful face. 

"Look, I won't tell you things will turn out fine, because I honestly don't know how things will turn out. But if you're honest with him, I'm sure there will be hope."

"I mean, how can I even be honest?" Sadly chuckled the golden monkey, he rose slightly and cleared his throat. "“Hey Macaque, so you know the last two weeks you think I was behaving? Turns out I was awake the whole time! Also I love your belly scratches, you think you can give me some now?”, it's not gonna work."

"Okay, yeah, maybe don't talk about the belly scratches, not now." Giggled the kid, his dimmed smile slightly lightened up by his foolish act.

"I mean those belly scratches are soooo good." Chuckled the sage, happy to see his kid being a bit more joyous. 

"The Monkey King, addicted to belly scratches."

"To Macaque's belly scratches, nuance." Corrected the sage, MK barked a laugh, eyes crooked like moon crescents. Sun Wukong smiled softly, he sighed when he recalled the memories that flooded him when he pushed the kid away. He hoped they weren't true, he hoped they were nothing but twisted illusions conjured up by his sick mind. "Hey bud, did I ever…hurt you… when I was “asleep”?" MK flinched, arms immediately tightening. 

"No…" Sun Wukong knew it was a lie, but he decided to not prie for now, this sort of thing needed delicacy, and he was too emotionally vulnerable to deal with it. 

"Can I have… a last few hours before I tell him ?" Asked the sage with a frail voice, almost unheard. 

"You know this will be harder if you-"

"I know, I just wanna show him a place. And I'm not sure he will still be there if I…" 

"Okay… But I will call Macaque tomorrow morning." Warned the kid, trying to look stern, and failing at it. 

"Yeah, thanks bud." 

"Your welcome, and Monkey King…" 

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're back." Mumbled MK as he threw himself at the sage and tightly hugged him, almost as if Wukong could disappear if he didn't hold him tight enough. 

"…thanks, I'm glad to be back too. I'm sorry I left you alone." Whispered the sage as he nuzzled the boy, losing himself in the familiar scent. Despite all his lies, all his hurting, this was the truth. He was glad to be back, he was glad to be able to hug his kid. 

They spent a long time there, tightly glued to one another, hidden in the shadows as the sky, outside, cleared itself. Macaque found them after a bit, fur all over the place, breath struggling to pass his lips. MK awkwardly loosened his hold on the King and backed away a little. 

"You're both safe." Sighed the macaque, tension fading away from his body. 

"Yeah, hm, I'm gonna go home." Suddenly blurted the boy, Macaque looked at him with a raised eyebrow and MK stuttered. "I have… things to do? Anyway, I'll call you tomorrow morning! Promise. Love ya, bye!" Screamed the boy as he ran outside, throwing a thumbs up at his mentor on his way. 

"This was...weird." Mumbled the macaque, he turned towards the sage and narrowed his gaze. "Why did you leave like that? You're okay?"

The sage took a deep breath, he chirped, a soft thing, meant to be reassuring, but it came out shaky and unsure. Macaque crouched in front of him and carefully looked for any sign of injury, Sun Wukong eagerly leaned in each touch, knowing very well it could be the last time he ever felt his moon warm hands on him. The sage tied his tail on the warrior's wrist and guided him outside. There was a place Macaque needed to see, a place Sun Wukong avoided for eons, somewhere hidden, inside his mountain, only tended by clones. 

Macaque followed him, confused, letting out two or three stuttering chirps here and there. But the sage was unrelenting, he needed to guide the warrior there, he needed him to see that place before telling the truth (before watching him disappear forever). 

They walked through forests and meadows, reaching one of the mountain outskirt. Macaque eyes narrowed the more they walked, perhaps recognizing the place, it was one of his favorites after all (before it was drowned by fire). Sun Wukong has spent a lot of time trying to save the place, replanting trees and healing the soil, trying to give it the splendor that it once possessed. Sun Wukong slowed a little when they began to reach the orchard, his own heart beating frantically, his steps stuttering more and more. He came here often, before the attack in heaven, spending days lazing around in the trees, eating the fresh picked fruits. It was one of the first places that fell prey to Erlang's fire (according to his subjects), the place where they suffered the most casualties. 

The beautiful thriving orchard became a cemetery of monkeys. When Sun Wukong granted immortality to his subjects he foolishly forgot that newer subjects will always be born, ones that wouldn't be able to escape death. He always felt like he failed them. How did they feel ? Them that only heard about their King through legends and tales, that heard about his gentleness, about his braveness, about his foolishness. Them that looked at the immortal elders with awe, hoping that the King would return to grant them the same blessing. How did they feel when death fell upon death ? Did they think he abandoned them ? Did they think they were not worthy of immortality compared to the elders ? 

When he learned of Erlang's fire, of the deaths of hundreds of monkeys he didn't even know, he realized that he was not fit to be the King of monkeys. He granted immortality without realizing his troop would never be static, that life would never stop flowing, and as such, if he gave immortality to each newborn, a time would come when the mountain would not be enough to sustain them. He divided his troop between the immortal ones, doomed to be outside of nature itself, of watching the others die, and the mortal ones, doomed to question why they weren't the chosen ones, to doubt the love their King held for them. How did you explain to a dying monkey that you couldn't grant them immortality ? How did you explain the lack of resources, the lack of places? How did you explain that their death was needed when you could see the fear inside of their eyes ? He was unable to provide for all of them. His youthful mistake would follow him forever, crushing him, reminding him he wasn't fit to be King but he didn't have the luxury to flee the crown. 

The topic of immortality was taboo inside of his troop for a reason. Sun Wukong made sure to be there for each death, watching each little sun burn out, but he wasn't brave enough to be there for each burial. This orchard was a cemetery of his failures (Ba tree was somewhere here), and the only thing he could do was to keep it untouched and everlasting, a sumptuous bed for the bravest of his little suns. 

The orchard was guarded by two clones, they sat in front of the colorful trees and the flowering soil, weapons in hands. They let them pass when they caught the gaze of the King. Macaque was silent, following in his footsteps quietly, perhaps only realizing what this place had become. Each tree was well-loved and brimming with life, each carved with a name, sometimes with light-hearted drawings, or the paws of a particular monkey (one close to the deceased). The orchard wasn't little, it extended in all directions, a forest of peace made for rest. 

Sun Wukong guided him inside of the orchard until they stopped before the oldest tree,the first Sun Wukong planted, a mango tree. 

Incense sticks were lightened and planted at the roots of the tree, something not unusual here, the place was veiled by the smell of flowers and incense, surely the work of one of the clones that were made to tend to the place. Macaque approached the tree and sat in front of it, Sun Wukong sat at his side. 

“BELOVED WARRIOR-LIU'ER MIHOU” was carved in the tree trunk, besides the handprints of a lot of monkeys (his own lost among the others). There was a time when Mihou's corpse was buried there, Sun Wukong was granted time after his warrior's death to return home and bury him. The corpse was no longer there when his journey ended, stolen by another. He had been enraged then, flowed by burning feelings, at the time he decided to guard this place with his life, he made clones and ordered them to guard the orchard at all costs.

He wondered now if his warrior crawled out of this place when the witch revived him, or if she stole his corpse and buried him somewhere else to prepare her wretched plans. He wondered if she stole the comfort this grave could offer, if she dumped him in the filthiest of places and made him believe nobody, not even his own troop, would organize a burial for him. 

"This is… my grave." Mumbled the macaque as he traced the carving with shaking hands. "I… I never knew I had… "Sun Wukong guessed his questions were answered by that trembling whisper, he leaned over Macaque, head falling on his shoulders, tail curling protectively around him. 

Macaque took a shaking breath and quietly watched the tree, awe filling his face. 

"Was I buried here? I didn't crawl out of here… it would've been nice." And Sun Wukong wondered from where he crawled. He hoped the witch dumped him in, at least, a decent place. But knowing her, and her way of feeding hatred, she probably threw him in the vilest places, made him believe the sage didn't care about his rest, that the troop didn't care about his rest. She always had been the kind to hurt the mind, to tear it until it bends to her will, this wouldn't be out of character for her. Sun Wukong pressed further into the warrior, almost tempted to talk, to reveal the truth, but he didn't want to fight here, not in this sacred place. 

They spent the rest of the day here, quietly watching the incense sticks burn out, until a clone approached them to plant new, fresher ones. Sun Wukong held Macaque tightly, not daring to even utter the slightest of chirp. Macaque hold was weak, but it was there, he clinged to his arms, hand loosely buried in the fabric of his shirt, and it meant the world to the sage. 

It was in the silence, in the quietness of the place, only disturbed by the soft steps of wandering clones, that they dared to cry. The sage didn't even know what he was grieving. Was it the friendship he knew was lost for eternity? Or the friend that became a stranger? Macaque was right besides him, but he felt strangely lonely, nothing could fill the void inside of him. 

He avoided the thought of Liu'er Mihou for so long, everything seemed to come down at the same time, every love-filled words unuttered, every thunder-like roars unscreamed, every poisonous insults unsaid, they all flowed upon his cheeks. 

He realized two things at the same time :

The one he loved, Liu'er Mihou, was dead. 

And he wanted to love the one who lived, the Six-eared Macaque. 

He knew what he saw of Macaque wasn't everything, he knew the scornful words and spiteful acts were a part of him as much as the sweet promises and the tender touches. He knew two and a half weeks were too little to really see someone for who they truly were. There were a lot of things he was curious about Macaque, and he knew some parts of him probably already fell (the part that fell for Mihou swooning at the similarities, the parts craving care falling for the slightest kindness), but he was ready to try. 

It was cruel to realize this now, and he was almost tempted to lie for one more day, only to bask in the revelation. But he owed the warrior the truth, he couldn't postpone this, not anymore. 

They left the orchard after a bit, each not commenting on the other tears. Sun Wukong stopped the warrior before he could retreat to the shack, the sage didn't want to have this conversation in a closed place. They settled in a quiet place, away from the orchard, the sun falling behind the sea in the back. 

Macaque opened his mouth, perhaps worried, but he shut himself up when Wukong rose on his two feets, finally seeing eye to eye with the warrior. 

"You're…" Began the warrior. 

"I'm healed." Replied Sun Wukong, he took a deep breath and looked at his moon, diving in his gaze. 

"I see… since when ?" 

"Two and a half weeks." Macaque raised an eyebrow, probably surprised by his statement. He frowned, anger blooming inside of his gaze. 

"Two and half weeks?" Repeated the macaque, each word carefully mouthed. 

"Yeah… I…" 

"Why didn't you tell me anything ?" 

"I… it felt nice." And even if it was the truth, it was probably the worst thing to say, Macaque gaze hardened, his whole face made of steel. 

"What, it felt nice to take me for a fool ?" Scoffed the warrior, voice quiet, but rising. 

"No I… I never intended to hurt you, I just… it felt good" 

"What felt good?" Sighed the warrior, face falling, as if he was defeated. "It felt good to see me fretting? I'm… Gods you saw…you weren't supposed to see me like this. Two weeks ? I'm such an idiot to be this easily fooled-" 

"It wasn't like this!" Snapped the sage, his own voice rising. "It wasn't like this…I just…you were so gentle…" 

"Did you even think of the kid ? Of how much he worried ? Of how you left him alone?" 

"Of course I did!"

"But your own selfish desires are above everything, aren't they? Same old Wukong." Scorned the warrior, arms tightly wrapped around him, eyes glistening with tears. "Did you ever think about what I felt? How much it was-" 

"How much it disgusted you!?" Cut the sage with a heaving chest. "Yeah, I thought about it! All the time, in fact. Does it disgust you that much to know the one you cared about for the last weeks was me and not some feral monkey ? Why are you so gentle with me when you're sure I won't remember a thing !? Why can't you be gentle when I'm awake…"

"Are you seriously asking that!? It should be easy to understand. Why do you think I'm not kind with you, hm, Wukong ?"

"I don't know!" Screamed the King, surprising them both. "I don't know anymore…" he repeated, more quietly. "I thought I knew Macaque, I thought you were nothing but a coward, a cruel and spiteful shadow of who you once were. But how am I supposed to believe that now that I know the way you wipe away my tears !? I'm not the one who did that, I already accepted that you would hate me forever, so seeing you care that much it just… it confused me. It felt so good, and you were so kind, and I loved it. I don't know anything anymore. Can you just…can you stay?"He asked, voice shaking, head bowed. Afraid of the answer, of the scornful reply Macaque would throw at him. Gods, he's going to laugh at his face and disappear with a flick of wrist, and this is going to be their last talk-

"… I can stay ?" His voice was so frail Sun Wukong almost didn't hear it. 

"Yes! Yes you can, t-this is your home." Immediately replied the sage, he lifted his face, a tentative hope blooming in his eyes. 

Macaque turned away, refusing to look at him. It hurted, he wanted to reach him, to hold him like he did mere hours before, but he couldn't. The space between them now wider than ever. 

"Don't follow me." Spat the warrior, he fell in one of his shadows, and the sage held his breath, only to let it go when he was certain that he could still feel the other presence on his mountain. 

Macaque didn't leave. Even if he was mad, even if he probably wouldn't want to see him again, he was still here. And it hurt to think he wouldn't be hugged anymore, he wouldn't be cared for, held like he was precious. It hurt to realize he would fall asleep alone, it wounded him to realize the dream he lived in for those last two weeks was coming to an end. But Macaque didn't leave, and for now, it was enough. It had to be if Sun Wukong didn't want to fall in despair. 

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[scarasimping]

love-avoidant princess

pirate!scaramouche x princess!reader

synopsis: scaramouche’s crew had been planning this heist for years prior, and finally, they dock ship at the most heavily guarded kingdom on this side of the world with only one goal in mind: infiltrate the castle and steal the crown used for the coronation ceremony. The only setback? The princess had already stolen it, so now he has to go through her. 

tags: fem!reader, allusions to medieval sexism, you know how that is, mentions of blood like once, alcohol also mentioned a couple times, i believe that’s it for this part!

author’s note: ITS DONE omg, this took way longer than i thought but I guess that’s what happens when i try to throw myself in to writing actual pieces for the first time in three years instead of taking it slow. and it only ended up being 3k words TT but this is not the end, i have way more in mind for these two, this is honestly more like...a prologue of sorts!! hope you all enjoy !! so glad we actually have a plot now instead of me posting random hcs hshshshs also yes, his crew is most of the anemo characters because I said so

word count: 3.63k

One can only see the same garden of flowers so many times before becoming bored of the sight. You have walked through here on so many occasions that you're sure that you could list each plant by its scientific name in the order they appear, from the front of the garden to the back.

So, really, it shouldn't come as a surprise to your retainer when they watch you leave a meeting with a potential suitor halfway through your millionth walk through the garden.

The suitor was confused, calling out to you and running to keep up with your fast-paced steps.

"Princess! Did I do something wrong?" He shouted, but you shook your head, an unimpressed and uncaring look painting your features.

"I apologize for saying this after you made the long journey here, but this simply will not work between us."

And thus, another man was rejected by the unromantic princess.

Known for turning down every suitor imaginable, you had gained the reputation of being entirely against romance. Even though you were clearly not interested, this only made people want you more, and your father, who was eager to get you married off, agreed to let everyone interested in you meet you, as long as they were of high enough standing. This included royalty from other kingdoms, wealthy businessmen, and other government officials or their sons who were your age. 

None of them even came close to winning your heart.

It’s not that there was anything wrong with them. To be honest, even you weren’t sure why you were so bored with every man or woman you met. It seemed to be more the life you would lead with them than the suitor themselves that made you gag. No first-born heir of a royal family wants to be married off; they want to have the throne! And if your parents weren’t going to give it to you, then you wouldn’t make it easy for them to send you away.

As you gracefully left the heartbroken businessman behind, the retainer assigned to watch over you hurriedly followed, barely keeping up with your pace.

"Princess, this is the seventh suitor you've met. Please tell me, what is wrong with this one?" he pleaded. In truth, he was scared to report more bad news to the king and queen, but frankly, that was not your problem.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I just do not see myself having a life with him," you replied, staring straight ahead and hoping he would stop following you. After forcing yourself to be nice to these suitors, all you wanted was to lay in bed and nap, or maybe practice your sparring skills with your sword.

"We'll have to tell your father about this," he gave you one last warning, but your mind was already made up.

"I understand, but I'm not altering my decision."

Just as you and your retainer thought, your father was not pleased, going on one of his long-winded rants about how you should get married quickly because it’s “better for the kingdom” and “what a princess should do.” All the while, your mother sat and watched, not saying a word because she knew that she did the same thing when she was your age. It was how your parents met in the first place, after all.

"At this rate, your little brother will have inherited the throne before you're satisfied with a man." The king ends his rant with this statement, huffing angrily as he furrows his thick eyebrows in your direction. There it was, the constant reminder that you, the eldest heir, were not to inherit the throne, which should rightfully be yours, all because your parents favored your younger brother.

However, who would dare question the king? When he makes an order, it is carried out, and what he demands is brought to fruition. So if he says your sibling shall inherit the throne, he will, and when he finally gets fed up with your high standards and simply makes you marry someone of his choosing, you will have to obey. Such is the life of a princess.

With a heavy heart, you bow to your father, asking to be excused. He sighs and waves his hand, allowing you to leave, to which you immediately turn on your heel and pace quickly toward your chambers.

When Scaramouche's crew docked at the pier, they knew the welcome they would be given wasn't going to be a warm one. It never was, wherever they stopped. It was no secret that wherever this ship docked, well-known valuables would soon go missing and trouble would follow, yet no one could prove it was them.

Still, seeing every guard on patrol look at them with a noticeable glare and watch their every move was more than unnerving. All Scaramouche was doing was going for a stroll, after all.

But, so were his crewmates, Kazuha and Heizou, in separate parts of the city. And it's not their fault if they happen to notice which areas are more guarded than others, when the guards switch shifts, or which buildings have the least amount of foot traffic coming in and out of them. It's all coincidental, of course, not on purpose at all.

It's definitely not intentional when Heizou reports that the only guards that step into the tavern are always there to get so drunk after their shift that they won't remember what they say.

And who's to shame Scaramouche if he wants to step in and have a drink or two, and happens to run into a guard who's slurring his words and would have fallen over if he ever tried to stand up in this state?

"And that princess…god! She's so stuck up.." the guard ranted, taking another swig from his pint. Scaramouche listened with faux sympathy to the drunken man in front of him, but he wasn't sure how much more he could take from this man. He too often leaned too close as if whispering a secret, the stench of sweat, metal, and cheap booze radiating off of him. 

"That princess! She keeps rejecting every suitor who's interested in her! Do you know who has to deal with the king's fury after she does this? Us!"

He leans in once more, and Scaramouche gets a whiff of his rancid breath  "I hear….the king wants her married off to someone wealthy because he's in debt…but she just wants the throne instead! Can you believe it? Too stuck up to let her brother be the heir to the kingdom…."

It seemed all this guard was going to reveal was pointless rants about the king’s only daughter, and today he was not going to get any information that would be helpful to him. After all, if this princess was to be married off, it’s unlikely she would be able to get hold of the crown that was to be used in the coronation ceremony when the prince came of age.

Like an answer from the heavens, his doubts were quickly proven incorrect when the guard’s voice drops to a whisper, and he leans across the table to speak in Scaramouche’s ear.

“I hear…that she got so jealous, she stole the crown. The king says it just got lost, however, we guards know the truth. But what grounds could we present that would warrant a search through the princess’s private quarters? It’s useless…”

And just like that, Scaramouche knew whom he should target. 

The captain stands from their booth in the corner, excusing himself. He buys the guard another drink as thanks for the “lovely conversation” and to ensure he really wouldn’t remember the information he spilled.

The next few nights, Scaramouche and other members of his crew alternate between taverns to gather as much information as possible. Each night, a different person hit a different establishment to not raise suspicion. This heist was going to be big, and after it was pulled off they wouldn’t be able to dock for months to avoid being caught and interrogated.

Stealing the crown from the most heavily guarded kingdom on this side of the world was no easy task, but it had been Scaramouche’s dream ever since he started his life of piracy. Something like this would earn them respect like no other on the seven seas but also put a huge target on their back. His crew was prepared, of course, they wouldn’t have docked here if they weren’t. It’s not like they couldn’t fight, either. They were notorious for many reasons: their crimes that left no evidence behind, the sheer intimidation their crew gave off, and the fact that no crew member lost any duel they were challenged to.

After a couple weeks of solely gathering information, Scaramouche’s crew was ready to take things to the next level. They learned that the princess was unable to leave the castle without supervision, which only occurred on rare occasions. She lived a secluded life and many of the kingdom’s citizens didn’t even know her face. His first mate, Kazuha, who was always good with his words, even managed to get one of the guards to reveal which terrace on the castle belonged to the princess’s room and that the staff had recently increased security in the city and outside the castle because of a suspicious ship that had docked at the pier, which lessened the amount of military inside the building.

Kazuha was always better with people than any other crew member, and Scaramouche was forever thankful he was a part of his crew, even if he didn’t show it.

However, it seemed no one was able to learn that the princess provided enough security for herself, not even needing guards.

Scaramouche quickly learned that when he was finally ready to attempt to get inside the castle, scaling the walls during a shift change and approaching the terrace he was informed about prior.

A candle on your bedside and the illumination from the moon were the only sources of light in your quarters at this time of night. Every other member of the royal family was asleep, but not you. Far too frequently would you stay up reading a novel you “borrowed” from the castle’s library, even though books weren’t supposed to leave the area. 

All was silent except for the wind blowing outside and the rare footsteps in the hall, metal clashing with each step from the guards’ armor.

Though silent, and easy to miss, a sound from outside your window caught your attention. 

Breathing, silent steps getting closer, the scraping of someone climbing the walls and terrace.

You turned, blowing out your candle so that whoever was coming wouldn’t know you were awake. With the time it took for them to reach the glass door that separates your room from the balcony, your eyes had already adjusted to the darkness and you had your sword out from underneath your bed, drawn and ready to be used.

The door cracked open, slowly, and it was obvious that whoever was there was trying to use the element of surprise. They must not know you, considering they thought you wouldn’t discover them. One hand pushes the door open all the way, then pulls the person inside. It was a man with indigo hair and eyes. Everything he wore was black - his boots, high-waisted pants, and tricorn hat, - besides his shirt, which was a white poet shirt with purple and black accents tucked into his pants. Adorned on his hat were feathers that spewed from the back and gems which were sewn on, each one catching the light from the moon. He was obviously a pirate, and based on the whispers from the staff in the castle, he was probably from the ship that docked recently and made everyone nervous. The captain of the guards had even told you to report anything suspicious you happened to see, which told you they were no joke, Normally, if there was a threat, you wouldn’t even be informed. 'No one wanted to worry the princess, of course' is what they would say, but you know they just think you can't handle it.

Before he even has time to process you're there, you point your sword at his throat, the tip pressing against his flesh, but not hard enough to draw blood. Just enough so that he knows he made a mistake.

The pirate stares down at the sword at his neck, his gaze following the blade to its holder; the very princess he intended to come in here and threaten. It's a funny thing how easily the tables can be turned. He eyes the princess warily, one eyebrow raised and an awkward smile on his face, knowing he's been caught so easily.

"Well, isn't this a surprise?" He chuckles to himself, raising his hands up beside his head in a phony sign of surrender, but your sword never wavers.

"What do you think you are doing here?"  You demanded, sword to the pirate's throat. The captain remained silent, weighing his options. He could try to talk his way out of this or use his cunning tactics to somehow overpower the princess and make a break for it. Whatever decision he made, it could mean the difference between life and death.

"Sure, as soon as you put that sword down. I'd rather have a conversation than an encounter between your blade and my jugular if you don't mind," he reasons, staring right back into your eyes with a look that screams mischief. Still, you sigh, and lower your sword, taking a step back and never loosening your grip on its handle. 

"Speak." 

He chuckles, lowering his hands and letting a cocky smile spread across his face.

"You see, princess, there's a rumor going around that you've stolen and hidden the coronation crown. I'm here to simply…take it off your hands," he explains. Everything about him seems sly, and even though it seems he's at a disadvantage, he's acting like he has the upper hand. There's not an ounce of fear on his face.

Your hold on your sword is steady, ready for combat at any moment, and it seems he's thinking the same thing.

"I'm afraid I can't allow you to do so. I can, however, offer you a deal. Leave now and I won't report your attempt to rob the royal castle and have you thrown in prison."

The pirate shrugs and sighs, his hand reaching for the sword that hung from his belt. 

"Oh well, looks like there's no other way."

And with that, he draws his sword from its scabbard, a sleek, steel sword with a curved blade,  and lunges forward, dealing the first strike. Blades clash and the sound of metal on metal echoes throughout the room as you parry his sword, pushing him back further. He doesn't let up, dealing strike after strike, yet landing no hits nonetheless. 

While the pirate’s blows are strong and aggressive, his attacks powerful and relentless, yours are both quick and agile with fast and precise strikes.

He expected the princess to be less of a hassle, yet here you were, not only putting up a good fight but winning too. Similar to him, there wasn't even a hint of sweat dripping from your brow, no signs of exhaustion as you dueled him in just your nightgown and slippers.

Your sword comes down once more towards his chest, and he raises his own to block it when suddenly you change your direction and aim to land a hit on his arm instead.

Ever quick on his feet, the pirate steps out of the way, dodging an almost fatal attack, but not before your blade can tear through his shirt and leave the faintest wound on the flesh of his shoulder.

He hisses as he feels the sting of his skin splitting, looking down as red stains the sleeve of his shirt.

"Not bad," he mumbles, his eyes sharp as he glares at the princess, a cocky smirk adorning his face. "Haven't struggled this much with an opponent in a while."

"Likewise," you muse, tightening your grip on your handle as you raise your eyebrows, almost taunting him.

"Tell me, pirate, what is your name? I want to know what to call my attacker before I slice your throat." 

He chuckles, rolling his wounded shoulder back and getting into a better position to keep fighting.

"Oh, I don't believe you really could. Wouldn't want to get your pretty hands dirty after all." He, once again, swings his sword, but to no avail. You continue trading blows with him, barely giving each other a chance to breathe. No matter what he tries, he can't seem to get the upper hand. Mentally, he wants to blame it on the fact that he was caught off guard, or that the way the silk of her nightgown hugs her body when she twists and turns to use her sword is distracting, but really he knows he's just finally met a well-matched opponent. 

"But the name's Scaramouche, consider this knowledge a gift before I beat you at the game of swords.”

It was then that the sound of armored footsteps approaching rapidly caught both Scaramouche and the princess’s attention. You bite back a laugh, glancing at the door and then back to the pirate in front of you.

“Looks like that will have to wait, Scaramouche.”

His name spilled from your lips easier than you’d like to admit, sounding almost natural when it came from you. Scaramouche noticed this too, stiffening as you say it and running his tongue along his cheek. It was annoying whenever he found himself having to make an enemy of an attractive woman. He takes one last look at the princess, before stepping away towards the glass door he came in through. He keeps his sword pointed at you as he backs away, not taking any chances.

“This was lovely, princess. I’ll be seeing you again very soon, but for now, I bid you adieu,” He takes his hat off, bending his arm at his waist and bowing overdramatically before opening the door and launching himself over the fence of the terrace, disappearing into the night.

As the footsteps get closer, you kick your sword under the bed, praying it wasn’t damaged, and toss yourself onto your mattress, throwing the covers over your body just in time for the door to swing open. A few guards peer inside, seeing nothing but you sleeping soundly in, your back turned to them as your body rises and falls to the rhythm of your breathing. There was no sign a fight had even occurred, despite the noises that multiple knights had heard coming from here.

As they close the door, the sound of their footsteps moving away from your room, a giddy smile creeps onto your face. After all, if no fight happened in their eyes, there would be no reason to increase security and you could see that intriguing pirate again.

After Scaramouche escapes down the castle walls, he books it for the treeline that separated the castle from the ocean. It was just past there that his ship resided, where his crew was eagerly awaiting his return with good news. A sinking feeling resides over him whilst he runs through the trees, kicking up dirt and leaves with every step. There is no reasoning he could possibly give that would excuse his failure. Not when he knows it’s caused by his own faults as a man. He, just like all of her numerous suitors and admirers, simply got distracted by her appearance. At some point, he had to stop as his head became too muddled by his thoughts, leaning against a tree, taking a deep breath, and trying to calm his thoughts.

Before, when hearing about rumors of the princess and all of the men interested in marrying her, he assumed the stories all came with a tinge of exaggeration.

Yet, after seeing her and fighting with her, he knows each metaphor and story told of her had to have been nothing but the truth. Tales of her beauty were honestly an understatement. It’s not often he finds himself this distracted by a woman, especially a princess, and he can’t help but feel ashamed in a way. He just failed to execute the plan his crew had been working on for years prior to docking it this kingdom, but all he can think about is her smile when she taunted him, her confidence because she knew she could fight, or the way her nightgown revealed the shape of her body, expensive silk clinging to every curve of her flesh. She was a princess rarely even seen by the public, but he got to see her in such a private setting, and god was it worth it.

He starts running again, her face in mind doubts infecting his every thought. His heart pounds heavily in his chest, and his lungs burn with each breath, but he doesn’t stop running. He would much rather face his crew than the entire royal army. He was sure the princess had reported what had happened by now, and he didn’t want to stick around so they could remember his face.

As he runs, he starts to feel the ocean breeze brushing along his face, and it reminds him that he’s almost home. His crew is smart; they’ll be able to come up with a new plan together. Maybe next time they’ll send a different member of the crew. 

As soon as the thought of someone else seeing her like that enters his mind, he quickly shoos it away. 

Just for now, he’d like to keep the image of her to himself.

taglist: @danfelions @bleachisfood @klanxii @nillajhayne @call-me-nayo @pinkiepiescanonn @etherisy @kazuuhhaaaa @featuredtofu @ulquiorraswife @skyoverkill1 @wandererskitten   @lxkeeeee

[analogwriting]

It Comes in Waves

Chapter 1: Tsunami

Trafalgar Law x gn!reader tw; ace's death. i know, we're starting off strong as shit. word count: 3k prev|next

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Portgas D. Ace. Also known as ‘Fire Fist Ace’ or even the commander of the second division for the Whitebeard Pirates. Also…a great friend of yours. A friend you had run into several times over your years at sea. A friend that let you cry on his shoulder and who had cried on yours. The memory of you meeting flashes in your mind. A simpler time. Before he had all his alternate titles. Before he was even his own captain. 

You were on a tropical island. It was small and reminded you of your home island, but it was just a pitstop for you to get rest and something to eat. You had hunted down some small wildlife and gathered some fruit that seemed to be edible before beginning to roast it over a fire you created. 

While it was cooking, you worked on setting up a place to sleep. However, you heard something from behind you. Pulling a knife from your belt, you threw it as you turned around. 

“Whoa! I come in peace!” An alarmed, male voice chimed. You turned to see a man standing there. He couldn't have been older than eighteen. So, more of a boy. You noticed that he dodged your attack well, so he wasn't a complete idiot. There was a small cut on his cheek. Not quite quick enough but still impressive. He was lucky it was a warning shot anyway.

“Well, maybe you shouldn't sneak up on someone.” You folded your arms, taking in the boy before you. Disheveled black hair, tanned skin, dressed like a punk. You could tell easily that he was a pirate, perhaps at the beginning of his adventure.

“I didn't really mean to. I was just following the delicious smell of food.” A wistful look crossed his face before he frowned. “A bird flew away with my food.” He looked at you with puppy dog eyes and you sighed, shaking your head. 

“Fine. I'll share. Consider it my apology for attacking you. I'm a bit on edge.” After all, you had just narrowly escaped the navy on your most recent heist. You wouldn’t have been surprised if they had somehow found you, even if they were pretty dense.

The man's face lit up, wasting no time as he plopped down next to the fire you had going. “I have some sake I can share.” You shake your head. You couldn't risk letting your guard down right now. “I'm fine. Help yourself.”

You moved to your food, beginning to divvy it up for the two of you. You handed him his share before settling with your own. “I'm Ace, by the way,” he said, a mouthful of food. 

You told your eyes at his lack of manners. “Y/N,” you said simply, beginning to eat. 

He asks you a couple more questions, but notices you guard some of your answers, so he maneuvers to more simple questions and talks about his own journey. He eventually brings up his little brother - a kid named Luffy. From the sounds of it, he seems quite the handful. He mentions how he's the world's biggest crybaby, but he wants to become King of the Pirates. 

You can't help but feel admiration for the kid who has yet to set sail.

You knew just about everything there was to know about one another. He is your best friend.  And now, it looked like everything was going belly up for him. You were about to lose one of the few people you held close. Again. Why did you have to keep losing people you cared about?

You stared at the video that was being casted from a transponder snail in Sabaody. You were there taking care of a few loose ends from your most recent mission. It dawned on you just how long it had been since you'd seen Ace. You'd been cracking down on your own agenda, not exactly keeping up with current events. It had easily been…at least six months? 

You noticed another familiar face on screen. Monkey D. Luffy. Captain of the Strawhat Pirates and Ace’s baby brother. The one he had told you about and the one you had eventually met on your own. One that you ran into often just like you had Ace.

You had just seen Luffy and his crew not too long ago. It was right here on Sabaody. They helped you take down a human auction house. They were saving a friend of theirs and this was something you did on the regular. Freeing slaves and making slaveholders suffer. Celestial Dragons hated you, and you hated them.

You had been doing this for about a decade, so you had a pretty high bounty - close to a billion. However, you have always been extremely careful to cover your identity. You had a whole disguise set up. A special cloak that covered all of your features. That’s all they had photo evidence of. Your first and last name donned the poster, but you went by your middle name on your average day. You lived a double life that no one knew about.

No one except Ace that is.

You're pulled out of your thoughts as you hear voices begin to raise. You blinked, coming back to earth and looking around. That’s when you realize the videofeed had been cut off. Everyone was starting to raise their questions and concerns. What the hell was going on now? What happened to Ace? To Luffy? You heard those questions being asked around you, so you knew the feed cut before anything happened.

“I need to get out of here,” you mumbled to yourself. You needed to get to Marineford and fast. Unfortunately, your boat that was akin to Ace’s striker, your ‘navis’ as you called it, was much too slow to get there in time. “Even if I call to the sea…” No, still too slow. Time was against you. You cursed silently to yourself, feeling yourself beginning to unravel. This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be losing him.

That's when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You tensed. Knife in hand, you turned around quickly, pressing it to the throat of whomever was dumb enough to lay their hands on you. It didn’t matter if all around was chaos. You didn’t even care if this had been any other day. You weren’t a fan of being touched by strangers. Who was?

The owner of the heavily tattooed hand was tall. You were face to face with his chest. A logo of some smiling jolly roger. You looked up, glaring at the man only to find him glaring right back at you. Who did he think he was? He was the one that touched you. Not the other way around.

You took note of the long sword he carried and his lanky frame. Did he even know how to wield this sword correctly? Or use it in general? Your eyes trailed to his at before resting once more on his face. Something…felt familiar. Had you seen him before?

“You greet everyone like this?” There was a hint of a smirk that was just enough to make you want to punch him. His calm demeanor he had whilst you had your knife to his throat also drove you mad.

“Just those that touch me without permission.”

He took his hand away, putting them both up in a surrender motion. “Apologies.” He looked at you once more, taking you in. There was a hint of recognition in his eye and he looked like he wanted to ask something before deciding against it. He looked up to where the video feed had been.

“You know him?” Then he glanced back at you.

You stared at him, blinking several times as you processed his question. You tried to form words but nothing was coming to you. Too many questions were trying to pour out all at once. All that came out was, “What?”

“Well, I'm heading that way and you seemed pretty distraught about it so I figured I'd offer a ride in my submarine.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. Who the hell just did something like that? “You don't seem like the kind of person who does things out of the kindness of his heart.” There had to be some hidden motive. Some other reason that he wanted to offer a ride. Was this some kind of human trafficking ploy? They sure were getting creative these days. It was disgusting.

“Suit yourself,” he said, turning away. What if he was just offering out of the kindness of his heart? Or maybe there was some hidden motive but…you couldn’t risk it. You had to save Ace. You had to save Luffy. Or die trying. “Okay, fine.” He turned, looking as you spoke, smirking. “That’s what I thought.”

Oh, this was going to be a nightmare. Your fist just might up in his jaw. Why would someone just offer a stranger a ride into a war just on a whim? And why were you accepting it? You had to be just as crazy.

“Let's go then,” he said, once more pulling you out of your thoughts. 

Silence fell over the two of you as you walked, delving once more into your own mind. Would you make it on time? Could you save your friends? Why was this man helping you? Why were you trusting him? Is it because you had nothing left to lose? If you lost Ace and Luffy…you’re not sure what you’d do. They were the closest thing you had to family since…

“We’re here.” You were yanked back to the present as the man in front of you spoke. Your eyes landed on the yellow submarine. You blinked. That’s right…he had said that. It was just registering that he had mentioned it earlier. You were such a mess, you didn’t even question it. What the hell was a pirate doing with a submarine?

“Last chance to turn around. You’re stuck once the door closes.” The man smirked at you and you felt the need to punch him in the nose. You didn’t even bother saying anything as you headed inside. There was no turning back now. This was your only chance to reach your friends in time. 

You were told to keep close to the man, which you didn’t argue. You assumed he didn’t trust you…though he invited you on his ship? This whole situation was weird.

You found yourself thinking of Ace again. It was only natural. Currently, you had no idea if he was alive or dead. You hoped for the best but expected the worst. God, it was like that theory about a cat in a box. Without seeing him, you had no idea if he was alive or dead.

Memories flashed in your brain as if they happened yesterday. When you met Ace’s crew for the first time. When you met his second crew. All the nights you stayed up drinking with him. (You had eventually given in and trusted him enough to let your guard down.) You remembered when you told him that you finally met his brother on the sea. Man, he was so excited and positively radiant after hearing that news. He had immediately set out to go find him shortly after that. 

All of those memories passed through your mind, each one of them hurting you more and more. It was almost too much to handle. You had already lost so much and you thought that you were done feeling this way but…here it was again. It hurt…so much. It was never easier. No matter how many people you saw that you cared about die before you…it never got easier. You tried your best to keep your distance from people but Ace was warm both inside and out and it slipped past your defenses faster than you could blink. He introduced you to a new family. 

Many times he asked you to join the Whitebeard Pirates and you told him the same thing each time.

“I still have too many things to take care of on my own.”

The man scoffed. “C'mon! You say that every time, y/n! If you join us, we could help you!” You looked at him, shaking your head. “You know this is something I have to do on my own. The less people involved, the better. Besides, you promised me you wouldn't tell anyone or try to get involved in any way.”

Ace whined, folding his arms. “Yeah, but that was before you told me what you were up to!” He rolled his eyes, clearly unhappy with you. You frowned, sighing. It was the same argument every time you parted ways. He wanted you to join his crew so that he could help you wish your mission, but you couldn’t bear to see anyone else you care about die.

He looked at you again and sighed. “I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't push you.” He looked down to his feet, unfolding his arms. 

Your own face softened and you shook your head. “Don't say sorry, it's not your mistake.” He looked at you as you said those words, chuckling softly. You said them every time he apologized. It was your way of saying that it was okay. That the feelings he was feeling were valid. That his emotions and actions caused by them were valid. It was something that your father had always said to you when your emotions were too much and you were apologizing for things that were out of your control.

“I may join one day…” You paused. 

“It's just not the right time yet, I know,” Ace finished for you. You offered an apologetic grin and he returned with his own, warm one. 

“We're here.” A voice pulled you out of your thoughts once more and you looked at the man who you boarded this vessel with. It was then that you realized that you didn't know his name. You opened your mouth to ask when he interrupted. 

“There's a war going on out there. Be vigilant.”

You nodded, closing your mouth. Now wasn't the time for formalities. You felt a sinking feeling in your chest - something wasn’t right. 

As you headed to the top deck, you felt your chest growing heavier and heavier. This was bad. You could hear all the pain from outside already. You could feel the anguish. It was almost too much to bear. It was enough to make your head spin, to make you want to lose the lunch you didn’t have.

When the door opened and you stepped outside, you were taken back. Taken back to when your own people were taken from you. The sounds of fighting, the smell of blood and metal in the air. The screaming, the anguish. You wanted to scream yourself. It was almost too much to bear. Even though it was over a decade ago, it still had an iron grip on you.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of blue. You looked over slowly, noticing blue flames. Marco. He was Ace’s crewmate. He caught your eye, a dark look of guilt passing over his face before looking away. It was a moment, but that was all you needed to confirm your suspicions.

You suddenly felt like you couldn't breathe, like something just sucked all the air out of your lungs. Your legs felt shaky and you felt sick. The world was spinning. Ace was gone. A man you loved like a little brother. Gone. And there was nothing you could do to bring him back. You were going to be sick.

“Y/n!” You blinked, looking up and seeing the man you had traveled with. “Get it together!” He motioned across the battlefield and that's where you saw Luffy. It was like something sparked inside of you. You were suddenly able to move again. He was your lifeline right now. You needed to focus on saving him. He wasn’t gone yet. 

You nodded at the man before you before turning back to look at your friend. You could tell he was completely shut down. It reminded you of yourself all those years ago. You’d lost everyone you loved and completely shut down. You don’t remember what happened while you were shut down. You were on autopilot for so long. Barely living.

You noticed he was in the arms of a fishman. Ally? You had to hope so or this was going to be difficult. Seeing how he was heading straight towards the submarine and the man waving them down, it seemed safe to assume an ally. Then you saw an admiral attack them. You ran towards the edge of the deck, pressing a hand to your necklace and withdrawing a long spear. You outstretched your free arm, taking aim right over the fishman’s shoulder and throwing it.

It flew through the air, hitting the admiral in the shoulder. Not near enough to kill him but at least enough to deter him for a few moments so the fishman and Luffy could make it safely on board. The next thing you knew, you were ushering the wounded into the submarine and to the infirmary.

“You look like you know about basic medicine,” the man said, laying the two men on operating tables. 

You nodded, unable to really speak. “I can't hear your head rattle,” he said. 

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, taking a deep breath. Your father was a doctor, after all. You studied under him and read many of his textbooks. You’d also been on your own with no doctor all this time, so you had plenty of time to study and put your skills to use.

“Good. Then you're going to help me.”

And with that, the operation began.

[rythmicjea]

Daddikins and The Slaughter

A bit of housekeeping first. I've been agonizing on what my second entry in this series would be. I wish that I could say that I had a whole bunch of these lined up ready to post. But, all of my ideas revolve around a central theme: Two Sides of the Same Coin. So, before I get into all of those, and my break down of their romance, I want to isolate the situations where they are on the same side. Also, I made a few of the gifs in this post. They're shit. I know they're shit. Just go with them lol. And this is long. Holy hell it's long. It's longer than some of the short stories I've written.

The Opening Game

Archie

Hiram is considered to be the "main villain" of the series up through, and including Season 5. In these five seasons, the show posits that Archie is Hiram's archnemesis. Here's the thing, Archie maybe Hiram's opposite, but he's also a reflection of all of Hiram's insecurities. The biggest question is why a middle aged man would do everything he could to destroy a teenager. Hiram wasn't necessarily trying to destroy Archie himself. He was trying to destroy everything that Archie represented in himself. Archie is the character that most represents Riverdale itself in the show. Everything that the town can be. And Archie isn't afraid of being who he is no matter if he may stumble or fail along the way. To Hiram, that is unacceptable. He can't afford failure. He can't afford to make any mistakes. Everything Hiram does is to capture and destroy Riverdale as a whole because it encapsulates everything he is not. It's also why he can't condone a relationship between Archie and Veronica; because, Veronica is an extension of Hiram and Hiram can't let someone like him be involved with a person who represents everything he is not.

Jughead

Unlike Archie, who can be molded into Hiram's image, Jughead cannot. Hiram knows from the get go that he can't control him. Jughead is Hiram's opposite. Where Hiram is wealthy, Jughead is poor. Where Jughead lets morality dictate, Hiram has no scruples. There is a spot for everyone at Jughead's table, but Hiram believes that the boy shouldn't even be breathing the rarefied air that surrounds him.

For all of their differences, it's not the superficial contradictions that make Jughead an adversary. Again, unlike Archie, it's their similarities that birth the true rivalry. Hiram isn't dumb. He's incredibly cunning. Unlike Jughead, whose intelligence doesn't come from his parents, Veronica's comes from her father's. But, Jughead is a teenager and for as smart as he is, he doesn't have the life experience that Hiram does. He still holds onto an optimism that his exterior doesn't always emulate. Hiram recognizes and respects Jughead's royalty (and yes, Royalty is going to be one of my next entries); and, to take down a royal opponent you have to play a game of politics and subterfuge. This is why the matchup between Hiram and Jughead is of The Game of Kings.

Veronica

Hiram's villainy against his daughter doesn't come out immediately. He still sees her as his "little girl", "princess", and "mija" for the first few seasons. He relies too heavily on the blood between them to extract what he wants out of her and to manipulate her onto his side. As he tells Archie "fathers are forever". This... this is pure hubris. When a child cuts ties with a parent it's all "But it's your mom/dad! You only have one!" and not "Wow, what did that parent do to make their child walk away from them? How bad was it that their own child left them?"

One of the persistent jabs at Veronica's character is that she insists on telling him her plans to defeat him and then is surprised when he listens and turns the tables on her. For all of her acumen, Veronica is still a child. The main characters are still only children. They are teenagers thrust into a world of adult problems. Then, they are expected to solve all of the town's issues when it was never their job to begin with. But, Veronica, as Mrs. Burble points out is obsessed. She is obsessed with making her father proud of her. She wants all of her accomplishments to be recognized on their own merit without his interference.

Even though it takes many years, Veronica ends up severing ties with him completely. Going so far as to hire a hitman who is successful. That should tell you just how villainous Hiram Lodge was that his own daughter took such extreme measures.

The Middle Game

Hiram's True Rival(s)

The true opposition to Hiram's town domination has always been Jughead and Veronica. Sometimes separately and sometimes together. Unlike Archie, Hiram can't control or manipulate Jughead onto his side. And to an extent, he can't do the same to his daughter. He tries his best and for a brief moment, he succeeds. But, she always finds a way out of his clutches.

The Prince

There's more than one way to execute your opponent. Jughead put Hiram in a position that he never expected. For all of his underhandedness and corrupted ways, Hiram wasn't ever able to bring Jughead down to his level. Hiram buys the Riverdale Register, Jughead publishes in the Blue and Gold. When the Register becomes the Lodge Ledger, Jughead creates the Riverdale Choice. Jughead helps lead the protests on Pickens Day and then Hiram retaliates by severing the statue blaming it on the Serpents. It's when Jughead refuses to kill the article on him that Veronica's vision of her father begins to become unrepairable.

The first time Jughead meets Hiram, they speak about family. But, before Jughead can continue any meaningful dialogue, Hiram cuts him off. Hiram employs these little mind games throughout the series. Jughead might have come off as dramatic when he said that Hiram was "trying to buy [his] silence again". But, he was right. And I believe the majority of viewers knew that, even if they didn't recognize how.

Hiram realizes that for every move he makes, Jughead successfully uses the high road against him. Hiram is not a shortsighted individual. In Chapter Twenty-Nine: Primary Colors we see the trap that's been laid coming to fruition. Now, Hiram never expected Jughead to go on a hunger strike or for anyone to follow him for that matter. He asks Archie about it and Archie (oh you lovable himbo), thinks he takes Hiram off the scent.

For all of Hiram's diabolical scheming, there is one thing that sets him apart from other villains. And that is, he keeps himself incredibly composed. In fact, the first time we ever see him get angry is in the second season when Jughead first starts writing about Hiram's exploits. I think every fan remembers where he slams his hand against his desk yelling "JUGHEAD JONES!" In fact, you can probably count on one hand the amount of times Hiram actually gets angry. And if it's not him lashing out about his own insecurities, he's lashing out about Jughead.

The Knight

Jughead discovers Hiram's plan for the Southside very early on. But, he has absolutely no support. Even when he proclaims he's going on a hunger strike, his best friend laughs. Then, to his surprise, Jughead has far more support than anyone expected. And, Jughead correctly knows that it's in no one's interest to take down "a bunch of teenagers trying to save their school". So, Hiram gets Archie to do his dirty work. He pits the best pals against each other.

The knight always gets romanticized in literature, history, and in this game of black and white. But simultaneously they remember and forget the knight always makes a turn. A change of course.

Season two isn't the best season for Archie's character. There's a lot of attempts at ambiguity. He thinks he's trying to play both sides, but he isn't. Archie is always categorized as someone who is steadfast and true. He is the moral compass for the town. But with this, he lets Hiram direct that turn and it puts everyone in danger.

But, there's something I find really interesting in the costuming that you can see in this scene in particular. Whenever Jughead needs to be The Leader/The Prince the prongs of his beanie are curled outward making the famous crown more prominent.

Jughead in the shot below is acknowledging that Archie, his once white knight, is gone. He doesn't know when or where he lost him, just that he's gone. But, he accepts the sacrifice of his own piece for what he hopes will be a win in the end.

The Rook Pawn

There are several times that Hiram throws Veronica to the wolves. Far too many for a father to do to his own daughter. But, it all starts with her rebellion. At first, she wants to be part of her parents enterprise. She doesn't realize just how deeply her family is committed to this life of crime. Like Jughead, there's an innate optimism that she can change her family's legacy.

In 2x16 we see the start of Hiram's plans to sacrifice his daughter. And it's this episode that Veronica starts to realize that she is unprotected and begs for help. She realizes that she's not a backrow piece. She's a pawn. She might be her father's favorite pawn, but she is still a pawn. A piece to be maneuvered for his own gain. She lists three names, Ethel, Betty, and Jughead. Betty is her best friend who just left her high and dry as her running mate because Veronica lied to her. She put her parents first and has realized that mistake. She's known for some time that her parents are the reason why Ethel's life is in shambles and she wants to make amends. But... why Jughead?

The deification of parents in Hollywood

Like I'm a criminal too...

Why is it so important to Veronica that Jughead doesn't see her in the same light as her parents? Because she, unlike Betty and Archie, and unlike the Serpents, can see the game the two are playing. She has been witness to Jughead's hunger strike, read his articles about her father, and arbitrated the negotiations between the two kings. And, yet, she's afraid. She's afraid that she brought this blight onto the town. In season five she says that it's her fault. It's her father and she needs to be the one to fix it. Children of narcissists learn from a very young age that it's their job to regulate the emotions and behaviors of their parents. Veronica never wanted her father home. She begged her mother to find a way out from under his thumb. Her actions of trying to impress him is a tactic to regulate her home life.

In the comics, it's well known that Veronica and Jughead are classified as "Frenemies". Do you want to know a secret? *beckons you over and whispers* They date several times in the comics and there are tons of panels where Jughead is lusting over Veronica unironically. In the second episode of season two Jughead is a friend to Veronica. He gives her cliche advice because it's what worked for him and his father. Children of addicts are special. They have to make their home safe for themselves. They put a burden on their shoulders to cure their parents. Because if they can do that then they don't have to carry the weight of the responsibility of surviving anymore. Trust me when I say, that all children of addicts blame themselves for what they went through at some point in their life.

Hollywood loves to deify parents. They can't do anything wrong. And if they did then they had a good reason for it. Play some sappy music in the background and they make you forget just how horrific their actions were. Jughead, when he gives this advice to Veronica, doesn't know Hiram. He says "I won't pretend to know what lies inside your father's heart". And when he says if there's a chance that her father is trying then it's only respectful to recognize that. He doesn't say she has to meet him halfway. How much effort she wants to put into it, is for her to decide.

But when Jughead realizes who Hiram is and the extent of his control he backpedals faster than a cyclist in the Tour de France. He does everything out in the open too. He does it so Veronica can see. He fucked up by giving her bad advice. If he had known what her father was truly like he never would have said such things! He would never tell her that she was at fault for his actions. He would never say that her father's mess was hers to clean up. Because he recognizes a traumatized person, because he's been traumatized. What he would say is that he was at fault for not knowing things sooner. (Oh you sweet summer child...)

When Jughead challenges Hiram to come to the trailer park, so that the two royal lines can broker an accord, she doesn't sit with her father. Jughead doesn't sit next to her because this is not a 'both sides made mistakes' issue. This is Hiram against the Jones'. So, Veronica sits between them - like a moderator or negotiator. She doesn't fully realize it yet, but this physical separation is the beginning of a crack. It's small. But it's enough.

That's why, when she announces her candidacy for Student Body President, Jughead perks up when he hears her parents are against it. Because that means she's thinking for herself. She's acting on her own. And Jughead presses on that crack making it deeper.

So, when she says that she doesn't want Jughead to see her as a criminal, her subconscious is coming to the surface and she is recognizing the truth around her. It's a truth she doesn't want to be apart of. So while Jughead has been trying to atone for his mistake, by exposing Hiram; Veronica changing course is her way of atoning to Jughead for what she believes is her fault.

One of the most beautiful things about their interactions is that Jughead never blamed Veronica. He might have been upset with her because outwardly she was so dedicated to her family, but he never once thought that she was responsible for Hiram's actions.

When they go low, we go high... Riot Night

The Bishop

Hiram has a Bishop - Penny Peabody. And he uses her to destroy the newly crowned Prince. And this is where Jughead realizes the real game he's been playing. The entire time he believed that it was two kingpins moving those under their leadership, using their own resources, to bring the other down. It's on Riot Night that he finally sees that he's never been on the offensive. Where he entertained the possibility of Hiram and FP playing the Kings on the board, he now understands that Hiram was never on the board to begin with. And Jughead was a pawn who made it to the back row. You see, in chess, a pawn can be elevated to "Prince" if they make it to the back row of the opposing side. Jughead was someone who begrudgingly took up his mantle in the Serpents (he moved from pawn to prince to king). And Hiram used this to his advantage.

Even at the last minute Jughead still didn't figure it all out. But he did realize the one thing no one else did. When confronted, Hiram tries to deflect; but, it's what Jughead says that is the most haunting. He notes how much Hiram is spending on all of this. But it's not the amount spent - it's the worth that those he bought represents. In business, the most valuable item is that which has not been obtained. Without Jughead, the Serpents would have rolled over. There was enough heat coming down on them to make them leave. So, when Jughead says "but you couldn't buy us", what he means to say is "you couldn't buy me."

It's in this moment, when he's cornered and in check, that he realizes he was Hiram's opposition all along. Jughead knew he was a thorn. But, he believed himself to be outside of the fight. An objective observer. This realization is what inspires the counteroffer to go to the slaughter for his gang, his town, and his father. Hiram knew the only way he could ever defeat Jughead was if Jughead sacrificed himself. He used Jughead's innate goodness against him. And Penny noted it all. "The sacrificial lamb arrives..." Jughead figured that no bloodshed would follow his sacrifice, but Hiram knew that without Jughead's leadership, the Serpents would implode. Getting Jughead out of the picture was Hiram's entire goal.

Deflection, Attack, Refute, Valve, Opposition

Like all villains, Hiram has a pattern. Surprisingly, Hiram's is well known in the psychology world: DARVO.

Deny

Attack

Reverse Victim

Offender

For those who are unfamiliar with this the titles are pretty self-explanatory. But, Hiram executes these with precision. Jughead says himself that Hiram is 10 steps ahead, because he is. Knowing when a teenager is going to zig instead of zag isn't that difficult; but, making that zig look like something it's not, is.

Deflection

Hiram likes to isolate his opponent first. But during that isolation he builds you up. He appreciates what you have to offer. He loves listening to your ideas. He makes you feel welcome in his world. That's how slimy he is and it makes the skin crawl once you know this. The diabolical part of this is the "Deny" aspect. He denies his involvement because he makes his victim come up with the idea. He gives them the authority to act out their deepest and darkest desires. This is how he keeps his hands clean.

Attack

Surprisingly, his attack, looks like denial, but it's really a withdrawal. Take the Dark Circle. Archie came up with it, Hiram facilitated it, but he maneuvered behind Archie's back to take it away from him. And he did all of this, so that at the debate, Hermione could truthfully say that Archie started it. Because he did. The nuance of the situation doesn't matter.

When it comes to Jughead, his actions are far more psychological. He calls Jughead "the other one" when he introduces Archie and Jughead to the new sheriff. He does this knowing it will diminish Jughead's efforts. But, Jughead, always knowing he's underestimated takes it in stride which just further upsets Hiram.

Refute

In Veronica's case, he serves his daughter up on a silver platter to be auctioned off to the highest bidder of 'The Families'. And when she puts in the work to get her idea off of the ground, he plays the victim. He makes it seem like she is the bad guy for thinking that her efforts could be successful. Because, if she fails, what would happen to Hiram? Later he throws out that she chooses others "over blood". No, she chooses others over him. He acts like she has made the ultimate betrayal when really, he has always been the betrayer. This is especially evident at the beginning of Season Three when Hiram refuses to withdraw his attack against Archie and says that it is her "punishment" for picking "that boy over blood".

Valve

Ultimately, his goal is to make those he is attacking into the offenders. "I would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those meddling kids". Sound familiar? Hiram is just a business man taking advantage of good land deals so he can elevate his project that will elevate the town. He doesn't understand why this petulant teenager is trying to stall progress! Why is he the one being vilified when everyone can prosper? His Mija is just a child! He's looking out for her and her well-being. Of course he would take the money she earned and put it in a trust. She's not old enough to understand the responsibility that comes with such a large sum. Ignoring the fact that when her would-be rapist kidnapped and tortured her boyfriend, Hiram did nothing. Instead, he's absolutely okay with Veronica selling herself for Archie's freedom.

Opposition

He doesn't send Jughead or Veronica to be slaughtered, it was done of their own volition. They decided to do that. Their choices lead them to that outcome. Except, his game of psychological warfare in the form of systematic torture and corruption of the town drove them to do it.

The End Game

Tick Tock, Daddy... Tick... Fucking... Tock...

Season five and six Jeronica is SO underrated. I know that it seems like their relationship in season seven came out of nowhere but if you don't think that they were coded from the pilot, then you have recognize that the groundwork was being laid since they all came back to Riverdale. But I argue this groundwork goes back even farther. As early as the season finale of season two.

It's Veronica who is the first to stand with Archie to save everyone from being bussed out. She wants to buy the Whyte Wyrm to save Jughead from Hiram. And when she finds out that Hiram fired FP from Pop's she realizes the "bigger, smarter play". Jughead really doesn't have that strong of a connection to the Wyrm. Yes, it's Serpents territory. Yes, it's the last piece of the southside that Hiram needs. But it's in this moment that Veronica realizes that Pop's is the Heart of Riverdale. In my analysis of Archie's dream, at the beginning of season five, I present that Jughead is Riverdale's conscience. And Veronica is the first to realize this fact. So, because her friend loves this diner, and this diner is everything to the town, she lovingly takes it over.

Hiram's deception of still owning Pop's is the first time he sacrifices Veronica. The second time is when he destroys her rum business because he can. He uses his position as Mayor to literally break the law because she beat him at his own game. So, he topples the game board. The third is when he sabotages her self-esteem by greasing her entrance into Harvard. He even tries to sacrifice her for his own good in season seven! He gets her to perjure herself with an affidavit by saying she was with him in Cuba. But, to me, what he does in Season 5 is the worst one and one he both succeeds and fails at, at the same time.

From his intro we all knew that Chad was a version of her father. The saying that "girls marry boys just like their father" exists because it's true. Chad is stalking her, harming her, defrauding her, and abusing her (love bombing is a form of abuse). Every trick that Chad employs is the same that Hiram did to Hermione. So, Veronica, innocently believing enough time had passed, goes to her father for help. And Hiram turns her away. Why does he do this? What could she have possibly done to deserve him turning his back on her? She set a boundary that she would not clean up his mess and save him when he willingly and stupidly put himself in danger because of his machismo. I repeat, as a teenager she refused to be a parent to her father. That's the reason why he won't help his daughter get out of an abusive marriage and he actively helps Chad hunt her down. This is when he succeeds at sacrificing her. Hiram fails when she successfully defends herself against Chad and eliminates the threat he poses.

Just like the end of sophomore year when Jughead almost gave his life to save everyone he loved, history repeats itself with Veronica fighting for hers against her husband and exiling Hiram.

Check...

The Heart and The Conscience...

The conscience is when the brain agrees with what the heart wants. Jughead and Veronica work separately to take her father down. They both almost die in the process. Hiram willingly sends his daughter and the rival prince to their own demise to keep his control. To quote Jess, that's some Shakespearean shit. If Veronica is Cordelia then Jughead is Hamlet. But, if they had worked together from the beginning? Archie never would have been arrested, they never would have been in danger, Veronica never would have put the hit out on her father, and Hiram would have been gone by the end of season two.

Season Three

In Season Three, Jughead investigates the Gargoyle King and he suspects it's Hiram. But he can't go after Hiram the way he did the previous year. He knows what will happen if he does. He still never comes down to Hiram's level but he's far more covert and direct than he once was. He was a pawn who elevated himself to Prince and then took up the mantle of King. This time, he knows he's on the board but instead of moving everyone else, he knows better now. He knows to make sure everyone's playing the same game.

That's why Hiram could never really affect Jughead the way he wanted. Jughead used his resources against him not wanting to get too close. But in their Junior Year, Jughead has to take a more personal approach. There's a discomfort and an anger when he does this. He can't obfuscate the fact Hiram has gotten to him, but it's far more complex than it once was.

This is the same with Veronica. The first episode has her disowning herself from her father. "You don't have a daughter anymore." She feels more inclined to manage the carnage but neither have the fortitude to do what they did the second half of their sophomore year. And they don't have the wherewithal to aid the other's help. It's why in season three we begin to see Jughead pick up the pieces from when Hiram shattered Veronica. Even when dating Archie, Veronica's only protector was Jughead. But that's for another post 😉.

...and Mate

If their dynamic with Hiram teaches us anything it's that together, Jughead and Veronica are absolutely unstoppable. For as cerebral as Jughead can be, he is the heart to Veronica's conscience. Jughead is emotional and prone to letting them cloud his judgement. It's a real and honest portrayal of the complexities of teenagerhood.

Where Jughead is emotional, Veronica is analytical. She's the embodiment of the sexism women face every day. Women can't be emotional or they won't be taken seriously. They have to work twice as hard to get half as much. Nothing, not even for a Princess, is handed to them. Veronica rarely lets her emotions get the best of her, and the first time she sheds a few tears it's Jughead's name on her lips. Not because he caused them but because she's not ready for him to see her vulnerable. She's not ready to confide in him. She's not ready to apologize for her parent's actions because she still believes it's her fault. That's why, after he's almost killed, Veronica vows to make things right. She still wants to atone.

I mean, when you break down the series finale you realize that the writers couldn't say it outright, but Jughead and Veronica became the most influential couple the world had ever seen. Name a more powerful couple than a studio president and a publishing mogul. I'll wait...

And, as always, I love feedback. Do you agree? Disagree? Let me know your thoughts!

Bisous, Bisous... Votre Auteur.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

One Last Sunset

Hello! I loved “A Balancing Act” and I was wondering if you’d consider doing a song fic for Madalen Duke’s “This is how villains are made”! The lyrics are so Patton Janus Roman coded. I wanted to request that just in case it also makes your brain go brrr! Thank you so much!! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: stabbing, major character death

Pairings: roceit, royality (both implied, can be platonic or romantic you decide)

Word Count: 2078

War is not hell. Hell claims the worst of the world, banishes it forever into the depths where it will only scorch those who have earned it. War brings the worst of the world and spills it in thick, black tar until the world runs red. When war broke out between the crown and a resisting force, two knights find themselves on opposite sides of the battlefield. One fights for the word of his King, for the good of the kingdom, for the lie they must tell themselves to hold the fragile peace together. The other is exactly and irrevocably himself, and he must fight for what he believes is right. There must be a victor. There must be a vanquished. But once those roles have been cast, perhaps, there can also be one last moment of tenderness between these two who once called each other friend. One last sunset.

The edge of the sword glistens, blood dripping off the blade. It looks strange from this angle, almost misshapen, even though the clean wound through his chest says otherwise.

"That's enough, now," come the low voice from behind him as Janus rests a hand on his shoulder, "shh, shh, that's it."

The sword slides free with surprising ease, leaving him to collapse awkwardly onto his knees. The sudden jolt surprises a gasp from his lungs, quickly replaced by a stunned gurgle. Janus wipes the blade, stowing it back in its sheath, before coming around to crouch in front of him. Roman lo0ks up at him with a slightly shocked expression.

"You stabbed me."

"Yes, I did." Janus glances down. "Pretty thoroughly, too."

"I thought we were friends."

"Friends? What makes you say that?"

"True friends stab you in the front." He swallows and tastes blood. "Quick and painless."

Janus chuckles, reaching out to brush the blood from the corner of his mouth. "Ah, that's right. My mistake. I'll do better next time."

"You better."

Roman looks down. The wound is slowly seeping red onto his clothes, the stain growing larger and larger. He raises his hand almost absentmindedly to touch the torn cloth.

"I liked this shirt."

"Shouldn't have worn it, then."

"What is it the purpose of having clothes you like if you don't wear them?"

"Seemed you liked it enough to die in."

A harsh bark of a laugh turned quickly into another pained gurgle. He looks up at Janus again. "This doesn't hurt as much as I expected."

"You're in shock," he says, not unkindly, "that's keeping most of the pain from hitting you."

"Shock, right."

That's probably how he's still talking too.

"I don't remember, is that what kills me first?"

"No. First is blood loss."

Blood loss, right. There are two holes ripped through his body, both leaking blood. Despite everything, he feels the need to lie down, position himself in some way where gravity can help him stem the blood flow.

"Hey, hey, easy," Janus soothes when he starts to rock back and forth, "you want to lay down? Is that it?"

"Mm."

"Here."

Arms come up around him and gentle him to one side, his head suddenly in an armored lap, a hand carding through his hair. He peers up at Janus's face.

"You'll get blood all over you."

"There's already blood all over me." He ruffles Roman's hair. "Not all mine."

"Did you get hurt?"

"You caught me with one strike, bit of bruising. Nothing too bad." He nods to the still-bleeding wound. "Nothing like yours."

"…'s good."

He chuckles again. "That's not normally the reaction you give when you find out the person who killed you wasn't fatally wounded too."

"'M in shock, shut up."

Janus taps his cheek lightly, smiling when he glares. "Alright, alright, I'll stop. Honor someone's dying wishes and all that, right?"

"I'm the one who's drying, I get to make the death jokes."

"Oh, is that right?"

"If a person on the gallows makes the joke, that's gallows humor." He spits out a blood clot. "If a—if someone in the crowd makes it, that's part of the execution."

A hush falls over the pair as Janus toys with Roman's hair again. His breaths are coming more and more raggedly now, his chest beginning to hitch.

"Is it starting to hurt?"

"Mhm."

"Do you want to move?"

"No." Roman tips his head to the side, resting his forehead against Janus's armor. "This 's fine."

"I'm glad."

It's almost too soft to catch, murmured into the air as Roman tries to breathe again. His face contorts, part in pain, part in concentration, trying to figure out how to breathe without causing—or exacerbating—the worst of the injuries.

"It's going to get harder to breathe if you stay lying down," Janus points out gently, "with the blood."

"So?"

"So, dying of asphyxiation is less pleasant than dying of blood less."

His mouth quirks up. "An expert on this, are you?"

"Hey, as someone who's watched a lot of people die, I like to think I know what I'm talking about."

"But you've never died yourself?"

"Well, no."

Roman huffs out a pained laugh, splattering blood across Janus's chest plate. "Some expert."

"You're more than welcome to give me your review."

"Of you killing me?"

"Yeah."

A smile, weak and bloody but so very warm. "Excellent wound placement. Clean execution. Commentary could use some work. Overall? 7/10."

"That's over half, I'll take it."

Another pained laugh, this one morphing into a gurgling cough. Janus rubs the part of his chest that was spared the worst of the blade, soothing circles as he hushes the worst of it.

"Maybe I should stop trying to be funny."

"Trying?" Roman looks up at him with an incredulous expression. "That was you trying?"

"Hey!"

But when one person is dying on the other's lap, it is easy to treat all slights and barbs as teases, not truly meant to hurt.

Indeed, Janus just scribbles his fingers lightly under Roman's chin until he squeaks and rolls his eyes. "Should've known that smart mouth of yours would stick around."

"You know me."

"I do," he murmurs, brushing another trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

Another silence falls, the sky growing darker as the sun dips below the horizon. Roman cranes his neck to see the colors forming near the edge of the clouds.

"Easy," Janus mumbles, "don't strain yourself."

"I want to see."

"See? You wanna sit up?"

"Mhm."

"Then, let's do this…"

He gathers Roman up in his arms, head lolling against his shoulder, his torso up off the ground and resting against his arms. He's nearly lying sideways in his lap, now, as though this were some romantic dip at the end of a long dance. Which, he supposes, in some ways it is.

"There, can you see?"

"Mhm."

His voice is getting sluggish now. His words are beginning to slur together. The color is beginning to train from his face. His eyes slide closed.

It won't be long now.

"Hey," Janus whispers, giving him a little shake, "I go to all this effort to sit you up so you can see the sunset and you can't even be bothered to keep your eyes open?"

Roman's eyes flutter, opening again. "Sorry."

Any quip or remark that may have been on Janus's tongue is swallowed. Instead, they turn to look at the sunset together.

It really is magnificent, the sky. Red and pink and green and blue…and all the words Roman would use to describe it are sitting, stale in the air that reeks of blood.

"Isn't it a bit cliche," Janus says, looking back, "to die at sunset?"

Roman doesn't say anything, his gaze locked on the colorful sky.

"Hey," Janus says softly, "you with me?"

A slow blink. Once, twice, three times. Another trickle of blood, one that Janus doesn't have the ability to wipe away.

"'S pretty," Roman mumbles, his eyes glassy and unfocused.

"Yes," Janus agrees, not taking his eyes off of Roman, "it is."

Roman grows limp. He isn't moving. The blood shines darkly against his paling skin.

He's fading.

"I'm scared," comes the horrible whisper.

"I know." Janus leans down to kiss his forehead.

"It hurts."

"I know."

"It's cold."

"I know."

Roman swallows. Painfully. "Thank you for letting me see the sunset."

"Of course," Janus whispers in a hoarse voice, "it…of course."

Roman's head falls limply against his shoulder. His eyes close and a shuttering breath leaves his lips.

"That's it," Janus whispers, a lump in his throat as he pulls the body closer, "you can rest now."

***

The grand hall, once the site of many a grander celebration, is silent save for the thump of Janus's boots as he walks through the hall. The ceiling towers over him, eyes of kings and queens past scrutinizing every inch of his armor as he passes underneath their stained glass gazes. Tapestries flutter on the walls, empty suits of armor watching him with eyeless faces as he approaches the throne at the end of the hall.

He kneels before his King.

"Rise."

"I bring you the favor you requested," he says in a voice of practiced calm, the bloodied sigil clutched in his hand held against his chest.

A hand extends. "Bring it to me."

He stands, still clutching it to his heart, and moves toward the podium. The King's hand does not move, his gaze does not waver, but his eyes widen ever so slightly when he sees the blood still staining the piece of cloth and metal. Janus's fingers twitch as he passes it over.

The King examines it for a long moment, something almost like regret coloring the corners of his mouth. He lets out a sigh and the room shrinks to hold only the two of them, the war that should have never been fought, and the ghost of a man who never should have died.

"I like to believe," the King says after a pause, his voice hushed, "that in another world, it wouldn't have come to this."

"It wouldn't."

"You sound remarkably certain."

"Roman was a good man," he says, proud of the way his voice remains steady, "he never would have chosen this if he thought there was a way to avoid it."

"And what could we have done differently?"

"We could have tried to talk to him. To explain to him. He—overnight, he saw two armies spring up out of nowhere, fighting for something he didn't understand. Can we blame him for choosing to do what he did?"

"His loyalty was to the crown. It should have stayed with the crown."

"That wasn't why you liked him, Patton. You liked him because he fought for what he thought was right."

The King sighs, still tracing the sigil, paying no heed to the bits of blood coming off onto his fingers. "I wish I could've spoken to him one last time."

Janus swallows. "He died well."

"Oh? With repentance and requests for forgiveness?"

"As himself," he says, a touch too harshly to be talking to his King, but he doesn't regret it. Not now, when Roman's ghost hangs so heavily over the two of them.

The King looks at him for a long moment, then back at the sigil. "The rebellion is no more. The war is over."

Janus doesn't say anything. The rebellion needn't have happened if all the closed-door proceedings had been made public. The armies needn't have risen if they were open to talking to begin with. Roman needn't have deserted if he thought it wasn't a pointless war.

Janus needn't have killed him if they hadn't made a villain of Roman first.

But Roman is dead and all that remains of him is the bloodied scrap of fabric and metal in the King's hands.

"I suppose you'll want to keep this." The King holds it back out to him. Janus stiffens. "Don't give me that. I saw how you looked at him."

"You looked at him like that too."

"I have other memories of Roman," the King says sharply, a reminder of who he's talking to, of where they are, of what Janus has done—on his orders, but what Janus had done nonetheless—"this one is yours."

"My King." He takes the remnants of Roman and clutches them to his chest. "Will that be all?"

The King looks almost regretful for another moment, before he nods. Janus turns, striding out of the hall, feeling the weight of someone no longer in his arms and the puff of nonexistent breath on his shoulder.

"Janus."

He stops but does not turn.

"You know I never wanted this to happen, don't you?"

He has lied to his King a great many times before. This will not be the last time he does it.

"Yes, My King."

The silence tells him the truth has been heard, regardless of whether he puts the words to it, but he is allowed to walk out of the hall.

Outside of the walls, the sun begins to rise.

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[profeyandere]

𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐅𝐅 𝐌. ─── ☾ 𝐌𝐔𝐓𝐄

ʟɪɴᴋꜱ ↪ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴊᴀᴍᴇꜱ ꜱᴘᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ ↪ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ

ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏꜱ ↪ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.6ᴋ ↪ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱᴛᴇꜰꜰ ᴍᴄᴋᴇᴇ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ↪ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴅɪꜱᴀʙɪʟɪᴛʏ, ᴍᴜᴛɪꜱᴍ

English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistake and if you can help me improve it, I will greatly appreciate it. I hope you enjoy it :D

"I still do not understand."

That murmur coming from Steff caught the attention of Blane, his proclaimed best friend. When the second named stopped speaking due to the interruption of the first, while telling him about what he had done during the previous afternoon, he couldn't help but frown at the lack of respect, quickly calming down when he saw that Steff's eyes seemed fixed at a specific point, as if he was completely lost in his own world, then following the blonde's blue and lost gaze among the entire crowd in the courtyard, most of whom were around them to have a little of Steff's attention, causing him not to be able to recognize the person the blonde was looking at and who had caught his attention until his gaze met that charming young woman in baggy pants, that girl in his class who never raised her voice and never responded to no one's questions or to the sarcastic comments of some of her friends, who laughed at that moment and nodded at whatever her friend was telling her; From their place in the shade, near the stairs that led into the building, it was impossible for them to hear what you and your friend were talking or commenting on, but curiosity did not stop sparkling in the way a certain boy looked at you. In some way that Steff and Blane didn't understand, you had managed to catch the attention of the school's king out of all the girls he had ever met or were around him. It wasn't because you were an ugly or unpleasant girl that the surprise came up, but because you had never really been noticed, not even Blane, much less Steff, but you always seemed to be there, whether it was in history class, in the cafeteria eating your sandwich or in the library using one of the computers to finish some specific work; Much to their dismay, the reality was that they never noticed you, mainly because you had never spoken, at least while they were present. You were just another person, worldly and surrounded by a small bubble that kept you completely immersed in your world from which the only person who was next to you used to take you out. You also had a fairly normative beauty that didn't attract too much attention and, even so, you managed to steal the breath of the most popular boy in school by doing nothing; It was the honest truth, you had done nothing to get his attention and it was impressive.

"If it's any consolation, I don't understand it either," Blane said in response, looking back at his friend, noticing how he was frowning softly while moving his jaw slightly, a reflex action he did when he was thinking about something. "You could talk to her, you know? Girls don't bite you."

A small sly smile appeared on his face at the brunette's last statement. In reality, the girls literally bit him, but he knew that Blane was speaking figuratively at that moment.

"They don't usually leave a mark, so I'm not worried," Steff pointed out, causing Blane to frown at her suggestion. Do not look at me like that. "Besides, she should be the one approaching me, not the other way around. I'm Steff McKee, for God's sake. I'm not just any guy, I'm the most popular boy in the entire school, and I shouldn't be the one who approaches; I do not beg anyone."

Blane sighed again as he listened to him and saw how he pushed his chest forward as if he wanted to show his superiority and masculinity, but actually looked like a complete idiot by expecting others to be the ones who had to approach him to get attention. His friend was too proud to give in, even more so when it was a girl. Although, in reality, he had never seen him approach one directly or without any intention, that is true, they were always the ones who approached him and not the other way around and, when he approached them, they usually returned to him to have a little of "the McKee essence", as the blonde liked to call it. That situation was relatively strange but, as soon as Blane had thought about it for a few seconds, he quickly looked at him in surprise when he realized that he had already taken the step before.

"You've already talked to her before, that's why you're waiting for her to come to you," the brunette finally indicated, remaining speechless when he realized the reality that was enveloping them at that moment, being able to see how Steff finally looked away from you so you could focus on him as a way of telling him to shut up. "Go, talk to her, what are you going to lose?"

"I'm going to lose her pride if I get closer to her," the blonde responded instantly, shaking his head while a mocking and sly smile appeared on his face. "I refuse to make this any more embarrassing than it already is. I talked to her last week and do you know what she did? Ignore me. She looked at me, didn't say a single word, and then walked away as if nothing had happened. She did some strange things with her hands and vanished."

Blane frowned as he heard about his friend's experience with you. Actually, it was a little strange to approach someone and have them just gesture at you and then walk away without saying anything, but the more he thought about your attitude, the more strange and curious it seemed to him. They had never met someone like you, he had to give you some credit for that. You never talked to anyone, but you did make people laugh about something you did or said. You were more observant, you seemed to listen to people before doing anything else and, above all, you held their gaze for much longer, although you showed your mood in the way you -. Oh. Right. How had they not been able to see it before? Blane managed to capture it during a couple of minutes of reflection. Of course, you didn't talk, possibly you would never do it no matter how much people forced you to do so and you probably wouldn't accept or want to approach Steff because of some strange face he had made when you 'talked' to him.

"Steff, my goodness, what did she do when you approached her to talk to her?" The brunette asked, getting up from the step, shaking the dust off his light pants and adjusting the hem of his bottom while he felt like the most intelligent boy in the universe.

The aforementioned shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know," Steff responded with slight exhaustion, running a hand through his blonde hair in an exasperated manner. "I approached her, greeted her, told her how she was doing and then she started moving her hands and arms, she even gave me strange faces as if she were making fun of me. What do you want me to do? I was shocked, I thought something was happening to her, like a heart attack, and, when she stopped, she didn't do anything else, she just looked into my eyes as if she wanted to destroy me or something with a laser beam."

Steff's exaggeration did not take the brunette by surprise.

"Her friend wasn't with her, right?" Blane questioned again, receiving a quick denial from his friend, causing him to sigh. "Of course, you weren't going to understand it. Not you, not me, not anyone who doesn't know what he has or understand what he does. She gets up, let's go greet her, you'll see how now you understand her."

Steff, who was about to refuse to get up to continue the plan his friend had planned in just a few seconds, felt Blane's hand on his arm to lift him up, forcing him to do so with a strong tug before pushing him, and causing small stumbles, towards where you were with your friend on the other side of the basketball court under the shade provided by one of the pine trees in the patio. Luckily, Blane didn't have to try very hard to bring him with you because people were moving out of his way when they saw the king of the school emerge from the shadows to mingle with the crowd and because Steff's feet were moving quickly to meet you as if he truly had the illusion of being able to take him to the girl who had caught his attention so much.

You, on the other hand, were not aware of the approach of your two classmates, because you continued looking at your friend while she explained to you in detail everything that had happened, what she had experienced in her last chemistry class, mentioning how one the floor had fallen from the flasks because of some students who, laughing, had begun to push each other and one of them had caused the other's flask to fall; Due to clumsiness and poor use of chemical utensils in the laboratory, both were forced to pay an amount of money that they could not complain about. It was embarrassing enough to start arguing with the professor after the scandal they caused, so they didn't feed him and simply agreed to pay.

"Just by chance, have you pissed off Steff McKee?" Your friend asked, interrupting her own story, to which you could only frown before gently shaking your head, confused by her question. "Don't be alarmed, don't turn around abruptly, but he's coming this way and he doesn't seem to have a good face."

As the obedient woman that you were, for the sake of your friend's reputation, you slowly turned your head to see how, indeed, Steff McKee and Blane McDonagh were approaching you, the latter being the one who showed you a soft smile that he usually gave to everyone who approached him, while the first one kept his face serious, with the same grimace with which he looked at you the first and only time he spoke to you; It's not that it made you feel bad that he looked at you that way, far from it, you were already used to scaring people away or receiving looks like his.

"Good morning, girls." Blane greeted when they finally stopped, in front of you and your friend, standing next to each other, where the sun was shining on them. You gently tilted your head and then moved your hands with agility to return the greeting in the same way that your friend later did. "Is that how you say it? Good morning is it with those gestures?"

His question caught you by surprise and you couldn't help but nod your head softly.

"What?" Steff said, looking between Blane and you. "That's what she did to me the other time, those gestures. Why don't you speak? Don't make gestures, I didn't understand you and I don't understand you now."

The brown-haired boy looked at his friend and then sighed.

"Excuse him, he still doesn't know about your condition, your… Disability? Is it okay if I name it that way?" The boy questioned, causing you to nod again. Subsequently, the boy's blue gaze was placed on his friend again. "She's mute, Steff. She can't speak and, if she does, at least her sounds are not understandable."

Your gaze quickly met your friend's as a smile appeared on your face, you both already knew what you were referring to with that look. People, in general, used to look for the right words to explain your disability so as not to hurt your feelings or make you feel bad or displaced, but it only made you funnier when they tried to talk to you, even more, so a person like Steff or Blane.

"You understand my language?"

Steff's sudden question caused his friend's face to turn white and red with embarrassment, while you and your friend began to laugh loudly, even if yours wasn't a conventional laugh. Your friend's laugh was worth both of us, while you kept your hand over her mouth while you made similar, guttural noises that resembled a laugh. Steff, on the other hand, was confused and didn't understand anything.

"Of course, she understands our language, Steff," your friend murmured as she tried to catch her breath. "She is mute, not a foreigner," she continued, looking at you later when she saw that you started moving your hands again. "And she says that she finds you very funny, although she already had that impression the first time she saw you."

The blonde's face reddened gently and, as if it were a small child, he looked away before adjusting his hair, sighing later to look at you again with a slightly lopsided smile.

"Tell your friend that I didn't know about her… Lack of speech on her part," she commented with slight seriousness, although you didn't take him seriously when you saw him place his hands on his waist. "I thought that she was making fun of me or that she wanted to kill me with her eyes."

"She is mute, not deaf, she listens to you well." Your friend intervened again, now acting as an interpreter when she saw you move your hands towards Steff again, wanting to communicate with him, in some way. "That day she greeted you, introduced herself and asked you how you were, but since you didn't answer and you looked at her in that strange way, she decided to leave so as not to make you uncomfortable."

"Oh…" The blonde murmured, shrugging his shoulders as if he truly hadn't understood her, as was the real case with her. For a moment he was speechless as he realized a little of the reality of him, even if he didn't understand the disability you had. "It's just that I wanted to talk to you, nothing more."

Your friend, upon hearing his words, couldn't help but smile and she gave you a gentle pat on the back as encouragement while Blane, on the other hand, did the same with Steff. They were going to leave you alone and, no matter how much the blonde begged his friend with his eyes for him to stay or for your friend to be your interpreter, nothing helped. Steff wouldn't understand you no matter how much you moved your hands or your arms or made funny faces, or at least that's what I thought. You were aware of how hard it was for people to understand you, some didn't make much effort to learn sign language, but you wanted to give Steff a chance, so you took out a little notebook from your backpack and started writing in it.

"Don't worry, Steff, you're covered." You wrote in your notebook, smiling softly at him. You could see him move closer to you to read what you had written and, for a moment, you could see an attempt at a smile.

"Thank you, otherwise I wouldn't know how to talk to you or what to tell you," he said, ignoring how your friends had moved away to give you some privacy. Steff continued to watch you write something in your notebook, and when you pointed to the word and then to yourself, he realized it was your name. "I like it, it goes very well with you."

Even though you were a mute person, and there were several barriers between you, at that moment you felt that for the first time, there was someone who had broken them down. It didn't matter at that moment why he had wanted to approach you, all you knew was that it felt good to have someone else by your side to talk to.